#his basket isn't here yet

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[mattslolita]

꒰ dealer!chris sturniolo ꒱ ⟡ headcanons !

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

꒰ SFW! ꒱

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ have met bambi at some house party — you was a friend of matt's, so he was only somewhat aware of your existence; real sweet and innocent, you don't know the first thing about any drugs. you're in the bathroom trying to escape the noisy atmosphere around yourself, when chris stumbles in on you, a joint hanging lazily at the edge of his lips.

"woah, can you knock next time?!"

"m'sorry didn't know anyone was in here...hey what you doin' in here, anyway? s'your friends at?"

"matt's downstairs talking to some girl, i don't know-"

"matt? you know my brother? wait, aht, i got it, know who you are, now...y'eyes, got like a uh, bambi thing goin' on, y'know? gonna call you bambi, yeah?"

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ never let bambi touch any drugs — he's dead set on making sure you prolong the innocence about you in that aspect.

"not even one hit? c'mon chris-"

"y'know the rules bambi, s'don't even try it. y'not takin' no hits of shit."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ chris keeps pink rolling papers, because bambi likes the color and it reminds him of your pink ribbons you wear in your ponytails.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ have a specific playlist for when he takes bambi on deals with him — he's got dominic fike and marina playing throughout the car as you hum contently.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ have a glove compartment full of lollies and other sweets for when you're on deals with him. the sight of bambi's lips carelessly wrapped around a cherry lolly has his mind whirling.

"got any suckers for me today?"

"y'know where to find em', doll."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ spoil bambi all the time — he's buying you clothes, perfumes, and any little thing that reminds him of you.

"this top is cute, but i don't-"

"yeah, put it in the basket."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ not have a label on your relationship — bambi's a little naive and thinks might call you his, but he's not trying to label what you have going on any time soon.

"yo, isn't she your girlfriend? she's always with you."

"girlfriend? s'not my girlfriend, nah...she's my girl though, y'get me? not datin' or no shit, jus' my girl..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ always have bambi sat on his lap at parties — his hand drums in the innermost flesh of your thigh as he massages you, whilst the other hand diligently distributes to the awaiting palms of people.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ mad dog the fuck out of anyone who looks at bambi the wrong way — especially when you takes you on deals, he's seething with anger when a customer gets particularly too close to you.

"nice to see you, sweetheart, hopin' i'll see you more-"

"get the fuck away from her man, or i'm knockin' ya ass out where you stand."

"chris, seriously?"

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ send bambi random fit checks + snaps to keep you updated when you aren't with each other. likewise, he makes you send the same back so he can keep track of where you are when he's not with you.

"new shirt, you like it?"

"it looks so good on you, baby!" ( he'd never admit baby drives him wild. )

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ be affectionate to bambi in the most random ways — he's either got his arm slung around her, massaging her shoulder or he's got your legs resting atop of his own, massaging those whilst you scroll on your phone.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ always be kissing on bambi — forehead, cheek, arms, legs, anywhere he sees fit, really.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ make bambi wear his clothes when you stay the night at his place — he'll never admit that he loves the idea of having you in them, yet he can't resist the urge to smile when you're giggling sweetly about wearing them.

"i love this jersey! can i keep it baby, please?"

"y'know what, go head' sweetheart. looks good on you..."

꒰ NSFW! ꒱

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ be extremely possessive in bed, especially if you're batting your eyelashes a little too much at a customer.

"he could never fuck you like this doll, could he?"

"f-fuck, no chris..."

"who's fuckin' pussy is this, huh? tell me who you fuckin' belong to."

"y-you, yours, fuck!"

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ love love love to give bambi backshots — you're at a party and he's horny? he's taking you upstairs to the bathroom, bending you over the sink.

"such a good fuckin' girl, takin' my cock like this..."

"look at yourself in the mirror while i fuck you, sweet girl..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ finger bambi in the passenger seat if you're getting too whiny and can't wait.

"please chris, need to feel you inside me..."

"so fuckin' impatient bambi, jus' can't wait? s'all you get, my fingers...make a mess on em' c'mon angel..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ definitely have a breeding kink — though, he knows damn well the idea of bambi getting pregnant scares him, so he keeps you with birth control.

"fuck, such a tight pussy...gon' make you a mama, yeah? wan' have my babies don't you, ma?"

"gonna look so pretty carryin' our fuckin' kids, fuck..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ love high sex with you — he's lazily thrusting up into you while you ride him, head thrown back in pure ecstasy, or

"ridin' me so well ma, look so pretty on top of me like this..."

✦ his lidded eyes watch in anticipation as you're down below on your knees in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes while you suck him off.

"gah, shit mama, makin' me feel so good...keep fuckin' goin' thas my good girl..."

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ would love doggy — when you wear those short shorts around him, all he can think about is having your ass up in the air while he's pounding into you like there's no tomorrow.

✦ love missionary, too — it's a more intimate position, but he can't help wanting to see your fucked out expression while he's deep inside you, watching your ever changing expression while you feel him deep inside of you.

dealer!chris would . . .

✦ be a little bad at aftercare at first, but he's slowly getting the hang of it the more time he spends with you — he's cleaning you up and massaging you after you guys finish, and ordering food for the both of you whilst he smokes a joint for himself.

( lilly's corner 💌 )

dealer!chris are my roots guys, i'm gonna start writing for him again. dealer!chris & bambi!reader are my literal babies & i hope you guys enjoy them! 💌

@muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @guccifrog @fawnchives @cottoncandyswisherz

[recreationalfanfics]

"What A Beautiful Family!"

In which you get confused for being a family

Rengoku:

- It happens during a trip to the store in town with his little brother. Maybe it was to restock groceries or maybe it was buying supplies for his next demon conquest, either way: all three of you went down to visit.

- Rengoku smiled softly at you as he watched you with his little brother, holding his hand and laughing with Senjuro and occasionally lifting him up and spinning around.

- At some point during the walk, Senjuro pointed at some birds flying in the tree and begged Kyojuro for a closer look, which Kyojuro happily allowed him to do and put him on his shoulders with a big smile. You helped Senjuro steady himself and laughed at how precious the two looked.

- As Senjuro and Kyojuro debated about what kind of birds they were, you couldn't help but look at Kyojuro with nothing less than love in your eyes and a fond smile.

- "Aw, how precious!" a woman walking past with a basket filled with baked goods cooed at you three, "I'm glad even with demons terrorizing us, people can still have moments like this. Here, have some!"

- At first you tried to decline out of embarrassment but Kyojuro humbly took them and gave one to Kyojuro and handed a pastry to you. You were hesitant but then you took it and graciously thanked the lady, "but also, I feel bad for not paying for these, ma'am. Please, let me-"

- "Don't you worry about it. A beautiful family like you should enjoy a good snack on such a lovely day, especially since your husband's a hashira."

- Rengoku opened his mouth to let out a hearty "TASTY!" but stopped himself halfway when he heard that. You just stared at the lady in flustered shock as she bowed her head and walked away.

- You and Kyojuro shared a look with each other, Kyojuro giving you a nervous yet wide grin and you returned it. Both of your faces felt warm and you were barely able to hold eye contact with each other.

- "Haha, that lady thought you were (Y/n)'s husband! Isn't that funny, big brother?" and Rengoku's gaze softens as you become timid and look down at your feet, "Yes...I suppose it is, Kyojuro."

Tengen:

- You were walking with Tengen and his wives, happy to see him a bit more after his retirement, when you stumbled upon three neighboring children, who played too roughly and were crying their eyes out about it.

- You and Hinatsuru helped them while Suma tried not to cry with the two boys but offered to help and Makio awkwardly tried to calm them down. Tengen just squatted down and told them that it wasn't very flashy to cry, which made you and Hina elbow him.

- Instead of getting more upset, however, all three boys became excited and seemed to recgonize Tengen, asking him if he was the sound Hashira, which seemed to greatly inflate his ego as he said: "Yes but I am also the God of Festivals!"/ "WOW! REALLY!?"

- You and his wives exchanged glances knowing he wouldn't shut up. When they asked if he could tell him a story of the demons he fought, he tried to be all: "Oh, it might be too scary for you kids...BUT WHAT THE HECK- So I was in the Entertainment District which is filled with prost-"/ "UZUI."/ "IT'S IMPORTANT TO THE STORY."

- Anyways, after some censoring, each boy found a home in your lap, Suma's lap, and another sat on Hinatsuru's but leaned their head on Makio's arm. All of you entranced by Tengen's storytelling and prescence.

- "Haha, such an energetic father. Those boys are definetly gonna grow up strong!"/ "I wonder which of those women are his wife?"/ "From the way they're looking at him, all four, probably."

- Tengen's voice suddenly stopped, most likely because he heard what they said, but instead of correcting him, his eyes landed on you. You could feel Hina's, Suma's, and Makio's gaze on you as well and you felt timid...but not uncomfortable. His lips upturned into a smirk and you felt yourself trying to look at ANYWHERE but the attractive faces that were staring at you.

- "Well, what happened next!?" One of the boys demanded, impatient from the cliff hanger.

- "Huh- Oh, right! Anyways, this demon CAME OUT and he was UGLY. Absolutely hideous, like a monster that crawled from under your bed-"

- When the boys finally were called home, you all waved goodbye and parted ways. Leaving you alone with the retired Hashira and his wives, you didn't say anything but the energy felt different as Suma clung to your arm and Tengen walked closer to you, Makio's eyes would stray towards you but timidly look away when you caught her gaze as Hina wished this walk would last forever. Just the five of you.

[shuenkio]

Halloween's Love | Psh. 🎃

Paring: Sunghoon X M!reader | Genre: Smut.

Synopsis: A fun day turning into a hot Halloween when Sunghoon saw you in that witch costume that he brought for you.

Cw: Heavy smut, cursing, belly bulge?, mentioned of cum, gigantic Sunghoon size, curse, aggressive sh, bad language.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

🍁AN: Advance Halloween special for y'all after haven't active for 4-5 days. Again I'm still nerf in the smut field so, hope you can read peacefully ;)

It's the fall season, which means today was Halloween time. Also this is the first time in your relationship that you spend with your Boyfriend, Sunghoon. Even though it's not quite fun however since Sunghoon was here, everything is completely fine.

As for the Trick or Treat approach in the evening, You have nothing to wear for the costume since you forget to buy one, but lucky enough Sunghoon was quite thoughtful as he brought you a nice costume, just in case, and very unexpectedly one. A witch. It was quite revealing just for the thighs Abit but it's still appropriate for the public. Or not for Sunghoon?

Meanwhile Sunghoon, he was dressing up as a pumpkin man, you have never thought he would before, the fact that he was the cold one. However, this one is different from the pumpkin man you had known, Sunghoon was wearing loin clothes above his pants underneath, and a tight polo tank top that was clinging on his tone skin, if this isn't the pyramid head reference, you didn't know what else.

But actually what's going on inside his head? That's what you thought. The whole evening of trick or treat was fun, full of laughter and smiles, everywhere you explore the whole neighborhood. Everyone compliments that both of you and Sunghoon fit perfectly for the theme and as a couple too. Which somehow draws a satisfied smile on Sunghoon's face under the hot pumpkin head.

Getting back home, a basket full of candy. This year was the best year that you've spent your entire life. So fun so good so far. On the other hand, you noticed that your boyfriend was taking time in the bathroom to change, rather than longer than usual, and it makes your worries slightly. Heading toward the bathroom, you knocked on the door to ask how was him, but all you got was a Heavily breathing, like.... He was moaning?

A flash appears on your face once it clicks on your mind, yet you try to brush it off just because no way Sunghoon would do it, right?

