#I think of em more fondly than anything

[wordsofelie]

when you started dating atsumu, you didn't realise it meant getting to know not one, but two people. you've been together for a little over a month now and even if you haven't yet met osamu, you sometimes wonder which twin you actually know better.

logically, it should be your boyfriend, right? but then one evening, while cooking red beans, you pause and think, ‘ahh osamu probably wouldn’t love that seasoning’. that's when it hits you—your boyfriend has the habit of bringing up his brother way more than he’d ever admit. only a few weeks into your relationship and you’re already stocked with random facts like: “ya know ‘samu loves matcha cookies, but it's disgustin' right? chocolate cookies are just better” when you’re at the grocery store. and “those are 'samu's favourite snacks. he hit me once just 'cause i ate 'em. they're not even that good. he's such a dickhead.” when you're watching a movie.

every time, he insists on the fact that he likes the exact opposite of whatever osamu does. but you don’t say anything. because, well—deep down, you realise that's just his way of loving his brother, fondly and absolutely.

so when you finally meet the infamous osamu for the first time, you make sure to prepare him his favourite dish (too bitter to atsumu's taste), get his favourite beer (“'samu loves kirin, i prefer asahi!”) and even light a candle with his favourite scent (apple pie; even though atsumu would have chosen salty water).

“that's so good. how’d ya even know i liked that?” osamu asks, his eyes wide.

you steal a glance at your boyfriend, who’s completely clueless, and smile.

“hmm, just a lucky guess.”

[lazysoulwriter]

Lipstick Stains & Drunken Laughs - Harry Styles.

The party is in full swing, but neither of you cares about anything beyond the bubble you’ve created together. The music inside is a low hum, voices blending into a symphony of muffled conversations and laughter, but out here, in the cool night air, it’s just you and Harry.

Your bodies are warm from the alcohol, from the lingering touches, from the way his hand hasn’t left your thigh since you both stumbled onto the patio’s cushioned bench. The stars are twinkling above you, but they have nothing on the way his green eyes glimmer with mischief as he leans in for another kiss.

It’s messy, uncoordinated, and perfect. You giggle against his lips, and he chuckles, breath fanning across your cheek as his fingers tilt your chin back up so he can capture your lips again. The taste of whiskey and something distinctly Harry lingers between you, and it makes your head spin in the best way.

“God, I love kissing you,” he mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours.

Your laugh is light and bubbly. “I think I got proof of that all over your face.”

His brows furrow before he pulls back slightly, eyes widening when he catches sight of your smudged lipstick on his fingers. He swipes the back of his hand over his mouth instinctively, then looks down at the bright red stain streaked across his skin.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes before bursting into laughter. “I must look ridiculous.”

You shake your head, trying to contain your own laughter, but it’s futile. The sight of him—flushed cheeks, dazed eyes, mouth completely stained in a way that screams 'I’ve been thoroughly kissed'—is too much. You double over, clutching at your stomach as laughter takes over, and soon, Harry is right there with you, his body shaking with amusement.

“We look an absolute mess,” he gasps between laughs, tilting his head back against the seat. “Gorgeous, but a mess.”

You nod, wiping at your mouth with the tips of your fingers before glancing at the remnants on your skin. “You’ve got it way worse than me.”

Harry smirks, reaching out and swiping his thumb across your lower lip, as if that’s going to help anything. It doesn’t. All it does is smear the red even further, and when he realizes it, another wave of laughter crashes over him.

“Christ, I’m done for,” he wheezes, wiping at his face again, only for more lipstick to spread. “D’you think the others will notice?”

You give him a pointed look. “You look like you just made out with a tube of lipstick, Harry. I think they’ll have an idea.”

His grin is wide, dimpled and boyish. “Good. Let ‘em see.”

There’s something in the way he says it, so proud, so sure, that makes warmth bloom deep in your chest. He’s not embarrassed. He doesn’t care. If anything, he likes it—wearing your kiss, wearing your mark.

You shake your head fondly before leaning in, pressing one last, lingering kiss to his lips. He sighs into it, hands settling on your waist, but you pull away with a smirk.

“There. Now you’re truly done for.”

Harry laughs, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “M’so in love with you.”

Your heart swells, and you know, without a doubt, that you’re just as gone for him as he is for you.

[suzukiblu]

. . . so like, no PROMISES for doing the whole month, buuuuut . . . day one of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Oh, should I? In all the spare space I’ve got in here?” Tim asks, still sounding wry. 

“Buy a bigger boat, babe, I don’t know what to tell you,” Bernard says reasonably. “How’re we gonna keep a kept boy without a bigger boat, huh? You want a big pet around, you gotta have a big space for him. Let him really stretch his legs, you know? Or spread ‘em, whichever.’ 

Kon buries another laugh in his arms and Tim rolls his eyes, smiling fondly. Jokes aside, they really are crammed in pretty tight on the bed–it is just not that big a bed to be fitting three people in–but Kon minds literally nothing about that. Not even a little bit does he mind that, in fact.

He likes it, more like. Likes being all up in someone else’s space even without anyone actually fucking each other or even making out or like–just, anything, he guesses. He doesn’t get to do that often enough, it always feels like. Everybody’s always–busy, or moving, or . . . 

He just wants to, like . . . get to do this kind of thing more often, he guesses. 

Doesn’t hurt that it’s Tim whose space he’s currently all up in, either. Like–he has definitely not gotten to be all up in Tim’s space too many times that weren’t directly related to one of them saving each other’s ass in a crisis situation. Or, like, occasionally being transportation to a crisis situation; that has also been a thing more than once. 

. . . actually, fuck, thinking too much about being Tim’s usual designated transportation or just being all shoved up in each other’s space while the world was trying to end while he’s gay is not something he’s gonna be able to be normal about, huh. 

Like . . . wow, yeah. Not even a little bit normal. 

Jesus. 

“Oh, I see, so this is just another excuse to try and get me to trade in my perfectly sound and perfectly outfitted boat,” Tim says, which sort of distracts Kon from his own personal Chernobyl: Horny Edition. Like, kind of, anyway. “Is there literally anything that we have not managed to do in this bed? Genuinely, please tell me what position you have in mind, I’m honestly curious.” 

“Well, what about letting your boy sleep at the foot of the bed?” Bernard asks even more reasonably, which actually just made Chernobyl: Horny Edition like, twelve billion times worse, probably. Just–Jesus, again. “You think you’ve got the real estate for that on this mattress? No you do not, because you’ve failed to plan ahead and you should be ashamed.” 

“Yeah, Rob, shouldn’t you have a Bat-contingency plan for that?” Kon teases past more laughter, and Tim sighs. 

“You know, I did worry if you’d get along with each other or not, but I think it’s worse that you do get along with each other,” he muses, picking a peach slice up off the plate in his lap and eyeing it assessingly, because Tim is literally incapable of not assessing things, apparently, boyfriend-delivered breakfast or otherwise. “Actually, no, it’s worse that you encourage each other.” 

“I’m a very encouraging person, man, what can I say?” Kon says, flashing him a sharp grin. Tim rolls his eyes again, but with that little fond smile again, and Kon feels warm and heady and a little bit desperate to get his mouth on his cock again or, like–get kissed again, maybe. 

It’s maybe a little stupid, how he can’t really tell the difference between those things. Like–which one he really wants, he means. But like, in his defense, he is still experiencing his own personal Chernobyl right now and he’s just doing his best with the resources he’s got available, okay? 

“Oh absolutely, yes, I’m always so encouraged in your presence,” Tim says wryly. Kon grins at him, then sticks his tongue out at him instead. Tim drops the peach slice on his tongue like a weirdo, and Kon represses another laugh and pulls it into his mouth. What, it tastes good. And it’s not any weirder than getting hand-fed a protein bar was, either way. 

Well–maybe still a little weird, but whatever. 

Tim picks up a piece of waffle–Bernard cut them up in quarters, Kon guesses–and holds that out to him, and that . . . Kon hesitates a bit over that, because . . . 

“Sorry,” Tim says. “Don’t want it to get cold.” 

“That’s, like–your plate, man,” Kon says, his face feeling a little hot as he flicks his eyes up from the offered waffle chunk to glance at Tim’s face, because for some ridiculous reason his brain’s gotten stuck on that over a waffle, even after not really thinking of it with just the peach. Though that seemed . . . less deliberate, maybe, so . . . 

“No it’s not,” Bernard replies matter-of-factly, shaking his head as he picks up a banana slice off his own plate and pops it into his mouth. “Tim’s plate has way fewer waffles on it and blueberries instead of peaches. Also oh my god, Tim, don’t feed your boy dry-ass waffle with nothing on it. There’s whipped cream and caramel sauce over here, you want any, Kon? Also butter, if you’re feeling basic. I won’t judge, sometimes the vibe is just butter.” 

Kon takes a long moment to process the fact that Bernard put the plate he made for him on Tim’s lap, and also that Bernard went to the effort to make his plate different, for like . . . whatever reason. 

“. . . um. Caramel, if that’s cool,” he answers, a little belated, and wondering if Tim, like–told Bernard he likes peaches, or . . . well, he’s pretty sure peaches and caramel sauce are not standard waffle toppings, or at least not standard in most people’s usual breakfast setups, so like . . . “Uh–thanks.” 

“Gotcha, man,” Bernard says easily, reaching over to the tray and coming back with, weirdly, like a little, like–carafe, or whatever? pitcher? like the kind of thing people put coffee creamer in, except just full of caramel instead–and passing it to Tim. 

Which . . . okay, low-key weird that Bernard felt the need to pour out the sauce bottle into a fancy little pitcher, but Kon isn’t gonna lie, he’s a little charmed by it. Like, it’s just a funny little quirk, but . . . 

“You’re so fucking cute, man,” he says, laughing again and then grinning at Bernard in amusement. “Like, A+ hosting, don’t get me wrong, totally killer hospitality, but I wasn’t gonna knock down Tim’s Yelp rating if the bottle was sticky or whatever.” 

“Huh?” Bernard asks, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression, then seems to realize something and clarifies–“Oh, no, Tim only has the shitty cheap syrup that makes a shell when you put it on ice cream or whatever, I wasn’t gonna put that on waffles, I just made my own.” 

“You made it?” Kon says in bemusement, a little startled by the idea. That’s like–a thing? “Like–what, from scratch?” 

“Yeah, Tim said you liked caramel but again, the only caramel he had on deck was shitty cheap stuff,” Bernard replies with a shrug as Tim pours some sauce onto–Kon’s plate, apparently–and swipes the waffle quarter he’s holding through it. “Personally I’m more the whipped cream type but like, caramel is way less annoying to make from scratch when you don’t have a stand mixer, which your bestie continues to refuse to invest in because of some nonsense about ‘limited counter space’. So like, normally he whips the cream, because it’s his fault I gotta do it by hand anyway and also, you know, he’s got all those sexy, cream-whipping vigilante muscles that I was pretending not to notice but was not above taking advantage of. But we didn’t want you to come up without somebody around, so today my arm is sore, fuck you, babe, buy at least a hand mixer already.” 

