#I’m a cozy nap partner

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

✨ Nothing to see here ✨

[lecsainz]

Kk! So I absolutely loved your last piece about Carlos and the heiress!reader, and I have to agree I really really love those blended fics. Something about them just hits different ya know? And then I saw this post https://www.tumblr.com/monzabee/729167936518012928 and was like god I wish someone still wrote for kimi. And then off I’m scrolling through your blog and I see that ask were apparently you do?? Like holy shit bestie! This is like the greatest day ever! So all of that to say will you please please right something that involves the video from that post?? Pretty please??

MELTING THE ICEMAN

parings: kimi räikkönen x wife!reader

author 🗒️’s: my heart melted writing this, I hope it turned out as you want, love

summary: the one where you see your husband taking care of your son and feel that you couldn’t be happier as you are.

✩. . . masterlist !

Kimi Räikkönen, the Iceman of Formula 1, had always been known for his stoic and unemotional demeanor on the race track. But at home, in the quiet moments, he transformed into a different person entirely. There was a side of him that very few people got to see, a side that was incredibly warm, loving, and tender.

One sunny afternoon, the two of you sat in the cozy living room, surrounded by the soft laughter and gurgles of your 6-month-old son, Jake. Kimi held the baby in his arms, cradling him gently as he made funny faces to elicit the most delightful giggles from your little one.

Kimi leaned down, his lips brushing against Jake's plump, rosy cheeks. "Who's the happiest baby in the world, huh?" he cooed, his Finnish accent making it all the more endearing.

Jake's response was a chorus of delighted baby laughter, a sound that could melt the coldest of hearts. You watched in awe as your husband continued to play with Jake, making silly noises and pretending to nibble on his tiny fingers. It was a side of Kimi that you fell in love with all over again, a side that he reserved for his family.

"Kimi," you whispered, unable to contain your fondness, "you are the best dad in the world."

Kimi looked up from Jake's little face, his azure eyes meeting yours. A small, warm smile graced his lips, a rare sight for the world but a daily occurrence in the privacy of your home. "I learned from the best," he said softly, referring to you.

You couldn't help but blush at the compliment. Kimi's transformation into a devoted father had surprised you, but it had also filled your heart with an indescribable joy. His dedication and love for Jake were unmistakable, and you couldn't have asked for a better partner to share parenthood with.

As the day continued, you both took turns caring for Jake, feeding him, changing his diapers, and watching him drift off to sleep in his crib. Every moment felt like a cherished memory in the making, and you couldn't help but daydream about the future.

When Kimi returned to the living room after putting Jake down for his nap, he found you deep in thought. You looked up at him with a dreamy smile, and he knew you were up to something.

"Darling, what's on your mind?" he asked, settling beside you on the couch.

You took his hand and interlaced your fingers. "Kimi, I was just thinking about how wonderful this is—our little family. I love watching you with Jake, and I can't help but wonder… I want more of these moments. I want more children with you."

Kimi's typically cool exterior cracked, and he looked at you with a mix of surprise and delight. "More children?" he repeated, as if the idea had never occurred to him before. But the spark of warmth in his eyes revealed that he was just as excited by the prospect.

You nodded, your heart pounding with anticipation. "Yes, more children. I want to see you as a father again and again, to have more of these beautiful moments with you."

A slow, genuine smile spread across Kimi's face, and he pulled you into a loving embrace. "I'd love that," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you, and I love our family. Let's make more beautiful memories together."

The two of you sat there, lost in the prospect of a larger, even more joyful family. Kimi held you close, and you knew that your dreams were aligned. It was a beautiful day of laughter, love, and dreams for the future, all in the gentle embrace of your husband and your precious son, Jake. The Iceman had certainly melted, and you couldn't have been happier about it.

[mosaickiwi]

Hi again! Hope you've been doing okay!

First off I just wanna say that you always deliver, I mean "Fall Unto Me"?? Four part+an epilogue of me being torn between wanting to baul my eyes out and wanting to melt into a puddle from the feels :')

But as for the request, could I ask for Angel and [REDACTED] redecorating his appartment? Getting rid of the gaudy furniture once and for all!

Don't forget to drink water and take breaks whenever you need to! My brain is also 105% filled with this skrunkly but the trick is to keep two neurons in a cell reserved for this >:] /silly

HEHE I’ve been ok! Hope you are too!! <3 thank u for appreciating my (deranged) brainrotting fic c: the suffering is my favorite part. I’m drinking lots of water cause summer hates my ass. 💖 Also sorry this is long I am clearly not winning at the "be normal" challenge.

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Redecorating

“This one?”

The dark haired man peered at the laptop in your hands for a long moment. “It's… nice.”

“Yes…? You called the last three couches nice, too. Any other thoughts?” You gently goaded your partner.

Choosing new furniture with [REDACTED] was supposed to be easy. You'd pick something, and he'd agree. Except you wanted it to feel like home for both of you. He didn't have to say the mushy, obvious line: as long as you were there, it was home. So progress was challenging with some things. You were sitting together on the current couch—the ugly, lifeless one that came with his apartment for some reason. 

His brow crinkled as he searched for different words. Those soft blue eyes went back and forth across the screen until he said, “It’s cozy yet functional.”

“Did you just summarize the description to me?”

He confessed to the crime with a sigh. “Angel, all I think when I look at it is you. And how cute you'd look sitting on it. Like y’do right now.”

“I'm always cute. Focus on the couch, please. Not me,” you insisted.

“No promises.”

“Let's see…” You had to find some way to get through to them. An idea came to mind that you knew he wouldn't like very much, but you had to try. “Pretend we're not dating. Or maybe I don't exist? You come home—don't make that face! I said pretend—so, you come home after a very terrible day and you see this couch. Is it nice then?”

[REDACTED] still made that face as he answered you. “Annoying as fuck to clean.”

It was progress. You didn't want to dwell on why that would be what they thought about after getting home. “Did the first one I showed you seem annoying to clean?”

“Mm... a bit.” They reached forward to change the webpage back for another look. “Y’never showed me these.” 

You leaned over to see what he was talking about. There were a few humongous bean bag chairs on the furniture wish list you’d made. “I just thought they looked fun to take a nap in. But I’m not sure we’d both fit, so it’d be silly," you explained and tapped the mouse to continue skimming through your other selections. “We can think about the couch later. I found some wall art that doesn’t look like it came from a dentist’s office.”

His eyes carefully followed the scrolling page until the bean bags disappeared at the bottom of the screen, but he didn’t protest.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

The new furniture had arrived—and been efficiently assembled by your boyfriend, despite your protest—while you were at the library, so you were excited to get home. [REDACTED] held one hand over your eyes as he unlocked the apartment’s door.

“I already know what all the furniture looks like, Ren.” Even so, you didn’t wave their hand away.

You could hear the door click as he guided you into the foyer. “I may have added a few extra things,” he hummed while you blindly struggled and failed to take off your shoes. “Actually… close your eyes f’me.”

“O—kayy?!” Just as you closed your eyes the floor slipped away under you, replaced by familiar arms cradling you to their chest. His quiet footsteps barely echoed against the marble as you got your wits about you. The living room wasn’t that far, so you were certain where he took you without seeing anything. You just didn’t know where exactly in the room.

They turned and came to a stop, rooted in place for a moment as if thinking to themself. “Y’gonna scream if I drop you?” 

“...Yes. Maybe.”

Without another word he let go. There wasn’t enough time to scream as you immediately landed against plush fabric with the faint crinkle of something below it. The fabric crinkled some more as you felt your shoes being taken off.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” you asked. You could already tell what one of the ‘extra things’ was. It felt like heaven.

“Sure, love.” Their voice was a little farther away than you expected. Probably from hurrying to put your shoes in the closet.

You found yourself nestled on one side of the room, with a perfect view of his handiwork.

A couch that was easy to clean, in a color you insisted he decide on, draped with a luxurious looking blanket that wasn’t in your list. A coffee table with rounded corners so they wouldn’t keep hitting their leg on it. Some wall art of Attack on Giants—with extra pieces from a show you sort of recognized, but definitely suited the man's tastes. A few shelves to show off merchandise from another of your favorites. And the enormous, navy blue bean bag he’d so rudely dropped you in moments ago.

Your darling hacker stepped in from the foyer and tossed their hoodie onto the new couch. “Everything good?” he asked, piercings pulling up in a smile.

“I think I love it.” Your eyes scanned the room again and eventually landed on the pictures. “And I love that you added your own stuff.” It didn’t seem to be a clone of your apartment that he just happened to live in, like you worried about. “What about you?”

“S’better than before. ‘Course, the best part is that I don’t have t’see some shitty couch when I open the door—I get to come home to you, trapped in a bean bag.” He stood up and walked over, eyeing you playfully from above. “Comfortable?”