But isn't that weird that it sounds like he was pleasuring himself. Somehow you didn't want to disturb him, but some part wanted to know if he's alright just in case.

As you open the door wide, your thoughts come to life. He was like what you're thinking. Your face grows even redder as you saw a glimpse of his tip before quickly turning around and looking away. Sunghoon was surprised to see you, a shame of embarrassed washing over him, however did he mind, no he don't. He was just catching off guard, you catch him in a moment like this.

"I-im sorry, I didn't mean to" Nervously mixing with excitement, you apologize. Sunghoon didn't know what to say so he responded back with another apology instead. Weird.

"It's not your fault M/N, I got carried away because y-you did wear the costume I brought for you" He explain, rubbing the back of his nape as he cover his crotch with a towel on, while your back still facing his.

"so... That was the only reason?" Swallow hard, in disbelief he was turned on by you wearing this witch costume, it was that sexy?

"No um it's hard to— say M/N but it have been a long time since I saw you in um y'know, showing off your skin and I want to ask— nvm" Sunghoon quickly turn around from facing your back, as his word slipped out what's from his mind. It's obvious what he wants from you. You gaze grow soft, once you realize he wants to make love with you— and turn this relationship to the next level.

"love! Why don't you tell me in the first place there's nothing to be embarrassed about, I can give it to you, now say the word" You state, turn to face him as he slowly turns to face you back and unfortunately, his towel falls off, accidentally revealing his massive length right there.

"You didn't mind? Uh yes i-i do want it, a... Lot"

"that's what I like to hear" You smile as you return him back with a kiss while your naughty hand, wrapped around his cock.

////

The bed's shaking from the movement of both of you, especially Sunghoon. He didn't hold back from what he meant that he wants it a lot. Even better, he's the one who suggested that fucking you in this sexy revealing Halloween costume on, was one of his dream and now you fulfilling it.

His rhyme was rough, and aggressive like a damn wolf, the way his cock moved in and out of your hole, the wet sound shatter alluring in this room, didn't do any favors but to make it more heat and aroused in the bedroom. It should be a crime, that his size was gigantic, very. The way his balls clap together and are full of load, lord if only he was asking for this earlier, you biting your lip, groaning in pleasure as he pounded on you very hard.

"fu-ck Sunghoon ~ you gotta speed it down, m-my hole won't hold on if you are this rough" you cry out in bliss, even if he would you'd not complain about it, this session was life changing.

"No M/N you feel too good to not, SHebal, you're so t-- tight ahmmm" His head throwing to the back, whimpers under his breath when he hit his sweet spot, as he continue to arching his hip, buried himself deeper and thrusting harder inside of you, chasing for that crazy climax, while snuggle his hands around your waist.

Subsequently, it became worse, the pace of his hip grew more uneven, the outline of his cock on your belly appeared extra clearly, as you both breath became more hitch and patted heavily, chasing for the perk.

But who was the one that feeling insane and drive themselves crazy about this fuck? There's no other than Sunghoon. Seeing his own work on your body, just giving him a satisfied achievement to himself, not only the way your dick bouncing up and down, leaking in pre-cum, as he is, back shooting you like there's no tomorrow only to make him, overwhelmed by amusement or should you say, it make him overstimulate?

"For God's sake, M/N fuck fuck fuck FUCK I'M CUMMING CUMMING—" waste no more time, Sunghoon feel a huge wave of orgasm building inside of him, as he spilled all his cum, finally empty himself inside of your ass, tighten his strength around your waist even harder as he thrust all in.

Eventually, both bodies collapse on the soft bed, since Sunghoon passes out already while still inside of you. Soon after, you also follow his orgasm through, cumming on your own abdomen, undone.

Once it's settled, you lay there beside him, taking some moments to catch your breath as you are facing him on the bed, staring at his wasted expression that he did for himself, adorable.

The atmosphere turn into quite and peaceful once again after this intense FUCK. The way his cock still in you, meaning that even if he was not in his mind right now, he'd still be close to you, in any way possible, and that the way he loves you, and you love him for that, also.

"Maybe you really want it, haha but look, you're the first to pass out"

[irisintheafterglow]

can i put in my two cents on girldad!bakugo whose daughter got mom's quirk

cw: prohero!bkg, swearing, fem!reader, fluff and crack with a small side of angst

"yer mom's gonna fuckin' kill me if we don't get this out," he mumbles, furiously scrubbing at the splotches of rainbow paint covering his three-year-old daughter's previously white dress.

"fuckin!" his daughter echoes and he flinches.

"no, no, no. we can't say that," he says softly, kneeling down on the tile of the laundry room where she was watching him work. "mama's gonna kick my ass if she hears you swear, so we can't say that word...yet. m'kay sweetheart?"

"kick ass!" she laughs innocently, giggling as his face contorts into a mix of horror, shock, and joy. "dada, you funny," she babbles, reaching up to grab at his face. he fights the instinct to pull away, afraid of how she'd react if she looked too closely at the scars covering his face. you'd talked him through it numerous times before, but he was still scared she would be scared of all the battles etched into his skin. it was his own anxiety talking, he knew, and she must have received her empathy from you because she reached up toward her dad anyway. her little eyebrows pinch and her stubby fingers brush over the rough, discolored tissue. "dada ouchie?"

"dada ouchie long time ago, bubs," he murmurs, taking her hand and kissing her tiny nails. "but mama saved dada. and now," he lifts her from the floor and positions her comfortably on his hip, her head leaning against his shoulder, "baby needs to help save dada from mama."

"mama angry?" his daughter frowns and he nods, staring frustratedly at the pastel stains on the white fabric. "what dada do?"

"oi! it's not always my fault," he protests, leaning closer as his daughter tries to tug his hair. "though, i do admit, this is my shit to clean up."

"shit!" she repeats brightly, grinning up at him as he fondly rolls his eyes.

"i think you're doing this on purpose, you gremlin," he grunts and she smiles up at him mischievously.

"gremlin!" it's the same smirk he does, the only difference being her eyes match yours instead of his.

"you got yer dada's dirty mouth. mama's not gonna be happy, but i," he pecks a kiss on her forehead, "am ecstatic." his daughter's eyes temporarily flash emerald green and she points to the front door.

"zuzu," she informs him. he groans and bites back another curse, throwing the stained dress into a basket and hoping for the best.

"that dumbass isn't supposed to be here until six," bakugo grumbles. he adjusts his daughter and moves into the living room in time to catch a car pulling up at the curb of the house.

"dumbass!" he doesn't have time to scold her because, unfortunately, her quirk isn't done yet. while he hurries to kick any toys under the couch and wipe the faded paint off his hands, her eyes flash pink, red, and yellow a split second before a knock at the front door.

"mimi! eiji!" his daughter squeals in excitement. he sets her down so she can rush to the door, opening it to reveal a half-dozen pro heroes squished onto the front porch. she jumps straight into kirishima's open arms, a string of drool dripping from her wide smile.

"you're early," bakugo deadpans while his high school friends toe off their shoes. "wasn't expecting her to alert for another half hour." his daughter transfers from kirishima to mina, who throws her up into the air like a beach ball. "oi, watch it with her, pinky. don't be giving her a concussion."

"lighten up, bakugo," mina replies without missing a beat, tossing the squealing child again. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

"did her flight get delayed or something?" denki asks, taking the baby from mina and flying her around the room while making racecar noises. bakugo watches his daughter like a hawk, never more than five feet away from her. he won't admit that he trusts his friends, but he also knows he could never be too careful.

"nah," he frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "i jus' fucked up, is all."

"how so?" bakugo mindlessly unpacks the various packages of chips and soda, organizing them on the kitchen counter and punching a stray balloon out of his way.

"accidentally sent her to school with the wrong dress on," he grimaces. "thought it was a different white one, but it was supposed to be the one for today." he disappears momentarily into the laundry room, re-entering with the stained white dress in his hand. "she was screamin' and cryin' about not having anything to wear for her school's paint-a-thon thing, so i just put this on her without checkin..."

"yeesh, she really did a number on this, didn't she?" kirishima says, examining the various spots of pink, blue, and green. "her mom say anything about what she was supposed to wear?"

"i didn't wanna bother her," he mumbles in shame. "you know how important this gig was for her." his friends nod, wracking their brains for how to improve the situation. it was mina's idea, originally, to host a welcome home party after you'd been overseas for a reconnaissance mission, which was why they'd all congregated at your house.

"if it means anything, i think it looks even better," she assures him with a pat on his shoulder. "the colors are nice."

"thanks, pinky. i'm just not good at this shit."

"what, being a dad? like it's hard?" kirishima clicks his tongue, lightly slapping denki on the back of his head.

"dad of a girl," bakugo corrects with a scowl, "you got sons, pikachu. don't even try me."

"i think what he means," kirishima gently interrupts after shooting denki a look, "is that you should be a little easier on yourself."

"she's just got her mom's quirk, y'know? i don't want her to grow up with a shitty dad that doesn't know how to help her develop her quirk." though your daughter could only track up to six people and locate them when they're within 100 feet, your ability to track up to 65 people and locate them on a country-wide scale made you highly desirable to agencies around the globe. with you gone, it was up to bakugo to take care of his daughter and keep the house in order, but he found himself struggling to know what decisions were the right ones.

"you're learning, bakubro, and so is she." denki gestures to your daughter sitting on the living room floor, concentrating on stacking wooden ice cream pieces. "she doesn't know what a 'bad dad' is. she just knows you, and i don't think you're a terrible dad at all." bakugo nods in lieu of answering, his cheeks heating as the rest of his friends echo their agreement.

"if this little ball of spunk is any indication of how much of you she's got in her," mina says with a fond smile, "then she's gonna be just fine." any further thoughts are halted by the front door swinging open again.

"i got the cake! we gotta put it in the fridge, though, since it might've been smushed during travel," deku announces, handing off a stack of gift boxes and catering platters to denki. "now where's my favorite girl?"

"zuzu!" on cue, she comes waddling around the corner of the couch and helps herself to her favorite uncle's shoulders, finding two fistfuls of green hair as handles.

"you better not drop my fuckin' daughter, izuku," bakugo warns. "i'll blast your ass to mercury."

"do you always swear this much with her around?"

"fuckin!"

"that's exactly what i don't think should happen," kirishima states, unsurprised. "have you been teaching her that stuff?"

"she's a smart girl. picks up on things quick, like her mama," he dodges. "speaking of, you got eyes on mama yet, baby?"

"no mama, dada," she replies. "mama home soon?"

"yeah, mama home soon, so we gotta get you ready." he's about to take his daughter off deku's shoulders when he hears mina gasp. he'd known her long enough to know that sound meant she had an idea, and those ideas weren't necessarily good ones. "you got somethin' to say, pinky?"

"let me get her ready, and i'll fix your little dress problem for you," she says cryptically. bakugo doesn't have much time to protest as his daughter is already stretching from his arms to mina's, giggling while they disappear down the hallway.

---

forty-five minutes and a handful of inflated balloons later, his daughter's eyes flash neon orange, the same color your eyes flash for him. she doesn't know any other color to assign me, you theorized one night as you laid together in comfortable darkness. i guess she just associates me with you.

"welcome home!" denki excitedly opens the confetti shooter while kirishima bombards you with a sizable flower bouquet. you're standing speechless in the doorway and he watches your eyeline; it scans the room and its many shimmering balloons, paper streamers, and hero friends until it lands on him and your daughter, holding tightly to his pinky by the kitchen table. when the glitter settles, he gives her a nod, an okay to let her run to you.

"hi, my darling!" you beam, picking her up to hold her close and meet your husband's eyes over her shoulder. "and hello, my love," you murmur as his hands find your waist, pulling you close and pressing his lips to your forehead.