Kon . . . blinks, once or twice, and feels–weird, maybe, because that rattled-off chatter makes it sound like . . . like Bernard made that sauce, like–specifically for him? Like . . . just because of him? 

Did he? 

[grimm-writings]

(congrats on finishing your uni work!) imagine chilchuck telling his daughters that he’s seeing someone, and they seem apprehensive until he reveals that it’s [reader] and they all get super excited and say they’re relieved bc they were hoping it was [reader] 🥹🥹🥹

relief

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, his daughters are kinda asses (affectionate), takes place post-canon

…wc! 731

…notes! this is a short and sweet one! hope you enjoy and thank you for the support!!!!

It’s been years since the Chils girls have ever been called over for a ‘talk��� like their father has tonight.  Now that they discuss it between them, the last time this happened was when they had to talk about the relationship between their parents.

So… not a lot of hope amongst the three.

Still, when they arrive at the bar Chilchuck suggested (because of course he did), he seems in a better mood than they thought.

“So he isn’t using me as a bad example again,” Puckpatti sighs to herself.  Too many times she has been told she needs to try taking life more seriously.  Meijack pats her little sister’s shoulder sympathetically.

The conversation was awkward – as they normally are with your distant parents – with “how you beens” and getting drinks done and out of the way.  Chilchuck cuts to the chase.

“Uh, so…” he takes a breath.  “I’ve started seeing someone.”

He takes the chance to hide his eyes from the varied reactions from the girls by taking a swig of his drink.  Thank God these steins are made really big compared to half-foots.

Meijack merely widens her eyes, but she hasn’t said anything yet.  Puckpatti lets out a loud “whaaaaaa…?!” in abject shock.  Flertom, ever the romantic, is the one to stand up and slam her hands on the table.

“You better be treating ‘em better than you did Mama!”

“Fler,” Meijack warns, pushing her twin down onto her seat again by her shoulder.  “Don’t be acting like that in a public place.”

Flertom huffs, crossing her arms.  She may be a bit on the protective side.  Since the separation of her parents, she’s been housing her mother.  She directly heard her side of the story, and though she doesn’t think too badly of Chilchuck (she sent him a neckband to prove that) she doesn’t believe a relationship is the best thing for him if he hasn’t changed his ways.

Puckpatti tilts her head to the side.  “Mmmmmaybe…” she trails off.  “They aren’t a half-foot… uwaaahhh, what if Papa found a dwarf husband before us!?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”  Meijack responds.  “If they aren’t a half-foot, there’s a chance Papa might be taken advantage of.”

Unamused, Chilchuck watched the girls squabble amongst one another.  Ever the stubborn types… maybe they got that from him.  He sighs.

“You already met them at the dinner with King Laios,” he reveals, making the girls freeze in place.

Meijack is the first to react, counting the guests that joined them on her fingers.  There’s the king and his sister, the king’s two advisors, the handsome dwarf, Papa, and…

All three sisters manage to pick up the signals together.  Of course they remember you!  You had been the most welcoming to the sisters, and somehow even made their Papa smile so fondly– they haven’t seen that in years.

“Thank goodness!”  Puckpatti celebrates, leaning over to lie on the table entirely to reach over to her dad and give him a tight hug.  “I was so scared you were going to die old, grouchy and alone!”

Meijack sighs again.  “Patti—” 

“No, no,” Chilchuck scoffs a breath of laughter.  “I was hoping you’d be alright with it…”

“Of course we’d be okay with it.”  Flertom snorts and covers her wide grin with her hand.  “The way you looked at them was near cringeworthy.  It’s like Puckpatti on speed dates.”

“Heeeeyyy!”

Chilchuck laughs gently, though he did take note of the mention of speed dating.  He looks over at Meijack.  She is always the most level-headed about these things.  If she had something bad to say, then it’ll definitely be something worth considering.

Meijack, after taking a bit of her drink, sighs.  She looks at her dad and echoes his smile.  “As long as you’re both happy, I support ya.”

Relief.  It washes over Chilchuck like an extra layer of clothes.  Warm and happy, he pets Patti’s hair again and supports her as she crawls back into the chair.

All is well.

“Though if you get another kid outta this, you better be ready to face Ma’s wrath,” Flertom comments offhandedly.

Chilchuck flushes. “I’m not that kind of sleaze!”

“Sure you aren’t,” all the girls chorus with giggles and smiles.  They’ve seen him with a few drinks in him.

The greying half-foot sighs, taking another swig of drink.  They know him too well.

All is well.

[alicia-18]

heyyy, hope you enjoyed your easter if you celebrated it!

i have an idea if you would like to write.

marshall x wife reader, him being obsessed with her. can’t keep his hands to himself when she’s cooking dinner for their kids, folding clothes, making their lunches and in the bedroom.

Hey!! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoyed your Easter too! I hope that this is what you imagined. I went for the more fluffy version than a dirty version, I just think it worked better personally. And who doesn’t want to read about a cuddly teddy bear side to Em? 🥺

It had become tradition between you and your husband to light heartedly bicker every night you cooked dinner. It was never an actual argument, or even held any negativity, but you both playfully bantered back and forth because of Marshall’s inability to keep his hands to himself. You loved to bicker with him over it, when in reality you’d never have him any other way. Even if you did end up taking longer to get anything done because you paused constantly to unravel his arms from you or he’d be pulling you away from your task to give you a warm squeeze.

“Marshall!” You gasped with a giggle as he pulled on your arm and twirled your body into his, your head hitting his chest with a soft thud. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, and took a deep inhale of your addictive scent. “Marshall, the pasta.” You reminded him lightly, tapping his hands that had locked together around your midsection. He hummed, and just nuzzled into you more.

“Fuck it, we can make more.” He murmured, and only unlocked his hands to allow them to roam around your body. You couldn’t help but lean into his warm touch, and chuckled breathily when his hands teasingly squeezed your breasts. “Fineeeee.” He dragged out, and let you go with a huff. Turning to him, you saw him pouting like a petulant child, which only made you laugh more.

“You’re not going to die if you have to keep your hands to yourself for a change.” You stated with a grin, but resumed cooking your families dinner.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, better to be safe then sorry.” And just like that, his arms were back around your waist and he was rocking you both lightly to the radio you always had playing when cooking. You shook your head at him fondly, and accepted the fact dinner would just have to take a little longer so you could enjoy his clinginess as well as finish the meal. Even if that meant having your daughters come complain at how long you were taking.

Marshall and his grabby hands wouldn’t only be on you at home. He simply wasn’t satisfied or at ease unless he was always touching you in some capacity. Even when watching the Lions games, Marshall would have you planted firmly on his lap despite you having a chair to sit on. He would absentmindedly draw squiggly lines over your thigh whilst watching, and occasionally plant little kisses on your shoulder. You couldn’t even escape his hold when stood watching — not that you ever truly wanted to. You adored that his love language seemed to be physical touch, and would always be seen with a large smile on your face when he would cage you in against the glass wall when stood watching the game. He wouldn’t even move away from your embrace when engaging in arguments with the oppositions fans, and instead would squeeze you harder when some of their comments irked him, like you were anchoring him back down to a calm place.

The media often made little comments in their articles whenever they felt a need to post a photo of you both together, usually along the lines of you never being more then a few inches away from him at all times. Being as big of a rapper as he was, as well as the public image he had when you first got together, you worried the comments would cause him to lose his obsession with holding you, but fortunately didn’t. Because although you’d often tease him about it, nothing made you feel more loved than when he proudly held onto you despite whoever may be watching his every movement. Or even when he was asleep yet still managed to find a part of you to grasp onto. Either way, although he had a habit of slowing your day down, you loved that someone like Marshall — the Eminem/Slim Shady — was so entirely obsessed with you, even after all this time.

[tteokdoroki]

actor!au with bakugou where you’re on the press tour for your up and coming princess movie or something.

of course he’s the romantic interest to your character, the lead, so you’re paired together for the entire junket — seated with one another for interviews across the globe. the whole experience is filled with laughter, smiles, and sharing little facts about one another behind the scenes.

you’re always the first person bakugou searches for on the red carpet at each premier — he reaches for your hand during photos and sneakily slips one around your waist to subconsciously pull you closer towards him.

the fans all think that you’re in love from the way katsuki hangs into your every word when the two of you are stopped for questions. the way he whole heartedly laughs, with his whole body, at a joke you’ve told that’s probably not even that funny.

it’s probably not true. you’re just coworkers who spent months getting to know one another. coworkers who’ve kissed more times than you can count with one hand and who’ve shared secret snacks on set because the days were long and hot but totally worth it for the smiles little girls and boys give you when their princess and her prince bend down to give them a squeeze.

you know that you’ll miss bakugou when this is all over and the movie is out and you’re not showing up to red carpets trying to guess if the PR team will have coordinated your outfits to match those of the final scene in the movie when your characters get married. you’ll hope to work with him again, secretly, praying that you get to be close to him once more.

the final straw that breaks the camels back and gets you to realise that maybe you like bakugou a little more than just co-stars is when you’re both invited for a special interview with big fans of your princess film. children not older than eight or nine wriggle in front of you both with curious questions and katsuki is equally as charmed as you by the costumes they wear that link up with your characters.

for the most part they ask you silly questions like the hardest thing about being a prince or princess, what time you have to wake up for filming and your favourite foods (to which you tell them “he likes spicy tofu, the kind that makes you breathe fire!” and bakugou replies with “are you tellin’ ‘em i’ve got bad breath?” and that makes the kids laugh). but then, the little boy sitting opposite bakugou grows shy and timid towards the end of your time together and the blonde stops the interview from ending so that he can get his question out.

“how did you know that you were in love with her?”

your heart flutters, and you don’t have the heart to tell the poor boy that your acting is make believe and for the silver screen — but bakugou beats you to it, ruffling the kid’s hair fondly.

“i knew ‘cause i was always lookin’ for her whenever we entered a room. she was the first person i saw, the last person i’d want to see,” he rasps, the wisps of a smile on his lips despite the cameras rolling and capturing what feels like a love confession towards his costar. towards you. “i knew ‘cause she was always so kind to me even when i didn’t deserve it, to people who doubted her, to people who loved her. s’been a while since i realised, guess i never said anythin’ but if you like a princess, kid — make sure you tell her before a handsome prince snatches her up first.”

the boy grins eagerly at the blonde’s answer and filming wraps up from there. “they’ll have to cut that bit out,” you say softly, making your way back to the dressing rooms with katsuki. “to avoid scandal, probably.”

but he cocks his head, rolling his eyes at you as if you hadn’t understood a word he’d said. “it’d only be a scandal if it weren’t true. i meant what i said. i like you, dummy.”

you lean against the dressing room door, mouth agape. “w-why didn’t you say anything before?”