You nodded, then immediately yelped when he fell forwards. Just before you were squished, he caught himself on tattooed arms, caging you in the crinkly, soft material. You only felt some of their weight on you like a heavy blanket. A soft laugh slipped past your lips as he got comfortable himself, clinging to you as best he could while you both sank further into the depths of the bean bag. It’d be impossible to get out.

You wiggled your legs, straining to even find the damn floor. No doubt a futile effort, you had to sigh, “At least we both fit on it."

[REDACTED] didn’t speak, already yawning from the exhaustion of setting everything up before meeting you at work. The walk to and from the library certainly didn’t do him any favors, either. In a matter of seconds, he was fast asleep in what surely felt akin to a nest, all four lanky limbs wrapped around you like a snake.

[seaslugfanclub]

Hello! I just wanna say I really like your Disney Villain writings, they are funny and really cute! Can I request where the Disney villains are fighting over who is Y/N’s favorite villain? I thought it would be funny

Oooh great idea! This one was so much fun to write! (Can you tell that Honest John’s my favorite?)

No, I’m their favorite!!

————————————

No one knows how the conversation subject was brought up, but it more than ruined the villians weekly poker night. Curses filled the air and sidekicks where used as meat shields.

“I’m easily (Y/N)’s favorite person out of all of us, no- this entire park!! No one is better friends than Gaston!!” The Frenchman boasted, loose hair’s flying around his face. “They regularly compliment my physique, and they sneak me in special hair products!! There’s no room for argument!”

“Oh please frenchie, (Y/N) isn’t as daft as the other cast members. They have taste for more refined gentlemen. Like yours truly.” Captain Hook scoffed, ignoring the glares from the other villians. “Might I remind you how they gifted me the entire trilogy of ‘The History of Piracy’? Or how much they enjoy my culinary skills? They have supper with me every Tuesday.” Hook affirmed, more than confident he had bested the competition.

That was quickly interrupted by a swift *bonk* on Hooks head, Jafar looming over the ex- pirate with his staff in hand.

“While I agree with (Y/N)’s taste, it surely isn’t a cowardly captain.”

“Why you-” Hook started, only to be bonked on the head again.

“Why me? Well that’s easy, I’m a very persuasive individual. I’m able to… ‘charm’ those in upper management to give (Y/N) longer breaks, or keep any unsavory park guests from harassing our dear caretaker. (Y/N) obviously favors someone who makes their job easier.”

“Your joking right? Didn’t I see (Y/N) yell at you for 30 minutes straight because you were eyeing that princess Jasmine?” Hades chimes in, finally deciding to butt into the conversation after watching the other villians argue from the sidelines. Jafar stopped speaking, averting his eyes and mumbling.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. But c’mon guys, you know it’s ya boy here who’s (Y/N)’s number one pal.” Hades points his thumbs towards himself.

“I was one of the first people here who (Y/N) met, we knew each from day uno. I can’t count the amount of times that they’ve kept my shit-ass sun god of a brother from bugging me. And they even made the most adorable altar for me, with pomegranates and the whole works!!”

“Oh, so gauche. If it wasn’t for my expertise (Y/N) wouldn’t be half as stylish as they are. Not to mention our ‘girls nights’. I’ve opened an entire new world of skincare for them!” Cruella hissed. (Actually remembering she had to pick up (Y/N) that special cream made from horseshoe crabs)

A threadbare glove raised amidst the crowd, Honest John appearing from seemingly nowhere

“Im sorry to disappoint you all, but it’s myself who’s won (Y/N) heart. They’ve fallen for my effortless charm lock, stock, and barrel! I mean, I’ve been their nap partner countless a times, they quite enjoy cozying up to my fur.” John preened, smiling back at the memories of warm afternoons snuggled up next to (Y/N).

“Fur!? Why you little- I’ll skin you-”

“Just wait till (Y/N)-”

The poker room devolved into full out brawl, nearby cast members rushing into the room in attempt to break up the crowd. All the while, in an empty back room (Y/N) was sharing a sandwich with their guest.

“Y’know what, Ratigan?” They said between bites. “Your my best friend.”

The rat stared up at them, finishing his bite,

“…. Ew.”

[kneecapsbelong2me]

Flufftober Day 3

@flufftober

Prompt: Favorite Scent

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Summary: You find Kate cozy in bed and can’t help but join her.

Word Count: ~600

Content Warnings: None.

———————————————————————

“Kate?”

The lights were off in her apartment, which was generally a sign something was off.

“Bedroom,” she called.

Kate was sitting on the bed, blankets pooled around her, wearing one of your sweatshirts. You came up to her, gently cupping her cheek.

“Everything okay? You look tired. Are you sick?” You were worried. Kate didn’t get sick often, but when she did it usually hit her hard.

“I’m fine, babe,” Kate leaned into your hand, “just took a long nap.”

You raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. “you’re wearing my sweatshirt.”

Kate pulled you closer and brushed a kiss against your lips. “I just missed you, and this smells like you,” she admitted when you pulled away, “cuddles?”

“Let me change first.”

You laughed as she pouted and made grabby hands. Changing quickly into more comfortable clothes, you hopped into bed with her. Kate immediately snuggled against you, taking a deep breath as if it were the first time she’d really breathed today.

“You’re my favorite scent,” she entwined her legs with yours.

You hummed, happy to be back in her arms after a long day. Outside it had been chilly, with winds blowing crisp leaves in your face. In here, with her, it was warm and cozy. You turned and buried your face in her neck, reveling in the warmth.

“Ah!” Kate yelped, “your nose feels like an icicle.”

You drew back, “sorry.”

Kate pulled you towards her and held your face in her hands. “It’s okay. Hey,” she got a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, “are your lips cold too? Because I know the perfect way to warm them up.”

“Kate!” You pushed her playfully, simultaneously leaning closer to her until your lips were centimeters apart.

“Hi,” she whispered, sounding almost shy. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling,

“Hi.”

“I’m gonna kiss you now.”

You nodded and she closed the distance between you. Her lips were warmer than yours, and the temperature difference felt surprisingly nice. Moving against each other, you felt her warm hands move under your shirt and wrap around your torso. You leaned into her, finding the contact comforting.

Kissing Kate was one of your favorite activities. She was always so responsive, and she was a perceptive partner, always seeming to know exactly what you wanted. She swiped her tongue along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth slightly, allowing her tongue inside. Kate didn’t break the kiss as she moved to straddle you.

“Katie.”

“Just wanted to be closer,” she got out in between kisses.

You lay together, kissing until you were both out of breath. Finally pulling away, Kate rolled onto her side. She wrapped one of your arms around her shoulders and threw one of her legs over your torso. The silence that followed was comfortable, and you listened to her methodical breathing. Finally you spoke,

“Maybe I should stay away more often, if this is the welcome I get every time.”

Kate’s face turned red, and you quickly leaned over and kissed her cheek. Despite being very confident, Kate was very easy to tease. You never missed an opportunity to make her blush. She slapped your shoulder softly and burrowed closer into your side.

“Shut up.”

“Mm,” you smiled, teasing her further, “why don’t you make me.”

Instantly, she was on top of you again. You laughed in delight, bringing your lips together again and falling into another kiss. Moments like this were what you lived for. Just you, your girlfriend, and your incredibly cozy bed ignoring the rest of the world, entirely wrapped up in each other.

There was no better way to spend the afternoon.

[buzzcutlip]

“fixing the other's hairstyle to let their hands run through their partner's hair”

this but with growing out buzz cut lip 🥹

Thank you for this, it's a perfect excuse to write a short cozy drabble :) I hope you will like it!

Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader SFW, fluff and established relationship (what's going on with me?!) 1000 words

It’s one of October’s first really cold evenings, and Lip doesn’t come home from work around his usual time. You don’t want to be the girlfriend that checks on her partner all the time, so you wait another half-hour, putting the ham and cheese quiche into the oven, hoping by the time it’s ready, Lip shows up.

The steaming dish smells delicious, and you’re famished after a long day at work, excited to eat something warm and homemade with your boyfriend. You check the time on the oven—it’s almost 8:30 p.m. Wiping your hands on the checked apron, you decide to give Lip a call. Soon enough, you find out that it goes straight to voicemail. That’s when the worry starts. You try to speak as calmly as possible when you leave him a short message, hoping he’ll call you back in a couple of minutes.

The rain starts to patter against the windows of your small flat, making you shiver as you put the quiche back into the oven. You grab a hoodie and thick socks from your dresser and settle down on the couch in the living area, which is joined with the dining area, clutching the phone in your hand. It remains silent.

Three more unsuccessful calls and another twenty minutes later, you fall asleep, curled up in the corner of the couch in the most uncomfortable position, cold and worried.

It’s the noise of the main door being shut that startles you awake. You spring into a sitting position, feet finding the carpet underneath them, your heart beating fast, vision clouded. It takes you a second to understand what’s going on, but as soon as you see Lip coming in through the hall, a heavy weight lifts off your chest.

“Lip.”