"missed you," he hums, his breathing finally returning to a steady rhythm for the first time in weeks. "she's been a handful."

"i'm sure she has." katsuki's expression is soft, only reserved for you and the child in your arms.

"how was the job?"

"a lot," you admit, allowing yourself to decompress now that you're home. "i can't tell if my head hurts from my quirk or the ten-hour flight," you smile tiredly.

"you got enough in the tank to entertain our friends? or do you need me to kick 'em out?"

"if it's these guys," you say, looking at the rowdy group of guests passing around plates and flatware, "of course i can."

"i guess we got more incoming," katsuki observes as another carload full of his friends arrive. "can we get you some food? baby and i will handle being welcome committee."

"well, do you, uh," you chuckle, finally acknowledging the pink-splattered elephant between you two. "do you wanna tell me why your shirt looks like you hugged a rainbow? and why her dress' stains look older?"

"oh, right. this." he looks down at his previously white button-down, now colored various shades of orange, blue, yellow, and pink to match his daughter's dress. you raise your eyebrows knowingly, already amused even before he answers.

"yeah," you smirk. "that." he shrugs, snaking a hand behind your back and leading you to the platters of dinner on the counter.

"it was paint-a-thon day."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[luveline]

would you ever be willing to write the day spencer and stripper!reader met in the grocery store? i’ve always loved the concept when you’ve referenced it in the story, i would love to read it👀 you’re absolutely incredible and i can never say anything not anon to you because my blog is flooding you with notes constantly and i’m embarrassed😅

thank you for your request ❤️ fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for domestic violence and workplace abuse

There's this weird organic grocery store by Spencer's place that's far too expensive, but it's a ten minute walk, so that's where he goes. (Weird in separation to organic.) 

He needs a lot of groceries now he's home for the week. Bread, vegetables, rice, flour if he wants to try and make pancakes, which he does. He also needs a new pen to write a letter for his mom, but Leaven is slightly too small for a stationery section. 

He doesn't know what he'll say to her in this one. Maybe that the cases he's going on are easy, or that he's been reading about crows. She's not feeling well lately. It might help her to know he's doing gentle things, even if it isn't true. 

No, he thinks. Can't lie to her. He never lies to his mom. 

Eggs. Sugar. Coffee grounds. He fills his cart. It'll be a lot to carry on the way home, but better to do it in one go. He likes keeping busy but he's a human being, too, and he's looking forward to spending at least sixteen hours in bed after dinner tonight. 

You look tired, too. 

Your back is turned, but Spencer knows it's you. You must live close by, he's been seeing you duck in and out for months. Usually with a loaf of bread or a single box of painkillers tucked in your pocket. You don't steal, he'd be able to tell, and he wouldn't say anything if you did, anyways. All he knows about you is that you have a nice smile when you have the energy, and your voice is like silk. Purposeful or by nature, he's yet to guess. 

You're standing by the end of the aisle near the checkouts with a basket hanging from your fingers. All you're buying today is a box of pancake mix and a bag of peas. 

Weird, he thinks with a smile. Spencer likes weird stuff. It's quirky. 

You turn to see which checkout is empty and Spencer's smile abruptly drops. 

You have a bruise across half of your face. It isn't strictly fresh —he can see the split skin on your cheek starting to close in on itself, and your purpled eye is open (though barely). You're frowning. Spencer knows how bad it hurts to get hurt like that. For a split second he can't believe someone could do that to another person, and then he remembers the hundreds of women he's had the privilege to meet at their most vulnerable, who trusted him, and he thinks maybe he's capable of helping another one. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You meet his eyes with a funny smile. “Hey. Sorry, am I in the way?” you ask, your voice stretched, thin but not weak. 

“No, you're not, it's… I see you here all the time.” 

You hold your breath. When you talk, it rushes out. “So?” you ask wearily.

“Are you okay?” 

Your funny smile fades as Spencer's had. He supposes that's the talent of cruelty. Even when it's over, it's not truly over. Your bruise still hurts, and Spencer still needs to know you'll be okay when you go home tonight. 

“I see you all the time too. We've… we've actually spoken before, haven't we?” you ask after a moment. 

“Yeah, about spirometry. I was out of breath running and–” It doesn't matter. You asked him if he was okay, and he explained that he was, just that his lungs don't hold much air on account of his own laziness, and it doesn't matter. “Are you? Alright? It's a bad bruise.” 

“It's getting better.” 

It might be, but there's something so raw about seeing you standing there in your sweatpants too big for you and a hoodie with a hole in it, purple and yellow contusion across your eyes and nose like the clumsy stroke of a paintbrush. Spencer will admit to feeling sorry for you.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, knowing this isn't the right place. “There's the cafe at the front? Let me pay for my stuff and–” 

“I'm really okay–” 

“You had a cast on your wrist two weeks ago and now you're here with a limp and a really bad bruise,” he says softly, imploringly, “I just wanna talk to you about it. You don't have to say yes, I'm not trying to be weird, but I–” 

You cut off his mile a minute speech with a small smile. “Okay. I'm not, you know, doing anything anyways. It'll be nice to sit down.” 

Spencer knows it's dumb, but he wants to show he has good intentions. He takes your basket out of your hands and nods toward the cafe past the checkouts. “I'll come and meet you.” 

“You don't have to,” you say, gesturing at the basket. 

“The damage is done, right? This place is ridiculous.” He doesn't like the way you're holding your hip. It makes him feel sick, even though there's no proof one way or another to say you've been hurt beyond your bruising.

He pays for his things and yours and meets you at the cafe. He's half expecting you to have bolted, but you sit at a table near the entrance, completely still. 

Spencer puts his two bags under the table and offers you your pancake mix and peas in their own bag. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“It was my boss.” You look at your fingers, spreading them slowly over the table top. “I’m a dancer. Sorry. I know you’re going to ask.” 

“And he hit you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Spencer knows the number for every women’s shelter in every state, but he doubts it would matter to you. He can tell already that you’d say no. He can tell you’re scared, even if you don’t realise it yourself. “Is it getting worse?”

You can’t offer him anything else. He understands how that feels. There have been moments where he desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone, what was going on in his life, but he always holds his secrets like a perpetual ache in his throat. It’s like he can’t tell someone, even if they ask. 

Sometimes he just wishes they’d ask twice. 

“You can tell me. It won’t sound stupid,” he promises. He’s in some odd place between Agent Reid and young, terrified Spencer, determined to help you, but not sure how. “It’s getting worse, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say, the weight of tears on your tongue. 

“You’re a dancer. Is he just a boss– Does he… abuse you financially?” 

You laugh wetly. “He’s not my pimp.” 

He can feel his face heating up.’“No, but do you get paid on time? Everything you earn?” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t get paid on time. He takes a percentage, and somehow there’s always another percentage, and then discipline. And now…” 

“Now he’s hitting you.” Very badly. 

“I’m not stupid.” 

Spencer frowns gently, talks softly, “I didn’t mean to imply that you were.” 

“No, I know, but I need you to know I’m not stupid. When we talked before, you– you’re so smart, I bet you know so many smart people.” 

He’s not sure where you’re going with this. Perhaps you don’t want to talk about being hurt anymore. It must be a kind of torture to be hurting and know that that hurting will come again. There isn’t an end in sight for you, just right now. 

“Can I buy you something to eat?” 

“I have money,” you say, taking your small purse from your pocket. There are a few notes wedged inside. 

“You can’t take painkillers on an empty stomach, and you should take painkillers again soon. You had some before you came, and they’re wearing off.” He meets your confused frown with a frown of his own. “Your hands are twitching like you want to move away from yourself.” 

“You’re very perceptive,” you say in that smooth murmur. Power clawed back, he thinks. You’re protecting one of the things you can control about how you’re seen when everything else is far from it. 

“I’m a profiler. Do you,” —he tries not to sound hoity toity— “know what that is?” 

“No.” 

“I’m an FBI agent.” You’re laughing as he takes out his badge. He joins you. “I know it sounds like I’m making it up.” Spencer offers you his identification passport slowly, so you know he isn’t wielding it around to be an asshole. “I’m in the behavioural analysis unit. We analyse the way people act. That’s why I know you’re in pain.” 

You take his badge, looking between his photo and his real face with a growing smile. “If you need all that to know I’m in pain, you’re not as smart as you think,” you tease, gesturing to the mottled skin of your bruise sweetly. 

Spencer buys you both cold sandwiches from the front of the shop and a drink to wash down your aspirin. It’s awkward, he guesses, but he’s used to that by now, and under it he can feel your palpable relief. You trust him to not hurt you, if nothing else, and he can work with that. 

[enbysiriusblack]

the jily tag is so filled with anti jily and jegulus posts at the moment so here's some jily headcanons:

lily loving transfiguration but hating that james is so much better so when they start becoming friends, she makes him tutor her in transfiguration

james giving her his quidditch shirt to wear but lily already has marlene's. so she just wears them both instead, for luck.

statistic nerds. they make graphs together and everything (mostly about various sports)

as head boy and head girl, they tend to use the good cop/bad cop approach but take it in turns cause they both wanna be bad cop

lily isn't very popular but is well liked (too stubborn and friends with very unpopular and 'weird' students to be popular), james is popular but isn't well liked (mostly due to immaturity in first few years of school as well as not seeming to care about anyone other than the other marauders + lily)

hospital wing bonding. lily wanting to study medicine so she helps out pomfrey and james being in the wing a lot for remus or quidditch injuries or just to get a lollipop from pomfrey.

marlene and james being next door neighbours and whilst lily is staying at marlene's, she talks to james over the garden fence and gets invited to dinner by james' parents

lily not being super close to her own parents so after meeting james, euphemia and fleamont start writing letters to her and sending her snacks (whilst she's not yet friendly with james), and james' isn't aware of this till he sees lily in the common room with her own basket of his mum's muffins

ursula k le guin fanboy!james. lily sees him reading one of her books and instantly starts crushing on him. then she sees him dogear the book and immediately gives him her bookmark to stop that from ever happening again

whilst they're friends, they start going on morning walks around the grounds together and name the goats, in the neighbouring field, and giving them personalities and soap opera type stories

[snowyslytherinowl]

A Love Paid in Galleons - Part 2

PAIRING: Severus Snape x Reader

SUMMARY: Knowing that no one would ever want him, Severus hires a prostitute to help him lose his virginity. But what he doesn't anticipate is that he'll give his heart to her as well.

Part 1 here

This part is heavier and less smutty than part 1, but it ofc includes a happy ending. 🫶 WARNINGS: IMPLIED SEXUAL ABUSE AND DISCUSSIONS OF PROSTITUTION (no graphic descriptions of either, however). 

18+ DUE TO SEXUAL CONTENT; MINORS DNI!

*GIF isn't mine; credit to @smilingformoney

“G’morning,” you mumble into Severus’s back. He didn’t hear your footsteps as you climbed down the stairs. He has to stop himself from jumping at the sudden contact, but he soon relaxes. Nothing beats the feeling of your arms snuggly wrapped around him.

“Hello, darling.” Severus tries to discreetly hide the sliced food and basket. He can only hope that you didn’t see anything on your walk into the kitchen. 

“What’re you making?” you ask, your voice still heavy with sleepiness. You pull away from him to pour yourself a steaming cup of coffee, freshly brewed by Severus. Your eyes drift to the minced ham and plucked grapes resting in bowls on the counter. 

He nervously chuckles and pulls the food toward him in a poor attempt to conceal his plans. “Lunch. For later, of course.”

“Mmm, I hope you enjoy it.”