“because i was just worried that my princess had already been swept off her feet by her handsome prince.”

“by you, i’d been swept of my feet by you. stupid.”

you take a step back and bakugou follows you forward, caging you in. “guess that makes me your prince charming.” he quips, leaning down to your height.

tilting your head upwards, you smile gently and let your hands rest on katsuki’s broad shoulders. “you’ve been playing that part for the last few months, have you not.”

“yeah, ‘guess i have,” he mirrors your expression, lips brushing over yours in a real true loves kiss.

[osleeplessflowero]

Sooo I've gotten really into Epic: The Musical recently and the song "Suffering" gave me the idea for this! I've been missing Mer/Siren!Nightmare..so let's give him some content! ;)

Gender Neutral Reader

Reader is pretty much anyone you want them to be as long as they can stand/sit on a boat

No this is not connected to the Mer!Nightmare oneshot I wrote, it's a different plotline focused on them being more like Sirens.. buuut if you wanna check it out.. Click Me!

Immune

Oh, does Nightmare hate you.

Ever since you befriended his brother, he's rambled on and on about you nonstop. He's sick of it! And the way you try to act all buddy buddy with him too..oh, he despises that. He definitely does not think fondly of you. Not in the slightest. And so he's decided to get rid of you. So he doesn't have to feel so confused.

Dream had left early in the morning, muttering something about meeting up with some old friends next to a waterfall. Nightmare waved him off, grinning with malice once he'd vanished. Swimming beneath the darker parts of the sea water, he began making his way to the destination he'd visited countless times: the location of your boat.

After mistakenly getting caught in one of your nets, Dream had ended up befriending you as a way for his life to be spared. And in turn the two of you grew quite close, the worry of hunting one another having long since faded. Nightmare had been dragged along with him on more than one occasion, begrudgingly making conversation with you as you stood on the deck of your boat with that charming smile.

And here you were again, standing on the edge and leaning your arms along the railing, mere inches away from falling into the water to a quick demise. You inhale the ocean air with a smile, relaxing without a care in the world. Nightmare peeks his skull out of the water momentarily, grinning madly when he spots you before quickly moving back down so he isn't spotted. Using his magic a little, he takes the form of his brother. You're more trusting when it comes to him..perfect for his plan.

He pops his skull out of the water, smiling brightly just as his brother always does when he sees you. You look over and wave, turning more to face him directly.

"Dream, hey! Good to see you!" You smile, blissfully unaware of his true identity as you slide to sit on the other side of the railing to kick your legs back and forth. Nightmare's eyesockets narrow briefly as he pushes himself up onto a rock, 'Dream's yellow scales glowing brightly once the sun makes contact with his body. Though not as bright as usual..

"Hi there!" He mimics his brother's voice perfectly, having practiced for the occasion. "How are you today, friend?" He rests his arms on top of the rock, Dream's tail swishing back and forth in the water in place of Nightmare's usual tentacles.

You raise a brow slightly, but your smile doesn't falter as you rest your arms in your lap.

"Good, I suppose. Had to run from some sharks earlier so that sucked, I like the skeleton sharks a bit more. Just get 'em to play cards with you and they'll let you pass." You shrug, taking a card deck out of a satchel and waving it around before you finish your sentence, putting it away again. "What about you, Dream? Anything exciting this morning?" You raise your hands, resting your chin between them.

He rests his cheek on one of his hands, pretending to think and letting out a hum. He taps his fingers against the rock for a moment in a rhythmic pattern.

"Hmm, well..I can't say anything too interesting happened..not until I ran into you, of course!" He smiles cheerfully, watching as you let out a chuckle or two.

"Really? That's strange..usually you have lots to talk about during the morning. Lazy day today?" You kick your legs, looking down at him curiously. Observing.

"Yeah..just a bit slow!" He lowers his arms. "But now that I've found you I'm sure it'll get so much more fun! ..Say..why don't you come down here and swim with me for a bit? Just the two of us?" His spell begins seeping into his impersonation of Dream's voice, his eyes faintly glowing with magic. He holds out his arms out towards you, open and inviting.

You pause for a moment, hearing a slight difference in his tone. Familiarity overtakes you, and you narrow your eyes at him. ..Why is he using his magic? You'd happily go, and he already knows that it doesn't..

You glance over his demeanor again. Well mannered body language, slightly narrowed eyesockets in contrast to his usually wide open ones. Slightly dimmer than usual..

Oh, so that's what this is.

You smile, deciding you'll mess around a little. "Oh, I dunno Dream..I'm awfully scared of the water! What if another shark comes by?" You shrug, smiling apologetically. Nightmare's browbone twitches, but he keeps up his act.

"Don't you worry, I'll keep you safe! I know the sea like the back of my hand, so I can keep you out of harm's way!" He wonders silently why his spell isn't working, sliding off the rock and swimming over, reaching up to grab your legs. But before he can, you swing them back up over the railing, now standing on it to look down at him. His hands twitch at the absence of your legs, but his smile doesn't falter as he moves back a bit.

"I'm sure you could.. but I just don't know!" You drape your arm over your forehead dramatically, earning a very brief deadpan from the siren beneath you. "I think it might be a little better if we stay right here..y'know?" You smile.

"Aww, don't you trust me?" He presses a hand to his ribcage. "We don't have to go far, just jump in the water with me right here! We can swim around your boat. C'mon, just join me!" He splashes a little water your way, making you jolt a bit. You nearly fall, but balance yourself quickly.

"Why don't you come up here, Dream? You can jump this high, you've done it lots of times. We can talk here on the railing. And maybe I could jump down with you from here!" You crouch, patting the rail below you. Nightmare pauses a moment, thinking before smiling again and pushing himself upwards to lean against it. You slide off the rail, standing in front of him and resting your hands at his sides. Quite close..

"..Okay, I'm here. So..jump with me." He finds himself staring into your eyes, beads of magic sweat forming on his skull as the exhaustion of holding this form accurately begins taking a toll on him. Why isn't his spell working? There's nothing blocking your ears, you should've obeyed the first time.

You trail your hand along his jawline, making him shiver. Lifting his chin, you give him a sly smile. He freezes, eyesockets widening a bit. His hands lay suspended midair, twitching a bit.

"Hi, Night. Y'know, if you wanted to see me so badly you could've just said so..I wouldn't mind, big guy." You grin, your face slightly darkening. A bright shade of green crosses what's supposed to be Dream's skull, as the illusion finally drops. Nightmare's true form finally manifests before you, an irritated (but also flushed) expression on his face.

"How? My trick was perfect, I don't understand." He furrows his browbones, narrowing his eyesockets. You let out a chuckle, replying softly.

"I'm immune to siren calls, Nightmare. Dream tried it on me to see what would happen a while ago..nothing. Nice try, though."

"..You know, I could just as easily pull you into the water right now and devour you." He glares at you as he speaks, and yet he doesn't shy away from your touch in the slightest..you narrow your eyes, reading him like a book.

"But you won't..you like me too much for that, don't you?" You smile as you tease him, watching as his face glows a little brighter. "Admit it to yourself..you don't hate me one bit. In fact, it's the opposite..isn't it?"

"You're a fool." He begins to back away, but you put your hand over one of his.

"But I could be your fool..if you want me to." You raise your brows, earning a scoff from him as he moves away. You shift your arms, resting your cheek against one of your hands.

"Don't be ridiculous. I loathe you. I want you gone." He crosses his arms, tentacles writhing about beneath him as he leans against the railing, the only thing keeping him in the air.

"Yeah..and I'm half mermaid." You let out a little laugh, earning a light shove from him. Falling over, you kick your legs a bit before pushing yourself back up. "Admit it! You liiiike meee.." There's a hint of a sing-song tone to your voice, making his browbones twitch.

"In your dreams." He averts his eyelight, ignoring his still-pounding heart.

"I heard my name?"

Dream's voice startles you both, his bright and cheery smile ever present as he sits on the rock Nightmare had just been lying on.

"Hi Dream!" You wave down at him, earning a very enthusiastic wave in return. "I was just talking to Nightmare."

He gasps, putting his hands on his cheeks. "Night, you came to visit them on your own! That's awesome! Such progress!"

He puts his hand against his forehead, groaning into it. "Stop bringing it up.."

You give his shoulder a nudge, smiling smugly as he lets out an annoyed sigh. As you turn your focus back to Dream to hold an energetic conversation, he smiles a bit in the corner of your vision.

[strawberrygyuuuu]

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐓𝐗𝐓 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 —> 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 —> 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 —> 𝐭𝐱𝐭 (𝐎𝐓5) 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) —> 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞? 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐧 𝐰𝐭𝐯𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞).

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨��𝐬𝐢𝐬 —> 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰/ 𝐭𝐱𝐭.

﹒.₊˚Ꮚ✦

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐅𝐖

Starting off strong

They're all protective of you

Each other too ofc but especially if you're a female, yeah very protective

Most protective to least would be Yeonjun, Soobin, Taehyun, Beomgyu, Hueningkai

Yeonjun is more protective, not in a toxic way he just doesn't want anything happening to you or hurting you and will have at least an arm around your waist or shoulders in public. Needs you to be safe. Wants to take care of you and will never forgive himself if you got hurt, especially while he was with you.

Soobin is overprotective only because he cares, he wants you to be comfortable at all times even in public and especially with him, he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable or like he's not a safe place because he wants you to come to him for things. It may not seem like it but he's most ig obvious with it, people will know y'all are dating.

Taehyun is probably a little less obvious and more so less overprotective, but he's a good balance of possessiveness rather than protectiveness. He needs people to know you're his but not in a desperate way. He's okay just holding hands with you in public but if someone tries making a move very obviously or you're clearly uncomfortable he's going to step in and verbally let em know he's yours. But he's not the type to get jealous quickly or too easily or make a big deal out of sum.

Beomgyu seems less possessive and more protective but only out of concern. He feels like your friend(s) are mistreating you? He's gonna ask you about it because he wants the best for you. Someone seems to be getting aggressive with you and especially a strange man? Hell no he's stepping in and telling them off. He seems like someone who'll try to avoid conflict but won't be too scared to make a scene if he has too. He just wants you to be safe and happy more than anything.

Idk I just don't see Kai as someone who would be overly protective or possessive. He's the last one who would be getting into conflict in public about something and probably re-direct you somewhere else if someone is making you uncomfortable to get you away and forget about it while the other boyfriends deal with it lol. He'd prefer to distract you and let you know that you're safe. It's easier to protect you that way.

PDA with them is different

Yeonjun likes PDA, just not sucking faces and groping ofc. Things like hand holding, cheek kissing or little pecks on lips, hugging, simple things.

Soobin is more on the low with it, physical affection in general. Mostly hand holding or hand around waist. Prefers it private.

Beomgyu likes to hold hands and have his arm around you in some way, hand on thigh, he's okay with some PDA.