“Hey,” he says, apology lacing the word. He’s soaking wet, the rain darkening the color of his jacket, weighing it down. His hair’s pressed against his scalp and forehead, even as short as it is, making him look rather silly—silly and miserable. His nose is red, as are his fingers, which you can see when he sheds the jacket, throwing it on the tiled floor of the bathroom.

“Hi, baby.” His attention is only on you.

“I was worried,” you say, opening your arms for him, still woozy from the short nap, welcoming his damp but familiar form as he kneels between your thighs.

“I know, I’m sorry. My phone died. I got caught up at work, and completely forgot about the time," Lip says, his words tickling your ear where his mouth is pressed.

“I called a few times,” you admit when you untangle, Lip sitting on his haunches between your knees.

“Okay,” he says, looking at you closely.

“Not to, like, control you. I was—I was worried about you.”

Lip nods seriously. “I know. I don’t think you’re controlling me,” he adds with a huff of a laugh, cupping your cheek in his palm.

“You’re freezing,” you murmur, covering his hand with yours.

“I missed the bus, had to walk home. Got soaked.”

“Poor baby,” you murmur in sympathy, running your hand through his short hair, ruffling it.

Lip kisses you, his lips as cold as the rest of him, then your chin, then your neck. The touch makes you shiver, from the cold, obviously, but also from something else. Even after months of dating, Lip still has this kind of power over you.

He buries his face between your boobs, and you shriek in response, not expecting it, letting out a loud laugh. Lip loves teasing you, so next, he sticks his head under your hoodie and t-shirt too, hiding there and wiping his wet hair on your tummy at the same time.

“Lip,” you scream, laughing hysterically. You can’t help it—it tickles so much, the touch completely unexpected. “Come out and have dinner with me, crazy boy,” you say, patting his head over the clothes, trying to catch your breath.

That makes Lip peek out from under there, where you’re all warm and soft, and you smile at him, running your fingers through his hair again, this time fixing it properly.

Lip runs off to change into sweatpants and a dry t-shirt while you reheat the quiche. He crowds you against the counter as you devour the meal like savages, before rushing to the bedroom, laughing and stumbling over each other.

Lip grabs the blanket from the end of the bed and wraps it around both of you, pulling you close to him as you lay on your sides, facing each other.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," Lip says after a long stretch of silence. His voice is softer now, not playful like before. He holds your hand, the gesture innocent and genuine, reminding you of the beginning of your relationship. “I didn’t mean to… y’know, leave you hanging like that. I really didn’t mean to make you stress out."

"It’s okay," you reply, though the worry still lingers in your mind. "I just didn’t know where you were. My imagination got the best of me, I guess."

Lip brings your hand to his mouth, so you hear the next words as much as you feel them. "You’re sweet, you know that?" Lip says, his blue eyes soft as he watches you.

Your heart softens at his words, and you smile, shifting closer so you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. The flannel pillowcase is soft against your cheek. "Sweet, huh?" you tease gently, though your voice is quiet, touched by his simple confession and the lingering emotions from earlier. "Not too much?"

Lip chuckles softly, the sound low and reassuring. "Nah, just the right amount." He pauses, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand, a slow, thoughtful movement. "I like that you care… more than you know."

[lilyofthesword-writes]

What Should Be - Part 2 (Batman)

Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?

Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)

Word Count: 1,013

Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries 

Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)

Part 1 |  | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Epilogue

Masterlist

“Babe, you okay? Did you not sleep?” your partner queried, setting a mug in front of you.

“Y-yeah. I just… just couldn’t stay away from my research, I guess.”

You gratefully grasped the handle. There was no way you could tell them. How could you tell them that a man dressed as bat was in your apartment who knew your name and just disappeared into thin air, that the symbol shining on the clouds afterward made the back of your mind itch so fervently it made sleep impossible, that you wound up curled up on the sofa staring out the window until dawn?

“Well, consider those bags under your eyes punishment,” they teased.

“Ha. Ha. Don’t you have an office to go to?”

“Don’t you?” they quipped.

You started to nod in the direction of the hall where your study lay when you noticed something. There was a third setting at the kitchen table, a third setting with a full plate of untouched food.

“Where’s Torrence?”

Your partner hummed in question. You only had eyes for the plate.

“I said, ‘Where’s Torrence?’”

“Umm, he’s at school,” they replied matter-of-factly.

You shook your head as if that would clear the fog that had into your mind. “But then why—”

“We were just downstairs like fifteen minutes ago to see him onto the bus. Don’t you remember?”

Right… You did that every morning. At least, that’s what your brain was telling you. So… Why couldn’t you recall any memories of doing so?

Your partner’s hand coaxed you to look at them. Their eyes swam with worry and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t catch anything from staying up late, did you?”

“Y-yeah, yeah…”

You pulled away, ready to ask a question about the food when the words lodged themselves in your throat. The plate was gone. It was as if it had never existed in the first place. And the mug? It was filled with a hot, viscous liquid akin to dirty oil. The putrid smell invaded and set up camp in your nostrils.

“Umm… Actually, I think I’m gonna lay back down for a bit,” you spoke airily, rising to your feet just a hair too fast.

Your partner was quick to rebalance you. “Do you— Do you want me to stay? I- I can call out and—”

“No!” you cut off their rambling. “No, it’s fine. It’s just some fatigue. A quick nap and I’ll be back to normal.”

They squeezed your shoulders in an act of reassurance, to ground you. All you felt were creepy-crawlies in the wake of their touch.

When your partner was finally out the door, you shivered and frantically rubbed your arms as though you were brushing bugs off your skin. Why had all this felt so wrong?

Yeah… Sleep was the best thing for you right now.

A rhythmic tap sounded from your window. You padded across the floor to answer. Drawing back the curtains, you found a different man in skin tight black and blue suit. It reminded you of a gymnast’s costume. The man perched on the fire escape expectantly. You opened the window.

“Thanks! Do you have a minute? I need to pick your brain.” He sounded cheerful, but there was an edge to it. 

“I guess. Come on in,” you replied.

You stepped aside to allow one of the city’s many vigilantes into your home. 

“So, uh…” you folded your arms awkwardly, “You have me… Concerned. Bats is usually the one asking questions. Maybe the little one. Robin, right? And Nightiwng is a Bludhaven guy. What could possibly bring you here?”

“Nothing to worry about,” he attempted to laugh. He stood tall in the middle of your shabby, dimly lit living room, but nothing about his stance exuded the confidence you had come to know from any of Batman’s crew. “Just wanted to ask you something.”

The pain in your thigh pulsed. “Right…” You frowned as you plopped onto the couch. “Alright, then. Ask away.”

“Well,” Nightwing cleared his throat. “I know Batman has been coming to you for your insight on some of the stranger happenings—”

A disgruntled, distorted grunt came from the as it slid open. A familiar red helmet came into view as another man entered your home.

“B’s missing. You seen him recently?” Red Hood got straight to the point.

Nightwing clicked his tongue. “No tact.”

“You’re one to talk,” Red Hood rounded on him. “What was that just now?

“I was trying to breech the subject more gently.”

“Gently? We don’t have time for—”

“Boys!” you interjected.

They stopped, straightening themself attentively.

“As bad as the Winchester boys,” you mumbled to yourself. However, you did have to admit you were pleased to see that Red Hood had warmed up to the other vigilantes… At least to the point of not pulling a gun on them.

“Who?” they chimed in unison.

You rubbed your temples. “Don’t— Don’t worry about it. Look, he was here the other night.”

Babe?

Your thigh began to throb again. 

“What for?” Nightwing asked. 

“The East-End victims.”

The blue vigilante rubbed folded his arms across his chest. “East-End… He never told us he was working that case.”

Babe? Wake up!

“That checks out,” Red Hood chimed in. “You know how B is when someone else gets hurt.”

Nightwing cleared his throat nervously. “I wasn’t there for that one. Was it really that bad?”

“Red Robin nearly had his throat ripped out by a nest of vampires,” you deadpanned. “This case does have some similarities.”

“Oh…”

BABE!

You jolted, eyes popping open. 

The sunset streamed into your bedroom window only to be blocked by Jesse who was hovering over you.

“Jeez, you had me worried. I’ve never known you to sleep like the dead before,” they breathed a sigh of relief.

You’ve been a light sleeper ever since… Ever since what?

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay? Have you been asleep all day?”

You blinked, scanning the room. Those two men were nowhere to be found…

“Yeah… I guess so…”

[moscnios]

Can I request a Kid, Law, Luffy headcanons to you sleeping on the couch waiting for them to come back from a mission? :)

✸  headcanons  %  when you wait for them to return.

✸    characters! . . .  luffy, kid & law.

✸    cw(s)! . . .  n/a. no pronouns used. not proofread.

