#crepe divider

[mikeykuns]

Hello‼️ 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️ I return with yet another request and this time I wish to request pastry themed dividers (cupcakes etc etc) and a yellow masterlist divider (it's my favourite colour). Please⁉️⁉️🗣🗣🗣

like/reblog if you save - no credit needed !

[eevees-hobbies]

My Boyfriend Works at a Butler Cafe - NSFW

Author’s Note: This is in response to the maid cafe requests I’ve gotten. While I don’t think I can add to the body of work that other content creators have already contributed to the fandom, I am dropping this at your feet. It may or may not be inspired by my trip to the Butler Cafe at Anime Expo, hehe.

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Multiple Characters (Mostly separate). Contains Fluff and Smut (Smut indicated by “after hours” text). P in V. Use of pet names like pretty girl, Daddy, possessiveness in Sakura’s, sex in public, cunnilingus, sharing, mention of a handjob, reserve cowgirl. Tis smut!

Synopsis: Picture a scenario in which Umemiya is concerned about the welfare and sustainability of some of the shops in Makochi, primarily because many of the shops are owned and kept up by some of the more elderly inhabitants. Some stores are dilapidated and at risk of shuttering their doors, which Umemiya sees as a significant loss to the community. After brainstorming potential ways to earn some donations, he has a brilliant idea! It’s a concept that has almost every Bofurin alumni grinding their teeth and shaking their heads in protest. Welcome to the Butler Cafe!

Word Count: 3.2K

Cottage dividers by Saradika. Story and character banners by me.

“I’m so happy to see you, baby!”

If he weren’t volunteering his time to work in the cafe, he would be terminated immediately. As soon as he sees you walk through the door, he shouts your name from across the dining room and beelines straight to you, arms open and with a broad smile on his face. 

The customers he was just serving? Ignored.

He’ll make sure to sit you in his section and pull up a chair to chat with you, which is a significant annoyance to management as Umemiya is a big draw to the cafe. His admirers line up at least an hour before the restaurant opens to see the cutie with the toned biceps serving them strawberry crepes.

Regardless, I hope you’re comfortable with your lover staring into the depths of your eyes—and soul—as you recount your day. 

He’s so incomprehensibly smitten with you that the only thing that he’ll allow to interrupt your verbal reverie is him spoon-feeding you a piece of cake. 

“I’m so glad you came to visit me today! Wait, what do you mean you’re genuinely here to eat lunch?”

Grade: C+

After Hours

“Let me have some of you before my shift, sweetheart. I need you.”

“D-don’t worry about those…let them fall.” Paperwork, pens, and even a stapler aren’t safe from the laws of gravity as Umemiya picks you up and pushes you onto the desk in the back office. He only has so much time before opening the Butler Cafe doors, and he needs to fill your womb to ensure himself a good shift.

Could you imagine a sex-famished Umemiya? It’s a terrifying thought!

You kiss each other hungrily, tongues meeting outside your mouths before you can press your lips together. Your hands are already fussing with his uniform, particularly where his toned chest strains the buttons of his ironed coat.

“If I’m not inside you right now, baby girl-” His sentence is cut off as his mouth latches to the sensitive skin on your throat, suckling and nipping until the spot begins to sting. But if it hurts, you aren’t showing it as your eyes roll back into your skull. 

He’s pressing his body into yours as though he’s attempting to collapse into you. His hands desperately tug at the fabric that covers up his favorite parts of you–your breasts, your stomach, and most importantly, the sweet treat you have between slick-stained thighs.

“Ume, this has to be a quickie!” 

You can feel him grumble against your skin, lips trained into a pout as he grapples with your words, but he knows you’re right. He shifts the seat of your panties to the side and sinks into you, inch by agonizing thick inch. 

And you thought you were ready. You thought the way your cunt was drooling for him just by seeing him in his uniform would mean you were fully prepared to take his girth, but the sheer thickness still has you gasping and gripping his shoulders.

“Shhh, you can take it, pretty girl. You always take me so well. I got ya’”

As he’s pushing into you, his words slur, drunk off your pussy, head swimming with love, lust, and adoration for his sweet girl. There’s no time for preparation; his shift starts soon, and weren’t you just rushing him, anyway?

But for all the stretching you must endure from taking him, Umemiya is still nothing but gentle.

“God, you’re perfect.” His fingers stroke your cheek, and you melt into the familiarity of his soothing touch. “Keep your eyes open for me ok, love? You close them, and we start over.”

Once you collect yourself, walls finally fitting snugly around him like a glove, you bat your eyelashes innocently, brushing your lips against his thumb before sliding it into your mouth. You don’t break eye contact with him as you flirt your tongue against the underside of his thumb, pretending as though you’re sucking on something much bigger and thicker—that of which is already inside of you.

For a brief instant, you see something flash in Umemiya’s eyes, something that you feel sink into your spine and crawl its way up each individual vertebrae with sharpened claws, something that would threaten your health and ability to walk if you were home instead of at the butler cafe. But he begrudgingly sets his desire to defile you to the side and removes his thumb from your mouth, hand moving down and using that same digit to rub at your clit.

“I love it when you help Daddy out like this. Suuuuuuch a good girl.”

The way the desk bangs against the wall and drags across the linoleum floor as he drives his thick cock into your sopping-wet mess makes you consider that you two might be found out before your quickie can conclude. 

Grade: A+

“Stop staring at me like that, and hurry up and order!”

“Ugh!”

Death has never been more welcome as soon as Sakura dons the butler uniform. Even worse is when he peers into the dining room and sees you. 

Why would you do this to him? Why would you show up here? Don’t you have any pity for him, or is this all some sick, twisted fantasy for you? 

He’s spiraling!

Staff must physically grab him and force him onto the cafe floor. 

He’ll approach you, grumbling, and every bit of him the reddest he’s ever been—and is that steam pouring from his ears?

As he mumbles out the delicacy of the day, you have to lean in just to hear what he’s saying.

“S-stop pretending you can’t hear me!”

But best believe that when he sees another butler giving you too much attention for his liking, he’s stepping in and taking care of all his girl's orders.

“Hey, she’s mine.”

“Y-you mean the table, right?”

“She’s mine.”

Oof, he said what he said!

And if Umemiya is popular with the younger crowd, Sakura, to his disdain, is popular with the older ladies. They don’t think he’s particularly cute or lovely to look at; they just enjoy a visit from this loud-mouthed kid telling them to hurry up and order.

They think he’s a hoot and taking method-acting to the extreme.

Aren’t the tsundere types so cute? 

He’s honestly a really bad butler. His inability to be friendly to the customers—except you—and attempts to always switch his shift with someone else does not go unnoticed by management.

Grade: F -

After Hours 

“I kinda like fucking you at work.”

As you gazed down at your plate, an unfinished parfait staring back at you, a simple sentence was all you needed to gulp the rest of the dessert down and follow your butler outside.

“Gonna be good for me and finish that so I can finish you, yeah?”

Um, fuck yeah!

“S-sakura, don’t you have to clock back in?” You mumble into his ear; you know you sound like an absolute mess, your breathing rapid and uneven, with small moans erupting from your throat.

“Fuck this job.” He has your hands pinned above your head; your legs are wrapped around his waist as he fucks you against the alley wall behind the cafe. “I’m exactly where I should be.”

His thrusts forward are hard and urgent, but the retraction of his dick is slow, drawing out the feeling of your satin walls grazing every inch of him. Your slick is staining his bicolored pubic hair as he grinds into you. His fingers dig into your wrists, seemingly in rhythm with each snap of his hips. 

“G-god, Sakura! Maybe I should make you dress up like a butler more often?” 

“P-pervert, you’d like that, huh? You want me to dress up as your fantasy and fuck you in costume?”

He nestles his face into your neck. You sound so good for him, and how could he resist the urge to take you outside and fuck you right here and now with how pretty you look?

You’re intoxicating, you’re perfect, you’re about to make him fucking cum, fuck! He considers pulling out, letting you finish him off with your hand or that cute mouth of yours, but you grip your legs around him in a vice grip.

“H-haru, stay inside, please?”

Oh, god, how could he say no to that? To you? He smashes his lips against yours, moaning loudly in your mouth as his cock twitches, spurts then fountains of his love and devotion for you filling you up to the brim.

His shift at the butler cafe is the last thing on his mind as he wraps his arms around your waist, peppering kisses against your lips and cheeks.

Grade: A+++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hey, you came just to see me, sweet girl? Aw, I’m so lucky.”

Although he technically didn’t have to attend this fundraiser, given his relationship with Bofurin and Makochi, he thought it was a good idea to show up ready to work.

Togame quickly becomes a shift manager. He’s reliable, a natural leader, and every client likes talking to him and even though he doesn’t walk with a sense of urgency, they don’t mind!

When Togame sees you enter the cafe, he’ll shoot you a lazy grin—the kind that makes your heart skip a beat and forces you to long for him even when he’s right there in front of you.

During his lunch breaks, he’ll take you out on the private patio he reserved just for you two and have the butler on duty bring out all the cafe items he knows you’ll like. 

As you speak and enjoy your time together, he’ll grab your hand in his, rough fingers drawing smooth circles around your knuckles, deep-green eyes trained on yours, and occasionally flickering down to look at your lips.

Of course, you want to kiss him, but he’s at work!

Knowing precisely how you are, Togame makes the first move, leaning over and capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft, unabashedly intimate, and that of which touches the furthest and most difficult-to-reach edges of your very soul. He’s breathing life into you, and before you know it, he’s pulling away, smirking, daring you to be the aggressor, and daring you to follow him. And you are, and you do.

Grade: A

After Hours 

“Gonna make you cum before my shift, beautiful. How does that sound? Look at me when I ask you a question.”

Your trembling hand shoots out to grasp the ledge of a nearby shelf in the cafe’s backroom. Togame has your legs draped over his muscular and broad shoulders with your back against the wall in the back office.

Togame loves using your thighs as earmuffs. The harder you squeeze, the more he can tell how good of a job he’s doing. When you squeeze and tremble because he’s sucking on your labia, taking each one into his mouth, sucking, biting, he knows that he’s doing exactly what he needs to get you to absolute euphoria.

“Jo,” you hiss through parted, glossed lips, “They’ll be able to hear us!”

“No, they’ll be able to hear you.”

And he’s right. He snuck you into the back prior to his shift so that he could devour you as though you didn’t pack him a bento box. 

But he’s doing such a good job, licking at your clit until you feel a dull throbbing sensation, making out with your pretty pussy until thick cream coats his lips, and leaving a reflective sheen on his cheeks. 

Unfortunately, the diners aren’t too far away, and you don’t want them to hear every sound Togame is pulling out of you.

And as though he’s intentionally trying to make you louder, he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, no longer teasing the nub but making deliberate infinity shapes that make her twitch.

“I’ll stop when you cum in my mouth, baby.”

He wants you to cum? Might as well take him up on the offer. 

You grab loose fistfuls of his hair and start grinding on his face, allowing his nose to rub against your clit as he offers your pretty hole free use of his tongue.

“That’s my girl. You’re such a good listener.”

“Jo, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Grade: A+

“I’m at your beck and call. Whatever you need is yours.”

To no surprise to anyone, Suo is poised and proper enough to make the butler gig look easy. He knows how to carry the trays without spilling a single crumb of food, he knows where to put the silverware when placing them on the table, and he’s certainly never stressed out during a midday rush.

However, his faults lie with you.

When Suo sees you enter the cafe, he becomes apathetic to the other patrons. He still serves them, yes, but his thoughts are obviously elsewhere. His eyes hardly leave you, watching as you bring a fork up to your mouth and it pushes past your plump lips. 

Your tongue darting out to lick the whipped cream from the corner of your mouth has his eyes widening ever so slightly, and the tea kettle he’s pouring tea from shaking just a bit. 

And when he’s able to serve you? He’s never been happier. Sure, you may not have asked for that extra piece of pie, but you’re absolutely going to get it. Can’t possibly drink any more tea? Nonsense. He’s topping you off again.

Anything for you.

Always.

And forever.

Grade: B

After Hours

"Pretty girl needs to cum at least one more time for us. I need you to cum in my friend's mouth before I touch you."

Your pleasure is Suo’s pleasure, so be a good girl and spread your legs for his friends, mkay? Suo’s tongue slides into your mouth as his fingers brush against the strands of your hair that have managed to fall into your face. 