Taehyun mostly prefers hand holding and hand on your thigh, not too big on PDA. Prefers to be private like Soobin.

Hueningkai likes having an arm around your shoulders, linking his arm around yours or having your ankles touch under a table while sitting down somewhere. Doesn't mind PDA.

If you're an introvert and like to be alone for a few hours in the day, they're fine with giving you the space you need!

If you're an extrovert and like to be with someone most of the day then that's fine too!

I def think they all fondly look at whoever is kissing / being cute and lovey dovey

Like yeonjun and beomgyu being cuties and kissing? Everyone is fondly smiling and gazing at them

You're all very comfortable with each other, no TMI in this group tbh

Very respectful and educated when it comes to your period, lots of cuddles and stuff that you'll need

Kai for sure gives you belly rubs even if you're not on your period

He gives everyone belly rubes and loves when someone does it in return

KAI LOVES TUMMY KISSES!!!! And I truly believe @beomslover is correct when they said he loves tummy kisses and yes, his giggles are def adorable !! (Go check em out !)

The clingiest would prob be Kai and beomgyu, occasionally Soobin and Taehyun

Junnie is in between, just enough

When youre feeling the most cuddly or clingy, go hang with Kai n Gyu n you'll get your needs fulfilled with them

Yeonjun loves when you come to him n be clingy to him, he'll let you or any of the boys cling to him anytime!

Beomgyu has no shame in flirting with any of y'all, even in public or front of each other

He WILL flirt with all of y'all if it meant he got to see your cute blush, embarrassed look on your faces and get all shy

Tbh he just wants a reaction so give him one and let him tease you a little, just let him

No one wants a sulky and whiny gyu

These mfs are ppl who will get a full plate of food and ends up feeding you / giving you half the food on the plate or almost all of it😭

"but baby! You need to eat :((" like yeah, thank you for caring but like...you also do??😭

So in order for all of them to eat and know you're also eating, you've made an agreement to eat at least 2 meals all together

But they still try and sneak some extra food onto your plate LMAO

I think Junie and Soob would love to hand feed you food or snacks the most bc they think you're the cutest n enjoy taking care of you

THEY ALL LOVE CUDDLE PILES !!

y'all have one big cuddle pile at least once a week, either Friday, Saturday or Sunday

Doesn't matter, it just needs to happen so everyone can relax and enjoy each other's company and affection.

Just forgetting about responsibilities for a few hours and loving each other.

It's v common to take pictures of each other that are angled from their forehead down their face, yk?

They think it's so funny

Def good at comforting but in different ways

Yeonjun is a little too calming, me thinks. like, he's too good but he's great for times you wanna forget reality, be pampered and adored and cared for n not really have to worry about anything but also not feel like a child or baby. Lots of cuddles and kisses.

Soobin is the perfect amount of calming, very gentle and a soothing voice while talking to you. Lots of cuddles and affection and offers you food, drinks, anything you need he'll get you. intertwines your hands together and does the thumb thing while giving you comforting words.

Beomgyu has such a comforting presence, me thinks. Gets you your favorite snacks, foods, drinks, lets you in his comfortable clothes with his cologne on it, probably try and make you crack a smile. But he'll let you lay on him and lean on him for support and he's a good listener too ! Will hold you for as long as you need.

Taehyun is also a great listener and doesn't mind listening to your problems if you have anything to say, he wants you to trust him and be comfortable with him. A little quieter but doesn't leave your side and if he's getting something for you, you're coming with him. Watched your favorite movies and comfort shows, etc. he's just really good at making the situation and environment comfortable for you and safe. Also soft spoken n looks at you so fondly.

Hueningkai wants to see you smile again, hates seeing you sad or cry, his heart aches. He'll try and lighten the mood and make you giggle or smile. Cuddles the sadness out of you, smothers you in affection and lets you do whatever you want if it makes you feel better. Dress him up, put makeup on him, watch a show you love and he hates but he won't complain, spend his money on food, doesn't matter! If it makes you happy, he's happy.

This is already far too long maybe I'll write a part two ?

[everlastingdream]

Part 1 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

"What brought you there, Supergirl?"

If Kara couldn't hear Samantha's skyrocketed pulse, she would've really thought that CEO expected her to arrive. Lena curiously looked at the office, trying to remember anything.

"I'm here to talk about Lena Luthor", Kara said as respectfully as possible, but Samantha still stiffened in her chair. It seems she contemplated shutting the window right into the hero's floating face.

"I don't think I'll do Lena any better if I talk with you. I'm worried enough without a Super after her".

Lena swiftly turned around. She went to stand right in front of the woman, searching something in her face.

"You misunderstood, I'm not-"

"It hard to misunderstand a Super asking about Luthor", Samantha stubbornly clenched her jaw. "Lena is already in the hands of her psycho mother. If you want to help just to drag Lena into your families' agenta then don't bother. I'll find her myself".

Kara gaped, still floating outside a window. Of course, there were people who didn't like her, but not many was ready to express it right into her face.

Lena, who was still inside, studying Samantha's expression, suddenly smiled broadly. She turned to Kara, beaming:

"I remember! It's Sam! We were working together, but she's a friend. She looked after me when I was overworking. And I know her daughter, Ruby. She's the only trustworthy person here!"

Lena laughed. Kara could tell that besides being happy to see her friend, Lena was more happy to remember something. Her genuine smile was a beautiful sight.

"Em, Sam? I will explain, but can you maybe open the window?"

"I don't think we are close enough to call each other by nicknames", Sam coldly said. Kara and Lena winced.

"Of course, miss Arias, but I-" Kara sighed. How can you say to someone that you see ghosts? "I just want to find Lena".

"And I don't think you were that close to Lena to call her that", Sam bristled.

Kara started to feel irritated too. It was her who can see Lena. It was her, who made the whole secret goverment agency searching for Lena. So who Samantha Arias thought she was to decide if she was close to Lena or not.

"Kara, please", Lena floated outside the window to stop near Kara. Despite their two flights she still pointedly didn't look down and was able to stay calm only when Kara was talking to her. "She's just worried".

Kara huffed, interrupting her and Sam's glaring to look at Lena.

"Well, I do too! You are out there, and we need her to look for the records of your emergency button, but we stuck here arguing if I can call you by your name! Which I totally can because you said I can, so who she is to say that I-"

Lena's chuckle interrupted Kara's angry whisper babbling. She looked fondly on superhero, before patting her on the cheek. Well, trying. She's kind of patted the air less than an inch away from Kara's face.

"Of course you can, darling. I prefer that you do, actually". Lena's wink made all Kara's fighting spirit disappear. Only to be replaced by the warm feeling that made her blush and straighten up at the same time.

When she remembered that Supergirl was kind of in the middle of conversation, Kara turned to the window to find Sam looking at her strangely.

"If I tell you Lena's password, will you believe that I can see her?"

As one can expect Sam was devastated when she heard that Kara can see Lena's ghost. At first she refused to believe that Kara was telling truth. But Lena's password to her personal files (including data from emergency button) and some meaningless for Kara but clearly familiar to Sam words, CEO was finally convinced. Then she refused to believe that Lena was most likely... not alive. And, well, Kara could understand that.

Sam and Lena talked by themselves for a bit before they left her to gather and transfer data about place where Lena's emergency device was last active. Kara didn't listen to them to respect their privacy, but she got the main idea when Sam returned with red eyes and Lena was more quiet than usual.

"Please, send the information like that", Kara passed to Sam paper with instructions Winn provided. They couldn't afford to lose data or have it intercepted after all. "I'll keep you informed. And take this watches for you and your daughter. If you press it there, I or Superman will hear it. Just in case".

Sam nodded gratefully.

"Be safe, Sam", Lena whispered as they took off. Sam's silent form in the window slowly disappeared from the view.

/ / / / / / / / / /

Winn's chatter in DEO was heard from the balcony even without Kara's superhearing. He was telling Alex about something, excitedly waving his hands around.

Lena gave a weak smile, when he knocked off some of his instuments. Kara considered letting him eat her pudding he's been eyeing all morning for this accomplishment.

"If you trap Lena inside this machine of yours just for the sake of reenacting the Ghost Busters, I'll leave you atop of Catco".

Winn turned to her on his chair, clearly affronted. But before he could retort, Kara said to the empty space beside her:

"No, Lena. Don't encourage him. Even if you are curious, I won't risk you being stuck inside this".

Winn saw her interacting with Lena for the first time. It was... a strange sight.

"I like her more than you already", he said instead, enjoying Kara's rolling eyes. "Thank you, miss Luthor!"

Kara grumbled, but still conveyed Lena's permission to call her by name.

"So, Lena it is! I'm Winn, by the way. Since it's not like someone will introduse us", he looked at Danvers sisters with accusation. Alex raised her hands.

"It's not like I was introduced too".

Before Winn could retort, J'onn entered the room, giving them strict look.

"Let's start, mister Winslow."

"Yes, sure. After listening to the whole story, I thought that perhaps Kara's ability to see Lena is a part of her kryptonian powers. We still need to understand why she's seeing Lena only though, but for now it's not really important. So I went through the information on Kara and J'onn's sight and hearing since he's not able to interact Lena, and tried to take a guess what is responsible for seeing ghosts. So here it is!" He put small metallic box on the table. "This little one will stabilize Lena's frequencies in the room enough for us, non-kryptonians, to interact with her".

He pressed something on his tablet, and his small device started to emit faint noise.

Kara saw Lena's image flicker a bit and got ready to blast device if something went even slightly wrong.

"Hi?"

From Winn and Alex's gasps Kara understood that they too saw Lena's shy smile.

[riaki]

dog treats (for humans) | yuuji itadori x reader

pt.5 of christmas event! vry short sorry, a day late but it works as fluff for the jjk ep today !?

"[name], look! i baked something!"

your immediate thoughts are something along the lines of oh, no.

yuuji's a decent cook. or at least, that's what you like to believe; hours of the two of you making messes in your kitchen after ruining the recipe book you were following prove otherwise. still, he's not half bad. and there was that one time he taught his roommate to make meatballs; something vague like 'a legacy of hotpot meatballs'. that's your boyfriend for you.

baking, though, is certainly not his forte. as demonstrated by the giant blob of half-baked somethings on the tray; an amalgamation of dough stuck to the wax paper.

you're not quite sure what you're looking at when you enter the kitchen of your apartment; it's an absolute mess. there's flour everywhere, and some strange looking leftover dough sitting in a clump on the counter. it smells a bit weird, but that's not new. what draws your attention the most other than the flour coating the polaroids on the fridge or the four spatulas on the counter is the mess on his person.

he's coated in flour. there's dough sticking to his cheeks, almost like whiskers on his face— but that does nothing to dampen the sunny grin on his lips. his hair is ruffled, clumps of flour and powdered sugar clinging to the tips. you can just picture him mussing his hair in frustration, fingers running through the soft pink strands, the color of grapefruit and strawberry lemonade on a midsummer evening.