✸    notes! . . .  feel like i’m starting to get kid’s character better, or at least how i’m interpreting him. thank you so much for requesting !! also thank you for 1.1k followers !! <3333

luffy couldn’t wait to get home and tell you all about his mission, the friends he made, and all the amazing food he ate

he hoped to one day come back with you by his side

when he opens the door, he calls your name loudly... but sweetly, expecting to show you what he brought back with him

however, he is met with silence. he looks around the room to see you sleeping on the couch wrapped in a warm cozy blanket

well, you were asleep before a certain pirate practically slammed the door open and yelled your name

you rub the sleep out of your eyes and look at the doorframe, happy to see him

luffy sets aside the souvenirs and joins you on the couch, showering your sleepy face in kisses

between kisses, he apologizes for waking you up. but how can you even be upset with him when he shows you the souvenirs he brought back because many of them reminded him of you?

he wants to tell you all about his journey, but he also wants you to rest well. so he saves his stories for after your nap

this time he joins you under the blanket, entangling his limbs with yours before falling asleep faster than you expected

maybe he was tired after all

there were...ups and downs on said mission. likely more downs than ups. the redhead grumbling to himself as he stomped his way home

he was just ready to be in your arms again

still groaning under his breath, he opened the door and stepped inside

he expected to be immediately greeted and comforted by you, as you always had done when he returned home from a mission

he finally found you sprawled out on the couch fast asleep

the downs of the missions have already left his mind as he sees you sleeping peacefully. there is just something about you that always calms him 

in your presence, he knows that he is both loved and protected, that you have his back no matter what

in him trying to get comfortable, he ends up waking you up. before you could apologize for not being awake, he tells you not to worry about it

he flops down on the couch right next to you without another word, looking at you from the corner of his eye, though he had looked away when you caught him

you knew exactly what he wanted

you threw the blanket over the both of you, snuggling into his side, laying a gentle peck on his cheek

maybe one of these days he’d learn to say he wanted to cuddle out loud

it’s not too often that law leaves you to go on a mission. oftentimes, he takes you with him as you are his partner in crime. 

this time it was different, something regarding his past that he didn’t want you to get involved with

reluctantly, you agreed to stay behind and wait for him

when he returned home and opened the door, he didn’t expect to find you asleep on the couch cuddled into a pillow in one of his shirts

guilt washes over him. were you really waiting up for him?

he slips off his shoes, grabbing a blanket, and tucks you in gently

your sleeping face, makes him smile. watching your chest slowly rise and fall as you sleep peacefully brings him a deep joy

he sits on the couch next to you, trying his best not to wake you

in your sleep, you flip around, your head resting in his lap.

he wondered if you were even asleep at all or if you could just feel his presence in your sleep. but nevertheless, law feels everything that is troubling him melting away

his hand finds your back, rubbing soothing circles on your skin

he’s home

[straightupsickfics]

secret ingredient

can you believe it's december? i can't.

but i did manage to finish this little good omens soup fic that i'm going to use as day 2: bowls of soup for the 12 days of sickmas prompt list &lt;3

****

For a being that never needs to sleep, Aziraphale is sick enough that he looks like he’s on the verge of falling asleep on his feet, and Crowley cannot say he enjoys seeing his angel this way. Always so full of excited energy and quick, unexpectedly funny quips, Aziraphale can do little more than blink dazedly at him at the moment. 

“Did you hear me, angel?” Crowley asks gently. He’d asked if Aziraphale wanted to go upstairs for some lunch and a nap, but the angel hadn’t replied. Instead, he’d snuffled helplessly into his tartan handkerchief, seemingly on the cusp of a sneeze that kept backing off at the last second. 

Now, Aziraphale brings a hand to his face and rubs at his eyes, thinks for a second, then shakes his head. “Ah, not quite, sorry, dear,” he murmurs. 

He just looks sick and contagious at this point, what with how red his nose has gotten in the last few hours alone, the way the dim light in the bookshop draws attention to the dark shadows beneath his eyes… 

“hh’hDTISshhh’oo!” 

…And the near-constant sneezing. 

Aziraphale hardly looks relieved at finally having sneezed, though. No, he looks like his sinuses are giving him hell, like he knows there are plenty more where that came from. He gives his eyes another rub, this time to wipe away an irritated tear, and Crowley can’t help but move in and envelope him in his arms. The angel settles into the hug almost immediately, sighing with relief as he tucks his head into Crowley’s shoulder, the soft sound of sniffling muffled against the warm fabric of his turtleneck sweater. 

“Sorry, I’mb snf! Quite a sight today, I’m sure,” Aziraphale mumbles. 

“Mm, sight for sore eyes,” Crowley says, tucking a kiss against the top of his ear. “Alright, let’s get you settled then, shall we? A nap might do just the trick. Take it from me angel, there’s nothing that sleeping for a few decades won’t fix.”

“Surely not decades,” Aziraphale says with what can only be called a pout. 

“Well, no, ideally not. Think I’d miss you too much for that,” Crowley confesses, and smiles a little when he feels Aziraphale hug him just that much tighter. 

“And while you sleep, I’ll make us some soup.” 

This is enough to make Aziraphale release him from their embrace and fix him with as withering a look as he can manage, given the circumstances. “Soup? Do you actually know how to cook… well, anything?” He asks, frowning.

Crowley gives an offended little sniff. “Not as such,” he says. “But how hard can it be? Humans do it every day, multiple times a day. And there are plenty of cookbooks for me to reference,” he teases.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows lift in alarm. “Cookbooks?”

“Sure, our cookbooks. In our cooking section,” Crowley explains. 

“Our cookbooks,” Aziraphale repeats under his breath.

Crowley grins at him. “Right, bed. And soup. Don’t worry about a thing, angel, everything will turn out just tickety-boo.” 

The angel is apparently too exhausted to argue any further, because he lets Crowley lead him upstairs to the small, cozy apartment they’ve been sharing these last few months. It’s strange, seeing Aziraphale curling up under the blankets. Normally it’s just Crowley who makes use of the bed for sleeping, with Aziraphale tucked in snugly beside him with a book and a hot cup of tea. 

It’s almost too tempting to slip in beside him now, draw the curtains, and lay down for a nap of his own while Aziraphale sleeps away his cold, but… there’s something drawing him to the idea of making the angel soup. Something quietly romantic and domestic about making something with his own hands that will make his partner feel better. 

So, Crowley makes sure Aziraphale has no less than three blankets, ensures that his feet are properly covered, and presses a kiss to his forehead before he promises to be back soon. 

“Don’t spill anything on my books, please,” Aziraphale frets through a yawn. 

He’ll be asleep in a matter of minutes, Crowley knows, whatever winter virus he has is taking a toll on him enough to knock him out for a good few hours. 

“You can trust me, angel,” Crowley says from the doorway. 

And he can. 

*

In the kitchen, things fall apart pretty immediately. 

Crowley has no idea where Aziraphale keeps anything, or, for that matter, which kind of soup the angel would prefer. And exactly how small is “diced?”

He decides on chicken soup because that’s a classically human “sick day” soup according to everything he’s observed over the years, and it seems simple enough. He’s not sure they have “wild” rice, but surely regular rice will do the trick? 

Of course he could conjure up the soup with much less effort, but that defeats the purpose. So, he chops and boils and hopes for the best, and the kitchen soon smells quite delicious, if he says so himself. 

(He does). 

Crowley ladles the soup into a bowl, conjures up some bread (he’s not that good in the kitchen after this singular attempt), sets everything on one of Aziraphale’s ancient serving trays, and makes his way back to the bedroom. 

“Hh’iiishh! Iishh’oo! Oh, good l-lord…hUH’ieesshhh’oo!” Aziraphale is in the throes of a sneezing fit when he opens the door, though, his body pitching forward as he sneezes helplessly into the pile of blankets, too tired to do much else. 

“Sounds like I’m just in time,” Crowley says by way of greeting. He sets the tray down on the bedside table and leans over to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. He definitely sounds worse than he had before his nap, so it wouldn’t be out of the question for him to have a fever now, too. 

“You always are,” Aziraphale says, still sniffling. “Don’t do that, you’ll get sick too,” he says, a worried edge seeping into his voice. 

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” Crowley muses. “Here, look, I didn’t even burn anything down. I’m sure you’ll tell me if it’s shit,” he says, offering the bowl out for Aziraphale to take. 

“I hope I can even taste it,” Aziraphale says sadly. “Thank you, though, for going to the trouble, my dear. You’ll have some, too, yes?” 

“‘Course,” Crowley says, “when have I ever made you eat alone? No, don’t tell me, I’m sure there’s a running list in that brain of yours.” He takes the second bowl and sits next to Aziraphale on the bed. 

Crowley largely ignores his own soup, though, too busy watching Aziraphale take a careful first bite. Something flickers over his face, there and gone too quickly even for Crowley and his 6,000 years of Angel experience to parse, and he can’t help but frown. Maybe it hadn’t gone to plan the way he’d thought. 

When Crowley looks up again, Aziraphale’s face is flushed a delicate shade of pink and his eyes are shining bright with just barely held back tears. 