He can’t help but admire you, your beauty, and your fucked out expression as your mouth opens and closes, waves and waves of pleasure rocking you to your core. 

His beautiful girl.

The cafe's shades are drawn closed, and the interior of the restaurant is only illuminated by dim amber lamp lights placed sporadically throughout the medium-sized room. 

Suo cups your chin, his mouth only leaving yours as he tilts your face forward, “Tell Sakura how much you like when he sucks on your clit.”

Sakura grunts from between your thighs. He’s on all fours, face so flush against your cunt that there’s surely no room for him to breathe. But if that’s the case, he isn’t indicating that oxygen is a necessity as he’s dragging his tongue, flattened and broad, against your swollen clit in long licks. 

“That feels really good, Sakura. You’re doing such a great job.” You pause, but Suo’s quick, heated glance in your direction wills you to continue. “You’re doing a great job, and I like when you suck on my clit”

“Good girl. It’s important to thank your butlers. Now be sure to thank Umemiya, too.”

You turn your head to the side, gazing up at Umemiya, who is pulling up his undershirt in clenched fists, exposing his toned stomach and chest, and his pants hanging loosely around his thighs. His pectorals have been a rosy pink all night, the persistent blush only spreading as he lays witness to you and what you’re capable of.

Your hand is wrapped around his cock, fingertips unable to touch each other from the sheer circumference of him, but dammit you’re trying. “Thank you, Umemiya, for letting me jerk you off.”

Suo lets out a quiet hiss, pleased with your obedience. He grips you by the cheeks and leans down, his lips so close to yours, his eye peering into your soul.

“Who do you think should go first? Which butler would you like to request, love?”

You’d smirk if his hand wasn’t forcing your lips into a pout, but your eyebrow twitches, and you get that familiar glint in your eye that Suo loves so much.

“I don’t think anyone has to take turns. Everyone pick a hole.” 

Grade: A+

“P-please tell me how I can help you?”

When you see Nirei in his butler outfit, you swoon. How could someone so innocent and cute look like that? And while he blushes and stutters when taking your order, he’s probably the most impressive butler in the cafe.

He knows the menu like the back of his hand, is always on time, and is willing to stay late if need be.

Unlike the other participants on this list, your presence isn’t enough to shake Nirei, and admittedly, that might hurt a bit, right? In actuality, Nirei does so well because of you.

He knows you’re watching, so he’s careful with every movement and every word he says. He so desperately wants to impress you. So you might not always see it, but he’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, hoping you saw him interact with a client with perfect protocol. 

As you have lunch with your friends and your eyes meet, he’ll shoot you a little wave as he turns his attention back to a customer. Your friends will giggle because how did YOU trap someone so cute, sweet, and innocent?

And you’ll take offense to that because 1) you aren’t a predator who hunts cute little animals–-Bambi is most certainly safe when you’re around and 2) Nirei is anything but innocent.  

Grade: A+

After Hours:

"O-oh god! You’re amazing, so beautiful, please don’t stop! I-I’m gonna..!"

With shaky hands, Nirei hangs onto the plush of your ass–and on for dear life–as you ride him in reverse cowgirl position on the floor of the Butler Cafe. 

“O-oh, my god…” He musters the strength to bring his head up to look at you expertly bouncing on his dick, swallowing him whole like you were made for this.

He doesn’t think he’s going to make it.

“Y/N! P-please slow down!”

You let out a breathless giggle, your nails digging into his thighs for leverage as you sit up straight and roll your hips. “You did so well serving me today, Nirei! I’m just rewarding my butler.”

God and he’d serve you for a lifetime if it meant experiencing this.

“D-do you know what I’m doing right now, baby?”

He lets out a grunt, the only sound he can manage, as the muscles in his calves tighten to the point of almost cramping.

Fuck, why are you so good at this?

You swivel your hips to the left, right, up and down, dragging the head of his cock against your g-spot. “I’m spelling your name.”

S-spelling his-

Oh, fuck.

Nirei bites his lip, eyes rolling into the back of his head as something so inevitable, so ridiculously powerful, hits him like a freight train. A cross between a whimper-whine escapes from parted lips, and it catches you off guard because, if anything, his moan is a clear indication of how much he desires you and how much he’s always wanted you. 

You consider stopping, the rolling of your hips slowing, but the feeling of immense pressure makes you moan. The licking of your lips replaces the cocky grin on your face as you throw your head back.

Because, god, there’s just so much of it! 

You look between your legs as his cum drips from your cunt and onto the cafe floor. His balls still clenching and unclenching as he continues to pour into you. 

“Nirei, there’s so much!”

“Mmmm, h-happy to give you some more?”

Grade: A+

Special thanks to @suosgirl and @hayatoseyepatch for your ideas/contributions. 

[diremoone]

sweet dedication | g. satoru

a year after his fight with sukuna, satoru finally gets to enjoy his birthday in peace, with no one but his beloved wife.

w — fluff, post-canon, lots of food :3, i incorporated a doggo sue me, vv short but hopefully sweet 🥰

Happy Birthday, My Beloved Satoru ❤️❤️

[ line divider credit to @/saradika ]

The last thing Satoru expected to smell coming through the front door of his home was a mixture of cinnamon and cherries. He shrugged off the jacket from his shoulders and curiously stepped further into his home. Upon seeing the kitchen table and every counter, his eyes went wide and mouth fell open.

On the kitchen table was at least four boxes of pizza, chicken wings, fried chicken, and brisket. Towards the end of the table farther fell the front door were sides, like green bean casserole and corn. His mouth began to water, his inner food junkie rearing it’s hungry head.

Across the counters and clearly in the oven were desserts, desserts, and more desserts — apple and cherry pie, cheesecake, fruit kebabs, crepes, mochi, brownies, kikufuku from Sendai. Gosh, what was the occasion?

And then the man sees above the hallway entrance that leads to the other rooms: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Satoru gapes.

Was it really December 7th?

He checks his phone and his brows raise in surprise. How in the world did he forget?

But you didn’t. You would’ve been the only one available to have made such a feast for him (even if it was mostly sweets), since everyone else was out on missions, still trying to tidy up Japan after the Culling Games’ toll.

He feels his heart swell with love and happiness, happy that you’ve remembered a date that he’s thrown to the side for so many years. He’s happy that you’ve done so much here for him, a genuine showcase of how much you really loved him and knew him by cooking all of his favorites. This must’ve taken you hours and hours to do; this being a clear proclamation of how much you’ve dedicated yourself to him and to knowing him.

“Babe?” he calls out to open air. No response. He’s smart by checking the kitchen first; you’d never leave cooking food unattended.

Satoru’s mouth quirks up into a sweet smile at the sight of passed out, sitting on the kitchen floor with your inseparable corgi Maple snoozing away right next to you. Although he squints at the sight of your neck lolled to the side in the corner of the cabinets. That didn’t look comfortable at all.

He’s not sure if he should take you to bed or wake you up right now. After a moment, he decides the former. But as soon as you’re scooped up and secured against his broad chest, your eyes flutter open. Maple wakes up too, barking and wiggling her butt, happy to see her dad.

“Oh, my god. Satoru!”

He winks. “The one and only baby.”

Your brain has always been fast about remembering all of the events prior to any sort of sleep or nap you’ve had. This time was no different, and he chuckles when you begin to groan and complain about your surprise being ruined.

“God, I can’t believe I fell asleep! How does one even sleep on the kitchen floor. My ass hurts, Jesus,” you complain. You burrow your head into the crook of his neck in embarrassment as he carries you to the couch and sits down with you on his lap. Maple bounds up behind him and miraculously uses her little legs to hop up on the couch. Satoru chuckles and takes a moment to briefly give her belly rubs.

“Thank you for trying to make this day special for me,” your ‘Toru says. It’s sweet, the tone of his voice, filled with love and adoration. “Don’t feel bad. That looks like a lot of cooking you did, so it’s only natural you’d fall asleep at some point. So don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

You grumble but nod anyway. It was true. You’d been awake ever since he’d left earlier this morning, putting the pedal to the floor on your attempt to swamp the love of your life with all of his favorite foods made by hand.

“I love you, Satoru,” you mumble, still tired and sleepy from overextending yourself.

“I love you, too, baby.” His lips press a long kiss to the side of your temple. He pulls away to gaze down into your eyes, chuckles escaping him again at seeing the sleepy haze in them. “Thank you for trying to make my special day special.”

“But I still didn’t get to surprise you,” you complain.

“I wasn’t expecting it when I came home, especially now with everything going on. I think that’s a big enough surprise for me,” he argues. “So come on, cheer up! We have some delicious delicious food to eat made by my sweet, adorable, wonderful wifey-poo! Except the pizza of course!”

You deadpan. “Call me that again and I’ll smash the strawberry shortcake I made as your birthday cake in that expensive jacket you bought last week.”

Satoru gasps dramatically in horror.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

“Not if I eat it first!”

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut @heresan @4sat0ruu and @/all my satoru lovers also i shouldn’t have taken that nap otherwise this taglist would be longer lmaoo

let’s raise a glass to this man who deserves the entire fucking world

[candycandy00]

Promotion - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

You’ll do anything to get Gojo to recommend you for a promotion to grade one! 

Written for @kuroov in exchange for making the lovely graphics for my welcome post. I hope you like it! 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. (Professional) Power Imbalance. Spit kink. Oral sex. Slight size kink. Divider by @benkeibear!

The cursed spirit in front of you writhes on the ground as it dies, remnants of your technique still glowing from its body. You whirl around to look at the man who accompanied you on today’s mission. 

“See? I did good, right?”

Gojo Satoru smiles and nods, his eyes hidden behind his blindfold. “Yeah, you did good. I didn’t have to lift a finger.”

You walk over to stand closer to him, tilting your head up to see his face. With your eyes shining, you ask, “Don’t you think I’m ready to be grade one?”

You’ve been gunning for this promotion for months now, and so far Gojo is still holding out on you. He can easily nominate you anytime he wants, and with a recommendation from someone as influential as him, that promotion would be in the bag. 

“Hmmm, I’m not so sure,” he says, his tone somewhat playful. “I need to see you in action a few more times, I think.”

You want to shout that he’s seen you “in action” plenty of times already, but you hold your tongue. You certainly don’t want to offend him at this point. “Okay. Will you come with me tomorrow then?”

“Sure, anything for my cute little kouhai,” he says, patting your head. 

You blush and look away. You’ve been trying hard to keep your relationship with Gojo purely professional, but he makes it difficult. He’s incredibly good looking, and he knows it. And he’s so flirty with practically everyone, it’s easy to see why so many of your fellow sorcerers are nursing crushes on him.  

In all honesty, you’ve got a bit of a crush yourself. 

“Let’s grab something to eat before we head back,” he suggests, casually wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You don’t think anything of it. You’ve seen him do this to plenty of other people and it seems to mean nothing to him. He’s just being friendly. 

“Okay,” you say, eager to keep his favor. You’re actually pretty tired and would like to go straight home to your apartment and go to sleep. But you desperately want this promotion, and that involves keeping Gojo happy with you. 

The two of you stop at a crepe shop on the way home and he buys treats for both of you, but has them wrapped and boxed. “We’ll eat them at my place,” he says, and you blink up at him in surprise. 

“Your place?”

He grins. “You’ve been there before. My little side apartment near the school. It’s close by so we’ll stop there to eat.”

“Oh… okay.”

You have been there before, three months ago. But you went with a few other sorcerers. Gojo was hosting a small welcome party for a new co-worker who transferred in from the Hokkaido branch. You’ve never been there alone with him, and you’re not sure how you feel about doing it now. You feel nervous, uneasy, but you also feel excited and flattered. 

Above all, you want to keep him happy. 

When you reach his apartment, he unlocks the door and stands back, gesturing for you  to go inside first. You step into the darkened room, and he steps in after you, flipping on the light switch and then closing the door behind you. The sound of it nearly makes you jump. You get the strange feeling that you’re caged in here with a predator, but it’s just Gojo, standing there slipping his blindfold off. You don’t think you’d mind being his prey. 

Instead of going to the small kitchen table to eat the crepes, he walks over to his sofa in the living room and sits down, then pats the cushion beside him. “Have a seat,” he says, opening the box in his lap and pulling out the two crepes wrapped in colorful paper. 

You do as he says, sitting down on the sofa to his left and maintaining what you feel is an appropriate distance from him. But you can’t help being extremely aware of how close the two of you actually are, how alone the two of you are in his apartment.  