"what exactly did you make?" you asked, glancing him up and down. he's wearing the holiday apron you bought him on a whim; it's so dirty that you don't even recognize the pattern of the golden retriever stitched to the front. it looks more like a lima bean now.

he grins, pushing the baking tray towards you as if you're supposed to come to some grand realization of what exactly he did make.

"i made dog treats! for fushiguro. you think he'll like 'em?"

"those are dog treats...?"

you certainly wouldn't've been able to tell from first sight. but that explains the peculiar smell; it must've been a product of whatever he was doing.

"yeah! aren't they great?" he laughs, full of mirth, and you catch his smile on your own lips. his enthusiasm is infectious.

"they seem more like regular cookies." you note, observing the mess on the tray. the edges are burnt a gentle caramel crisp; if you didn't know better, you would've definitely taken the initiative to make cute cookies with your cookie cutters and frost them however you like.

you're too lost in your thoughts to notice what he's doing until it's too late— your stupidly beloved boyfriend has broken off a chunk and taken an equal sized bite out of it, chewing with all the thoughtfulness of a michelin star chef. there's a few crumbs in the corner of his mouth, and if not for the contents he probably would've asked you to wipe some jam on his lips and treat yourself to a sweet treat on his cheeks.

"yuuji!" you reach out, snatching the tray from him and setting it down before you scowl out the cheeky look on his full cheeks. "spit it out." you demanded, and you're faintly reminded that it's probably fine for him to be eating them because he's acting like a puppy anyway.

he just grins at you through a mouthful, shaking his head vigorously and swallowing as he pumps his fists, and you can practically see the stars in his eyes. "'s great! you shbould try ib, bwabe."

you just roll your eyes (albeit fondly), reluctantly reaching over to the tray to break off a chunk of the dog treats(?). you give it a good feel and sniff before nibbling off a piece, trying to discern the taste in your mouth. you're starting to think that yuuji might've mistakenly made regular cookies and called them dog treats. there was no sign of raw meat or anything on the counters, which only strengthened your suspicions.

"hey, it's actually not that bad." you marveled, glancing up at him again. he's watching you expectantly, waiting like a little puppy for your response. his eyes light up like stars; far too excited for such a weak answer as yours, but his enthusiasm shines through either way.

"right? i was thinking, maybe we could keep them to ourselves..."

"don't get carried away, yuu." you sighed, shaking your head. but he just grins, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to press an insistent smooch to your lips.

he laughs, sending vibrations through your skin as he peppers your face with floury eskimo kisses. "you'd rather me gift him these things? he'd sic his dogs on me!"

"...maybe you're right. let's just keep them, then."

my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[weebsinstash]

As much as I want to have children by this man, let's take a moment to sip our platonic yandere Miguel juice

-i can't decide which sex he'd be more partial to in a 'child'/you since in the movie there was Gabriella but in the comics he eventually has a son who becomes the next Spiderman but--

-as a girl i just naturally think of a lot of those sorts of gender specific ideas 👉👈 he's this big scary hulking intimidating threat and his "daughter" is the one melting his cold exterior

-doesnt matter if you're a grown ass woman, Miguel sees you struggling to braid your hair and suddenly here he is, full dad mode, doing it for you,and depending on how close you two are, maybe he disguises it with "ugh, stop spending so much time messing around with that. If I do it for you will you get back to work? 🙄", but really it's just your new self proclaimed dad/tio wanting to help braid your hair and help you feel pretty and, oh, how he can fondly remember the last time he helped braid "his daughter's" hair...

-of course this evolves to him just loving to do things with your hair. Braid it, wear it natural, style it, use products on it, hes got you. you were just trying to put your hair in a lazy updo like a ponytail or bun and this man doesn't let you leave until he's got you completely combed out, hair braided with ribbons, and of course this entire time youre awkwardly sitting there in a chair in his absolute cave of a workstation with this gargantuan 6'9 man there, "so how was your day? Staying out of trouble?"

-really I mean. Is stealing other people's kids NOT technically in character for him. You're unfortunate enough to trauma bond with this man and you're never getting rid of him

-you hear Miles Morales call him tio (as in the tio meaning dude) and you jokingly teasingly start calling him tio, which Miguel secretly pretends is the version that means uncle. You're just constantly joking around or looking up at him with these big pouty eyes, "but tio 🥺 can't I PLEASE--" and its like. Lmao people know that if they need to ask Miguel for a favor, that it increases their chances to have you ask in their stead

- I mean, as a female adult abused as a child by my own father, raised by a single mom myself, like...

Reader flinches away when Peter B goes to give you a supportive pat on the back or comes in for a high five after a mission and you force yourself to laugh because you're feeling more than just a little awkward and in the spotlight. "Oh, sorry, that was dumb!" And they eventually get you to kind of anxiously word vomit "my dad used to just kind of, rough me up sometimes when I did something wrong! It-it could've been a lot worse honestly, but, it-it just makes me kinda jumpy around guys sometimes! It's not a big deal, or personal or anything. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad 🥺"

Peter B, Jessica, and Miguel all there as older parental figures and also literal parents, immediately exchange looks and agree like "oh hell naw, don't like that" and you get silently adopted by all three of em right then and there

-if it's a physically abusive father and you're still the victim of abuse, I imagine your dad had some suspicious figures suddenly show up in the middle of the night to terrify and threaten the shit out of him and suddenly you aren't getting as manhandled anymore

-can you imagine, like, you show up to Spider Society one day with a black eye "oh, this? It's, it's nothing. My dad is just, he's about to make police captain and he's really stressed about it is all" cue all your friends mentally high fiving around the table because your abusive piece of shit dad is going to die and you don't even know. When it happens they'll all be "oh no, sweetie, I'm SOOOO sorry :(" meanwhile they're thrilled bc now you don't have any parents and they can weasel in there as your new family, schedule your birthday parties, monopolizing more of your time, things like that

-goddd I just imagine it could become some kind of weird fucked up enmeshed scenario where the structure it's providing for your life is actually good for you meanwhile Miguel is like, retroactively kind of soothing some of his trauma both from his own childhood and what happened with the second universe he broke that it's just like. You're a grown ass adult and this man is tucking you in goodnight and saying "te amo, mija" at the doorway and you bet his ass is going to stand there and not let you sleep until you say it back. He knows you're just absolutely seething at him and he'll still refuse to leave without a grumbling "te amo, papá 🙄"

-He eventually just has you doing so much shit and depending on him so much that it starts to become second nature to you. one day you're in the Society doing one of the odd jobs you're allowed to help with and suddenly you're thinking, "Ugh I actually don't know what to do next, I wish Papá was here to-- WAIT SHIT NO I MEAN MIGUEL--"

-lmaooooo as a non Spanish speaker I keep thinking of how awwwwwful it would be if he actually forces you to learn Spanish. Not inherently because there's anything wrong with Spanish, but, I'm not always smart, and I can just SEE him quizzing your ass, forcing you to have entire conversations in Spanish, always clicking his tongue or chuckling at you when you make a mistake and he just thinks you're so cute struggling to learn 🥰 man hears you're trying to take extra lessons from Miles and he instantly drops everything he's doing to go track the little scamp down. Insert meme "I can forgive being an anomaly but I draw the line at teaching Reader bad Spanish"

-siiiiiiigh eventually the day comes when you're in big danger and you need his help, maybe you disobeyed him and was hanging out with some other Spiders in another dimension when there was a sudden villain attack, and he comes to your rescue as a villain does something dramatic like has a gun to your head or a knife to your neck and the second you see him you're just overwhelmed wirh a sense of relief, calling out for him, calling him dad/tio/papá whatever, and he's just like 😭❤️ pumping his fist internally, like YES you are so grounded when you get back home but also 🥰 you finally called him dad without him having to twist your arm 🥰 nevermind if the "villain" who kidnapped you was actually a Spider who owed him a favor, and this whole thing was to teach you a lesson about listening to your Papá, that's not important ❤️

-Miguel who forces you to learn Spanish vs Miguel who forces you to be Catholic. I can excuse kidnapping and forced adoption but I draw the line at making me practice religion 💀 no but seriously, he probably does have certain morals and values he instills/forces upon you if he thinks you need them, and he'll probably be one of those fathers, "are you leaving the house dressed like that? Go change" and orders you not to hang out with certain people he doesn't approve of or thinks have bad character (like hobie lmao)

-bruh you two will be on a super serious important mission and this man will be like "it's dark, hold my hand so we dont get separated"

Eventually it comes to a point where you're, not perfectly behaved but, just about. If someone finds Miguel, it means you're not very far away, or vice versa. Members of the Society quickly learn not to make any advances on you or make any "adult" comments unless they want to get suspiciously hurt during a personal training session by the big boss himself. You think you're safe just cause Miguel isn't around? Nah, cause then you have Peter B and Jess keeping an eye on you, and, not that YOU'RE aware of the extent, but, if Miguel ever gets worried, he can just ask Lyla what you've been getting up to, since your modified little daypass has her installed into it and she can track your every move ❤️ helicopter parent? Oh honey, you have NO idea...

[davrinsleftpectoral]

Thursday Bangers

Lyric prompt game started by @woundedsoul12 thank you for the tag. I love these prompts. This one has had me stumped. Which is weird because I love fluff. And Taylor swift is great. But man this one was not speaking to me. Until I decided it wasn’t meant for my modern AU lol. 

Rules: Free from a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays) 

This week's prompt is :: taylor swift’s Lover - I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all 

This is set about 18 months post game. 

==

Turvi and Neve strolled along the docks. It was clear for once, no rain clouds in sight. The sun was just starting to sink below the horizon. He knew it was Neve’s favorite time of day and he was happy he had been able to pry her out of the office in time to catch it. They walked in companionable silence, drinking in the golden glow off the water. Turvi slipped an arm around Neve’s shoulders and tucked her in close, her curves lining up with his body like she was made just for him.

“Can you believe that it’s been a year since me and Rana bought the building for the detective agency? A whole year of Minrathous Monsters and Murders,” Turvi mused. 

Neve chuckled, “We really shouldn’t have let Davrin name it.”

“Hey Rana liked the name just as much as he did. She even had the sign made, so you couldn’t change your mind.” Turvi smiled fondly thinking about his friends. “That means we’ve been living in the apartment above the agency for a year now too.”

Neve hummed appreciatively. “Do you miss Rivain and working with the lords?” She asked, tipping her face to look at him. 

Turvi stopped walking so he could look at Neve. “Sometimes. I miss the sunny beaches and everyone at the Hilt. But I’d rather have one year with you than one hundred in Rivain without you.”

Neve gave him a wide genuine smile. The kind that reached her eyes and made the little smile lines around her mouth more apparent. It was his favorite Neve smile, and it made him broaden his own in return. Before Neve could say anything he continued, “I gave up the loot-y for the booty. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He said as seriously as he could manage, which really meant with barely contained laughter. 