He picks at his cuticles and looks at the ground, too shy to look you in the eye. “Well, er, this is a picnic for the both of us.” When you only stare at him, he nervously adds, “As long as you do not have a busy schedule for the day.” 

Severus is surprised when you tear up and throw yourself into his arms. “Severus…. You really made this for me? For us?”

“I… of course,” he says. “There is nothing I enjoy more than spending time with you.”

“Oh, Sev.” You pull back from the hug and kiss him. He wraps his arms around you and melts into the kiss, pouring his heart out to you. 

You keep him close even when you have to break for air. You twirl his hair with your fingers and rest your head on his shoulder, your breath tickling his ear as you whisper, “I love you.”

Severus drifts from his dream into a groggy haze when he feels something wet on his neck. He first internally groans, wishing that the dream lasted for at least another minute. And then he panics, wondering where he is and what is happening. Then, he remembers the events of the previous night and relaxes. Even though he usually hates waking up in the mornings, this one is different: he has you here. Sunlight pours in from the window and shines on your face and messy hair. You move closer to him and press another wet kiss to his neck. Severus shivers. 

“Good morning, Severus. How you’d sleep?” Severus looks around and takes in more of his surroundings. One of your legs is sprawled over his legs and you’re tightly hugging his middle. He naturally gets flustered at even the briefest of touches from you, yet his most recent dream has left him extra sensitive to your touch. He tries to push away thoughts of the dream now that he has the real you in front of him, but he can’t ignore the pang in his heart. 

“Pleasantly. How was your night?”

“Excellent.” You nuzzle your nose in the crook of his shoulder and lazily kiss his neck once more. Severus relaxes in your embrace and your soft touches, feeling no rush to get out of bed. It seems that your touches aren’t aimless, though. One of your hands slowly caresses his chest and down his torso until you reach the hem of his pajama pants. 

Your hand isn’t even anywhere near his cock, but he struggles to stifle a whimper. You pull back so that you’re facing him, a lazy grin on your face. “Did you dream about me last night, Severus?”

He doesn’t know whether he’d be more embarrassed to admit that he had overly affectionate dreams about you, or to lie and say that he dreamt of inappropriate things. “Er… I… did,” he stammers, hoping that you won’t ask for specifics. 

You light up with curiosity. “What were they like?” 

“Well…. they were… relaxing,” he replies, trying to dodge the question. 

“Oh? What did we do?” 

“Er…” His mind goes blank, partially because he doesn’t know what to say and partially because he can feel your fingers playing with the hem of his pajama pants. You pull back the band of his pants and stick one finger inside while you aimlessly tap your other fingers. His face heats up as you continue to gaze at him expectantly. 

Seconds drag on for an eternity before you finally laugh. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me.” You go one step further, stretching back the elastic of the boxers and slithering three fingers inside. His breath hitches when you move closer to whisper into his ear, “I just hope that you dreamt only good things about me.”

“Of course I did,” he breathes. An angel like you can only produce heavenly dreams. 

You grin and slowly start to massage his cock. Severus groans in delight and allows his eyes to flutter closed, wanting to savor the moment and likely the last touches he’d experience from you. Without thinking, he rests his head on your shoulder and buries his face against your chest. He breathes in the dampened scent of your perfume and the orchid body wash you borrowed from him, trying to memorize this exact scent.  

You touch him like you’re in no rush either; your fingers stroke his length and you press wet kisses to the exposed parts of his neck and face. It doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and throbbing in your hand. You swipe your thumb over the precum now beading at the tip of his cock, spreading it up and down his length. And while he wants to drag this out, your touch is too gentle and he becomes desperate for more friction. He instinctually shifts his hips to press closer to you and thrusts himself in your hand. 

Your lips pull into a smile at the sound of his whimpers and how the slightest of touches turn him into a desperate man. Embarrassment flushes his cheeks, yet his heart and body show no desire to maintain his dignity. His hips rut more erratically, begging for you to squeeze tighter and rub more aggressively. A desperate “please” escapes his lips and his fingers clutch your forearm. 

You oblige to his desires and stroke his cock with more gusto, even slithering your other hand into his boxers to massage his balls. His balls tighten and his manhood twitches, waiting for sweet release. He begs his body to hold on for a moment longer, to stop being so sensitive, to not embarrass him by coming so soon. But he’s too weak to hold himself back. Severus presses his lips against yours as he shakes and cums all over your hands and his boxers, his moans drowned out by your lips. 

His body reels from your caresses and the warmth of your embrace, stuck in a state of utter bliss. He wants to stay here with you forever, even if it means never getting up from this bed. 

You nuzzle your nose against his and then into his hair to peck more lazy kisses. Severus can’t tell how long you stay pressed against him, but he’s disappointed when you pull away and stand from the bed. He feels an urge to pull you back into bed and cuddle against you, keeping you here for as long as he can. There’s also a strange look in your eyes; you gaze down at him in silence for an awkward amount of time before you speak up. “I’m going to wash my hands,” you say quietly. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes follow you from the bedside table and to the sink until you close the bathroom door behind you. Severus spreads himself out on the bed and sighs, trying to prevent his mind from drifting into the inevitable yet horrible thoughts he doesn’t want to confront. 

Once you finish cleaning yourself, he slips into the bathroom without saying a word to you. He pulls down his pants and winces at the sight of his cum-stained underwear, feeling like a pathetic teenager. He peels off the rest of his clothes and starts a warm shower, wanting to erase the signs of how pathetic and sensitive he is. Yet his hands ghost over his hips, neck, and hair, remembering the feelings of your soft hands all over his body. Control yourself, Severus has to tell himself when a lump forms in his throat. 

But Severus struggles to keep himself together. He changes into clean underwear, pants, and a dark green T-shirt and looks at himself in the mirror. He looks at his crooked nose, his greasy hair, his sallow skin, the bags under his eyes, and the lines already forming on his face. So miserable, so pathetic. But as he continues to stare at himself, he sees something new in himself. He looks more relaxed, the usual tired and resentful expression in his eyes mixed with a new emotion: joy. How can he cope with your parting when you’ve made him happier than he’s ever been before? His eyes fill with tears and he faces away from the mirror, blinking them away. 

After he pulls himself together and erases the evidence of his tears, he goes back into the bedroom. He discovers that you’ve done his bed and neatly placed his sleeping clothes and the pajamas you borrowed into his laundry basket. He frowns when he sees that you’ve changed back into your original dress. It’s colder than usual this morning and he doesn’t want you to shiver. 

“If you prefer, I can give you a shirt to wear.” 

You shake your head. “But I won’t be able to give it back to you.”

“Do not worry about that.” He pulls out a black T-shirt from his closet and hands it to you. “You may keep it.”

You fiddle with the soft fabric and avoid looking at him. “Severus, thank you.”

“You are welcome.” An awkward silence engulfs the room until he asks, “When must you leave?” 

“I have to be back at the brothel by nine, but I want to leave fifteen minutes early if that’s fine by you. I want to have time to get ready for work.” He looks at the clock. 7:25. Less than an hour and a half. Severus feels like he might be sick.  

“They ask you to work this early?” 

“No. I work two jobs. This isn’t my primary job.” 

Two jobs? Why would you work as a prostitute if you have a second job? And if you start your second job shortly after nine, then that must mean you barely have any time for yourself. Even though he desperately wants to cherish your presence for these last two hours, he knows that he should give you a break. 

“I will go downstairs to cook us breakfast. You may stay here and do as you please. I will notify you when the food is prepared.” 

“It’s all right. I’ll come down with you.” You smile and put a hand on his shoulder. Severus tries not to immediately crumble. 

“Are you certain?” 

“Yes. I can help you cook too.” You gesture to the door, expecting him to lead the way. Severus obliges and brings you to the kitchen, secretly internally soaring at the thought of spending more time with you. 

Severus rummages the fridge for half-decent breakfast food. Sausages and eggs are the best that he can come up with. The bruised fruits he finds in the back of the fridge will have to do. Now he wishes he had gone grocery shopping to buy better food for you. 

When you ask him what you can prepare, he directs you to brew the coffee. Once the coffee machine stops whirring, you turn to him. “What else can I do to help?”

“Nothing. You may sit.” 

You instead lean against the kitchen counter, standing much closer to him than expected. So close that he can feel the heat radiating off your body. “Are you sure? You’re already doing a huge favor by cooking.” 

“Nonsense. You are my guest. I do not expect anything significant of you.” All he wants to do in these last moments together is to serve you, to make you feel cared for. 

“Alrighty then.” You watch as he cooks, how he moves effortlessly as he flips the pan and slices the bruises off the fruit. Years of cutting potion ingredients have given him swift fingers. 

Severus tries not to get flustered at your gaze or proximity, but it’s so hard when he can see your little smirk in the corner of his eye. He steadies his hand on the knife, trying to conceal his nervous shaking. Then, he stops himself from jumping when you nudge him and say, “You’re quite the talented cook.”

Severus looks up at you mid-slicing and pauses, the knife hovering above a strawberry. Your hair is still messy from sleep. Part of your shoulder is showing from your askew shirt. Your face may be plain after washing away the makeup, but you look utterly beautiful in the sunlight softly illuminating your face. He can see the natural pinkish hue of your lips and how bright your eyes are even without eyeliner or mascara to accentuate your features. He has to look back down at the cutting board before he looks even more like a fool. 

Your smile grows into a smirk when you see red tinting his cheeks. “You’re quite cute, too.” 

Severus coughs from the embarrassment. “That is hardly the right word to describe me.”

“I disagree. You get flustered easily and you’re so sweet. Those two traits epitomize cuteness.”

Sweet? You know nothing about him, nothing of his past. If you knew how he used to be a Death Eater, what he did to Lily, hell, even what he was like as a student, you would never call him sweet in a million years. What a blessing it is to have someone around who has no knowledge of him. 

“While I am certain that your intentions are pure, I would not describe myself as ‘sweet’ either,” Severus scoffs, despite the warm and fuzzy feeling he’s experiencing because of that word. He plates the food and guides you to sit at the table all while avoiding your gaze. 

“Well, I don’t often come across men who are as kind as you,” you comment with a shrug. 

Severus looks up at you and you give him a lazy smile. But he can tell from the slight sag of your shoulders and the tired look in your eyes that your comment is more than a compliment for him; it attests to what you’ve been through. He knows that you’re a prostitute, yet the full scope of your reality hasn’t hit him until you made that simple comment. What happens to you behind closed doors? You may be understanding and kind to him, but is that the kind of treatment that’s afforded to you on a daily basis? You may be cheery around him, but do all of your clients get that same reaction out of you? 

Severus likes to think that he’s treating you well. Yes, he provided you with clothing, allowed you to sleep on the bed, and cooked breakfast for you. But does doing those things really make him better than the other men who solicit you to feel better about themselves? He treated you as he should: like another human being. Yet how many nights have you gone to bed with an empty stomach, woken up with a stiff back from sleeping somewhere unideal, or abandoned like rubbish?

He feels as though his heart is being squeezed by a fist. A kind soul like you doesn’t deserve any of this. “I cannot imagine what you’ve been through…” Severus chokes out. 

Although Severus is usually a master at hiding his emotions, he can barely control himself around you. His inner turmoil must be clearly reflected on his face because you bite your lower lip and frown. You reach across the table and take his hand in yours. “Severus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty.” 

All of this feels wrong. You’ve spent your entire time here comforting and pleasing him. Even now, you’re comforting him after he became upset about your life. He wonders how you can stay so calm and be so sympathetic with him, and he can’t help but yearn to know more about who you are outside of this context. 

There is one question about you that pops into his mind. Knowing that it’s likely too sensitive to ask, Severus’s words drag as he says, “May I ask you a question?”  