He reaches you one of the crepes and opens his own. You carefully peel back the paper, not wanting to make a mess in his surprisingly neat living room. You’ve heard this is just a secondary residence he uses to be close to the school, but it appears to be well maintained. 

You glance over at Gojo as he takes a bite of his crepe. There’s something oddly sensual about the way his mouth opens, the way his lips encase the sweet treat. Is he doing it on purpose? After that first bite, he notices some cream filling on his fingers, and proceeds to lick them clean as you watch, transfixed. His eyes shift to your face and he asks, “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you say, feeling flustered as you take your first bite of your own crepe. You barely taste the thing, your mind so preoccupied with the positively lurid show Gojo is currently putting on beside you. He licks the crepe as if he’s making out with it, and his tongue flicks at the soft crust. 

He catches you watching him and smiles at you. “Wanna try mine?” 

“Huh?”

He holds his out toward your mouth. “Go ahead.”

You stare at the offered crepe, at the mound of cream filling where Gojo’s tongue has just been buried. Would he be offended if you refused? Do you even want to refuse?

“Okay, thanks,” you say, leaning forward and taking a small bite. You chew it slowly, savoring the taste. Is this what Gojo’s mouth tastes like? 

“Like it?”

You nod. “Y-yeah, it’s delicious.”

He grins at you, like he’s amused by something you’re not aware of. You go back to eating your crepe as he finishes his own, at one point getting the cream all over his fingers again. He’s such a messy eater. He puts the two cream covered fingers in his mouth, licking them as he stares at you. He coats them thoroughly in his saliva, then slowly pulls them out. They’re glistening, practically dripping. 

And then, he reaches his hand toward you, looking at you expectantly. Your heart races as you realize what he wants you to do. This is highly inappropriate, but you want to make him like you. You want to please him. So you open your mouth obediently, and his wet fingers slide in. 

He plays with your tongue as your lips reflexively close around the digits. You can taste him so clearly, you feel a fluttering in your stomach. 

“Good girl,” he says as you begin sucking his fingers, the sweet taste of the crepe lingering on his skin. He gently moves them in and out, seemingly enjoying the way your head moves forward to follow them when he pulls them back. 

“Such a cute mouth. I bet you’d like to suck something else too, wouldn’t you?” he asks, those gorgeous blue eyes watching you. 

This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this with your superior. This is not the way you wanted to get that promotion to grade one. But how can you refuse him? He could make or break your career. And besides… you’ve always wondered what his cock tastes like. You’ve thought about sucking him off too many times to count. 

You’re tired. You’re horny. And the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life is spreading his thighs apart on the couch beside you, unbuckling his belt. So you let him gently tug you off the couch and to your knees in front of him. When you look up, his cock is already out, inches from your face. It’s fucking huge, though you can’t say you’re surprised by that. Sitting here so low before him, his tall frame towers over you even though he’s sitting. 

With one hand, you reach up and lightly grip his shaft, then you lean forward and wrap your lips around the tip, your tongue flicking over it. You press your face forward, taking more of him into your mouth, quickly coating it in your spit before it hits the back of your throat. Then your head is bobbing back and forth, your lips and tongue gliding over him as his cock is effectively shoved into your throat and then almost back out, over and over. You gag slightly, but try to suppress it. 

Glancing up at his face, you find him staring at you, wearing a pleased expression. His skin is slightly flushed, but otherwise he seems surprisingly calm for a guy getting deep throated. But his cock doesn’t lie, and it’s twitching in your mouth as you continue taking him as deep as you can without choking. 

At some point one of his hands moves to rest on your head, fingers softly curling into your hair. His breathing gets a little faster, and you know he’s close. You pull back, letting him pop out of your mouth, then your eyes meet his. “You can cum in my mouth,” you offer, opening your lips and extending your tongue like a good girl. 

His grip on your hair tightens just a little, holding your head still, and then his hot cum is shooting directly into your mouth, covering your tongue. You keep your lips parted for a few seconds, letting him watch his cum sliding around before you swallow it all. 

He rubs your head, like you’re a puppy, and grins down at you. “I knew you’d be good at this.”

You’re just catching your breath when you gaze up at him and say, “Thank you.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t know what you’re thanking him for. Honestly, you don’t really know either. Your mind has been a little fuzzy since this all started. But he laughs as if he’s amused before he pulls you up by your arms and starts pulling your clothes off. You let him, having no desire to stop this now. You’ve already sucked his dick, why not go further? 

Soon, he has you face down on the couch, his strong hands holding your hips in the air as he fucks into you from behind. His body is heavy as it leans against yours, making you feel totally powerless and trapped, but it’s a feeling that thrills you more than scares you. 

Your face is pressed into the cushions, your hands gripping the plush fabric. You can hear his breaths, fast and heavy, and you can feel a satisfying stretch as his cock shoves all the way in with each thrust. 

A few minutes in, he slows his pace and bends down until his face is close to your ear. “Hey, you okay?”

You turn your head to the side to look at him. “Yeah…”

“You’re so quiet. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t… want you to stop,” you breathe out, your voice nearly a whisper. Whatever this is between the two of you, it’s way too late to back out now. So you might as well enjoy it. 

He must notice your flushed face, your glazed eyes, because he goes back to fucking you as hard as before, one hand sliding around in front of you to find your clit. You jerk from the sudden pleasure, clamping your mouth shut to keep from moaning. You hear Gojo laugh. “There we go,” he says, his finger stroking you in a rhythm that matches his thrusts. 

You bury your face in the cushion to muffle any embarrassing sounds you might make as you climax, shuddering beneath him. Minutes later, he suddenly pulls out, and you feel something warm and wet hit your bare back. 

Later, you end up falling asleep on Gojo’s couch. You wake up the next morning with a blanket draped over you. Gojo steps out of the small kitchen and hands you a cup of coffee before sitting down on the other end of the couch.  

“Good morning,” he says cheerily. You don’t know where he gets the energy. 

You sip the coffee and look at the nearby end table. Your clothes are neatly folded in a stack. 

“Do you need to go home and change before the job today?” he asks casually. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, still trying to get yourself completely woken up. 

“I’ll take you home,” he says. “Then we’ll meet up later.”

You look over at him. “You’re coming with me again?”

“Didn’t I say that yesterday? I still have to decide if you’re ready to be promoted.”

You’re wide awake now. “You’re still not sure? But… I thought…”

He looks surprised. “What? You thought I would recommend you for grade one if you slept with me?”

You feel your face burning.  “I don’t know what I thought.”

He laughs and sits his cup on a table. “Look, if I was ranking your cock sucking skills, you’d be a special grade! But that has nothing to do with this. Grade ones get sent out alone, on very dangerous missions. I don’t want you to get ripped to shreds because I recommended you without being absolutely sure you’re ready.”

You sigh and stand up to retrieve your clothes. “I understand.”

He had a point. You didn’t want to end up dead either because you were prematurely promoted. But you were surprised he cared so much. Maybe he wasn’t the egotistical asshole everyone said he was. 

Maybe you’ll let him treat you to crepes again soon. 

[queensharotto]

Brittle Doughie’s Cookie Run x Reader Masterlist (Part 1: Mid to Late 2022)

A masterlist of @brittle-doughie’s Cookie Run stories organized by month, starting with August 2022.

Genre Emojis

😞 is for angst, 🎃 is for Halloween, 🎄 is for Christmas, 🍪 is for Cannibalism, 💗 is for Yandere, 💝 is for Valentine’s, 👻 is for Horror, 🎂 is for Birthday, 💚 is for Yandere!White Lily Cookie

The Indents are related to the featured cookies. If there are numerous cookies (Over 10 Cookies Featured), I’ll make a note on that as well. Additionally, I’ll categorize various cookies if they’re associated with a specific hobby, location, food etc.

August 2022 🌅

• “Picnic Time” 💗

Featuring: Cherry Blossom Cookie

• “Pizza Time” 💗

Featuring: Pizza Cookie

September 2022 🍂

• “The Beloved of Duskgloom Sea” 💗

Featuring: Black Pearl Cookie

• “Heartbreak”

Featuring: Kumiho Cookie

• “The Apple in this Doctor’s Eye” 💗

Featuring: Dr Bones Cookie

• “The Incorrect Quote Cookie Jar #1”

Featuring: Numerous Cookies

• “The Time Balance Department’s Handycookie”

Featuring: The Time Balance Department

October 2022 🎃

• “Biggest Fans” 💗

Featuring: The Cherry Stars

• “The Idol and the DJ” 💗

Featuring: DJ Cookie

• “Time Travel, Woo!” 💗

Featuring: Croissant Cookie

• “Hollyberrian Marketplace Ruckus”

Featuring: Princess Cookie, Knight Cookie and the Hollyberrian Shopkeepers

• “The Spooky Cookie Tapes” 🎃💗

Featuring: Numerous cookies

• “The Thrill or the Peace”

Featuring: Adventurer Cookie and Blackberry Cookie

• “The Deal with Dragons” 💗

Featuring: The 5 Dragons

• “Baking for Them”

Featuring: Frost Queen Cookie, Sea Fairy Cookie and Black Pearl Cookie

• “The Face of the Future”

Featuring: Director Croissant Cookie, Stringy Gummy Cookie, and Ephemeral Flow Timekeeper Cookie

• “Missing You…” 😞

Featuring: Numerous Cookies

• “Sunrises”

Featuring: Numerous Cookies

• “Real Y/N Cookie Birthday Hours” 🎂

Featuring: Birthday Cake Cookie, Cheesecake Cookie, Truffle Cookie, Lotus Dragon Cookie, and Croissant Cookie

November 2022 🌾

• “A Tune for You”

Featuring: Vagabond Cookie

• “Let Me Be Your Relay Cookie”

Featuring: Numerous Cookies

• “A Phenomenal Photo”

Featuring: Chocolate Bonbon Cookie, Sour Belt Cookie, Shining Glitter Cookie, Scorpion Cookie, Orange Cookie, Cotton Candy Cookie, and Almond Cookie

• “Polar Opposites” 💗

Featuring: Timekeeper Cookie

December 2022 🎄

• “Bake It till You Make It” 🍪💗

Featuring: Captain Caviar Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie, Oyster Cookie, Affogato Cookie, Blackberry Cookie, Black Raisin Cookie, and Cocoa Cookie

• “The Deal with Ancients V1”

Featuring: Gingerbrave and Co, The Cookies of Darkness, The First 3 Playable Ancient Heroes and Cookies seen throughout Episodes 9 - 14

• “Yandere Cookie Team Ups” 💗

Featuring: Fire Spirit Cookie, Wind Archer Cookie, Croissant Cookie and Timekeeper Cookie

• “Speak of the Tree”

Featuring: Millennial Tree Cookie and Churro Cookie

• “For Their Majesty” 💗

Featuring: Amber Sugar Cookie

• “Spared No Expense” 💗

Featuring: Cheesecake Cookie

• “The Flipside” 😞

Featuring: Cocoa Cookie, Mint Choco Cookie, Croissant Cookie, Kumiho Cookie, Lilac Cookie, Pomegranate Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie

• “When the Jingle Bells Rock” 🎄

Featuring: Numerous Cookies

• “What If: In Your Name” 🍪

Featuring: St Pastry Order

• “Secretly Reading Your Diary”

Featuring: Rougefort Cookie, Licorice Cookie, Pomegranate Cookie, Strawberry Crepe Cookie and the Choco Chess Twins

• “From the Brink”

Featuring: Caramel Arrow Cookie, Pomegranate Cookie, Pastry Cookie and Milk Cookie

• “In a Heartbeat” 💗

Featuring: Pink Choco Cookie

Divider Source l Next Masterlist

[haruu-luv]

𝙱𝚂𝙳 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

(aus mixed)

dividers by cafe kitsune

𝙰𝙳𝙰 (@asktheada)

Yukichi Fukuzawa: @thedickpeoplewagewarsfor @fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency

Ranpo Edogawa: @askranpo @fem-ranpo @ultradeduction @protectingidiots @ramuneranpo

Osamu Dazai: @never-gets-sick @doublesuicidelover @theonlyrealdazaiosamus-blog @catzai-osameow @royalbandages @the-biggest-odasaku-man-fan @suicidol-dz @corrupted-bandages @dazai-asks @femzaimybeloved @bandagesandblood @drowninginbeauty @disgracedprodigy @thesourceofsin @sweet-belladonna @osamudazaiisawoman @diamondzai @swimminginyokohamasrivers @kitsune-dazai @suizai