“What’s happening, angel?” He asks, worried now that something really is wrong. He scoots himself over towards Aziraphale and runs a hand through the familiar, soft blond strands, though this only makes him shake his head and the tears fall in earnest. 

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale sighs, swiping them away.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or should I start guessing?” Crowley says, deflecting as his face grows warm from the affection in Aziraphale’s voice. 

His angel gives him a smile so soft and fond that Crowley’s at risk of melting right there on the spot. “I can just...taste...how much love went into this,” Aziraphale finally explains, eyes still shining bright and not breaking eye contact.

“Ngk. I. Well, you know. I do…love you,” Crowley manages to croak, peering over the rims of his sunglasses so Aziraphale can see his eyes, too. 

Aziraphale beams at him. “I’ll be feeling as good as new after this, I think; thank you my love.” 

“S’nothing,” Crowley says, though he knows they both know it isn’t and has never been nothing when it comes to them. Aziraphale lets it go, though, just continues to smile at him as he sniffles through every few bites. 

When they’re done, Aziraphale curls himself up around Crowley, full and warm and ready for another nap, it would seem. 

“I really do appreciate you looking after me, you know,” he confesses as his eyes slip shut. 

Crowley smiles, feels his own face flush as he turns and drops a kiss to Azirphale’s forehead. “I know. Sleep now, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

[ruified]

❝ a much needed 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 ˎˊ˗ — pt. 1

warnings - fluff, skk . characters - pm! dazai, chuuya, mentioned mori . synopsis - mori sends the young double black on a mission without specifying what for . a/n - here's part 2 and the fic on ao3 !!

A boy dressed in black, his body embraced by bandages, with shaggy dark brown hair sat in the back of a car. His knees were bent and pressed against the back of the passenger seat in front of him, which was unoccupied. His dark eyes watched the scenery outside fly by with very little interest, it was hard to tell if he was even looking outside or just spacing out. Beside him sat a smaller boy, yet a few months older than him, his ginger hair tied back in a small ponytail and a black pork pie hat on the seat between him and the other. He had his head tilted back against the headrest, his eyes shut—he may be sleeping, it was hard to tell.

The dark haired boy let his eyes wander and eventually they landed on the dozed off boy. He slowly reached for the hat that sat between them and picked it up. He leaned over from his seat towards the ginger and placed the hat over his face very gently, so as to not awake him. There was silence for a few moments before the ginger’s gloved hand reached up and lifted the hat off his face, revealing squinted, piercing brown eyes that shot his partner a glare.

“Oi, Dazai, ‘the hell do you think you’re doing?” He cocked a brow, the right side of his upper lip tugging up into a scowl. The dark haired boy, Dazai, huffed and shook his head, his shoulders lifting as if the ginger had just asked him such a stupid question. “Well, Chuuya, I was trying to help you block the light out of your poor little eyes.” He pouted mockingly at Chuuya, batting his lashes a few times. “Sleeping beauty over there needs his rest.”

Chuuya clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, setting the hat back down between them. The hat almost served as some sort of boundary between them, and Dazai had tried to cross that boundary, just as he always does. “I wasn’t even asleep, smart ass.”

Chuuya sat up straight and stretched, letting out a lengthy yawn—for someone who didn’t fall asleep, he sure was acting like he had just awoken from a long nap. His voice carried a gravely tone, different from how he usually sounded, likely because he was tired. “Are we gonna be there soon or what?”

Dazai and Chuuya had been assigned a mission earlier by Mori to go to some town in the mountains. The town wasn’t super crowded or anything, it was small, more like a village really. It had a bath house run by a family and a few restaurants as well, it was certainly described as cozy—a weird place for two mafiosi to be sent to. Mori had never specified why he sent the two there, he said they’d know once they got there.

Dazai shrugged. “Dunno, but from the looks of outside I’d say we’re getting close. We’re pretty far out from the cities and I believe we’re already in the mountains.” Dazai turned around in his seat, reaching behind and digging through the stuff in the trunk. He sat down once again, holding a scarf in his hands which he folded in his lap.

Chuuya tilted his head after watching Dazai, a brow raised and a frown tugging at his lips. “You cold or something?”

The dark haired boy looked at him like he had lost it then sighed heavily, he shook his head. “No, but it’s going to be cold when we get out of the car so I’m getting ready.” His eyes scanned Chuuya up and down, then he grinned mockingly. “I sure hope you’ve brought things to keep you warm because there’s no way I’ll share my scarf with you.”

Chuuya scoffed and turned his head away, looking out the window now. “As if I’d ever want to do something as corny as that with you of all people.”

The car came to a slow stop and the driver informed the two boys that they had arrived. Dazai wrapped his scarf around himself while Chuuya just got out of the car, not bothering to bundle up—he regretted that. The air stung his cheeks, it felt sharp in his lungs as he inhaled. Shit, it was freezing. However, he did his very best to hide any reaction he was having as Dazai came around from the other side of the car to meet him, adjusting his gloves. Chuuya pushed his hat down further onto his head, hiding his face a bit.

The two scanned their surroundings, looking for signs of what they should be doing. They found themselves rather confused though, there were no other members of the Port Mafia there. There didn’t seem to be any sort of business going on or anything, it just looked like a regular day in this small village in the mountains.

Dazai and Chuuya exchanged glances, blinking a few times. Dazai was the one to take action, he turned to the driver and asked, “What is it exactly that we’re supposed to be doing here?”

The man who had driven them up here simply smiled as he looked down at the young man before him. “Your instructions are to relax. The boss wanted you two to head to the bath house and check yourselves in, everything should be ready for you there according to him.”

The two boys were left with their jaws hanging open, speechless. A break? With this guy? They turned to each other and both recoiled at the thought of trying to relax around one another.

Dazai waved the driver away and sighed, tugging his scarf tighter around his neck. “He seriously couldn’t have given us separate vacations? How am I supposed to relax at all with a dog barking in my ear?” He pouted.

Chuuya snarled and started walking towards the bath house. “Whatever. Let’s just go.” Dazai stood there for a minute then followed behind. He caught up to Chuuya and remained close behind him.

[thedarkonesposts]

Obligatory omega Kylar posting…. We r also talking abt the other school love interests in abo terms cause… I neglect anyone who isn’t Kylar 😐

Kywar (omega)

Everyone can tell he’s an omega. He gets made fun of for it because of course the grimy weird kid also has to be an omega

Kylar might be an omega but he has the violent possessiveness of an alpha. He’s also mad delusional and thinks he’s secretly an alpha despite being quite breedable and tiny. Obviously he isn’t and instantly gets submissive the second an alpha is actually around.

He’s unintentionally slutty, he has no ability to control his impulses- which leads to being starry eyed and needy around every single alpha before he’s mated. He’s just a little desperate to have a mate honestly.

Cute, he’s cute.

Even more of a hopeless romantic than usual, someone needs to claim and knot him before he whimpers at the wrong person. He’s incredibly shy but his urge for romance weighs out enough that he’ll stalk alphas and stare up at them w his heavy breathing the second they’re close.

Obsessed w having pups. Does not shut up abt it, thinks he’d have the cutest babies despite hating how he looks.

Being forcefully claimed wouldn’t phase him, he’d be happy someone wants him that much tbh.

Biter. Like regular Kylar he shows love in weirdly violent ways- biting excessively is definitely one of them. Once he gets a mate it’s over, they’re going to be covered head to thigh in bite marks and hickeys so everyone knows.

Gets separation anxiety from his mate, even if it’s just for a few hours he can barely handle being away.

The master of nest making and nesting. Dude makes the coziest nests and has the best naps there. Shits built with care and love.

Runt

His omega scent works hard against his lack of showers. He smells cinnamony. Christmassy almost. Just a nice mix of spice.

Sydney (beta)

Alluring to literally anyone, alphas, betas, omegas. Everyone wants him and thinks he’s a gorgeous and perfect mate

People argue abt what he is. They think he’s too pretty and kind to be a beta or alpha but too headstrong and self assured to be an omega. He’s also strong enough people doubt it. They’d probably be shocked to find out he’s just a beta

Doesn’t understand alpha or omega instincts and has a giggle abt how desperate and crazy they seem,,,But still wants a mate and hopes being a beta won’t ruin his chances

Grew up with an omega best friend so he’s kind of picked up on cozy omega activities like nesting and scenting. He’d definitely do them with a partner whenever he got one.

Prefers omegas, despite his masochistic tendencies he doesn’t like how alphas act, it annoys him.

Literally so pretty.

Whitney (alpha)

Annoying about it, everyone knows he’s an alpha because he’s the most stereotypical asshole alpha possible.

Claims he doesn’t want a mate and doesn’t care about having one yet absolutely does.

Has tried forcefully mating several ppl just for it to reject and him to have a bitch fit over it

Would be weirdly possessive once mated, definitely also a biter. He wouldn’t let his mate go out without being bitten and scratched to hell.

Smells nice, pine maybe.

Doesn’t want pups even once mated

Robin (omega? Beta?)