Your thumb gently swipes over his hand. Even in these circumstances, the simplest touches from you are pleasant. “Of course. Go ahead,” you reply, encouragingly. 

“I apologize if this is too personal, but I would like to know.” Severus continues hesitantly, “If you have another job… why do you also work as a prostitute?’

You look down and poke at your sausage, but thankfully, you aren’t taken aback. “One of them is my dream job. Unfortunately for me, that one doesn’t pay well and the income I make varies by week. The other, well…” 

You pause and sigh before continuing, “Prostituting isn’t the… ideal job or something that I enjoy, but it pays well in proportion to how many hours I work. I need to spend as much time on… my other job as I can. I take on as many clients as necessary to cover the remaining expenses that my other job doesn’t cover. I usually only need to take on a few clients on the weekend and I’m free.”

Another pang pierces his heart. There has to be some other way for you to make money other than prostituting. “Do you have anyone to support you?” 

“No. I don’t have many friends and my parents never cared for me,” you reply sadly. You slump in your seat and pick at your food without actually eating. Your sociable, sweet demeanor is gone. 

Severus understands how you feel, to be trapped in a situation you don’t exactly desire without anyone caring for you. His father never loved him and his mother was too preoccupied with protecting herself to help him achieve a bright future. Even now, Severus doesn’t have anyone who truly loves or cares for him. 

The reminders of his loneliness bear down heavily on him, but Severus takes it upon himself to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “I am truly sorry to hear this. I have experienced something similar myself, albeit that it doesn’t involve prostitution.” 

“Really?” You perk up not because you are happy to hear about his own struggles, but because you’re happy that perhaps someone else finally understands you. 

“Yes. I am the Potions Professor at Hogwarts.” His earlier hesitation to reveal his identity is long gone. After all, you just opened up to him about something very sensitive and private. The least he can do is confide in you and he has a feeling that you won’t go around telling his secrets. 

“I took up my post at Hogwarts to honor an agreement I made with someone. Truth be told, I did not have a dream job in mind during my youth. My parents never encouraged me to think highly of myself or my capabilities, yet I knew I did not want to work with petulant students.” Severus tenses as he thinks of his parents, Dumbledore, Lily, and that dunderhead Harry Potter. “I have been stuck working at Hogwarts for approximately a decade now and am forced to clean up the messes of the rest of the staff and students. I dread the thought of returning there once this summer ends.”

“Hey, at least you have the rest of the summer to yourself,” you say, trying to cheer him up. There’s no humor or happiness in this conversation, but you continue, “At least look on the bright side. Only the best wizards and witches are hired to work at Hogwarts, so you must be incredibly intelligent.” 

“Do not flatter me,” he scoffs, yet your compliment has made him feel better. Severus has always prided himself on his intelligence, but to hear you praise him like that, he feels even more special. 

“It’s the truth! I was never good at brewing Potions. I’m pretty good with Charms though.” You pause and consider something. Then, seeming to have the same trust in him that he has in you, you continue, “I own a bookstore in wizarding London. I write and produce my own illustrated and charmed children’s books. It takes a long time to draw everything and even longer to test out what combinations of charms will produce the best effects.”

You sigh and shake your head. “I still haven’t made it big, though. It’s hard competing with Flourish and Blotts and there are already thousands of children’s books. It’s just disappointing because I’ve spent all my savings on buying that bookstore.”

“Do not worry. It is simply that your time has not yet come. I have full faith that you will find success soon.” As if to convey his conviction, he tightly squeezes your hand. He has never read your books or seen your store, but he just knows that there is something promising about you. You deserve all the success in the world. 

“Thank you, Severus. You’re very kind.” To his surprise, you reach across the table and peck a kiss on his cheek. He presses a hand to the spot where you just kissed him, hopelessly wishing that the feeling of your lips against his cheek will stay with him forever. 

You two start digging into your breakfast before it can get cold. Severus listens to your plans for the shop for the day and your complaints of children who try to steal books when they think you’re not looking. Dealing with annoying children is something that he can definitely relate to. 

After you finish eating, you pour yourself a cup of coffee. Severus notices that you stand still in front of the brewer for longer than what’s necessary and even when you turn around, your hands are gripping the cup too tightly. “Do you think that we could just sit on the couch for a bit before I go?”

Severus looks at the clock on the wall. Only fifteen minutes remain until you must leave. His heart begins to beat rapidly. How hadn’t he noticed how fast the time was flying by?

“Yes. That is fine.” Severus pours himself his own cup of coffee and sits on the couch. He’s surprised, yet pleased, when you scoot over and settle against him, your head resting on his shoulder. 

The time again moves by in silence. He doesn’t know what to say and perhaps that’s for the best. No matter what he may speak about, he’s afraid that his voice will choke with emotion. He can’t bear to look at you either, especially as you idly twirl his long hair with your fingers. Tears are already threatening to form in his eyes, his muscles are tense, and he can’t rip his mind off your impending departure. He’s at least thankful that you’re not snuggled closely enough to hear his heart racing in his chest. 

You suddenly break the silence when you quietly comment, “Breakfast was great.” 

“I am glad you enjoyed it,” he responds without looking at you. 

“By the way, you should wear dark green more often. You look awfully cute in it.” 

There you go, using that word again. Severus meets your gaze and notices you biting your bottom lip, smiling at him. Just your smile causes his heart to skip a beat and he has to look away from you before he gets too emotional. 

“Thank you,” he says, not protesting this time. He does make a note to buy more dark green clothes, though.

In what feels like seconds, the clock indicates that it’s now your time for departure, 8:45. Severus hopes that you won’t notice the time on the wall or tell him you don’t want to leave either. A solid minute goes by without you saying anything until you sigh and untangle yourself from him. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go now.”

“I… I understand,” Severus concedes quietly. You two stand from the couch and head towards his front door, the place where all of this truly started. 

But the full threat of your departure doesn’t totally sink in for Severus until you place your hand on the doorknob. At that moment, he breaks into a full panic. These are the very last seconds he’ll ever spend with you. He’s never going to see you again, never going to learn more about you, unless he solicits you again or finds your bookstore. But after everything you said about prostituting, it doesn’t feel right for him to do that. It’s not guaranteed that he’d be able to find your shop either. 

This is too much to handle. His blood runs cold, his heart is now hammering, and he’s frozen in place. He has no idea how it happens, but his lips start moving. “I simply want to mention that I meant what I said earlier. I truly believe in you and your future success.” 

You turn around to face him. His gaze bores into you as if he’s memorizing what you look like. He must get one last good look at you. Your messy but smooth hair. Gentle eyes. Soft lips. The curves of your jaw and cheeks. The way that your eyebrows are curved. He stores it all in his mind, hoping to never forget a detail.

“And I hope that things will work out for you, too.” You look at him for a long time before adding, “Maybe you can start a potion shop if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

Open a potion shop, start a career in the Ministry, or work at Hogwarts for the rest of his life, it doesn’t matter. No matter what his future holds for him, he has realized one thing about it: he could truly be happy only if you were a part of it. As much as he hates to think that he’s given his heart to someone he’s known for less than a day, he knows that that is the reality. Yet there is one thing that will never become a reality: his desire for you two to be together. Your kind words and actions only occur because of your friendly affection towards him. He’s sure of it. 

“Perhaps,” he replies idly. 

You two look at each other for an awkward amount of time until you break the silence. “I guess I should go now.” 

“Yes… you are right.” When you turn the doorknob, Severus quickly interjects, “Allow me.”

Severus opens his front door onto the street. Sunlight shines brightly and the sky is a beautiful blue. He wishes that he could spend such a beautiful day with you. 

You two look out at children biking on the road and parents adjusting their briefcases before heading to work. “It would be best if you apparate behind the house,” he hesitantly suggests. 

“Yeah.” You make no effort to move except for the turning of your head. “By the way, thanks for everything. Especially the food and the clothes. Your kindness means a lot to me.”

You briefly touch Severus’s arm and he has to quickly blink away the tears that form no matter how many times he tells himself to stay in control. This is it. You’re leaving. You’re finally leaving. The only person that has made him feel alive, made him feel valued and heard, is leaving. How can he ever cope with this separation? When Severus climbs into bed every night, his mind won’t be able to settle into sleep because he’ll constantly think about how you slept against him. Whenever Severus sits in his desk chair, he’ll always think about how he gave himself to you there. Whenever he enters his study to create his lesson plans for the following year, he’ll instead be reminded of your first kiss. Whenever he sits at his dining table to eat breakfast, he’ll always wish that you were sitting across from him, holding his hand and telling him secrets that you’ve never told anyone else. The memory of you will be too painful for him to bear, but he doesn’t ever want to forget you. An odd concoction of desperation, sadness, shame, confusion, frustration, anger, pain, and love all run through him. 

Perhaps Severus is delusional. Perhaps this is the moment, out of all the moments in his life, that he’s completely lost his mind. But Severus notices something that sparks a dangerous sense of hope in him: one of your feet is on the pavement and the other foot is on the wood floor of his living room. You don’t want to leave either. And does he see a look of longing in your eyes? Did you place your hand on the doorframe to steady yourself or because you’re subconsciously tethering yourself to this place? 

But behind that longing, he can also tell you’re in pain. In pain because your bookstore is struggling. In pain because you barely ever make enough to make ends meet. In pain because you have to prostitute tonight yet again. In pain because you have no one that cares for you. In pain because your life feels meaningless.

At that moment, the moment that you move to fully step out of his house and turn to walk down the alley, Severus has an incredibly impulsive thought. He knows that he has to do something. Not just for him, but more importantly, for you. He can’t allow you to suffer any longer. 

“Wait!” he shouts after you. You stop and turn to face him, but you avoid his gaze. 

“I deeply apologize if I am overstepping. However, I must ask you this before you leave, or else I will regret a missed opportunity for the rest of my life.” Severus is so arrested with fear, panic, and self-consciousness that he has no idea how his lips move or how he even forces his words out of his mouth. “I would like you to live here with me. I will cover all your financial expenses and support your store. You will not have to prostitute anymore.”

He takes both of your hands in his and holds onto them for dear life. The tears that he’s been trying to suppress have won out. They now flow freely down his cheeks and drip onto his shirt. He must look pitiful and pathetic, but he’s too overcome with emotion to control himself. 

“I do not ask for sexual favors. I do not even ask that you pursue a romantic relationship with me. All I ask for in return is your companionship.” Severus is barely able to choke out his last sentence. “Please… I cannot bear to be alone any longer.” 

Your expression is unreadable. You stare at him in silence for such a long time that he convinces himself that this was a mistake. You would never want to stay with him. He’s a disgusting man who does not understand boundaries. He must remind you of a desperate dog tied to a post, pathetically begging his owner not to abandon him. He’s so ashamed, so embarrassed for even asking you that he’s ready to run back into his house, shut the door, and cry for the rest of the day. That is until you throw yourself into his arms and kiss him. 

Severus stumbles back from the impact but most importantly, the shock of your actions. You don’t need to say a word for him to understand that you’ve not just accepted his invitation to live with him, but that you want to pursue a romantic relationship with him. The new development fills him with such joy and giddiness that he wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you tighter than he knows he should. And as demented as it sounds, he revels in the way your body shakes with sobs and how he can taste the tears now streaking down your face. Yet what he enjoys the most is how you kiss him with such intensity that this might as well be your last kiss. Thankfully, though, this will be the first of many kisses that you two will share. 

You kiss each other for so long and with such intensity that by the time you separate, it’s a real possibility that you both might pass out. You laugh at his red face and cheeks and rest your forehead against his. “I would love to live with you. And I would also love to be your girlfriend if you’re willing.”