“Oh no,” Neve said, pulling away from him. “That’s it. We’re done. It’s been a good year but no more.” And she shoved him off the dock. 

Turvi surfaced laughing and with a heart full of love, for Neve and the life they’d built together in the city. There really was no place he’d rather be. 

==

Special thanks to @pixiedurango for giving me the “looty and the booty” line. Though I did take a little liberty with it lol.

If anyone else tagged me for this game this week thank you. I don’t remember, my brain is mush because I’ve had a terrible allergy headache all day.

In that same vein I’m going to throw out some no pressure tags. If you’ve already done it I’m sorry, tell me and I’ll go read it. And if I already read it I’ll read it again lol. @serensama @seaglassmelody @therivercrow @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @mythals-whore @thedissonantverses @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai

Text meme tax for making such a terrible joke.

[syllvane]

you can hear it in the silence- roy kent x reader

a/n: roy kent x tartt!reader. no pronouns specified iirc. content warnings for alcohol and growing up with a shitty father. ask to tag. yes this is 3.2k words no i dont want to talk about it

You’re outside the bar at your brothers birthday- the night is cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the crowded nosiness of the bar.

You loved Jamie, probably more than anything, and Keeley was always a sweetheart, but that didn’t change the fact that you weren’t AFC Richmond.

You don’t get the inside looks, the intricacies of everyone’s friendships with one another.

“Oi,” A gruff voice said from behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin before whipping around and seeing none other than Roy Kent. “Did I scare you?”

“No, that’s how I react to everyone.” You deadpanned. “You’re Roy, right? Jamie talks about you a lot.”

He nodded.

“You his girlfriend?” He asked and your face scrunched up.

“Ew, fuck no. I’m his sibling.” You snorted and his lips turned upwards slightly.

“Right, he’s mentioned you. Usually calls you ‘Pip’.”

You cringed.

“Of course he does.” You said, shaking you head as you looked back towards the bar fondly. “Thank you for training him. It means a lot of him, more than he’ll admit.”

“He’s a good kid. Not bad company.” He said thoughtfully. “I’ll flat out deny it if you repeat it though.”

“Oi! I asked you to go find Pip, not chat them up!” Jamie said, walking out and looking between the two. “Is he boring you to death? He has a tendency to do that.”

“He thought I was your girlfriend.” You said, smile on your lips. Jamie groaned and put a hand on Roy’s shoulder.

“Ew,” He said, tone of voice the exact same as yours a moment before. “How did you not know that Pip’s my sister?”

“I know Pip is your sibling. You didn’t call them that.” Roy said, only slightly annoyed.

“Oh, whatever. Come back in, I missed you.” Jamie said to you.

“You know I’ve been gone maybe five minutes. I didn’t even expect you to notice I was gone.”

He looked at Roy incredulously, as if saying ‘can you believe that?’ before turning back towards you.

“Of course I noticed, now come on.” He started towards the bar and you rolled your eyes.

“It was nice formally meeting you, Roy.” You said, smiling slightly as you turned and walked with Jamie.

He smiled back- not that either of you could see- before following you both back into the bar.

The Richmond players cheered at Jamie’s reappearance- you laughed, turning to look at Roy, your smile warm and eyes curious, meeting his. Your eyes lingered until you tore them away, Keeley speaking to you.

“It’s no longer my birthday, so go on then.” Jamie said, looking at you as you both walked through the streets of Richmond.

“What are you talking about?” You asked and he scoffed slightly.

“It’s past midnight.”

“Not what I meant.”

“You like Roy.” He said and you groaned.

“I do not.

“Do too.”

“Do n- we aren’t doing this.”

Jamie pouted slightly, but didn’t argue.

“Y’know, obviously I don’t like the idea of you with anyone from Richmond, just because I’d learn more about you than I ever want to know-”

“Thank you for that, Jamie.”

“- but Roy is a good man. Better than most. You’d have my blessing.” He finished, taking a deep breathe and you smiled, stopping and hugging him.

“You’re very sweet, Jamie. I don’t even know Roy, though. Is he attractive? Yeah.”

“Ew.” Jamie commented, voice muffled from the hug.

“I’m ignoring that. But I don’t know him.”

Jamie pulled away, looking at you.

“You could.”

For a second, her heart thrummed with the possibility. You thought of the way his gaze fell on you- what would it be like to kiss him, to-

You simply smiled, not trusting your voice, and squeezed Jamie’s shoulder.

“You’re sweet, the best brother, y’know?”

“I do,” He said cheekily. “Nice to hear it though.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, willing yourself to enjoy the moment instead of thinking about Roy Kent,

Well, at least for a little bit.

When you arrive home to a dark, empty apartment, your mind wanders.

You hate it- hate that you keep thinking about him, hate that you don’t want to stop.

What if they dated and broke up? It would ruin Jamie and Roy’s friendship.

And even that assumes that Roy even noticed you in the first place. You were no model and he was gorgeous and-

“Fuck!” You cursed to the empty apartment, breaking the train of thought.

You were too tired for this, for thinking in circles about things that would never happen.

It’s not a week later when Jamie’s car won’t start and he asks you to pick him up from practice.

Hence your waiting in the Richmond parking lot, waiting for Jamie to hop in the car.

A knock on your window made you jump in your seat, only to look up and see one Roy Kent.

Ah, fuck.

You rolled your window down, looking at him.

“Fucking hell, you’ve got to stop that.” You said, heart still racing.

“And here I thought you reacted to everyone that way.” He said dryly and a small laugh escaped your lips.

“Only you, apparently.”

“Are you waiting for Jamie?” He asked, head cocked slightly.

“What? Oh. Yeah. Did practice run late?”

“He’s doing PR stuff. He’ll likely take a while.”

“Oh. Huh.” You did your best to keep your expression neutral.

“He didn’t tell you.” Roy said, realization dawning on his face.

“Yeah, he may have neglected to mention it.”

“Fuck. I was gonna… do you want a tour?” He asked, causing your brain to fully stop for a second.

“A tour?”

Roy blinked.

“Of the clubhouse.”

Out of instinct, maybe, you open your mouth to say that Higgins took you on a tour of the clubhouse one of the first times you were inside the clubhouse.

Then, you closed it and nodded.

“I would love one.”

More interesting than the clubhouse itself is the way Roy talks about it, the affection that lies in every word he says.

And then, he took you out onto the pitch, the one place Higgins didn’t cover.

“It feels much bigger when you’re actually on it.” You said softly, taking your eyes off Roy.

He looked at you, gaze uncharacteristically soft before forcing himself to look anywhere else.

“You wanna take a shot at the goal?” He asked and you whipped around to look at him.

“I don’t think I’m… am I even allowed?” You asked and Roy let out the smallest laugh, startling you.

“Sorry, I was just trying to picture your brother saying that. Yes, you’re allowed.” He said, passing a ball fo you that had been sitting by his feet.

You- to your great surprised- received the pass and then looked back at the pitch before shaking your head slightly.

“Jamie’s the one with all the football talent. I feel like I gotta work my way up to this.” You said and he grunted. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged.

“You’re selling yourself short.”

“You’re right. I’m actually the one with all the football talent.” You deadpanned. “I’m- hey!”

With a surprising swift move, Roy took off and stole the ball from you, walking casually towards the goal.

You followed him further onto the field until you were about twelve meters from the goal.

“Roy, what are we doing?”

“You are taking a penalty.”

“Are you going to be goalie?”

“Fuck no. I’m retired.”

You smiled, looked at him.

“You’re selling yourself short.” You said, trying to imitate his voice. He rolled his eyes.

“Penalties, it’s just you and the goalie.”

“There’s no goalie.”

Roy ignored this.

“You want to always look at the goalie when you’re shooting, to see which way they’re leaning towards.”

“Looks like this goalie is on vacation?” Someone- Jamie- said, emerging from the clubhouse. “Aren’t you supposed to be gone? Bingo or something, granddad?”

Roy grunted, staring daggers at Jamie.

“You had plans? I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I wanted to. And it wasn’t bingo. It was yoga.” He said, the end of the sentence pointed towards Jamie.

Jamie held his hands up in defense and you smiled slightly.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely and Roy offered you a small nod before walking away.

Once he was out of earshot, Jamie looked over and started laughing slightly.

”What?” She asked. “You could have told me that you had a PR thing.”

“That’s not nearly as fun, is it?” He said, before smiling. “It’s all on your face, you know.”

“What?” You repeated and he looked at you, same strange smile on his lips.

“You like him. It’s written all over your face.”

“Jamie-”

“I know, I know. You don’t like him, or whatever.” He said with disbelief.

“Yeah,” You said. Or whatever. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm.” He said, walking back towards the parking lot.

When Roy Kent shows up at your ex’s mom’s house, you’re almost positive that you’re dreaming.

When he looks at you and says “Fucking hell”, you snap back to reality.

“Roy, this is Sam’s ex- the super sweet one I was telling you about.” She said before turning to you. “This is Roy. He has the mouth of a sailor, but he’s a good boy.”

There’s a look of panic on Roy’s face for a moment, fading completely as you outstretched your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled. “How do you know Tabitha?”

“We uh… we do yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” He admitted.

“And shows on Fridays.” Tabitha helpfully supplied before handing a glass of red to Roy.

Roy nodded slightly, taking a sip.

“Of course, can’t forget the shows.” Roy said with no particular emotion.

“Right. Why don’t you two grab a spot on the couch?” Janice and Gertie will be here in five- you know how they are.”

In the noisy living room, one of the older ladies in the room motioned for Roy to sit next to her, to which he happily obliged, looking at you as he sat down- an invitation.

You walked over cautiously before sitting next to him gingerly.

“Oh, Roy! Is this your-” The woman started.

“No, I’m Sam’s ex.” You said, saving yourself the embarrassment of Roy saying ‘fuck no.’

Curiosity turned to pity and the woman leaned over Roy, putting a hand on your knee.

You smiled, the pity still feeling better than whatever you were expecting from Roy.

“It was a year or two ago, ancient history really.” You said, half to Roy, half to a woman you didn’t know the name of.

Before you could speak again, Tabitha walked back into the living room, accompanied by two older women- presumably Janice and Gertie.

It takes an episode for you and Roy to get comfortable with each other’s presence- an episode for you to relax enough to the point where your leg brushed alongside his, another half episode for Roy to start catching you up on the plotlines you’ve missed.

When Tabitha pauses the telly and calls it a night, it feels like no time has passed at all and if you didn’t know better, you’d say that Roy almost looked… disappointed when your leg was no longer touching his.

“Did you drive here?” Roy asked and you shook your head. “Do you want company on the walk back?”

You smiled.

“I wouldn’t mind yours.”

He nodded, holding your eye contact before looking away and making for the door.