Could either go omega or beta, he’d still be smaller and submissive regardless but I think he’d suit being a beta more. His submissiveness is more earned than being inherent.

He isn’t like… pathetically needy. He’s dependent and loves to cuddle but it isn’t excessive.

No matter what he is he’s getting bullied for being an omega so he might as well just be one.

Neutral on pups, he feels like he’s too young to worry about that stuff.

Bonus Eden (alpha obviously)

Did you guys know Eden and Kylar would be the perfect couple? Yeah I’m making a section for eden just to shove this down ur throats again :)!!!!

Undoubtedly an alpha, just look at him. He’s aggressive, primal, big. The mate literally any omega would want. (ESP Kylar, Kylar would be on his knees begging for a chance if they met)

Violently possessive but also very protective and loving as a mate.

Not above forcefully mating someone, and doing it over and over until it doesn’t reject

He wants pups. Badly. The satisfaction of breeding his mate would be the best feeling in the world. He’d also be more than happy to trap them at home to keep them safe during pregnancy. He’d do literally everything for them- but still ask to be bathed and fed if they could manage it.

Smells like a campfire, cozy.

If only there was some desperate, loyal, needy omega who also desperately wanted pups. That would be crazy. If only someone else could match the same level of possessiveness and delusion it takes to kidnap someone and forcefully mate them….

[lunevei]

hi! hello! read me!!

hi, i’m lune! i’m kinda new to misceverse/miscecanis (but i’m an omegaverse veteran), and this is my new side blog! you can also find me in my main @lunedemavei, which is where i follow from and stuff. also, minors dni !!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ more info about me below! ੈ✩‧₊˚

🌑 ; uuuuhm okay some facts about me — i just turned 20, i’m an omega, i have adhd and anxiety.

☁️ ; i go by she/they pronouns, i’m bisexual and i’m biromantic

🐈‍⬛ ; i love all things spooky, starry, and cozy. i have two cats, tigs and tia, who are my everything!!

🤍 ; i have a very loving partner of 3 years who looks after me so good ♡

🫧 ; my scent is lavender, vanilla, and sandalwood (sometimes with nutmeg!!) — warm, woodsy, calming; the perfume shade by lush (it’s so scrumptious uuuhg)

🫐 ; i have chronic anemia so i’m almost always sleepy. i am a certified sleepy girl and professional dreamer. i’m usually napping with my cats or with my partner (when they’re not working)!!

🥚 ; my favourite colour is blue (all shades!! there’s literally not a bad blue), my favourite season is summer (or maybe autumn...), my favourite movie is the secret of moonacre, and my favourite authors are t.j klune and tamsyn muir!!

if you have any questions, pls ask!! i’ll probably keep updating this post with new info as i think of it. borders by the wonderful @cafekitsune and amazing @adornedwithlight!! ☽｡⋆

[mothgodofchaos]

Biscuits

When I was making my list of prompts, I looked at "making bread" and immediately thought it'd be fucking hilarious if we make everyone's favorite cat boy start "making biscuits" while trying to bake with you.

Marvin the Magnificent x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 636

The cold day just makes you want something warm, and your mind immediately goes to some homemade bread. You love the idea of making your house smell warm and cozy, so you fire your oven and begin pulling out all the ingredients. In your shelves of many strange jarred items in your pantry on the behalf of your magical partner, you find a sourdough starter that you’ve been keeping fed since the beginning of the pandemic. It’s a bit full, so you’re rather excited to get to use some of it. 

Marvin hears clattering in the kitchen, sauntering in to investigate.

“What are ye doin’ in here? Committin’ crimes?”

“Just making bread, a stór.”

You glance up at him, seeing his pupils expand as he bends down to peer over the counter at what you’re doing. Which is an interesting sight considering how tall and lanky he is.

“Need help?”

“Something tells me that even if I don’t need help, you still want to.”

“Correct.”

You sigh, making a second batch to be made into a batch of rolls in addition to the loaves you’re prepping. The bowl is slid over to Marvin once he has his hair pinned up with his wand hair sticks, rolling up his sleeves.

“I hope you know if your cat instincts start taking over, I’m taking a video and sending it to your brothers.”

“Mo ghrá! Don’t betray me like t’at!” 

“They’re not allowed to know that their brother still knows how to make biscuits?”

“Anti’ll get it printed on a sweatshirt fer Christmas…”

“I mean… I’ll wear that if he does if you won’t.”

Marvin glares at you, working the bread dough together with his hands instead of using a dough scraper like you. You keep glancing at his eyes, seeing his pupils expand as he tries to exercise self restraint in an effort to keep you from getting blackmail to send to his brothers. When you set yours off to the side to proof, you have to “pspsps” a little to get his attention to set his aside with you.

“I’m not a cat.”

“That is factually incorrect, I hope you know that. Get back to me on that when you no longer transmogrify into a cute fluffy white cat.”

“I’m gonna put catnip in yer tea.”

“Oh no… how ever could that backfire on you…”

He flicks your nose, escaping off to his study while you set a timer for the bread to proof. You pop your head in when it goes off, grinning when you find him basking in the sun on the windowsill. He’s curled up, asleep and purring loud. You move quietly, not wanting to disturb him quite yet and risk getting cat claws to the face. The couch next to the window creaks quietly as you sit down, reaching over to pet over his white fur. Marvin stretches out, yawning as he slowly awakes from his nap.

“It’s biscuit time now, love.”

He mrows at you, hopping down onto the floor as he shifts back. It takes a few blinks before he’s awake enough, stretching out his back again with a crack.

“Alright, let’s make some fuckin’ biscuits…”

You can’t help but laugh at his very determined tone of voice, leading him back to the kitchen in his half-sleepy state. He takes great intrigue in working the dough into rolls, yawning between dropping them into the pan. Once the pan is filled, you help him get the dough out from between his fingers and get him back to the couch, letting him go back to sleep. Did get a little clip of him getting into it a little too hard, and find him curled up on your sweatshirt when the bread is in the oven.

Maybe next time you’ll make some actual biscuits.

[mahiiimahiiii]

the less we know the better - wip

“Gale- stop for a second.” You noted a flash of concern in his eye, he knelt back down again, tilting his head in a silent question. Tears budded again, as you held your head in your hands. “I am ashamed. I can’t… I’m terrified of my own thoughts. Flashes I see the lord, in the way I see you now. He will not leave, be gentler- and diligent” you paused trying to think how to phrase it. “To possibly… take my mind off things.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, “perhaps we should establish something, and you’re sweet for saying that. I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me.” He sat back on his haunches. “Perhaps… the shower will help? Ill leave you to finish undressing if you feel uncomfortable.” He squeezed your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “Ill depart for now then. Come join me when you feel ready.” His movements were fluid, hands drawing a sharp sigh from your lips. He left through the open doorway into the showers. His nails scratched against the doorway; your core ached immaculately. You finished off his work, the dark plum verses bright magenta robes draped against each other on the chair.

You felt oddly exposed without your enchanted spells guarding you, waddling into the cedar and teakwood showers you felt more at peace. Gale was nowhere to be seen, but a satisfied groan emanated from the bright hallway ahead. You settled down on the stool testing the water on your hand before handling the wand. The water smooth and warm against your skin. The soaps and skin serums to remove dirt and dead skin smelt herbal. Tonics infused with healing potions, an intriguing way to go about things. You scrubbed your skin until it was red and raw, you felt clean but not clean enough. You sat in the steam of the water for a moment, debating on continuing forward. You decided too, the warmth of the light and the pools beyond beckoning you forward.

The light was blinding once stepping out the hallway, plants and fauna lined the tiles surrounding the baths, a plush bed with towels and robes on top of it. a table next to it and a patterned robe with tassels. Candles, sherry and crystal goblets, candies and small sandwiches, a platter with fresh fruits and perfumes, and bottles that shone like gems. Gortash really pulled the full 9 yards. Towered over the bath, curiously was a statue of Mystra, her gaze focused on the bath itself, arms outstretched in a surrounding gesture, the sun perfectly framed around her head. It was almost reminiscent of a greenhouse. Gales head peaks between the waves of foam. He floated upwards, paddling to the side of the bath to grip the edge and prop his head in his arms.

“Feeling better?” he beamed, rose petals and violets clung to his hair, they floated on the surface of the foam. You walked towards the steps, dipping your toe in carefully. It was a wonderful temperature.

“a little.” You hum, lowering your weary limbs in the water. “it’s a little unnerving to have a statue of my partners ex staring at my naked form. I feel judged.”

“Often statues of Mystra are depicted with her eyes closed…” he swam closer to you, “I am... uncertain why this one is open, perhaps its just another god that looks similar.”

“Let us hope it’s just that.” You settled on a side edge seat, the sun a warm lazy glow on your skin, a warm and floral breeze churned the air. He almost seated himself in your lap, his head tucked into the alcove of your neck, his face a mottled pink from the hot water. His eyes laid shut; his breath warm against your chin. You leaned your head against the tile, allowing him the access to fully intwine with your limbs. You began to become drowsy, tapping his shoulder you escorted him to the bed, comfortably placed within a warm sunbeam.