Atsushi Nakajima: @moonovermountain @beast-beneath-the-moon @weretigeratsu @panthera-tigristigris @chazukemylove @chazukelover5105 @atsushima

Akiko Yosano: @thou-shaltnot-die @dreaming-of-butterflies

Tanizaki Junichiro: @junichiros-light-snow @tanizakisiblings

Doppo Kunikida: @thematchlesspoet @manofhisideals @notamathematician

Kenji Miyazawa: @cows12345 @be-not-defeated-by-the-rain @undefeated-by-the-storm

Izumi Kyouka: @kyoukacat @flower-in-the-darkness @crepes-is-life @bunnykyoka

Katai Tayama: @sleepyykatai

[peachsukii]

💕 My Hero Academia Love Letter Series 💕

『 📬 Check your inbox! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ 』 ˚ʚ ꒰ I.Midoriya | K.Bakugo | S.Todoroki | E.Kirishima | D.Kaminari ꒱ ɞ˚

✉️ Message received from: Izuku Midoriya 💌 sweet nothings

hi sweetie! i love our crepe dates, but i'd love to actually take you to dinner after all this time. you deserve more than just a sweet treat! especially as a thank you for dealing with me - i know things have been a little stressful and i want to show you how special you are to me. meet me after classes on friday at 6 in the dorm lobby. we've both been working hard and earned a night off from being heroes in training. we'll have a movie night in my room after dinner, too - pick your favorites and pack your pjs. :)

dividers by @/jilval

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock can't we have some Gojo thoughts from your very big and wrinkly brain please🥺🤲?

gojo satoru................................................... is..................................................... something of a tragic character.

there's an arrogance to him, but arrogance is a thin veil to obscure a deeper pain. he has such strength and can perform wondrous feats, only for the world he wishes to build to be far, far away. it's one thing to feel powerless and find the ambition of making meaningful change a pointless endeavor. it's another to have power and recognize the wide gap in the reality one wants to see versus the reality they're forced to live.

in contrast to his boisterous personality, the intensity he exudes in a relationship is more subtle, more prone to being overlooked. it's in the little things. he isn't controlling, he's concerned, he isn't being unfair, he's looking out for your best interest in your blind spots. you both can bicker about the most insignificant things — what movie to watch this weekend or if one flavor of crepe is better than the other — but the serious conversations? the hard talks where neither partner gets a wink of sleep the following night and trudges lifelessly throughout the day? those don't happen.

not because they don't need to. it's because he excels at convincing you it's not worth all the trouble, all the potential mess it'd stir up.

he values your happiness, would pursue it to the ends of the earth, and still, it's placed second to his. a close second, yes, but you can slowly start to see the repercussions of every inch that creates the divide.

[alwayschasingrainbows]

My little quest to find the most iconic dresses for Montgomery's girls.

None of the pictures is mine. They are all from Pinterest. They may be historically inaccurate. They are also not ideal :).

Valancy Stirling:

"She got a pretty green crêpe dress with a girdle of crimson beads, at a bargain sale, a pair of silk stockings, to match, and a little crinkled green hat with a crimson rose in it." (The Blue Castle).

"She had a little smoke-blue chiffon which she always put on when they spent the evening at home—smoke-blue with touches of silver about it." (The Blue Castle).

My idea of what Valancy's (borrowed) masquerade dress MIGHT have looked like.

"Once they did go to a masquerade dance in the pavilion at one of the hotels up the lake, and had a glorious evening, but slipped away in their canoe, before unmasking time, back to the Blue Castle." (The Blue Castle).

Emily Byrd Starr

On the left: "It is to be of shot silk, blue in one light, silver in others, like a twilight sky, glimpsed through a frosted window-pane—with a bit of lace-foam here and there, like those little feathers of snow clinging to my window-pane." (Emily Climbs)

On the right: "An arrow of rhinestones in her dark hair—she had hair that wore jewels well—lent the necessary note of brilliance to the new dress of silvery-green lace over a pale-blue slip that became her so well." (Emily's Quest).

On the left: "it was a pretty crepe thing, of a pinkish-grey—the shade, I think, which was then called ashes-of-roses—and was made collarless—a great concession on Elizabeth's part—with the big puffed sleeves that look very absurd to-day, but which, like every other fashion, were pretty and piquant when worn by the youth and beauty of their time." (Emily Climbs).

On the right: "I want you to wear harebell blue gauze over ivory taffeta for your bridesmaid dress, darling" (Emily's Quest).

Anne Shirley:

"Oh, how pretty it was—a lovely soft brown gloria with all the gloss of silk; a skirt with dainty frills and shirrings; a waist elaborately pintucked in the most fashionable way, with a little ruffle of filmy lace at the neck. But the sleeves—they were the crowning glory! Long elbow cuffs, and above them two beautiful puffs divided by rows of shirring and bows of brown-silk ribbon." (Anne of Green Gables).

"In her light dress, with her slender delicacy, she made him think of a white iris." (Anne of Island).

Rilla Blythe

"Miss Oliver, shall I wear my white dress tonight or my new green one? The green one is by far the prettier, of course, but I'm almost afraid to wear it to a shore dance for fear something will happen to it." (Rilla of Ingleside).

Pat Gardiner:

On the right: "Pat slipped into the house and flung a bright-hued scarf over her brown dress with its neck-frill of pleated pink chiffon. She always thought she looked nicer in that dress than any other." (Pat of Silver Bush).

On the left: "Pat had on her blue linen afternoon dress...which, incidentally, was the most becoming thing she owned."(Pat of Silver Bush).

And bonus:

Robin Stuart

"She wore a dress of pale yellow taffeta, with a great rose of deeper yellow velvet at one of her beautiful shoulders. Jane thought she looked like a lovely golden princess, with the slender flame of the diamond bracelet on the creamy satin of her arm."(Jane of Lantern Hill).

"[M]other came in to kiss her good night, cool, slim and fragrant, in a dress of rose crêpe with little wisps of lace over the shoulders. Mother's blue eyes seemed to mist a little."(Jane of Lantern Hill).

"She wore a green dress the first time I saw her...well, if any other girl had worn the dress, it would have been a green dress and nothing more. On Robin it was magic ...mystery...the robe of Titania. I would have kissed the hem of it." (Jane of Lantern Hill).

Another bonus (because her style is so iconic):

Ilse Burnley

"Ilse in a yellow silk gown the colour of her hair and a golden-brown hat the colour of her eyes, giving you the sensation that a gorgeous golden rose was at large in the garden." (Emily's Quest).

"Ilse, a glorified shining creature in torquoise-blue taffeta, looking the queen with a foam of laces on her full bosom and rose-and-silver nosegays at her shoulder." (Emily's Quest).

Hope you enjoyed this little compilation:) Feel free to add more ideas!

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 6

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Here 

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), No use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, Denial is not just a river in Egypt, Idiots in love

Word Count: ~3700

A/N: Here we are with the next chapter! I had to split this day into 2 chapters, so the 2nd half is coming soon!

(And as always, thanks to @theradioactivespidergwen for the super cute divider!)

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

No need to rush, they just opened, you told yourself as you headed to Daredevil the next morning. 

You had awoken early and in an effort to keep yourself busy (and distracted from thinking about Matt too much) you had done a load of laundry, straightened your living area, rearranged your kitchen cabinets, and had begun cleaning out your closet.

Finally it was time to leave for Daredevil, so you had taken a quick shower and gotten ready, then hurried out the door.

You slowed down and took a deep breath as you reached the restaurant, then headed inside. 

Karen looked up and smiled. "Hi!" she said. "Matt said you had mentioned coming by today."

You nodded. "Yeah, I loved the crepes he made yesterday during the cooking demo he did for me, so I definitely couldn't resist coming back for brunch."

"Well I know Matt definitely appreciates it." Karen grabbed a menu. "Right this way."

She led you through the smattering of diners to a small table near the kitchen. "Can I get you something to drink? Water, coffee, juice… champagne?"

"Just some orange juice would be fine," you replied as you sat. "Thanks."

Karen nodded. "Okay, I'll let Matt know that you're here then I'll be right back with that."

You smiled. "Thanks so much, Karen."

You looked down at the menu as Karen headed to the kitchen. You were definitely planning on getting the crepes, but you wanted to try something else alongside them. Steak and eggs, french toast, southern-style grits… oh, maybe an omelet?

You read through the omelet choices, finally settling on a 'create your own' style made with your favorite ingredients.

A minute later, Karen returned with your juice. "Here you go. Matt said he'll come say hi as soon as he can. In the meantime, are you ready to order?"

You nodded. "That's okay, I understand that he's busy. And yeah, I'm ready."

Karen pulled out a notepad and pencil. "Okay, what can I getcha?"

"I'd like an omelet, please." You listed off the ingredients you wanted in your omelet, briefly pausing in-between so Karen could write them down. "And a side order of the breakfast crepes."

Karen nodded. "Got it. Okay, I'll get this put in for you."

"Thanks."

You looked around the small restaurant as you waited. While it wasn't completely empty, there were only about a half-dozen tables that were occupied by couples and families. Granted, it was only about 20 minutes after opening, so you figured the after-church crowd hadn't yet descended upon the neighborhood but that it would fill up soon.

After a few minutes, Karen stopped by your table. "Doing okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah, just fine."

"Great. Your food will be out in just a minute."

"Okay. Thanks."

Your phone buzzed with a text message.

Skyler: Remind me why I agreed to take over Lifestyles from you? I'm about to die of boredom at this fundraiser for the senior center.

You shook your head with a grin. Because it was a permanent position and paid a lot more than your old internship.

Skyler: Oh that's right. Thanks. 

You huffed out a laugh. No problem.

Skyler: What are you up to today?

I'm at Daredevil having brunch. Matt did a cooking demo for me yesterday morning and made the absolute best crepes I've ever had in my life, so I decided to come back today and try something else on the menu.

Skyler: Like some of Chef Hottie's cake? 🍰🍑

You huffed out a laugh. Pretty sure that's not on there. 

Skyler: But it might be on the *secret* menu… 😉 And wait, he's *Matt* now? 👀 When did that happen?

Yesterday. He said that I could call him by his first name. But that doesn't mean anything because even if I *was* interested, which I'm not saying I *am*, he's been nothing but strictly professional towards me the entire week.

Skyler: Mmhmm. Methinks thou dost protest too much. Anyway, I gotta run, they're about to start the auction.

Okay, talk to you later.

You shook your head as you locked your phone back. There wasn't any point in letting yourself fall for Matt since he clearly wasn't interested.

"Create-your-own omelet and a side of crepes?"

You looked up as Matt's voice broke through your thoughts. 

Your heart fluttered. He was back in his red chef's coat, but instead of making him look fearsome and intimidating as it had the day you had met him, today it made him look professional and suave. "Matt, hi."

Matt set your plate down in front of you, a bright smile on his face. "Hi. How are you?"

"I'm good. How are you today?"

"I'm good too. Thanks for coming by."

You nodded. "Of course. I definitely wasn't going to pass up a chance to try some more of your food."

Matt's smile widened into a grin. "Well good, because I was actually wondering if you were busy tomorrow evening."

You shook your head. "No, I'm not busy. Why?"

"I was thinking maybe you'd like to come by and help me test out some new recipes? It'd be helpful to get an outside opinion on some of the things we're considering adding to the menu."

You smiled. "Yeah, I'd love to."

"Great. And, uh, I was also wondering what you were doing this afternoon?"

You shook your head again. "No big plans for today, either."

"I really enjoyed my time with you at the farmer's market yesterday, so I thought maybe you wouldn't mind accompanying me while I ran my after-work errands?" Matt bit his lip. "You don't have to, of course, I just thought it might be beneficial to your article to spend some more time with me outside of the kitchen."

You smiled. You couldn't ignore the fact that your article would be due soon, so you were happy to spend whatever time with Matt as you could until then. "No, I don't mind at all. It would actually be really helpful to get some more insight as to who you are when you're not working."

Matt gestured back towards the kitchen. "Speaking of the kitchen, I should get back in it, but can you meet me back here after closing? Say, around 3:30?"

You nodded. That would give you plenty of time to do the few things you still needed to do around your apartment. "That sounds good. Want me to text you when I'm nearby?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Okay, I'll see you later then."

"Okay. Enjoy your meal."