His heart soars to the heavens. Never in a million years did he think that he would have a girlfriend, let alone that it would be you. He responds with such enthusiasm that he trips over his words. “Girlfriend? That would… I… er… that would be more than I could dream of. Yes. I want to be your boyfriend.”

“You’re so cute.” You press a kiss on his cheek and step back. “Look, I want to run back into your house, but I still have to check in at the brothel and let them know that I’m quitting forever. And I still have to tend to the bookstore for the day and get ready. But I’ll come back here tonight at six, on the dot. I promise.” 

“That is fine. I will see you at six.” These nine hours waiting for you will be the longest nine hours of his life, though every passing second means that he is one second closer to seeing you again. 

“Great. See you soon!” You peck one last kiss to his lips and then walk down the alley, apparating away. 

Severus has plenty of ideas of how to pass the time before you come back, but there is one thing that he’s most excited for: getting groceries and buying a second pillow just for you. And with you around, his house will finally become a home.

[heartfullofleeches]

What if someone from "Sheep"'s old pack came back around and tried to expose them, maybe for joy in suffering or to get people to split away and have an easy meal?

Sorry if this read weird I'm tired as hell

(I doubt any of them would recognize "Sheep" after all these years, but here's what would happen if any predator tried to reveal "Sheep's" identity.")

[Warnings Physical Violence, "Sheep" has a panic attack.]

-

"How stupid can you lot be?"

No...This isn't real. It's all a bad dream, right? You'll wake up any minute now, surrounded by all your friends and neighbors you've yet to acquaint yourself with. Perhaps you'll finally join Rabbit on one of their picnics. Or maybe Swan can teach you how to play chess - surely he must be tired of you asking which piece is which every time you play.

Claws digging into the meat of your shoulders stake you within the world of this cruel reality. This isn't a dream. You can't wake up, even if you chewed your own tongue off and suffocated on the blood as every cell in your body screamed at you to do. It would save you the torment. Your mouth hangs open, ragged draws of air and the smooth, filed surface of your canines preventing you from carrying out the deed.

"A sheep? This thing?" The cackle he barks causes your knees to curl against your chest - body instinctively trying to make you as small as possible. What do you have to be do afraid of? If you weren't so spineless you could've done something by now. Everyone is going to die now, and they'll die hating you.

"I wouldn't be surprised if we grew up from the same pack!"

It won't be long now- the concern for their fellow neighbor bleeding away to further terror and confusion. Were you responsible for the recent disappearances? How long until you devoured everyone? Monster. Beast. Wolf.

The townspeople are in a frenzy. What should they do? If the wolf's claims are true.... No- That could be dealt with that. The most important thing was getting you away from him before he hurt you anymore. They're so many of them. It'd be easy, right? The thought crosses their minds, but no one dares to speak first. A rabbit grows annoyed of their hesitance. Whilst the town is bickering amongst themselves, you're laying there - cowering for your life as that wolf threatens to ruin it for you. It isn't fair. The knife in their basket was for cutting cakes for you to share...

"Liar....."

As the rabbit weaves through the crowd, another resident of the town returns home from her daily gatherings. Rocks weight the pockets of her dress - the shouts and panic from her fellow neighbors channeling miles throughout the forest. Scrambling to find the sharpest one, she throws it directly at the back of the wolf's head.

"You damned liar!"

The wolf staggers forward - a pitiful whine escaping you as his claws retract from your shoulder. Blood gushes from the back of his cranium, a sharp ringing in his ears bring him to his knees - landing center on the blade aimed at his stomach.

"About a week ago, Sheep and I found a robin's nest in my backyard.... They got all teary eyed when the last egg wouldn't hatch... Tell me.... Would a wolf do that?"

Rabbit plants their foot on the wolf's chest, twisting the handle of their knife as they rip it from his bowels. The wolf grabs into their ankle, using what little strength he has to shove them off of him. Mouse leaps onto him from behind, slamming another rock into the nape of his neck.

"Take it back! Take it back! Sheep isn't anything like you! How dare you accuse them! You monster!"

Stop....

Your voice is too quiet for any of them to hear. You doubt that'd stop them anyway. They'll kill him. He came here to do the same, but does that make it right? Strong arms lift you from the dirt floor - mindful of their antlers as they place your head to their shoulder. Mayor Moose always knew you best - hushing your sniffles as soon as they begin. Swan stands off to the side behind him, refusing to meet your eyes. He tucks the coat of his suit over the handgun strapped to his belt.

"I'm sorry..... I'm so sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" Swan still fails to look up at you. He knows if he does- there's the smallest chance he'll give into your pleads.

"Get some rest. You'll need it after the day you've had."

Carried away from the commotion, the defenses your fellow townspeople confess, the blood they spill so that your innocent is kept - the blood loss and sheer shock of it all lulls you into a dreamless slumber.

It's the best sleep you've gotten in months.

[a-lurking-fae]

《𝙳𝙲 x 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 ℑ𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔠𝔱》

Fontainian!Reader with a much nicer Damian. I mean— you're his only blood sibling! Siblings are always there for each other when the parents are gone, so why don't you give him more attention? As much as he is enraged at your situation, he is happy that he can hog you all to himself without any interference.

Can't you read him a bedtime story? Or hum him a lullaby? He can't really sleep without those anymore. Are you going to deprive your own baby brother of sleep? He's always working so hard with patrols already. Coddling your brother is a small, thankful gesture. Now, don't leave his room just yet! He was terrified of the villain earlier. He's scared of nightmares! He killed the guy for badmouthing you, but who's asking?

Every time he gets into trouble at school, you're the one he'd call. His older sibling, who'd fight tooth-and-nail for him! You'd scold them for teaming up against a child. He was only defending himself! You'd take him out to ice cream after and buy a new storybook to read tonight.

Anytime he's alone during patrol, you'd send a melusine over with a basket of snacks, making sure he isn't hungry. And whenever he gets home injured? Oh, you're furious. Not only to the villain who did the damage, but the the people Damian was with during patrol. Especially if it was Bruce, Dick, or Jason. He actually injured himself because he wants your attention.

You trusted them with your Damian! How could they get him injured! You take Damian to your room, getting some healing potions in stock while he changes into some pyjamas he got from his room.

You could never sleep when Damian was on duty. You pour the healing potions on him, bandaging the wound on his arm, placing some sticker bandages on his cheek.

A meal laced with a light sleeping medication from Teyvat, made by yours truly, is placed on your study desk, ushering Damian to eat a bit, making sure he gets a meal before bed. Once he finishes, he sits on the right side of the bed, with you next to him. You read him the storybook you got him earlier. Chatting the night with him.

He then asks more about Teyvat— of course you told him! Damian was delighted to know that you trusted him with plenty of your secrets. He was happy to know about visions, legends, and more stories. His precious older sibling, too weak to defend themselves, he'll make sure you'll be safe in the mansion.

He'll ask Father to put your room next to him, in the main wing, not here, it's too far, they can't protect you quickly. And— what do you mean by your going to stay in Teyvat? What about him? Can't you stay in Gotham for him?

He flashes his puppy eyes at you, and for a split second, you think that you do want to stay in Gotham. But as much as you love Damian, you can't let him mess with your plans.

You cuddle him to bed, humming a lullaby from Fontaine. Granny Furina said she'd sing this to your mom whenever she had nightmares. It was Damian's favourite lullaby, too. You stroke his hair gently, before you kiss his forehead, and said goodnight.

You don't know that he's awake, plotting to keep you here in Gotham, and he knows it. It seems he needs to call backup this time.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

ησтє : My mind is filled with ideas. When I made this, the first draft was deleted, huhu (╥﹏╥)

[catssluvr]

𝓰𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓸𝓾𝓼 (2), emily prentiss

pt1 (but this can be read alone if you’d like!!)

emily prentiss x fem!reader

three times you knew you loved eachother and the one time you told her

warnings: injuries, r bites her lips, crying, kissing and a tiny tiny bit suggestive, but overall fluff <3

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

The leaves crunch under Emily's boots as she walks through the park, a nice breeze brushing her face. Her eyes scan the grass extension, searching for you with an excited smile on her lips.

Just as she used to look forward to the nights in which she would share a muffin with you at the coffee shop, she now looks forward to your dates. She's sure that asking you out was probably one the best things she's ever done. She already knew you were going to be perfect (as always), but you seem to be breaking the scale even more everyday. She's also almost completely sure you feel the same way, you wouldn't be about to have your 5th date if it wasn't reciprocate.

Emily feels almost bewitched. She loves the way you text her every morning and night, the way you always write something cute on her cup of coffee before handing it to her (she has no idea how you haven't run out of things to write yet), the way you never make her feel guilty for having to cancel a date because of her job, and most of all she loves the way you can make her forget about everything that's bad when she's with you.

She finally spots you, sitting down on a picnic towel with a small basket beside you. You're dressed in a dark blue sweater that looks most definitely like it's inviting her for a hug, blue jeans and your sneakers are discarded besides the towel. She thinks you look more than gorgeous.

"Ems, hi!" You finally notice her when she approaches, sweet smile plastered on your face.

"Hey." She waves lightly before you're getting up, arms engulfing her in a bear hug like you had a read her thoughts just a moment ago.

The conversation quickly starts flowing between you as she insists that you tell her all about what happened since your last date. You comply easily, telling her full details about the movie you watched a week ago and something about a really rude client at the shop.

A familiar comfortable silence falls over you, hands intertwined and occasional glances towards eachother.

"Oh- i almost forgot. I bought you some muffins with that frosting you love!" Your face brightens and you reach for the tiny basket, pulling out the sweet cakes.

"You didn't have to- thank you." She couldn't help but find herself in a loss of words. You were way too sweet to her, ever since the day she met you.

Her hands reaches out for the muffin in your hands before binging it to her lips, a pleased hum leaving her mouth when she takes the first bite.

"It's really good." Emily confirms, not noticing the frosting smudged on the corner of her mouth.

With a silent chuckle, you pull yourself closer. "Here." Your thumb reaches for her lips, wiping the frosting there.

She swears you can probably hear her heart beating right now. It isn't news to her that you are usually very straight forward, but until now the most the has happened is a few kisses on the corner of her lips and hands lingering on her waist after a hug way more than they normally would - and she definitely doesn't complain.

The proximity makes her nervous, a good nervous. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach and the breath catching in her throat. Maybe the sweaty hands aren't as nice, but Emily thinks it's worth it.

She now realizes there is no way she can wait one more second to finally know if your lips are as soft as they look. Her finger catch your wrist as you start retiring it from her lips, kissing the pads of your finger as a silent thank you. Maroon spreads from your neck to your cheeks, shocked by the sudden boldness.

Taking advantage of your rare shyness, Emily reaches to take your face in her hands. Lips touching yours tentatively before you finally take hold of her waist, returning her kiss quickly.

It's gentle, sweet. She doesn't have either of those a lot in her life. You ground her, make her understand she also deserves it. And she doesn't intend to let go of you anytime soon.

It feels strange to feel so attached to someone after a few dates, or maybe the months of pining over you helped creating this feeling. She never believed in feeling something so strong for someone, feeling like you're sweeping her off her feet just by looking at her.

But she knows it's real now. She knows it because you're real. Because she loves you.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

You bury your head deeper into the pillow, trying to escape the sunlight peeking through the window. Your frown momentarily disappears as you reach for her side of the bed but it soon returns when you feel it completely empty.

Emily enters the room not long after, dressed in only a white button up and underwear and you take a moment to admire her as she walks around the room getting ready. It feels good to know she's finally letting her guard down completely when with you, not afraid to flirt back and be comfortable. Her eyes land on you when you stretch your arms and a smile creeps over her face.