“Thank you Tabitha, always a pleasure.” He said gruffly.

“Always a pleasure,” She smiled. “Oh, dear?”

You turned and looked at Tabitha.

“Yes?”

“He’s a good one.” She said, voice quiet.

You turned to look out the doorway to see Roy.

“He is, isn’t he.”

Tabitha patted your shoulder affectionately and you turned back to look at her.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, dear.” She smiled, before you turned and walked back towards Roy.

“This is the last place I expected to see you.” You said and Roy shrugged.

“I told you I do yoga.”

“Yes, well, when you said yoga, I thought you meant with a bunch of other fit guys.”

“Oh fuck off.” He said, no actual malice in his voice, before he stopped walking completely. “You think I’m fit?”

You stopped, turning and looking at him, ready to tell him go fuck off.

Your voice catches in your throat at his raised eyebrows and the small smile in his face, and a smile of her own formed, features softening.

“I said what I said.”

“You shouldn’t stay stuff you don’t mean.”

“Who says I didn’t mean it?”

He let out a small grunt, a noise of disbelief, which would’ve offended you if you didn’t see the almost bashful expression in his face.

“We should continue walking.” He said, clearing his throat.

“Right.” You said, and the pair continued forwards. “Tabitha invited me to the get together next week, by the way, but I can always cancel if you don’t want me there.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, it was your thing first. Just wanted to give you the option.”

“Fuck that, it’s… nice, having you there.” He said, voice full of indignation that you could believe for a second that your presence wasn’t wanted somewhere.

When you’re alone in your kitchen later, the feeling hits you like a brick.

It’s not your plan to go out drinking when your father reaches out to you for the first time in many, many years.

You know he’s in recovery, knows that Jamie has seen him, and none of that prepared you for the absolute vitriol you feel when you hear his voice.

The conversation lasts no more than a minute, your father gracefully taking a hint for the first time in his life.

You ignore the call from Jamie that comes a couple moments later and mindlessly drives to a bar near your apartment.

And you drink until anger turns into a full buzz in the background, which turns in hollowness.

Your phone rings- Jamie again. You looked at the photo of him that popped up. He couldn’t be more than three years old, crooked smile on his face, sitting in the grass next to a football.

Even as a kid, you tried your best to protect him from your dad. You’re still not sure how much you actually helped.

Your phone stopped ringing. You ordered another drink.

It’s not a half hour later when someone takes the seat next to you.

You glanced at them before going back to staring at your drink before doing a double take, because what the fuck is Roy Kent doing here?

“Jamie sent you.” You said, little emotion in your voice.

Roy looked at you and gave a single nod.

“He’s worried about you.”

“Okay. Well, if you’ve come here to say that I need to give my father a chance or some bullshit, you can leave.” You said, fully expecting him to stand up and walk out.

“What? Fuck no. I’m here because I care about you.”

“Oh,” You said, energy draining from your posture. “Oh.”

Silence sat in the middle of them for a couple of moments. You eyed the half-finished drink and was suddenly positive that you’d throw up if you took another sip.

All at once, it’s all too much. You, the entire bar, smells too much like your dad.

“Can we…”

“Are you okay?” He asked, standing up and you shook your head.

“I need to get out of here, I need to…”

“Okay, let’s go.” He said, throwing some notes on the bar top and guiding her to the exit.

The fresh air helps, but the smell of alcohol clings to you and it’s all too much, at least until Roy takes off his jacket and offers it to you.

You don’t put it on, just hold it against you and focus on the notes of his cologne instead of the scent of alcohol.

This and the sound of voice reassuring you that you’re okay is enough to ground you.

“I’m sorry. Fuck.” You said, voice breaking and eyes closed.

He pulled you into a hug.

“You have nothing to apologize about.” He told you. “Let me take you home.”

You pulled away from him, still sniffling, and nodded.

The ride home is silent.

You don’t have to ask him to come in- you simply give him a look and he follows.

“I’m going to shower.” You said and Roy nodded.

When you emerged, alcohol no longer clinging to your skin, you were surprised to see him standing in your kitchen, eyebrows scrunched together as he cooked.

“Thank you.”

He turned and looked at you, giving you a nod.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not.”

He held your gaze for a moment before turning back to the stove, pulling the pan off of the heat.

“How do you feel?” He asked, doing his best to disguise any concern in his voice.

“Better. I’m sorry. You probably had better plans than babysitting.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

He set a plate of food in the counter for you and you took it, grabbing a fork from the utensils drawer and digging in.

You feel the need to apologize again, as if your mere existence is something worth apologizing for.

A bad habit leftover from when you were your father‘s kid.

You help him clean up despite his protests, and pretend not to notice his concern.

“I should go to sleep.” You said and he straightened up.

“Right, I’ll… go, then.” He turned away and you grabbed his wrist, your skin electric against his.

“Stay. I mean, you don’t have to, but-”

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

You want to kiss him, want to close the distance between the two of you. You don’t, remembering that you’re a bit of a mess right now, but it’s not for lack of wanting.

You let go of his wrist and gave him a small nod.

“I’ll take the couch. I don’t want you to fuck up your back because of me.”

“Now-”

“Roy, please. Let me do this one thing for you.”

He looked at you, narrowed eyebrows, before he sighed.

“This is fucking stupid.”

“You’re a pro-footballer, I won’t be responsible for breaking you.”

“Was,” He corrected you. “Was a pro-footballer.”

“You’re selling yourself short.” You said gently and his expression softened. “Please.”

Without further protest, he listened.

When you wake up, the embarrassment weighs on you almost as heavily as the hangover.

Almost.

On the coffee table next to you, there is a glass of water and some painkillers, which you gladly accept.

Roy is in the kitchen, disheveled and cooking breakfast.

“Twice in twenty four hours, I feel lucky.” You said, cringing as soon as the words left your mouth.

He looked at you, eyebrow raised and lips turned upwards.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You smiled before the look faded into something softer. “Thank you for staying.”

He looked at you again, expression somewhere between adoration and frustration, because don’t you get it?

Of course he stayed. All you ever had to do was ask.

He gave you a simple nod instead.

“Roy?”

“Hm?”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t need to. It’s written all over your face and for the first time, Roy can see it:

He looked at you for a couple moments before turning his attention back to the stove.

“Me too,” He said quietly, offering you a plate.

You took it, fingers brushing against his, smile blossoming on your face.

“Yeah?” You asked and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.”

[originalcrime]

for the soft prompts - 27, buddie.

Evan!! thank you for the prompt! 😍 sorry in advance the actual musical element is blink and you’ll miss it 😬😳 but it is soft!

27. humming/singing

“We’re not getting extra pepperoni,” Eddie says firmly. Buck and Chris both start to protest, but he cuts them off. “It’s a racket! A dollar fifty and this place gives you something like five extra pieces. The regular amount is plenty.”

“Fine, Ebenezer, you win,” Buck says fondly. Eddie’s always been more or less a live-below-your-means guy, but ever since selling the house in Texas he’s been more frugal than ever. It’s fine, Buck loves him (he loves him!), even when he’s being a penny pincher about pepperoni. “Chris, you want any other toppings?”

“No other toppings,” Eddie pronounces.

“What.” Buck says.

“Dad!” Chris groans.

“What?” Eddie says. He gestures toward the fridge. “We’ve got veggies. We’ve got a sauté pan. We can pull the rest together ourselves.”

Chris scoffs. “The point of ordering pizza is you don’t have to pull anything together yourself.”

Buck thinks the kid makes a good point, but Eddie ignores him entirely, tossing Buck his phone. “Make the call, babe. Just two medium pepperonis. Pickup. We don’t need to pay for delivery.” Which is crazy talk, frankly, but he called Buck ‘babe,’ so how is Buck not supposed to do as he asks?

By the time he’s done placing the order, Chris has put his headphones back on and is bent over his homework, chewing his pencil eraser thoughtfully as he flips pages in his algebra textbook. Eddie is chopping up an orange bell pepper, tongue between his teeth in concentration as he precision cuts perfectly even strips.

There’s another cutting board sitting out, next to an onion and a carton of mushrooms. Buck sidles up next to him, grabs a handful of champignons, and gets to work himself. Eddie shoots him a soft smile, just about making the extra effort worth it.

Up close, Buck can hear that Eddie’s cheerily humming something under his breath—hey mambo, mambo italiano—which is so delightfully dorky Buck could cry. Shit. He should’ve taken the onion.

“When did they say it’d be ready by?” Eddie asks, flicking on the burner.

“Twenty, twenty-five minutes,” Buck tells him. “I’ll go get em, if you’re watching the stove?”

“I can make the drive,” Eddie says. “Since it was my idea.”

“Babe,” Buck says, just for the small joy of seeing Eddie flush at the pet name, too. “You think picking up a couple pizzas on a Thursday night isn’t the least I’d do for you?”

Eddie grins at him, biting the inside of his cheek. He makes a furtive head gesture toward Chris, oblivious over at the kitchen table. “For us,” he says. He looks at Buck carefully. “All of us.”

All of us. Isn’t that something? Buck leans in to give Eddie a soft, dry peck, and goes to find his keys so he can pick up family dinner. For their family.

send me soft prompts!

accepting buddie and wincest

[overclockedroulette]

Hello tumblr dot com. Did I hear out-of-context VtM whump? Did I hear delusional whumper pov? Did I hear Finally Posting Fic Again After Three Years? yeah you're right i didn't hear any of that- WOAHH WHAT'S THAT UNDER THE CUT

(if you are in this campaign. i am looking at you directly em. i am trusting you not to look but Do Not Look or do i'm not your boss. but nonetheless foip foip foip unbelievable foip.)

anyway. who doesn't love evil deluded vampire twinks?

i call this one 'don't play with your food asshole'

godbless he's so cute

He’s started imagining things.

Not fantasising - that makes it sound a little too much like a, um, vulgar sort of imagining, and though in his time as a purely sexualised existence (the queer thing, no the vampire thing - though he finds it difficult to imagine that nobody has that particular fetish) he has become, he thinks, anything but a prude, his good Christian upbringing can’t quite reconcile active fantasising just yet - just… imagining. Picturing. Seeing, objectively.

Yes, he knows he uses that sort of thing as a front for luring prey to his apartment - but that’s just feeding. He isn’t deriving any fetishistic pleasure from it, no more than they are; it’s just like eating a meal. If you made out with the meal a bit first, to make it taste better.

Hm. There is, perhaps, a better analogy.

Either way, the manner in which he fantasises is neither fetishistic nor particularly Christian, so he’s losing on both fronts; when cleaning glasses or mixing drinks his eyes are able to wander, and when he has time (which is, admittedly, rarely), they are able to linger on the forms of his more… well-off patrons. Those who laugh in a particularly carefree manner, who wax fondly of lovers and family a little too loud, who walk with enough confidence to draw his eye - the gait of a person who has never suffered and doesn’t care to. The way that they walk, in particular, enchants him: upright and confident, or bouncing, or a half-skip, or a stride - utterly unlike that imperfect gait he sees in glitches and flickers in passing windows or in his shadow, utterly ignorant of the other side.