You both curled up again like lizards on a hot rock. An overwhelming sense of contented sleepiness taking hold of you.

(wip from the most recent poll, im getting close to the smut itself, i cant decide between the actual bath or like a cozy napping bed on the side, as i know like... that concept sounds cozy. a bath then a nap in the same place? luxurious....)

[theonceoverthinker]

Suspension (ChellDOS)

Summary: Chell emerges from nap atop GLaDOS and finds herself high above the Central AI Chamber's ground. Still, Chell's not complaining, for the view as the robot she's resting on are sensations she wants to take in fully.

Hi, @im-glad-for-chell! I’m your @portal-secret-santa this year! I’m sorry for the delay in getting you your present (I don’t know if you saw the anon messages I sent you, but this was a bit of a rough month). Still, I hope this gift was worth the wait, and is one you enjoy! Happy Holidays!

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A present fundamental truth of Chell’s life is that she knows how to get what she wants.

Over the course of the time that she’s known GLaDOS, Chell has found that getting what she wants has become a progressively easier endeavor than it once was. 

To be fair, when what you initially want is to kill an essentially immortal AI who’s hell-bent on killing you, you can’t really get much harder than that.

Now, things are easy, and Chell finds that getting what she wants is about as simple as solving a button-cube test. 

It’s a nice feeling.

If she wants a cake baked and she’s too lazy to make her one herself, a hand placed just so over her belly – accompanied by a familiar glean of puppy dog eyes that she knows her partner can read like binary – will have an exasperated GLaDOS assembling ingredients and preheating the oven within seconds.

If she wants to give her beloved Companion Cube a well-deserved polishing, GLaDOS will give her what she needs, though demanding she get the same treatment once Chell is done.

And if she wants to relax atop GLaDOS as she works, then GLaDOS – not without more than a fair amount of grumbling – lays herself out so Chell can get on her.

It’s good getting what she wants.

A familiar dull hum greets Chell as she stirs from a slumber that she just barely recalls falling into. It’s a hum that speaks of the sterility of Aperture as a whole, it’s relatively unyielding life in the face of countless years of inevitable change meters upon meters above it. 

Chell opens her eyes.

Well, to be more precise, she opens up one of her eyes, as the other is closed and snugly pressed against a slightly curved piece of metal that she’s more than well-acquainted with by now.

Immediately, her sense of time is thrown off base. Aperture has never really been known for its windows. Hell, even the curtains that once brought it renown were explicitly only for showers. Signs of the passage of time do exist in the facility, but they’re ones that she has to search for herself.

Still, sense of time or no sense of time, Chell’s not worried.

Her schedule is wide open, only at the mercy of hers and her lover’s whims.

There’s also no cause for worry on her part for her location.

Chell might not have been able to identify her location right off the bat, but the warm chassis radiating under the right edge of her back and alongside its accompanying arm gives her all the assurance that she needs for her state of safety.

Chell’s face is tilted to her right – just close enough to the edge of GLaDOS’ chassis that she can get a non-strenuous view of the floor. Without moving her head, she looks down.

As it turns out, there’s an awful lot of down for her to look at. 

Before Chell fell asleep, GLaDOS was checking on the cube production line. It was a simple job – one that required no coordination with an external monitor – which made it easy for Chell to hop onto her back. 

Now, it looks like she’s checking on the PH of the lab’s acid pools. That particular monitor is roughly six or so feet up in the air. The groove of GLaDOS’ chassis prevents Chell from any threat of losing her balance, even if she were to sit up at this moment.

She doesn’t. 

GLaDOS’ chassis is comfortable, warm to the touch and a salve of pure coziness to her right side.

Chell wants to enjoy it for a bit longer, before their unique brand of conversation, and the expectations that accompany it, come once more into play.

It’s not that Chell doesn’t love GLaDOS – she just knows the importance of taking advantage of a quiet conscious moment with her when such an opportunity presents itself. 

When the two of them are together, enjoying GLaDOS in a quieter state of being is an especially rare treat.

As her head is still tilted to the side, Chell is only partially able to see GLaDOS as she works. 

Though GLaDOS’ optic doesn’t move in the conventional sense, Chell’s familiar enough with her body to be able to hear it move through certain subtle sounds that stem from underneath her hull. The ones she hears as GLaDOS wordlessly shifts across countless lines of data tells Chell that she is generally enjoying her maintenance’s monotony in all its simplicity. GLaDOS would never admit it out loud, but Chell knows that her presence plays a not at all insignificant part in that. 

For a computer, GLaDOS is a terribly bad liar.

Chell can’t help but feel a little smug about that fact, a fact she’ll be sure to point out when GLaDOS tries to whine about how Chell basically trapped her via her lazy human body into conducting unnecessary extended maintenance when there were so many other things she could’ve been doing instead.

She can practically hear it already, but she’s prepared to argue her case if and when it comes up.

However, that won’t be for a bit longer if she can help it, and until then, Chell wants to rest and relish in the presence of her quiet and hard, yet simultaneously snuggly computer in all her glory.

The ear that’s to GLaDOS’ chassis can hear whirring motions. She remembers paying attention to them before she fell asleep, comforted by the lullaby played to the percussion of gears, brass of bolts, and strings of wires.

This isn’t the first time such noises have sung her to sleep and Chell knows it won’t be the last time either. She prefers it that way. It’s comforting – a calming, rhythmic pattern as well as a consistent sign of GLaDOS’ life force. Even though they’ve been outside of the realm of danger for so long now, that latter sensation is one Chell never ceases to derive solace from. 

It’s hard for Chell to keep her eyes pulled to look at GLaDOS and her work so as to not give herself away – an invisible nagging sensation pulling her toward a less straining view instead – so she turns her attention elsewhere, looking to the floor, and letting herself take in the view of the chamber from her airborne point-of-view. 

The chamber’s clean, recently the subject of a bout of maintenance itself, one done earlier in the week. It’s so much so that the floor reflects a blur of hers and GLaDOS’ image as the two of them are suspended in the air.

Chell had seen the chamber clean before, but from this height, it’s really something special – ethereal, yet not bereft of commonness in that ethereality altogether.

She notices as she gazes upon it that in its clean state, the floor matches her eyes – a lighter, yet steel-like gray. Chell doesn’t believe in fate, but coincidences like this tickle the notion of fate in a way she can appreciate all the same. 

Really, what are the odds?!

GLaDOS can no doubt tell her, right down to the seventieth decimal place if she so desires.

Once she’s had her fill of rest, Chell reminds herself to ask her.

Hell, as thanks for hosting her impromptu nap and snuggle session, Chell will actually ask GLaDOS to list out as many of the extra decimal places as she wants, or however many might exist – whichever comes first. 

Still, Chell doesn’t feel like she’s had her fill of awakened rest yet, so the question remains suspended in her head, just as she and GLaDOS remain suspended above the chamber’s floor. 

From up here, solidly on top of GLaDOS, yet not completely on her, Chell feels gravity at work, trying and failing to pull her right leg down to the chamber’s base. 

She knows she’s up high, but her foot’s tug drives the point home so much stronger.

It’s been some time since she was last up this high in the chamber. Everything was different back then, from the floor to the ceiling to the walls to herself, and GLaDOS for that matter, too.

Frankly, it feels like an eternity ago.

Back then, hanging at a height like this via-GLaDOS brought about feelings of near-helplessness and fear. 

Now, it brings no such thing. 

Instead, it brings a relaxed sort of comfort that Chell wouldn’t forgo for anything.

So she lets her leg dangle, as gravity continues its doomed attempt to entice it downwards from GLaDOS’ airborne chassis.

Minutes pass in Chell’s self-imposed silent bliss. Her mind is lulled by GLaDOS’ warmth. 

A lot can be said for the faults of Aperture – Chell certainly has a laundry list of her own – but damn, can they flawlessly regulate a temperature on their hardware. 

One would think that a power-heavy machine like GLaDOS would be uncomfortably hot and have at least several dozen warning labels to not even graze her chassis, but GLaDOS has never felt anything but perfect to the touch. Chell can hold her for as long as she wants and never come away with so much as a blister or painfully balmy feeling on her body.

Her lover is an impressive marvel of science, that’s for sure.

Between the all but white noise of GLaDOS’ body at work and the warmth of the chassis she’s laying upon, Chell feels like a newly-hatched chick resting in its incubator.

In that moment, reminded of chicks, Chell makes another note – check on the ‘little killing machines’ later on, and bring them a snack while she’s at it.

GLaDOS might chide her for spoiling her – as she calls them – ‘weapons in the making,’ but honestly, there’s no way she can expect Chell to see baby birds and not want to feed them.