"Hey sleepyhead, sleep well?" She asks, fingers working on putting on the small gold earrings.

"Morning." You mumble groggily, rubbing your eyes and sitting up with your back against the headboard. "Why didn't you wake me? I'll walk out with you."

"You can just hang here, i'll probably be back by dinner time." Your heart warms at her request, the domesticity of it feels more than welcoming. But you can't help but feel like you might be intruding.

"Nonsense, i don't wanna take over your house while you're not here." You say, hands working on taming your bed hair.

"I want you to stay." She reassures, approaching your side of the bed. Taking the opportunity, you pull her to straddle you, giggling when she lets out a surprised gasp.

"Giving me a lot of girlfriend treatment lately, uh?" You tease, hands resting comfortably at her waist.

"Well- what if i wanted you to be...?" Her voice was nervous. Eyes anywhere but your face and fingers messing with your sleep shirt.

"Agent Prentiss, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" One of your hands slide to hold her chin, directing her gaze to yours.

"Would you say yes if i were?" She asks tentatively.

"It would definitively be some way to wake up." Your smile brightens when she rolls her eyes jokingly.

"Baby." Her tone is stern but her smile breaks the facade rather quickly.

"I'd say yes, Em." You confirm, not that it was ever a doubt. You've been meaning to ask her that yourself but it seems she was quicker to do it

"Then i'm definitely asking." Her confidence returns, hands sliding up to your neck and gently holding your face.

"Asking me what?" You feign ignorance but your gaze slides between her eyes and lips.

"Be my girlfriend?" She finally asks, face way closer to yours than a moment ago, the tension building up by the second.

"Yes." You all but manage to breath out before her lips crash into yours. Her arms wrap around your shoulders to pull you closer, torso practically glued to yours.

Your fingers slide inside her button up, massaging the soft skin. You nip at her lip and before your hands can slide lower, she pulls away.

"I really gotta get ready." Emily whispers, nose rubbing against your cheek.

"You're no fun, Ems." You fake pout and she quickly kisses it away.

"M'sorry."

"Do i get extra girlfriend treatment tonight if i make you some breakfast?" You question as she lifts herself from your lap.

"For sure." The raven haired smirks, pinching your thigh gently before disappearing into the closet. You chuckle to yourself, hands smoothing down your sleep shirt when you stand up.

Your mind feels hazy, still coming down to the fact Emily is now officially your girlfriend. This is different than anything you've ever had with anyone. It feels different. You love her, you're sure of it.

"Hey, Em?" You call as you're about to head to the kitchen.

"Yes, baby?" She reappears from the closet, now completely dressed in a black suit, the white button up peaking from the inside of her blazer. That's enough to take your breath away.

You shake your head, "Nothing, you're just very pretty."

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

Emily takes a sip of the coffee in her hands, smiling briefly at the 'have a great day, pretty <3' note on it. Normally she would be grumpy just by looking at the gigantic mountain of files on her desk, but having been woken by you littering kisses all over her face was enough to make her morning happy.

Sighing, she returns to writing on the paper in front her. But her attention is cut short when the elevator dings, followed by you walking out of it.

Now that was definitely new, you haven't even met her friends, let alone visit her at work. She's not hiding you, that's a fact. You know her job is dangerous and you're also aware she's scared to get you involved with it. You don't mind waiting, not at all. She's made it clear you can meet them whenever you want, it just hasn't happened it.

You look around the bullpen, a small stack of files in your hands. You smile brightly when you see her, walking up to her while ignoring the heads that snap in your direction.

"Hey, Agent. Sorry for showing up without a warning, you left these at my place and i kept thinking they might be Important." Her heart flutters at your thoughtfulness.

"Thank you. You're an angel." She gets up from her chair, feeling the urge to at least great you properly. "And you can show up anytime." She adds, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze.

"This place seems nice. Feels homey- Well, as homey as it can be, you know." She knows what you mean, it's not necessarily the surroundings that make it a comfortable environment, it's the fact that people seem so comfortable with eachother. They're her family, in a way.

"Yeah, it does." She bites her lips trying to prevent the smile from escaping. She didn't imagine she'd be so happy with seeing you so comfortable with visiting her at the bau.

"Oh my god, is that her?" Penelope's not so low whispers pull you both out of your little bubble.

"Damn, Prentiss got some luck. That's my girl." Derek teases with a smile on his face.

Truth is all of her friends pretty much knew she was dating someone before she even questioned telling them. They claimed she looked happier, more smiley than usual - she'd probably turn into a stuttering mess if they ever told you that. Until one day Spencer pointed out the way her cup of coffee always had a sweet note in it, and the way she was arriving late at work more often. She eventually stopped denying it but was still quite secretive about you, it was endearing to see them try to find out more about her 'secret girlfriend'.

Stifling a chuckle, she looks over your shoulder to find both Garcia and Morgan shamelessly eying the both of you.

"Care to introduce us, Emily?" JJ appears with a smug smile, standing beside them.

Emily clears her throat nervously, "Yeah uh- meet my girlfriend, guys." Your hand touches her back in a comforting manner, smiling politely at them.

"It's so nice to meet you all, i've heard so much about you." You wave lightly and she notices your hopeful gaze. Meeting them all so suddenly was probably not on your mind today but you seemed just as excited as them.

"It's so nice to meet you! I'm Penelope and gosh- you're even more gorgeous than i imagined." The blonde woman hugs you sweetly and your smile immediately widens. Emily always knew you and Pen would get along easily, your bubbly personalities matching perfectly. But seeing it made her want to smile so hard that her cheeks hurt.

Hotch appears at the end of the staircase, "We need you all in the conference room in five." Before disappearing into his office again. But the slight smile he gives Emily doesn't go unnoticed by her. Relief washes over her at seeing the people she loves the most getting along.

They all grumble disappointedly from the introduction they all had been waiting for ages being cut so short. Bidding their goodbyes to you before leaving to the conference room.

"Well i won't distract you anymore." You turn back to her before adjusting her button up. "Is it too bad i want a goodbye kiss?"

"Nope." She smiles giddy before leaning in to place a quick peck on your lips.

"Okay now i'll actually leave. See you later, m'love." You walk to the elevator, smiling at her one last time before the doors close.

Emily finds herself looking at the closed elevator doors for a moment. She can't wait to get to tell you the three words begging to come out from the tip of her tongue.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

You bite at your nails anxiously, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at any moment. The hospital corridors seem endless as you walk in a fast pace.

You had been sleeping peacefully when a call from Penelope abruptly woke you up. You knew it couldn't be anything good, feeling immediately awake as you answered the call. The words 'she's hurt' and 'hospital' being all you needed to hear before you were leaping out the door.

You look and feel like a mess. Hair unbrushed, sweatshirt and sweats crinkled and possibly mismatched sneakers - you don't care enough to check. Your breathing is uneven and your lips are probably swollen from biting on them so hard.

All you know is that Emily is somewhere in this building, laying on a hospital bed without you by her side. One broken rib, a blow in the head that luckily didn't cause a concussion and other smaller injuries like a split lip and a gash across her cheek. You hate that those are considered 'small' compared to the others.

You finally find Penelope standing by a coffee machine, practically running towards her.

"Where is she?" You don't mean to sound rude, but you feel desperate. You knew it would happen at some point, you knew she'd get injured. After all her job is dangerous. You just didn't think it would be before you even got to tell her.

"Hey, hey it's okay, sweetheart. She's okay, i called you cause i know she will feel better just by seeing that sweet face of yours." She tried to lighten the mood, only now you noticed the tears are freely streaming down your cheeks.

"Take me to her, please." She's going to be okay, so why do you feel like this? It's hard to say. You're aware of how you're exaggerating, it could be way worse - and maybe that's the reason.

Garcia looks at you worryingly but silently leads the way - you make note to thank her later.

As you're about to walk into the room, you make sure to take a deep breath and wipe the tears on your face. The last thing you want is for Emily to see you like this, she's already had enough of a bad day.

"Hi, baby." Her hoarse voice greets you the second you step in. The corners of her lips turn upwards into a tired smile.

"Hi." You breath out, relief washing over you at finally seeing her with your own eyes. She's okay. You're by her side in a flash, sitting on the chair right beside her bed. Hand grabbing hers and squeezing it tightly. "How?"

"Well i might have ended up exchanging a few punches with the unsubs- and i guess he was a bit stronger than i thought. But-" It was obvious she was trying to lighten the mood but it really only made you more distressed.

"You got in a fight with the unsub?" You practically yelp, eyes examining her bruised knuckles.

"I had to sweet girl. But i'm okay, yeah?" It feels wrong that she's the one comforting you when it should be otherwise. You bring her hand to your lips, kisses each of her knuckles multiple times.

"I know." You respond as convincingly as possible. "You're an idiot, Prentiss." It comes out way less humorous than you intend it to.

"Are you okay?" She asks with a frown, it really isn't usual for her to see you like this. You're usually bubbly and happy, taking any opportunity that's given to you to make one of your jokes. She worries you might have finally realized that it's not worth being with her if you're gonna have to be constantly worried if she even comes home in one piece. Little does she know.

"Yeah, it's just- i'm terrified, so terrified, of loosing you to this job. And i'm even more terrified to know i could've lost you today without even getting the chance to tell you that-" You stop yourself before you can utter the words you've been longing to say for months now. You always imagined that when you eventually said those words, you'd be somewhere at least a tad bit more romantic. And you definitively didn't imagine you'd be in the brick of tears.

"Tell me what?" Emily grips your hand and brings it to her chest, you can feel the gentle beating of her heart against it.

"That i love you, obviously." You say, now as calm as you can bring yourself to be. You want her to know you mean it. You do. This might not be the epitome of romance but it feels intimate - raw.

"Oh, angel. I love you." It's now her turn to feel relieved, her worries subsiding completely. Warmth spreads across her chest at the thought of you being so nervous to tell her. Of course she loves you. She loves you ever since she laid eyes on you at that coffee shop, ever since you brushed your finger against hers for the first time and mostly ever since she realized you were the only one able to make her smile even in her darkest days.

"Come here." She pats the space beside her in the bed and you're quick to join her. Careful not to touch any injurie, you bury yourself in her side. Head in her shoulder as you feel your eyes immediately grow heavier, the sense of comfort invading your senses.

"You better not scare me like this again, Agent." You finally tease and she can't help but chuckle.

"I'll always come back to you, gorgeous." She says barely above a whisper, lips pressing against your hair.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

a/n: you asked, i delivered 💌

honestly had so much fun writing this 🙏🏼

love you,

cat 🤍

[phoenixblaze1412]

Heyyy can i request dottore with a female reader who loves dottores scent? like she sniffs him whenever they hug and loves stealing his sweaty clothes. Btw how do you think dottores body odour smell like?

(tbh i feel like im some crazy freak for thinking abt dottores smell all the time :0)

You're not a crazy freak love, i like the ideas so keep them coming^^

If we're talking about body odor, Dottore would have this very entrancing scent. Like, musky and minty at the same time. Let's say it's like an invictus perfume kind of scent, that would gain the attention of anyone who either isn't afraid of him or doesn't know who he is.

He would always make sure he would at least smell decent whenever he's inside or outside of work. He didn't know it would attract attention from others, in a good way.

But it's hard to be able to smell his scent when he's always in his work clothes.

Whenever Dottore's in the lab, he would have a different scent. A mix of coffee, chemicals and antiseptic.

If you're not used to Dottore in his line of work, this could be a very frightening thing to inhale. It's like walking inside an eerie hospital and you're just about to face your death, the doctor himself.

But, being Dottore's lover, this scent brings you comfort.