It’s that focus that helps him to see them in a different manner. It’s that magnetism that lets him picture their bodies feeble and crawling, soaked through with desperation, hauling their limp and bleeding selves across his floor and sobbing, begging with their eyes - the pain of running so great that it outweighs the need to survive like nothing ever outweighed his, and the fantasy reminds him that in everything he is, in spite of what has been done to him, he is better than them, and it’s a feeling he could get high on. And it’s that kind of thought that lets him get through a shift without launching himself across the bar and strangling the first person to mention a friend or a relative with any hint of fondness - or display a hint of an Irish accent; one or the other (he doesn’t hate the Irish, he doesn’t, but the accent is both distinctive and familiar, and it’s not like he has anything against the accent itself but he thinks he is well within his rights to find it uncomfortable, well within his rights, even if it feels a little reductive, but who cares? It’s not some moralising thing, just a slight discomfort, he doesn’t actually even dislike the accent; it’s fine; it’s a fine accent; just uncomfortable). Only once or twice has he actually gone through with the urge to mutilate, and though he promptly threw up and swore it off the first time, the inevitable second was unimaginably freeing. It took him at least a few extra minutes before the urge to run to the bathroom and puke blood into his sink overtook him entirely - so, clearly, he’s getting there.

(Is ‘there’ somewhere he particularly wants to get, though? He perishes the thought. At least it’s something he’s allowed to want.)

There’s something about the feeling of holding another person’s life in his hands that, were it not for the fact that it was his life he held so often, would almost certainly have him sympathising with Father Aiden. The feeling of slipping his hands down a person’s legs, of holding them taut with his teeth deep in their thigh, of the precision with which a hidden and carefully-sharpened knife glides through muscle and feeling tendon retreat like a snapped bungee cord, beneath skin and between his fingers. The feeling of clumsily pressing his thumb into the wound and scraping bone. That knowing feeling, when he looks into their eyes from below and knows it’s too much even to scream, and the sound that comes out instead when without glancing down, he cuts the second. That one’s clumsier - partially because he can’t see and partially because his hands are now shaking: takes a little sawing to sever completely, and makes him feel a little silly under the high. It’s his first time, he explains, like his audience is someone who can care, so he’s bound to be a little clumsy. He hopes they can forgive him, he laughs (like a nervous schoolboy), but knows they won’t. He asks them to stand. They refuse. He looks them in the eye and tells them to stand. He’s only once taken ecstasy, but he doesn’t think he’ll have to ever again. And that’s where he gets the idea to tell them to run, and realises when their bloodied hand falls limp against the pressed-in handle that he forgot to lock the door. Lucky break, then, that he got to them so quickly. He doesn’t make that mistake again, though he does lean over and expel that particular meal against his will, faint and shaking, when he sees their eyes roll back.

He finishes shaking that margarita, strains it out and salts the rim. The customer shyly asks for the lime on the side, and he apologises profusely, obliges, and even gives her an extra on the opposite side. It matches the bunny ears, he mentions offhand, noticing the visible hen-do attire; he laughs, she laughs, and he knows they’re tipping good tonight, though that wasn’t his initial thought. It really does look a bit like bunny ears. He could do something with that, next Easter - maybe with strawberry slices; something with chocolate liqueur?

He takes another order. The second time was clumsier still - well run dry of beginner’s luck, perhaps (though he did lock the door, this time!), or maybe just the consequences of thinking a little too hard; either way, his hand slips, and the victim kicks out against the pain even through the haze of the kiss - the blade scars his palm, and he is left facing an angry, fading man. What’s worse is that the man is bigger than him, that there are weapons in the room and he knows because he’s wielding one; he is very, very aware of how easily he can be disarmed.

He pressed his palm into his prey’s mouth and forced them down, he remembers. He held it there as if to gag him, and the way the look in his eyes shifted as the blood ran from his own palm and down its throat is a sight he has to press out of the forefront of his mind as long as he’s in public. He pours another round of shots. His glasses were askew, anyway - he couldn’t see quite right, not the full picture, and he doesn’t doubt that’s for the best.

Still pressing one hand to the kine’s lips, he used the other to adjust his glasses and press a single finger to his own.

Shh.

It stares up at him in wonder as he peels his hand away, which contorts into agony, not anger, when he slashes his heels as quickly as he can. He rings in an order. The sensation of blood-soaked hands running through well-kept curls presents itself to him, and he lets himself breathe it in before serving the next customer.

He didn’t finish drinking from that one - just put a few more clumsy wounds in it and let it bleed out naturally (maybe that’s why he threw up, but at the very least, it was slightly less to expel). He cringes thinking about what Father Aiden must have thought, cleaning up the body - though, he supposes that ‘looking like an amateur’ is about par for the course, when it comes to… being somewhat of an amateur, so he’s sure that he can’t judge too harshly. He’ll just remind him of the somewhat heavy-handed number of car accidents staged in his youth, if he asks; he isn’t the only kindred here allowed to be a little excessive.

He cleans a glass and assures a bejewelled patron that he’ll be with them in just a moment. He heaps some praise on their jewellery and then on their eyes, with a natural humility he could only dream of genuinely possessing. Two is a messy number, after all - and he’s certain he can do it better this time.

[arwenlalaith]

The Devil's Herb

Ship: Emily Prentiss/Tara Lewis

Summary: When did aging become so complicated?

Word Count: 1080

Author's Note: This fills the Aphrodisiacs square on my @cmkinkbingo2024 card.

As much as getting older had always been an unavoidable eventuality, Emily had spent much of her life pushing her age to the back of her mind. Maybe it was because she’d always been too busy to think about it. Maybe it was because she’d watched her mother doing everything in her power to maintain a facade of youth. Maybe it was just her own flawed psyche.

Whatever the reason, she found it creeping up on her faster than she would have liked.

The first thing had been the glasses. It wasn’t that she looked bad wearing glasses, she was just stubborn. She didn’t want to admit that she needed them and thus spent far longer than wise or necessary squinting, rather than acknowledge the truth of her declining vision.

The second thing had been the grey hair. It didn’t matter how many times Tara reassured her that she found her beautiful regardless of the colour of her hair, she couldn’t seem to make her peace with it. She’d spent so many years dying it, doing her best to pretend and ignore and disguise, but eventually – during the pandemic – she’d just fallen out of the habit and let the grey take over.

The most insidious thing, though, was menopause. Partly because it killed her just a little to know that she’d never have a child of her own. Partly because her normally rampant libido quickly disappeared. And, worst of all, the anorgasmia that came with it. It was frustrating and insidious and depressing.

Tara repeatedly told her that it didn’t matter to her – that an orgasm wasn’t the point of sex, although it certainly made it more enjoyable – but Emily remained unconvinced... She’d tried everything she could think of to deal with her depleting hormone levels (short of actually talking to a medical professional), but nothing had helped.

(“What about marijuana?” Tara had suggested one night.

Emily had raised a pointed brow. “I don’t think Federal Agents are supposed to endorse drug use...” she’d said dryly.

Tara just laughed. “Are you going to tell on me?”)

___________

Emily flopped back on the bed, giggling as she exhaled smoke towards the open window.

“Hey, be careful with that joint, stoner,” Tara teased, “Don’t want to set the bed on fire...”

“Just with passion, right?” she said with a snort of amusement.

Tara rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “I think you’re officially high,” she said, taking the joint from her and taking a drag, then setting it in the ashtray on her nightstand. “Feel anything?”

Emily thought on that for a moment, then shrugged. “Hard to stay. I mean stay. Say!” she said, taking a few tries to get the word right. Then, she burst out laughing again.

“You’re goofy when you’re high,” Tara said fondly, then leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was chaste at first, but quickly turned passionate, Emily’s hands frenzied and frantic over Tara’s body in their search for purchase.

Finding what she was searching for, she tangled her fingers in Tara’s hair, nails scraping across her scalp, eliciting a little whine from Tara’s lips. Her other hand slid under Tara’s tank top, exploring the planes of her stomach, then up to her breast.

“Em, it’s okay,” Tara reassured her, pulling back from the kiss, “We don’t have to...”

She moved to catch her lips once again, silencing her protests. “I want to,” she rasped between kisses. “I want this...”

“There’s no pressure,” Tara started to insist, in spite of her eager agreement, “There’s never...”

“I know,” Emily said, pulling back far enough to fix her with a serious look. A beat. Then, in a smaller voice, “I trust you, Tara. Completely.”

That, apparently was enough reassurance because, in the next moment, she’d rolled them so Emily was pinned beneath her. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” she breathed, moving to trail kisses down her throat, down the valley between her breasts. At the same moment, her hand trailed along Emily’s thigh to drag her knuckles between her thighs, bringing them away slick. “Want to taste?”

She whined, nodded eagerly, accepting Tara’s fingers into her mouth and laving them with her tongue, sucking off every last drop.

“Good girl,” Tara purred, removing her fingers so she could kiss her once again, stealing the gasp Emily made as she slid her fingers into her dripping cunt. “You feel so good, Em,” she said, pulling back to fix her with a lascivious grin, watching the way her face contorted in ecstasy as she began moving her fingers.

“Don’t stop, Tara, please...” she begged, moving her hips – slow at first, then faster, chasing after her fingers and the promise of cumming.

“Feels good, don’t it?” Tara said, “You want more?”

She nodded desperately.

Tara chuckled. “Poor girl wants to cum so damn bad, huh?”

She nodded again, pouting, pleading.

“You’ve waited a long time, haven’t you? You deserve to feel good...” Emily couldn’t seem to form words in her desperate need, but she writhed beneath her, nearly sobbing with want. Tara raised a brow as she pinned her hip to the bed, keeping her legs spread with her knees. “If you want to cum, just say so...”

“T-Tara...” she whined, “I-I want...”

“What do you want, Baby?” she taunted. “Use your words...” Huffing in frustration, Emily pouted up at her, doing her best to convince her with her best puppy dog eyes. “You can do better than that, Baby.”

She practically sobbed. “Tara, please,” she choked out, “I need to cum...”

“Such a good girl,” Tara praised, her thumb finding her clit, eliciting a gasp, then a moan. “You can cum, Baby,” she coaxed. She latched her lips on Emily’s breast, sucking a bright purple bruise to the surface, the scraping her teeth along the bruise. She repeated the action with her other breast, leaving a matching mark.

With the stimulation of Tara’s fingers and her lips and teeth, it didn’t take long for Emily to climax, her back arching off the bed, her hips twitching, cunt spasming. “Jesus Christ, Tara!” she gasped as her muscles went slack and she collapsed back on the bed.

“I don’t like to say: I told you so, but...” Tara said with a playful grin.