Chell appreciates and respects GLaDOS’ work – though she admittedly finds the particular prospect of her training chicks to be murdersome sources of terror to be silly at best – but she’s feeding the damn birds.

Eh, call it human nature.

Suddenly, GLaDOS moves. She slowly moves to look at Chell, though Chell quickly closes her eyes as to keep her awakened state a secret. GLaDOS’ movement is gentle, one that wouldn’t have been enough to wake Chell were she still asleep, but there’s a sense of unmistakable impatience to it. 

GLaDOS must be done with her acid pool maintenance.

It’s just as well.

While Chell dabbles with the idea of falling back asleep – she’s still a little tired and GLaDOS certainly has other maintenance tasks she can do for as long as Chell wants to sleep on her – Chell thinks she’s had enough rest. If she doesn’t stretch soon – or at least do something to counteract the stiff feelings spending hours on her right side has given her – she swears she’s going to go mad.

Besides, though she appreciates this rare moment of cozy silence from GLaDOS, she misses hearing her voice, holding her with both arms, and kissing her smooth surface.

Yes, it’s definitely time to move.

Following a single, fluid motion, Chell’s sitting up on GLaDOS’ extended chassis. Chell’s sure it probably looks like she’s riding GLaDOS the same way one would ride a horse or mechanical bull. The image in Chell’s head of that is a funny one.

GLaDOS wastes no time before acknowledging her – in her typical, GLaDOS-like fashion.

“You fell asleep on me. Again.”

Her tone fights the Sahara itself in dryness.

Chell shoots her a somewhat-silly look, a dare for her to say that she has a problem with her doing so.

GLaDOS doesn’t take that dare – not that Chell would ever expect her to. 

One thing that Chell knows about GLaDOS is that with the rarest of rare exceptions, she only does what she wants to do.

Fortunately, for both of them, what she wants is Chell.

By now, Chell is more than aware of GLaDOS’ desire to do different things outside of maintenance. She knows that just yesterday, GLaDOS finished a fresh new batch of tests for her bots, and GLaDOS was only too excited to use them as soon as possible. 

However, a sudden new, yet not entirely unfamiliar desire of her own takes over Chell. 

Her more upright view has made her see that perhaps she’s not done sleeping, but rather…she just needs to shift positions.

GLaDOS might have had enough of Chell resting on her…but Chell realizes that she hasn’t.

Chell slides onto her stomach and down GLaDOS, her chin pressing against the back of GLaDOS’ core and arms wrapping around the last bit of metal and wires that connect GLaDOS’ core to the rest of her chassis. 

God, it feels good on her body, cracking her back in a couple of hard-to-reach places while also warming her belly.

GLaDOS’s reaction is instant.

“Are you really about to fall asleep on me again, right after you just woke up?”

Her tone isn’t outraged. It’s deadpan – almost whine-like at the same time, but in a cute way. She goes on to mutter under her synthetic breath how humans are supposed to sleep less than cats, but that Chell of course is the one exception, and then goes on to list all of the things that she could be doing right now, but can’t thanks to her present role as a hammock. 

Chell answers GLaDOS’ question by pressing her lips to GLaDOS and letting them linger amidst the familiar pool of ivory. The warm metal on her face lets loose a silent sigh that borders on a silent moan.

“You’re lucky you don’t drool.”

GLaDOS must feel Chell smirk against her because she doesn’t just leave it at that.

“Doing that won’t always get you what you want, you know?”

Does she really want to bet that?

Because Chell sure wants to.

Another kiss, a cheeky peck, is placed, now closer to her core’s side. 

Chell knows how GLaDOS’ nerve receptors work, how the more sensitive to touch they get as the object of impact gets closer to the core.

Going right for her core itself assures Chell victory in a battle that GLaDOS never had so much as a chance to win.

GLaDOS doesn’t speak, though it sounds like something tries to escape from her speakers.

Yes, Chell has a feeling that some kisses will, in fact, always get her what she wants.

However, Chell reasons that that’s not at all an issue, because while they might differ from time to time, what she and GLaDOS want are ultimately one and the same.

[lilyofthesword-writes]

What Should Be - Part 3 (Batman)

Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?

Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)

Word Count: 1,024

Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries

Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)

Part 1 | Part 2 |  | Part 4 | Part 5 | Epilogue

Masterlist

When your family finished dinner, you picked up the dirty plates and made your way into the kitchen, fully intending to clean up after having cooked for everyone. It only felt right after napping the day away… And only waking up after your partner came home from picking Torrence up from the bus stop, something you were supposed to do, something you did every day. 

Your phone had shown no missed calls, but Torrence’s phone clearly showed outgoing calls to you and then Jesse when you didn’t answer. Your stomach churned with every step at the thought of, for all intents and purposes, forgetting your son. 

I shouldn’t be a parent… I’m terrible…

You bit your lip as you placed the dishes in the sink. Your limbs itched with a strangely familiar feeling to run. Run and no one will get hurt again. You shook your head vigorously. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

“Babe, let me worry about this. Go relax. You’ve been moving nonstop since—”

“No,” you cut off your partner. “No, I just— I need to do this.”

They paused a moment before pulling your hands from the sink and turning you around, forcing you to look at them.

“Hey,” they started gently. “We’re not mad, you know. We’re just worried about you. Don’t beat yourself up over one day.”

You gazed into their eyes, hoping to see what made their words feel… Well, you weren’t sure exactly. They weren’t… It didn’t feel right. You couldn’t find it.

Torrence took this moment to fling his arms around you. “We just want you to be okay.”

A lump in your throat formed and bobbed. They were trying to make you feel better. But that was exactly it. They were saying what you wanted to hear but… It wasn’t… Wasn’t genuine. It was hollow, hollow like their eyes. 

You hugged them back. 

Later that night, you found yourself flipping the medallion between your fingers, attempting to let the cool clay ground your mind. You had made sure Torrence was tucked into bed extra well and teasingly did the same for your partner before settling into your office. You still had work to do. You had to finish this project and presentation. It was your chance to move up the ladder and be next in line for the Archeology Department Head.

But that dream…

Those two men, Nightwing and Red Hood. How did you know them? And who the hell was Batman?

No. Not the time for that. Focus.

Your thumb skimmed over one of the symbols, one of your nails catching in the grooves as you traced it. You know this, but from where? You stood and went to the bookcases and stacks to rummage through your collection again.

You checked the shelves one more time. Nothing. Stepping back to survey the spines, you jumped as a book stack toppled over. Dust plumed as the books hit the floor. Had this been in an office at the university, you’d be embarrassed by the mess. Sighing, you kneeled and began picking up the books. One of which caught your eye. A leather-bound tome laid near. You lifted the book into your lap for a better view. Your thigh twinged in response.

Could this be…

You stood, letting out a small grunt as you did. Your leg seared with the motion. You made haste to your seat. With the medallion in hand, you scoured the handwritten pages. Deep within the tome, you found what you were looking for: Symbols that matched the medallion, symbols that told its story. To you, it was more akin to an amulet.

Silence. Conceal. Shield.

The dull pain in your thigh surged into an electric shock. The amulet snapped in your grip. Its pieces fell to the table. You panted, clutching your leg, willing the misery to cease.

Just breathe… Deep and slow…

Your eyes clenched closed, and instead of seeing darkness, there was the inside of an old warehouse. In front of you, an older man stood grinning. His hair was shockingly white, and he had dichromatic eyes. There were patches of stitched skin running along his face. The most concerning part was the rusted scalpel in his hand. His name came to you in an instant — Doc Benton.

What is this? It feels…

The pain left as suddenly as it came, leaving only a ghost of its former self, and you were able to open your eyes. You flexed your fingers and massaged your thigh. Through your pajamas, you could feel a raised scar running down from your hip to your knee.

What? 

You wrenched up your pants leg to find nothing. Rubbing your fingertips against the skin, it was smooth. Other than some stretch marks that had grown over time, there was nothing. Releasing the fabric, your hands came up to cradle your face. Maybe you were getting sick. That had to be it. Right? You snapped the tome shut and left your desk. It was time for bed. 

As your fingers wrapped around the doorknob, you heard it. 

Clomp. CLOMP.

You shook your head.

No. Not this again. It’s not real.

You decidedly fling the door open. There was nothing to be afraid of. Unless you’re afraid of looming, bulky men dressed as bats.

There he was again, the man from the night before. 

“Batman,” you whispered the name echoing in the back of your mind. Deep down you knew it was right.

Your body froze while your mind raced at a staggering speed.

He’s not— He can’t be. But he’s right there. Can a hallucination be this realistic? 

You could see every spec of stubble on his jaw, hear every hoarse, heavy breath, smell every bit of sweat clinging to him. Overwhelmed, you stumbled away only for him to pull you back. Despite his beaten appearance, his grip on your wrist was bruise inducing. It grounded you.

He mumbled your name. It sent a shockwave through you.

With that, he warped into nothingness like before. And you fell into a heap on the floor, heart pounding as you tried to catch your breath.