As Matt headed back to work, you cut a piece of your omelet and blew on it slightly to cool it before taking a bite. Of course it's amazing.

You had no idea how Matt could make something as simple as eggs taste so good, but he definitely had. The omelet was perfectly cooked with just the right proportion of salt and pepper to cheese and fillings. 

"How is everything?" Karen asked as she stopped by your table.

"Oh my gosh, it's so good." You took a sip of your juice. "Everything is great."

Karen nodded. "Good. Let me know if you need anything else for now."

"Actually, you can go ahead and bring my bill if you don't mind."

"Okay, sure thing."

You continued eating as Karen left once again, trying to not audibly moan at how good the crepes also were. Definitely going to have to mention how great the food is here in my article.

Karen stopped by to drop your bill off. "Here you go," she said, setting the folio with your bill on your table. "No rush."

You nodded. "Thanks."

You finished your food then picked up the bill.

Your brow furrowed. This can't be right.

Luckily, Karen was walking right past you. "Hey, Karen?"

Karen stopped at your table. "Yeah?"

You slid your bill over to her. "I think my bill is wrong."

Karen looked at it. "No, that's correct. Matt said it's on him today."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh. Well, that was very generous of him."

Karen shrugged, a tiny smile playing across her lips. "Matt's like that."

You smiled. You were sure he had comped your meal because of your article, but the gesture was still nice. "I'll have to thank him later."

Karen turned as the bell above the front door chimed. "I better get back up front to go seat these customers, but I'll see you later?"

You nodded. "Thanks, Karen."

You looked back at your bill, then grabbed a pen out of your purse. Thanks for the wonderful service! you wrote on your receipt, then tucked $30 into the folio, figuring that the cost of your meal could at least go towards Karen's tips.

You stuck your pen and wallet back in your purse then grabbed your phone.

You glanced towards the kitchen before sending Matt a text. Thank you so much for brunch! Everything was great. See you this afternoon.

You stuck your phone in your pocket and stood, then headed towards the door. "Thanks again, Karen," you said as you passed by the host stand.

"No problem," Karen replied. "See ya."

Your phone chimed with an incoming message.

Chef Murdock (Matt): You're very welcome, and I'm glad to hear you enjoyed everything. See you this afternoon.

You locked your phone back and stuck it in your pocket as you headed towards home with a smile on your face. 

"Man, I think that's the fastest we've ever gotten through closing," Foggy remarked as he and Matt finished packing up the last few containers to take over to the soup kitchen at Clinton Church. "I might actually have time to visit with my folks a bit before we sit down for Sunday supper."

Matt nodded. "Tell them hi for me."

"You know, you're always welcome to join us after you get done."

Matt shook his head, trying to keep the smile that wanted to form off of his lips. "Actually, I uh, I have plans after that."

Foggy chuckled. "Do these 'plans' happen to be with a certain journalist from the Bulletin?"

Matt's brow furrowed. "How'd you know?"

"Because you've been on cloud nine ever since you personally brought her order out to her this morning and comped her bill." Foggy chuckled. "I thought you were going to sprint out of here as soon as you had her omelet ready."

Matt shrugged. "Even though she's writing a profile on me she's still going to mention the food, so I wanted her to get her order as fresh as possible. And I thought it would be helpful for her article to spend time with me outside of the kitchen, so I asked her to accompany me on my errands this afternoon."

Foggy chuckled. "Uh huh, sure , Matty, it's all because of her article, not because you've got a thing for her."

Matt shook his head. "I don't -- it's not a thing." 

"Mmhmm, keep telling yourself that, buddy." Foggy patted him on the shoulder. "Listen, I gotta run so I can get to my parents' before my brothers eat all of my mom's potato bread, but we're continuing this conversation on Tuesday."

Matt grinned. Mrs. Nelson's homemade potato bread was the stuff of legends and as much as he had tried, he couldn't quite replicate it. "Okay, have a good one."

After Foggy had left, he pulled out his phone and dictated a text to you. Hey, we finished closing up earlier than usual, so if you're free now you can come on by.

A few seconds later, his phone chimed with a reply. That sounds great! I'll be there in about 10 minutes.

Matt grinned. Sounds good.

He grabbed his gym bag and the cart of food containers, then turned off the kitchen lights and headed towards the front of the restaurant. 

He smiled as he heard you approach, waiting until you knocked softly on the door before walking over to let you in.

"Hey, ready to go?" you said. 

Matt nodded. "Yeah, just give me a second."

He set the alarm then wheeled the cart of food containers outside before locking the door. "Okay, all set."

"So where are we headed?" you asked. 

"First stop is Clinton Church. I volunteer to cook for the soup kitchen every Sunday after service."

"Oh, that's so sweet of you."

Matt shrugged. "It's my way of giving back to the community."

You reached for the cart handle. "Here, I'll get this cart for you."

Matt smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem. Lead the way."

Matt took his cane out of his pocket and unfolded it, then the two of you headed down the street. "So, how has your day been?" Matt asked as they walked. 

"It's been good," you replied. "Started some housekeeping this morning and finished it up this afternoon. How was your day?"

"It was fine. Service went smoothly."

"That's good. By the way, I appreciate you comping my meal. You really didn't have to do that."

Matt shook his head. Karen had told him that you had left the full amount plus tip anyway. "It was my pleasure, really."

You hummed. "Looking forward to your day off?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, even though I don't actually take the day off it's nice to have the time to just be alone in the kitchen and experiment with new flavors."

"That does sound exciting." You paused as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk. "I'm looking forward to trying out some of your new dishes."

Matt smiled. "I'm looking forward to it too."

"So have you ever had any culinary disasters?"

"Oh, tons, especially when I first started cooking. I once accidentally added garlic salt instead of sugar to a cake recipe."

You let out a light laugh. "Oh my gosh, that sounds awful."

Matt nodded, grinning at the memory. "I started labeling all of my containers after that."

The two of you continued on towards Clinton Church. 

"Okay," Matt said once the two of you had arrived. "We're heading this way."

He led you down a sidewalk towards the soup kitchen. "Okay, here we are."

He opened the door and gestured for you to go in. "After you."

"Thanks." 

Matt waited until you had wheeled the cart inside, then followed.

He could hear voices coming from the kitchen area. "This way."

"...Yes, that would be fine. Thank you, Sister Frances. Matthew, hello!" Father Lantom said as Matt and you walked around the serving area towards the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting you quite yet."

Matt nodded. "Yes, we finished our closing duties a bit earlier than usual, so I figured I'd just make everything over here rather than at the restaurant."

"Ah, I see. And I also see that you brought us some extra help today as well! I'm Father Lantom, the pastor here."

You introduced yourself. "It's nice to meet you, Father."

"Nice to meet you too. I certainly appreciate you coming today."

"It's not a problem. I'm happy to help out in any way I can."

"Well that's wonderful. I have a few administrative tasks to handle, so I'll leave you two to it. Matthew, let me know if you need anything."

Matt nodded. "Thanks, Father."

He folded his cane up and put it in his pocket, then took the cart from you and wheeled it into the kitchen. 

You moved to wash your hands. "Alright, Chef, put me to work."

Matt smiled, his heart warming at how eager you were to help. "Would you set the oven to 350 for me then cut up some cucumbers and tomatoes for a salad?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay, great." Matt took a couple of bowls out from under the counter and gave them a rinse in the sink. "You can just put them in these once you've got them all done."

"How do you want the tomatoes cut?"

"Wedges would be fine -- like in eighths, and about half-inch slices for the cucumbers."

"Okay."

Matt got to work seasoning the chicken he had brought for the night's dinner, smiling to himself as he heard you humming softly under your breath.

He felt a pang in his chest. As hard as he had worked to get where he was in his career, he missed having someone to share his joy of cooking with. There was Foggy and Karen, of course, but as much as Matt loved his friends he wanted someone special to cook for, someone to come home to.

…He wanted you.

Matt mentally shook his head, determined to get the melodic sound of your voice out of his mind. Don't get distracted. That's where mistakes happen. Deal with it later.

He finished prepping the chicken and set it on a baking sheet, then put it in the oven. "How are the cucumbers and tomatoes coming along?"

"Almost done," you replied.

Matt moved to wash his hands. "Okay, great. I'll go ahead and make the dressing for the salad."

"You make your own salad dressing?" you said in surprise, then let out a light laugh. "Wait, what am I even saying? Of course you do. What kind do you make?"

Matt grinned as he rinsed out a measuring cup. "A couple of different varieties, actually. But today we're just making a basic Italian dressing."

He got his Braille measuring cups and spoons out of the cart, then grabbed the container marked salad dressing. "There should be an immersion blender somewhere around here. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

"Sure." You moved to Matt's right, then set the blender in front of him. "Here you go. Wait, let me plug it in for you."

"Thanks."

Matt began measuring out the ingredients for the dressing, adding everything in precise order before blending it together.

"So is there a reason you use an immersion blender rather than a regular blender?" you asked.

Matt nodded. "I can better tell the consistency of the dressing with an immersion blender," he explained. "Using a stand blender runs the risk of overblending."

"Ah, ok. That makes sense." You stopped cutting. "Okay, salad stuff is done."

"Great. Then I need you to portion this dressing out into individual take-out cups. There should be some in the storage closet in the back of the kitchen."

Your footsteps headed towards the storage closet. "Let's see… oh, here they are."

You returned with the cups and lids. "How many do I need to make?"

Matt shook his head. "It should yield about 80 servings or so. Just keep filling until you run out."

He began to work on dessert, which were homemade no-bake oatmeal cookies, and had just finished shaping them and putting them on some parchment paper-lined cookie sheets to set when he heard Father Lantom returning.

"How's it going?" Father Lantom asked.

"There's a few minutes left on the chicken but everything else is ready to go," Matt replied. "Salad is ready to be mixed and I just need to cover these cookies with some cling wrap until they're ready to be served."

"Thank you so much -- both of you. I know everyone will appreciate the wonderful meal."

Matt shook his head. "It's no problem."

"Happy to be of service," you added. "Here, Matt, I'll get started on cleanup."

Matt nodded. "Thanks."

He got the cookies covered then took the chicken out of the oven. "Okay, you're all set."

"And just in time, too. Thank you again, Matthew," Father Lantom said. 

"You're welcome. Do you need us to stay and help serve?"

"No, I have plenty of volunteers for today -- the church's senior youth group offered to help out. They should be here as soon as their meeting wraps up in a few minutes."

"Okay, sounds good." Matt turned towards the door as a cacophony of voices filtered towards him. "Actually I think that's them now."

"Ah, good. Let me go get them situated then."

Matt nodded. "Oh, do you mind if I leave my cart of stuff here and pick it up tomorrow? I have a few more errands to run after this and wasn't really thinking about needing to drop it all off at the restaurant tonight."

"Oh, no, not at all. Go right ahead."

"Thanks."

Matt began packing his supplies back into their respective containers while you finished washing the various dishes the two of you had used.

"Here you go," you said, handing Matt his set of measuring cups. 

Matt froze as your fingers brushed against his palm, your touch softer than silk. 

He swallowed. "Thanks."

You stepped away, your heartbeat increasing slightly. "No problem."

Matt finished packing up while you put away the kitchen supplies you had used. He ached to caress your skin, to know what you would feel like under his own touch. 

He sighed and moved the cart out of the way. "Okay, I think that's everything."

"Okay, great."

Matt grabbed his gym bag and led you out of the kitchen and into the dining hall, where Father Lantom was giving assignments to the volunteers. 

He turned towards the two of you. "Ah, all done?"

Matt nodded. "Yes, we got everything cleaned up and I moved my cart out of the way for now."

"Okay, wonderful. Thank you again for your help."

"You're welcome," you said. "It was lovely to meet you, Father Lantom."

"You too, my dear. See you tomorrow, Matthew."

Matt took his cane out of his pocket and unfolded it. "Have a good evening."

"Where to next?" you asked as the two of you headed outside.

Matt shook his head. He wanted to keep your next destination a surprise until you got there. "Can't tell you yet, but do you trust me?"

You were quiet for a moment. "Yeah," you finally said. "Yeah, I trust you."

Matt felt a wave of relief. "Okay, good. This way, then."

He bit his lip as the two of you set off down the street. He just hoped he wasn't making a mistake by letting you into his world.

[mckiwi]

The Dance of 1650

Chapter Five: Guardian Angel

Read on AO3

Start<< Prev< >Next

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Good Omens

Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, OFCs, OMCs

“I did the ‘I was wrong’ dance in 1650, in 1793, 1941–” -Aziraphale S2:E1 39:45

If 1793 was the crepe incident and 1941 was the magic show, what happened in 1650? Or rather, what happened the time Crowley was accused of witchcraft?

---

This is written for Whumptober 2024. All of the prompts will be used by being divided up between six chapters throughout October. Each chapter will have a list of the prompts used in the tags.

“You can quit the begging and praying. No angels will come save you.”

“He will if he ever wants to see me again!” 

Aziraphale wrung his hands together and paced in one of the church’s back rooms. He’d gotten Crowley off of the consecrated ground, at least. That was his most pressing concern, but now that she was dealt with, he didn’t even know where to begin. This was as far as his hastily put-together plan had taken him. 

He could really go for some crepes right about now. And a drink. With Crowley. Far away from this town and Scotland in its entirety. The weather here was too dreary and chilly for his liking, anyhow. 

That could wait. General Bell would be back anytime now, more than likely wanting to discuss Crowley’s sentence. Obviously, he didn’t want her to die, that was simply unthinkable. If Crowley were to be discorporated, she’d be downstairs for decades! Who could he possibly thwart in the meantime? 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could admit to himself he’d miss her company immensely, regardless of the accompanying wiles. But those were thoughts for the back burner, once those were invented. For now, he had more pressing matters. 

Four knocks in quick succession at the door broke Aziraphale out of his thoughts, “Yes? Who is it?”

“General Nicholas Bell. May I enter?” The man announced. 

Aziraphale steeled himself and crossed to open the door, “Hello, General. How can I help you?”

The general seemed slightly put out. “Afternoon, Brother Fell. I was just wondering of your intentions with the demon.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” the angel lied.

Bell searched for his words for a moment before stating, “I’ll admit, at first I thought your intervening with the trial to be troublesome. Brother Rowe let my men and I decide the fate of witches. Your insistence has delayed the witch’s sentence, certainly. But for that very reason, I’m thankful. If we had proceeded with the sentencing without knowing the truth, that poor woman the demon is possessing would have died unjustly.”

What about all the other women who died? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Crowley argued. Aziraphale shoved that thought to the metaphorical back burner, too. “I see. Pardon me if I sound obtuse, but, what difference does it make if your subject is a witch or demon?”

“That’s what I was here to ask you,” Bell answered. “I’m a Witch Hunter. I’ve no experience with the supernatural. You, however, gave me those verses to reveal a demon’s nature and how to cleanse a body with holy water. Do you know of a way to kill a demon?”

Yes. He very well knew how to kill a demon. It was his job, admittedly one he was very bad at. 

Aziraphale looked down at Crawley. Would he kill her? He looked out across the mass of tattered blankets and sleeping children. He looked at the baby who had never been safer than in the arms of a demon. The ark gave a particularly awful lurch, or it might’ve just been the guilt settling in his stomach as he turned the other cheek. “I’ve been commanded to protect every life aboard, and that’s what I intend to do.” 

“You can’t kill this demon,” Aziraphale said in way of an explanation. It wasn’t a lie. They can’t kill Crowley. He wouldn’t allow it. “The most you could possibly do is send it back to Hell.”

Bell nodded, “and how do we do that?”

Aziraphale hesitated, “Give me some time and I’ll have a solution. This is a very delicate matter, you see. I can’t afford any mistakes.”

The general accepted this, “Understood. Thank you for assisting me. Is tomorrow morning sufficient time for you?”

“That should do, yes. I’ll be here in the morning.” Aziraphale agreed. 

His wording seemed to trip something in the other man’s memory, “Your lodgings! I’m sorry for the state we left it in. I will have some of my men repair things for you. By the time this ordeal is over, all of your things will be just as you left them.” 

Nothing would be the same after this was over, but he let it go with a short hum. General Bell took it for the dismissal it was and left Aziraphale to his thoughts once again. 

The sun had long since set on the horizon. Aziraphale had papers strewn out in front of him and a cup of tea that had hardly been touched. It was fortunate angels didn’t need sleep, not that Aziraphale would be able to regardless, not when he still didn’t have a plan in place. 

He’d had several ideas, though none of them seemed worthwhile. His most promising idea thus far involved causing an earthquake and breaking the doors to the cell, allowing Crowley to escape, but that’d been done before, and it’d surely be noticed by humans and Heaven alike. Scotland wasn’t exactly known to have foundation-shattering quakes, after all, so that idea carried about as much potential as a piece of wet firewood. 

Wet firewood… he could suggest Crowley be burned at the stake, but–

No, that wouldn’t work. Aziraphale hung his head in his hands and scrubbed at his face harshly. How had they gotten into this situation again? 

He mulled over several more ideas in the following hours. One such idea involved Crowley turning into a snake and slipping out unnoticed through the mob of people. He thought better of it when he remembered what God had last said to the Serpent of Eden. He will crush your head, and you will strike his heel. Best not to have Crowley around that many snake-crushable boots. 

As the sun rose and the fog dissipated, Aziraphale set out through the village in search of… something. He first stopped by the cells but found them guarded and locked. Crowley was inside, he could sense that much. She wasn’t on the verge of discorporation, at the very least, though Aziraphale would wager Crowley’d complain she’d ‘die of boredom’ if only given the smidgen of the chance. She loved to complain and gripe, though hardly ever did anything to solve the apparent problem. “Why would I thwart my own wiles? That’s meant to be your job, innit?” She’d said once. 

There were three ways they typically executed witches. He visited all three sites and plotted. 

Trial by Water. This was the most common trial, and perhaps the only execution that could somehow be deemed a ‘trial.’ The accused would die either way, but there was the possibility of a posthumous decree of innocence. The witch was tied and thrown into the lake. They would either drown, proving their innocence, or they would survive, only to be convicted of witchcraft and hanged for it. 

Aziraphale eyed the docks of the nearby lake. They didn’t technically need to breathe, so perhaps Crowley could stay submerged long enough for the crowd to disperse and for Aziraphale to fetch her. 

Trial by Hanging. This wasn’t so much of a trial as it was a death sentence, plain and simple. The accused would be hanged for their supposed crimes. At the very least, it would be a swift death. 

Again, they didn’t technically need to breathe, but the rope might cause undue damage to Crowley’s throat or even decapitate her, and Aziraphale didn’t want to risk it. Though, if the rope frayed just so, and if it just so happened to snap… Aziraphale tucked away that idea for further review. 

Trial by Fire. It was less an execution than it was an act of theatre. A spectacle for those fully believed to be witches and to serve as a warning to others. A pyre of wood was lit aflame with the witch tied to a stake in its midst. 

Could he make it so the fire wouldn’t ignite? Or at the very least not harm Crowley? Their corporations were resilient, yes, but still mostly human. Fire would destroy her corporation all the same. 

Hellfire might not, though. 

——————

That afternoon, Aziraphale convinced General Bell the only way to send a demon back to Hell was with fire. Hell was often depicted as a fiery pit of sulfur and brimstone, after all, so it wasn’t too difficult to have the General come to this conclusion. The best lies always hold an element of truth, as Crowley had told him once. 

And so Aziraphale began to plan this spectacular escape. He couldn’t get too close to the Hellfire himself, else he meet a rather gruesome and permanent end, dooming them both in the process. He could remove the Miracle-dampening shackles, however, and tie a knot loose enough around her wrists to trick onlookers but be enough for Crowley to slip through. 

Now all he had to do was get down to Crowley’s cell and tell her of his plan! She would think his plan was genius!

“Full offence, Angel, your plan’s horrible.”

Or perhaps not. 

They bickered the point back and forth until it suddenly came to a screeching halt. 

“Why not!”

“Because it could destroy you!” Crowley bellowed. Aziraphale stared in stunned silence. “I’m not living in a world where I’m the reason you’re not.”

What could he possibly say to that? Aziraphale swallowed, “And the feeling is mutual.”

It didn’t take long before Aziraphale caved and brought the demon into his arms. She stiffened at the contact and the angel retreated, fearing having hurt her, but she ignored his concerns and leaned into the hug. He allowed himself this moment. They would figure things out. They would be okay in the end. He mustered up enough self-control to stand and leave the cell with a promise of wine tomorrow night. 

——————

The rising sun was met with cheerful birdsong, unbeknownst to Aziraphale’s emotional turmoil. A pyre was being set up while other people went about their everyday lives as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Aziraphale felt sick to his stomach. 

Soon enough, a band of people strode forward with two people in tow, one of which being Crowley. She still had the Miracle-dampening shackles on and a gag in place, looking worse for wear. Three days chained to a cold, hard floor hadn’t done the demon any favours. She looked as if she hadn’t slept the entire time if the half-lidded eyes and sluggish movements were anything to go by. Or that could just be the old wounds reopening from the unusual movements after being mostly stationary. Aziraphale, not for the first time, felt a tug of regret. He shouldn’t have ever gotten them tangled up in this mess. A torch was lit aflame and Aziraphale took a stabilizing breath as Crowley was led to…

The docks?

What?

Aziraphale was about to question the purpose of the pyre when he took notice of the second person being brought to trial. 

Doctor John Davis stepped up and was tied to the stake.

“Hang on just one moment! This isn’t what we discussed!” Aziraphale exclaimed and strode over to General Bell. “We said Crowley would have a Trial by Fire! Whatever happened to that?”

Bell nodded, “I understand your confusion. I do appreciate your valiant effort to help the cause, but the more I thought over your words, I realized that if you want something done right, you’ll see it done yourself.”

Aziraphale gaped, “what about the doctor? Where does he get involved in this?”

“He confessed to being a witch in exchange for his daughter’s life,” Bell answered. 

“This is– this is a right outrage! We had a deal!”

“No, Brother Fell, I don’t believe we did,” Bell chided. “I asked for your advice, which you gave. I never said I would do what you said.” Aziraphale was struck with the thought that Gabriel and Nicholas Bell might get along splendidly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a Trial to get started.”

Bell nodded toward the man holding the torch. The man pulled away Davis’ gag and asked, “Any last remarks?”

Davis took a deep breath and spoke, “I only hope my wife will be there to catch me should I fall for my sins and that God will forgive me for my trespasses.” 

Aziraphale sent a quiet Blessing his way. 

Bell nodded toward the man holding Crowley and removed her gag. “Any last remarks?”

Crowley licked her lips and wrinkled her nose in disgust, “yeah, no. I’ve already done the whole ‘Fall for my sins’ bit. Not a fan. But really? This entire charade has been something Hastur would love to hear about. In fact, I think I’ll introduce you to him personally.” At that, Crowley levelled Bell with an impressive demonic glare, which really wasn’t helping her current allegations. 

“That is all then,” Bell started. “I hereby sentence Doctor Davis to burn at the stake and the demon Crowley to be cleansed by holy water.”

Angel and demon looked up in utmost alarm. “I beg your pardon?!” Aziraphale all but shouted. 

Bell exhaled heavily and cast Aziraphale an annoyed glance, “Yes, Brother Fell? Are you in objection to my using the verses you gave me specifically for if a demon should come across my path to God’s Light?”

Aziraphale huffed, “Well I didn’t mean for it to be this particular demon.”

The Witch Hunter caught onto his wording like a hound to a fox’s scent, “Be careful how you speak. You being a minister doesn’t give you any protection from the righteous flames of the pyre.”

Crowley struggled in the man’s hold, “Oi, watch it!” She spat even as the man tightened the ropes. 

“I’m growing tired of these interruptions,” Bell seethed and raised a hand, “benedic aquas has in nomine angeli!”

Aziraphale saw the way Crowley instinctively shied away from the water despite not feeling the effects himself. “So that’s it then?” Crowley asked the Hunter. “You tie me up and throw me in just to die either way. I’ll sink or swim.”

Bell hummed, “‘Sink or Swim’ you say? I like that. I think I’ll use that.” At Crowley’s indignant scoff, the Hunter looked out across the gathering crowd. “Light the fire. Throw her in.”

Aziraphale and Crowley screamed as one as the demon’s back hit the water. 

[fazbears-warehouse]

COOKIE RUN KINGDOM DIVIDERS: MAGIC CANDY PART 3

Financier

Cream Unicorn

Captain Caviar

Strawberry Crepe

Blueberry Pie

Twizzly Gummy

Caramel Arrow

Dark Choco

Mint Choco

Pastry

Peppermint

[cheerleaderman]

Celine Wilson

A clam boy with a love for fashion. Many find him to be beautiful and like a gentle older brother. Despite being friendly people don’t really know him on a deeper level.

Twst: The glass slipper

Personality:

Clam,gentle but firm, graceful,likes to see the best in people, bit of a hopeless romantic, creative, sensitive but doesn’t really show it,doesn’t really open up to others, actually quite lonely

Basic info

Age: 17

He/they

Height: 178 cm

Birthday: July 10

Voice claim: (Eng)Varian- Tangled the series (Jp)Kaizuka Inaho- Aldnoah.Zero

Hometown: Shaftlands same town as Vil and Jack

Class: 2-A

Dominant hand: right

Nickname: blue sea snail(Floyd) Monsieur pantoufle(Rook) Ciel (Family and Airlea)

Favorite food: crepes both sweet and savory ,steak

Like/ hobbies: sewing, ice skating, designing clothes mainly shoes, shoes , the snow, snow globes, singing, dancing mainly ballroom, bows , squirrels,mice , cats, flower language, romance novels

Dislike: speeding cars, being late

Family: Elodie (Twin sister ) , Father, Mother- deceased

Best subject: Practical magic

Club: Track

Talent: altering clothing, guessing the right size for people, getting stain out of fabric , cleaning shoes

Unique magic: Perfect Fit

Can make things fit perfectly in whatever he desires. Change a key to fit into a lock etc. He can use it on people but doesn’t unless it’s a dire situation.

Whatever he uses his UM on will stay that way until he uses it again

Look far and wide

You must not miss

Cause this slipper here

Will have a perfect fit

More info

-likes to see the best in others even though he doesn’t see himself in the best light

- His mother passed away when he was 15

-His mother has designed some pieces wore by celebrities and showed in movies

- Has all his mom’s sketchbooks full of her designs and other drawings

-Nearly giving up on his dream of becoming a designer since it reminds him so much of his mother

-Father owns a shoe store that he would help out sometimes

-despite being a friendly person he actually quite lonely not really good at talking about himself and helping others that himself

-Really good a running

-usually always wearing a smile many has never seen him upset

-As of currently Airlea is kinda his friend they’re still getting close but in the beginning she was very jealous of him

- has a shoe collection

-Sometimes would sneak out the dorm and just walk around outside

-helps during Dance practice mainly from ones who are a bit shy/ intimidated by Vil

-has a lower pain tolerance but hides it

- sometimes get hounded by the twins about shoes  

-Almost didn’t go to NRC until his sister threatened to pack his bag and throw him into the carriage herself

-Focused a lot more time on his sister than his own emotions, got called out for it

Backstory

As a child Celine mostly stays with his family not really talking to others. This is due to others calling him over sensitive and a crybaby.”more fragile than glass” “He’ll probably shatter at any moment”. Made Celine to hide his emotions around people that are not immediate family.He would design outfits with his mother and help his father repair shoes.

One day while working on some projects he ran out of fabric. Him his sister and mother all went to the store to get more plus some other items. Due to the snowy weather a speeding car lost track and crashed into the 3.Celine made it out with injuries that could heal but his sister lost her left leg and his mother passed. Leading him to blame himself for what happened if he didn’t want to go to the store their mom would still be there. Even more haunted by the fact that he swore he heard her say him and his sister names.

 divider

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 6, 5 février 1865, Paris. Toilettes de Concert de Mme Castel-Bréant, 58 bis. rue Ste Anne. Coiffures diadême par Mr Croizat, 76 rue de Richelieu. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney  

Description de toilettes:

Robe de dessous en satin mauve de nuance très-claire, recouverte d'une robe en gaze de soie de même nuance, garnie avec deux bouillonnés sur son bord inférieur. Ces bouillonnés sont séparés par une guirlande de feuilles de lierre; au-dessus des bouillonnés, deuxième guirlande semblable, formant des festons. A la hauteur où l'on place ordinairement les poches, guirlande de lierre retombant en deux longues branches et surmontée d'une rose. Corsage décolleté à draperie. Manches très-courtes ornées d'une rose et de branches de lierre; ces mêmes fleurs sont placées au bas de la taille par derrière, et, se divisant en trois parties, forment des sortes de basques. Coiffure assortie.

Robe en poult-de-soie vert, recouverte d'une robe de crêpe vert, garnie avec un gros bouillonné, au-dessus duquel serpente un volant tuyauté en tulle blanc, ayant 8 centimètres de hauteur; ce volant est relevé de distance en distance, ou plutôt retourné de façon à former une coquille, dont le milieu est rempli par un bouquet de plumes blanches. Troisième robe en tulle blanc, plus courte que la précédente et bordée avec une frange de plumes blanches. Cette robe est relevée inégalement (plus haut sur le côté gauche que sur le côté droit) et retenue de chaque côté par un bouquet de plumes blanches et une agrafe d'émeraudes. Corsage décolleté à draperies; bouquets de petites plumes sur les manches; agrafe d'émeraudes sur le devant du corsage; plumes blanches dans la coiffure; épingles de diamants et d'émeraudes.

—

Under dress in mauve satin of a very light shade, covered with a dress in silk gauze of the same shade, trimmed with two bubbles on its lower edge. These bubbles are separated by a garland of ivy leaves; above the bubbles, second similar garland, forming festoons. At the height where the pockets are usually placed, a garland of ivy falling in two long branches and surmounted by a rose. Low-cut bodice with drapery. Very short sleeves adorned with a rose and ivy branches; these same flowers are placed at the bottom of the waist from behind, and, dividing into three parts, form a sort of basque. Matching hairstyle.

Dress in green poult-de-silk, covered with a dress in green crepe, trimmed with a large fringe, above which winds a piped flounce in white tulle, 8 centimeters high; this flounce is raised from distance to distance, or rather turned over so as to form a shell, the middle of which is filled with a bouquet of white feathers. Third dress in white tulle, shorter than the previous one and edged with a fringe of white feathers. This dress is raised unevenly (higher on the left side than on the right side) and held on each side by a bouquet of white feathers and an emerald clasp. Draped low-cut bodice; bouquets of small feathers on the sleeves; clasp of emeralds on the front of the bodice; white feathers in the hairstyle; diamond and emerald pins.

[rancidpancakebatter]

Strawberries and Cream | [S.G.] [M.S.]

Pairings: Steven Grant x Black!Female!Reader, Marc Spector x Black!Female!Reader

Summary: It's valentine's day and your boys surprise you with breakfast in bed

Word Count: 3.4k words

Content Warnings: Swearing, established relationship, fluff, fluff, and more fluff

( Masterlist )

A/N: Wowowowow, this took so long! Apparently, I don't know how to write anything other than angst, so it took me like six stories until I had one with just fluff. I had a lot of fun writing this though. HAPPY BELATED VALENTINE'S DAY! (And Black History Month, that is why we're here)

You woke up on the fourteenth, thrumming with excitement. The sun’s gossamer rays crept into the room, and you basked in the honey glow, letting the warmth soak into your skin. You wrapped yourself tighter in your sheets to fight off the chill and realised you were alone.

Usually, you would wake up feeling a little clammy and pressed into the mattress by a snoring hunk of muscle who had rolled over onto you in the night. But this morning, the furnace you were accustomed to waking up under was nowhere to be seen. 

You slowly sit up and look around. There’s a different book on the nightstand. Which tells you they at least came home last night. Steven had just finished reading Don Quixote with you, and it seems your next bedtime story was Flowers for Algernon.

You heard something fall to the floor in the kitchen, then a string of curses. You would have panicked, maybe considered that your apartment had been broken into, but you recognised that voice…and the other.

“Steven cut it out. We only need one chef in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, well you forget I’ve had your food. And it’s not good mate.”

“Whatever, you don't even eat real food.”

“Cows are cute and I don’t want to eat them! But that’s beside the point. Crepes are tricky and you’ve already ruined the batter, just let me try and fix it, yeah?”

“I didn’t ruin anything. That extra egg was just- just good protein.”

“Well, now they’re gonna be too eggy! It’s gonna taste like an omelette!”

“Oh, shut up it’s fine. Everything is fine!”

Peering around the corner, watching them switch back and forth, you almost giggle. They're frantically whisking away, the mixing bowl tucked into their chest, pinned by their arm. Pinched between their fingers was the compact mirror you kept in your purse, but it seemed backseat driving was no longer sufficient.

They're covered in flour, and there's a bit of batter splattered on some of the cabinets, and across their cheekbone. Chaotic Domesticity. It was a good look on them. 

They don’t see you when you step out of the hallway, “I’m sure it will be delicious, my loves.”

Your voice startles them slightly, and they almost drop the bowl. You quickly try to discern whose fronting. His brows are high, and his jaw is slightly slack. You step around the island divider and wipe the spot you noticed earlier, hoping it might calm him down. 

“Steven, if they taste like omelettes, then I will be delighted to have omelettes. But crepes are great too. And so is that cafe down the street. Whatever works out, as long as you guys are there to eat them with me.”

He melts in your hold a little; his face tilting into your palm. But then he jerks it away very suddenly. You’re confused as he backs away. 

“Oy! This was supposed to be a surprise!” He’s upset but not with you, just in general. However, his expression falls into a frown that breaks your heart a little. “We had a whole plan.”

“It’s alright, dear. I won’t look at anything else,” You say as you throw your hands up to cover your eyes. “Just tell me what you need me to do.” 

He chuckles at your antics, and you feel a little brighter. He explains that they planned to bring you breakfast in bed today. You shuffled back to your room and closed the door that way they would feel like they would get a little more privacy.

You tidied up a bit, picking up some clothes from the floor and remaking the bed. You stepped into your ensuite, brushed your teeth, and washed your face, then you let your braids out of your bonnet and tended to them accordingly. With nothing else to do, you wandered to the bookshelf in search of a title to pass the time. 

Alice had just met the dodo and sacrificed her thimble when you heard a knock at the door. 

“Are ya decent?” You heard Marc’s gruff voice call out. 

You chuckle at the absurdity. You were currently wearing his shirt and his boxers in your shared bed in your shared apartment. He had seen you naked plenty of times. 

“Based on previous reviews, I’d say I’m more than decent,” you tease. 

You hear his laughter in the hall, and you inflate with a bit of pride. He cracks the door and loudly “whispers” through the gap.

“Steven wanted to wake you up with breakfast. Is there,” He sighs, embarrassed to ask, “Is there any way you could pretend to be asleep?” 

You chuckle, knowing Steven can hear everything Marc says right now. “Of course. Anything for my boys.”

He shuts the door again, and you feel like you’ve been transported to the days of your childhood. Those times your parents would come into your room to tell you goodnight and tuck you in. But then you would immediately hide in your impenetrable fortress made of cotton and down and stay up reading for just a little longer.

After a few chapters, you could hear your parents walking towards your door to ensure you were asleep. Your heart would pound in your chest as you fumble to turn off your flashlight and try to hide your book under your pillow so your parents wouldn’t know you had gotten lost in the Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane yet again. 

You feel a bit of adrenaline course through you as you scramble around. You're frantically searching for a bookmark and spot a receipt sticking out of a jeans pocket in the laundry. You shove it between your pages and toss the book under your pillow. Then you yank the blanket up, high above you and tuck the edge under your head. You watched the blanket cascade back down in a slow wave, like the rainbow parachute from elementary gym class. 

You scrunch your eyes closed, as tight as you can- when you hear a gentle rapping on the door. It slowly creaks open again, and your name is whispered into the air, but you don’t respond. You’re supposed to be asleep. You’re not fallin’ for that.

Your lips are folded into your mouth as you try desperately not to giggle, staying as still as possible. You can hear steps approaching their side of the bed. They set a few things down and let out a long dramatic sigh that you recognise as Steven’s. 

“I know you’re not asleep.”

You remain still. 

“Really?”

He sounds more amused than irritated, so you continue the bit. You know Marc is definitely getting a kick out of this. 

“Your food’s gonna get cold, and Marc and I worked too hard for you to let it go to waste. Now, come off it. Let’s see that beautiful face.”

Steven hears a muffled sound from the covers, but it’s indecipherable mumbling. 

“Didn’t quite catch that love.”

You huff and tug the blanket under your chin.

“I said, If you wanna wake me up, you know how. I expect a proper waking up.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you pull the blanket right back over your head. Steven grumbles but doesn’t complain. The sound of fabric ruffling and hitting the floor fills the room, and you can’t fight the grin spreading over your cheeks.

The rush of cold air on your back as the covers were pulled back was well worth knowing you had won. He slides in next to you and tucks himself in. Already your body seems closer to equilibrium, just having him near.

He pulls at your shoulder so you're laying on your back, and his arms immediately worm around your waist as his head rests on your chest. Your hands naturally come up to hold him closer, one draped over his back and the other tangled in his curly hair. You released a content sigh at the feeling of him snuggling into you as your nails pass through his curls. 

You almost forgot what brought you into this situation in the first place. You are so at peace, intertwined with your lovers. But then Steven starts trailing kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. They are sweet and tender, feather soft. Each one pressed into your skin with consideration and devotion.

He reaches your cheeks, and one of his hands cradles your jaw. The way his fingers drag across your skin makes you feel like a precious stone, and the way he looks into your eyes makes you feel like a star plucked from the heavens. 

He tugs gently at your chin, and your lips part as he ever so slowly leans in. You’re sure he can hear the way your heart is racing. The way it whispers his name every pump.

His nose bumps against yours, and you feel the faint sigh that leaves his lips against yours. You nudge your chin closer, trying to close the gap, but he manages to move just out of reach while staying just as close. 

“I��m waking you up, darling,” he reminds you with a small smirk. 

You whisper out a small okay that sounds pathetically desperate even to your ears, but you can’t find it in you to care. Because now his lips are brushing against yours. His slightly chapped lips set off every nerve ending in your own. His tongue darted out for just a moment to run against your bottom lip, and you gasped at the contact.

He dipped his nose under yours, and the torment began on the other side. He kissed your cheek, and you were about ready to snap. Had you been standing, you would have stomped your foot in frustration, and Steven would have laughed at your childish response. But he was teasing you relentlessly (which was already out of character for your sweet boy, who is always so eager to please), and it was getting harder to breathe under the covers. 

His head is tilted so that it is almost perpendicular to yours. He moves his hand to cradle your cheek, his big hand almost covering the whole expanse of your face. He smiles sweetly at you before finally diving in. 

Then it happened. His lips attached around your parted lips and created a seal. He blew a big puff of air into your mouth, and your brain reacted in the same way you think it would if you had been shot. Your eyes bugged out of your head, your arms instinctively failed out, and you made a sputtering, gagging noise. Your cheeks comically inflated for a second before all the foreign breath shot out of your nose. It was like a forced sneeze.

While you were effectively stunned, Steven was full-on chortling, completely cracking up. You’re not entirely sure what “guffawing” means, but you’re sure that’s what this is. You think he might actually damage something, bust his gut or something. It would serve him right, swift justice. You had recovered enough from your initial shock to finally respond. 

“STEVEN MICHEAL GRANT! I cannot believe you did that! You not only faked me out but you- you...I don’t even know what you did! But it was horrible!”

The man you are scolding does not seem to care as he lies on his back, clutching his stomach and kicking his feet like a little schoolgirl. You playful smacked his chest as you sat cross-legged beside him in protest. You were upset, not because it happened, but because it happened to you. You didn’t want to admit how funny the joke was. Nor that you wished you had thought of it first.

His rolling laughter is cut short when his body suddenly stiffens, and his neck straightens with his chin pointing to the ceiling. The face that meets your gaze is a little hardened, tougher. His jaw is almost always clenched, and his brows are millimetres from furrowed. Sometimes it blows your mind how these two men can come from the same brain- cohabitate in the same body- when they are also so different. When they look so different. 

This is the same face, the same hair, the same muscle and skeletal structure, biologically, the same man, and yet, they are entirely different. Their goals and aspirations are much more copasetic than they were before, but they are still different. They have different tastes in music and food. They have different favourite colours. They have different hobbies and skills. They know different languages. It’s wild. 

But also they are similar in a lot of ways too. They are both shit dancers. Absolutely no rhythm to be found. But plenty of enthusiasm. They both like the smell of citrus. Neither of them really believes in multivitamins. You tried to get them to take some vitamin D (they are mostly active at night! They need it!), but even Steven thinks they're silly.

He promised to drink more orange juice. You didn’t have it in you to tell him orange juice packed vitamin C and not D and instead thanked him for making an effort.

They also both loved you. Like a lot. And that was pretty crazy to wrap your mind around too. 

Marc’s eyes locked with yours and you watched as his lips danced around his face, chasing off a smile. You gave him a warning look, but it had the opposite effect. He burst into a fit of snickers. He at least had the courtesy to try to hide it behind his hand. He sat up and tried to cover his tittering with the most obviously fake cough you have ever heard. 

“Sorry, had a little tickle in my throat.”

You roll your eyes and lightly check his shoulder with yours, “I know you were the mastermind behind that. My sweet little Steenie Baby would never do that to me. You’ve corrupted him. Truly a terrible influence.”

Marc throws his head back in a laugh (possibly an evil one, you couldn’t tell). He kisses your cheek in an effort to win you over, and you hate to say it works. He pulls you into his lap, and you settle into his chest. His arms rest under yours as he links your fingers together.

You tilt your head to the side as Marc takes his turn to pepper you with kisses and remind you how much he loves you. When he’s satisfied that his message got across, he tucks his face into your neck. There he stays, pulling your arms across your waist so he can still hold your hands while he presses your body as closely into his as modern science will allow. 

You sway along to a song that isn’t playing. Or maybe it’s not playing through the air but rather through your hearts. Perhaps the shockwaves of each throb are travelling through your bodies, having a private conversation you’re not meant to hear. A secret serenade. 

After what seemed like both forever and not nearly long enough, Marc left his hovel with a huff. 

“Steven says if we don’t eat right now he’s going to go ‘absolutely mental.’”  

You giggle and offer an apology to Steven while Marc leans over and sets the tray in your lap. It's a cookie sheet that they folded a towel around, so it wasn’t as cold or ugly. You smile as you admire its contents. A single red rose beside your plate, which was covered by a large bowl flipped upside-down, behaving as a lid of sorts. You unveiled your dish and gasped at the beauty before you.

Where you expected (maybe edible) plain crepes, you were instead presented with a large stack of hearts dyed to look pink and layered with some sort of white cream and strawberry slices. The top layer was adorned with little tuffs of the cream on the outer rim, with whole strawberries in between. 

You looked at Marc in utter disbelief, and he beamed at you, pride pushing his chest forward. “Happy Valentines Day, Sheyfele.”

You grabbed him by the cheeks and crashed your lips into his. The kiss was quick but steady and sure. “Thank you, both of you. I love you so much.”

You’re sure they can see your eyes becoming glassier, but neither comment on it. You extend the favour. 

“We love you too…Now please try it. Steven really is losing his mind here.”

It’s delicious (the sweet cream hides the little bit of egginess well), and you share bites with Marc for a while. He goes to readjust; prop up the pillows behind him. Marc had been putting his body through the wringer since he walked out his front door all those years ago. While he is definitely still young, his body isn’t what it used to be. He fluffs his, then reaches to grab yours. 

“What’s this, baby?” He holds up a book with an amused smile.

You laugh at the memory, “Oh, I was reading that this morning, but then you asked me to pretend to sleep, so I just hopped under the covers as quickly as I could.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he thumbed through the pages. A small slip of paper fell out, and as Marc examined it closer, he felt his heart in his throat.

“Hey (y/n), where did you find this?”

You glance at the paper and answer between bites. 

“It was stickin’ out of your pant pocket.” You point to the pair hanging out of the hamper, “I’m sorry, was it important? I didn’t mean to steal it.”

You worry for a second that you might have upset him. You try to make light of the situation. “Imma strong believer in the ‘anything is a bookmark’ philosophy. You guys know my rule: use the first thing you see.”

Marc nodded in agreement, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Did you uh- did you see anything else? When you found this, I mean.”

You shook your head no. “I don’t meddle in any of the crazy shit you bring home, baby. I am not interested in accidentally gettin’ some pharao curse or getting hunted down by some god.” 

Your answer gives him relief, and he laughs alongside you. 

He tucks the paper back into your book and kisses your shoulder to grab your attention. 

“Would you like Steven to read to you while you eat?” You excitedly nod your head, and moments later, you hear Steenie’s sweet voice. 

“Alright, Alice in Wonderland; a classic. Good choice, love.” He kisses your temple, and you feel the same swell of pride in your chest that you would get when your teacher rewarded you with a little gold star. “Now, where were you?”

As you tear into your breakfast (sharing, of course) and Steven reads to you, you get hit with a feeling of gratitude. You feel at home here- with them. You feel safe and cherished. You feel more than joy; something better than happy. You feel contentment, fulfilled.

You had never been one to believe in fate before, but you thanked whoever was out there, whoever had heard your desperate prayers on your lonely nights. You thanked them for delivering…and then some. 

Your boys were also feeling that gratitude. They couldn’t believe they had found someone so truly beautiful inside and out. A woman who was damn near fearless, with a kind heart, sharp intellect, and tremendous patience. You were a treasure to behold.

Every morning they wake up expecting to be back in the dusty old flat with only books and a fish for company. But then, when they open their eyes, there you are, and it feels like the most extraordinary gift they’ve ever been given. Your love is something deserving of its own fable or myth. Your story should be told in reverie. A story passed down for centuries, like that of Osiris and Isis. 

But they also feel a little scared. They have big plans today. Plans to spoil you and fill your heart with joy. Plans to woo. Plans to convince you that they are worth it- that they’re worth you. Plans to prove to you that you are all they will ever need- all they will ever want. Plans to get on one knee. Plans to beg you to give them this chance at a happy ending. Plans to promise you yours.

Plans to pull a ring box from the back pocket of those pants dangling dangerously out of the hamper. Plans to slip the dainty gold band with a honey-warm, citrine gem- that he got on a mission last week in Bolivia- onto your finger. Plans to admire how it glows against your skin, and how despite its magnificence, it could never outshine yours. Plans that would have been ruined if you could read the Spanish receipt in your book.

Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @fanfics-instead-of-depression, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @purple-amaranthe, @jedisstark, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

If you want to be tagged in future Moon Knight fics but don't want to do the whole taglist thing again, just comment or reach out and I'll add you to it :))

another A/N because whatever: I will be doing a little /headcannon break down thing for this because I'm kinda throwing some in there with no real explanation, but feel free to send me asks about any confusion. I love answering those!

I'm also gonna start linking those to the original fics too, so you (and new readers) can find them

[haruu-luv]

𝙱𝚂𝙳 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

dividers by cafekitsune

𝙰𝙳𝙰 @asktheada

Yukichi Fukuzawa: @thedickpeoplewagewarsfor @fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency Akiko Yosano: @thou-shaltnot-die Ranpo Edogawa: @the-greatest-detective-ranp @protectingidiots @ramuneranpo @askranpo Kenji Miyazawa: @be-not-defeated-by-the-rain @farmer-boyo @undefeated-by-the-storm @cows12345 Doppo Kunikida: @thematchlesspoet @manofhisideals @notamathematician @thematchlessidealist Osamu Dazai: @suicidol-dz @dazai-asks @disgracedprodigy @swimminginyokohamasrivers @suizai Atsushi Nakajima: @panthera-tigristigris @chazukemylove @atsushima @chazukelover5105 Junichiro Tanazaki: @junichiros-light-snow Kyouka Izumi: @kyoukacat @crepes-is-life @bunnykyoka Katai Tayama: @sleepyykatai

Past!Ranpo: @ultradeduction PM!Ranpo: @deducemycrimes

Daycare!Dazai: @the-biggest-odasaku-man-fan AbilitySwap!Dazai: @corrupted-bandages PastPast!Dazai: @lilmeowzai Fem!Dazai: @femzaimybeloved @female-mackerel-in-decline @osamudazaiisawoman Model!Dazai: @drowninginbeauty Songwriter/actor!Dazai (fanfic): @haitoku-no-kodou Prince!Dazai: @royalbandages Highschool!Dazai: @thesourceofsin Vamp!Dazai: @sweet-belladonna RedHeart!Dazai: @diamondzai Kitsune!Dazai: @kitsune-dazai Cat!Dazai: @catzai-osameow Yan!Dazai: @chuuyaismineonly (?)

Past!Atsushi: @babybyakko

"Belladonna": @cafe-uzumaki

if someone asks to be removed or added they will be! pm ocs and beast will be in their own respective posts