Here's a little fun fact that only you know and Dottore doesn't. The only way you can differentiate your Dottore from his older segments is just based on his body odor. Just hug them, sneakily inhale their scent and boom, segment or Dottore.

Now, Dottore and his segments would always wonder why you would greet them by hugging them. They just don't know that you're identifying who is who by inhaling their body scent.

Now, clothes.

Dottore would always catch you sneaking into the laundry basket and sniffing his clothes. He has tried many times to stop you from doing so. Who knows what chemical spills or filthy blood could go right up your olfactory nerves. And no matter how many times he tries to stop you, you always manage to do the opposite and keep doing it.

That's why he decided to have a spare laundry basket in his laboratory, only for his stained clothes and lab gowns. He doesn't want you to inhale more chemicals that got stuck to his clothes.

He'll still put his used and sweaty clothes in the laundry basket in your shared quarters so you have something to entertain yourself with. He just doesn't want to see you suffocate and nauseate again from inhaling formaldehyde from one of his lab gowns from back then.

You were simply sitting against the couch in Dottore's office, reading one of the latest novel that Childe got you from Inazuma while you wait for your lovely scientist of a boyfriend to finish with his work in the lab connected to the office. Too invested in the book, you didn't notice the new presence standing behind you. You hummed in response as you watched a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders and pulling you close to a firm chest.

"Hello, darling."

You smiled, knowing it's Dottore. But is it him or his segment?

You rubbed your cheek against the arm, using that action as a diversion to inhale the scent from his clothes. Antiseptic. Not a trace of his own body odor or sweat. This is definitely a segment.

Meanwhile, the 'Dottore' behind you was simply grinning at your actions, finding it adorable yet oblivious to what you're really doing.

You know there's only one segment that would confidently be affectionate towards you whenever his creator isn't around.

"Hello to you too, Omega. Are you done with your work?"

Omega, slightly surprised at how you easily guessed it was him, affectionately rubbed his cheek against the top of your head and let out a small hum.

"Not at all. I still have to wait for a few minutes until the concoction I'm currently working on is complete. In the meantime, I simply wanted to check up on you and be blessed with your attention."

You shifted in your position so that you were able to lean your head back to look at the masked segment before placing a kiss upon his cheek. This caused Omega to sigh in content as he basked in your affections.

Minutes turned into an hour as you and Omega chatted about the projects he and the others are working on. He was about to tell you about the newest project about creating a god but was immediately stopped by someone clearing their throat. You turned your head to the sound to come eye to eye with Dottore himself, his red irises staring back against your own.

"Omega, I suggest you get back to work instead of lazing around and chatting with my partner. The concoction you left behind has already finished thirty minutes ago."

"Ah, well then, I'll take that as my cue to leave. She's all yours now, Lord Harbinger. I'll see you later, darling."

Just as Omega stated, he quickly got up and went to head back in the laboratory, leaving you and Dottore alone. Leaving the book by the coffee table, you immediately ran over to your partner and hugged him, burying your face into his chest and inhaling his comforting scent. Dottore sighed when you hugged him, trying to push you away from him but failed.

"Dearest, I'd be glad to hug you back but I'm sweaty and I do not wish to contaminate you with my own sweat. Let me take a bath first then I'll cuddle you."

"No need. I like how you smell, doesn't matter if you're all sweaty or bleeding."

"You're odd, you know that. But that's what made me attracted to you, I suppose. Your oddities are very endearing."

Dottore, finally giving in, wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close, placing a kiss to your forehead as well.

"Also, don't think I didn't catch you sniffing me everytime you're in my arms. Even if you're being sneaky about it and making excuses, it wouldn't get past my field of vision, darling."

Ah.

Seems like you've been caught in the act.

[hobvitr]

Spider Noir x reader pretty please??

spider noir x reader

gn!reader

genre/warnings: domestic fluff, established relationship, marriage talk, unrevised writing

note: thank you for the request! i was wanting to do something for noir! and I'm here asking to all of you to be your favorite domestic fluff writer because i'm a sucker for that genre. i swear. recommended song: from the start - laufey

sinopses: you two cuddle at home watching some romcom while a storm is pouring outside.

the rain was pouring hard outside your apartment, a big storm roaming the city while you were alone, trying to watch something on tv to distract yourself from the so close thunders. of course peter weren't home yet from the patrolling, your mind full with worry even tho he was spiderman, he isn't immune to catch a cold. as your mind was full with him, you listen to the window opening and closing almost instantaneously.

sure the sound came from the bedroom, you go towards it, seeing peter completely drenched from the rain. "sorry for the mess, darling" his deep voice like a melody to your ears, even though you literally lived on the same house it still made you flustered. "I'll only accept your sorry if you don't catch a cold, handsome" as you adressed him, he took of his mask, hair disheveled and Impossibly fluffy. you could see the slight blush from your praise, he placed his round glasses on the bridge of his nose and took off his coat and throwing it and his suit on the empty laundry basket.

"can you help me get warm then?" he suggested, dressing some cozy clothes. you giggle, the domestic moment making your heart all warm. "only 'cause you asked so nicely". you hug him from behind but he is fast to turn and hug you back. "bed or couch?" he asks, chin pressed on the top of your head "couch".

you bring a blanket but peter was doing most of the job by lying on top of you, head resting on your chest and arms holding your middle. you two spend a brief time watching whatever romcom on tv until you feel him tense above you.

"what's wrong?" you ask, hand caressing his hair, the scene on the screen was a marriage proposal and you almost instantly made the connection. he didn't reply, so you instigate him. "do you want to marry someday?" at this point you didn't give a shit to the romcom, you only had eyes for peter.

"maybe... do you?" he looks up at you, sounding a bit worried. you could swear he right now was the most beautiful view you've ever seen. "maybe..." you said, looking away with a soft smile on your lips.

you feel him shifting and getting closer to your face, showering your jaw and neck with little kisses, making you giggle. "if i get to call you my husband you will do this every day?" you ask half playfully, holding his face with both your hands for him to look at you.

"more than once a day, doll, i swear" he smiles to you, hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "fair enough" you nod, pulling foward his face for a kiss on his lips. "I'm looking foward to being proposed" you tease him, and he starts to get up to do exactly it. "no- no peter, not now" you laugh and stop him, making him lay on top of you again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 13

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You finish your tea in tenuous silence. With an agreement between you, there isn't much left to say. You really don't know what to say or do. All the implications pile on you as your mind races.

A wife? A good wife. What does a good wife do?

Support her husband. Love him. Show him affection...

That last thought tingles in your cheeks. You peek over at Walter as you hug your empty mug in your hands. What does he expect of you? Not just in your marriage but tonight? You haven't wed just yet.

He meets your eyes, brushing his hand over his curls. He slides forward on the cushion as your shoulders slope down. He still looks angry.

"Done?" He asks, not waiting for your answer before he stands.

"Yeah, I... I am, thank you."

He approaches and takes the mug from you. He goes into the kitchen without another word. You peer over at the windows, rain still battering the panes. You sniff and stand with a shiver as you search around, your clothes still showing damp patches.

"The truck..." you mutter.

"What about he truck?" Walt frightens you and you turn to face him, wrapping your arms around yourself. He stops to shut off the space heater.

"It's down the road. I couldn't get it all the way here..."

"We'll worry about that tomorrow," he grits.

"Right... tomorrow?"

He blinks, "you can stay. It's safer."

He nears and offers his hand. You stare at it, it seems so big. You slowly unfold your arms and put your hand in his. He squeezes, firm but not unkind.

"Are you tired?" His tone softens.

"A little," you feel a yawn trying to break free and put your chin down.

He leads you around the couch and back into the entryway. He ushers you towards the stairs as the cold air creeps up your legs. You climb up beside him, crowded on the staircase.

"Well, we'll get you tucked in then and we'll figure everything else out tomorrow," he affirms.

"Yeah, sounds good," you wilt out.

We. Not I, not you. We. Together.

He hums and says nothing else. He takes you down the hallway to a room at the end. He flips the light switch. There's a four-post bed on a brown rug with a green quilt is draped atop the layers of bedding. A desk stands in the corner, cluttered and full. Several sweaters hang from the back of the chair, much like the soft wool he wears no.

He leads you to the bed and throws back the blankets. He tugs you towards the edge and lets you go. You climb up and wiggle your cold toes. Before you can reach for the covers, he tosses them over you.

Wordless, he backs away. He rolls his broad shoulders as he turns his back to you and nears the long dresser against the wall, a basket on top of it heaped with clothes. He pulls his sweater over his head, further mussing his curls. As he reveals his thickly muscled back, you look away.

You guess you never thought much about how he looked. You always just saw him as strong and big, but you never delved that deep. Your eyes trail over as he undoes his jeans and steps out of those. He dumps them into the basket of laundry and leans on the dresser as he peels off his socks.

He turns to you, in a pair of boxers, and you shyly flick your eyes to the ceiling and lay back against the pillows. The image of the hair across his burly chest has your insides brewing. He's older than you but can't be that old.

He goes to shut off the light and you sense his shadow in the darkness, lurking closer and closer. You nearly gasp as his weigh shifts the bed and cool air seeps under the covers as he slides beneath them. You're nearly shaking with uncertainty.

You're going to sleep in the same bed. That's not unusual... technically, you're engaged so it's expected. He lowers himself down beside you and you squeak as he grabs you. He pulls you towards him, guiding an arm beneath you as he angles you onto your side.

You let him. Maybe you want this or maybe you're terrified. Either way, you can't deny him. You have a deal.

He curls his other arm around your middle as you lay flush to him, your short figure nestled against his large one. His chest rises and falls calmly against your back as your own heart hammers frantically. You close your eyes, folding your arm around his as you rest your small hand on his thick fingers.

He's as hot as a furnace. His body heat quickly chases away the lingering cold in your flesh. It soothes you in a way you don't expect. You feel safe despite your vibrating nerves.

"Good night, lamb," he kisses the crown of your head.

His deep voice rolls through you, a new sort of chill flowing down your body.

"Night, Walt," you murmur.

He lets out a noise, somewhere between a growl and a purr, and you feel the tension slake away from his body. It might not be so bad. He can be nice so long as you go along.

[rottenpumpkin13]

I kinda want to see the trilogy get completed now. We've heard from Sephiroth and Genesis, but what are some unhinged things that Angeal has said?

(Also, happy holidays :))

Angeal's brand of unhinged quotes is just him slowly losing his battle with sanity, composure and kindness towards his peers.

• "Genesis, I swear to the goddess who is sick of your shit, if you set ONE more thing ablaze for your 'artistic vision,' I'm going to make a fire extinguisher well acquainted with your ass, you dramatic matchstick."

• "Hey Sephiroth, here's a wild concept: That 7-foot sword isn't a can opener. I know basic tools are beneath your godlike intellect, but if you keep stabbing soda cans and then calling the resulting explosion a 'miscalculation,' I'm going to flip you upside down and use your head as A MOP."

• "You don't need 'organic, cruelty-free, ethically sourced' quinoa, Zack. You're going to drown it in hot sauce and eat it standing over the sink like usual anyway."

• *When asked why he has two mugs on his desk* "One says 'World's Best Mentor,' and the other says 'Please Kill Me.' Which one I use depends on the day."

• "To whoever dried their socks in the microwave: Congratulations! You've discovered how to make maintenance cry AND prove evolution can go backwards."

• "Sometimes I think about putting in a transfer request to literally anywhere else, but then I remember they'd probably still find a way to forward Zack to me."

Angeal: WHAT IS THIS? Zack: My secret snack stash! Angeal: WHY IS THERE CHALK IN HERE?

• "DO NOT. TOUCH. MY AIR-FRYER."

• "To whoever stuffed a whole turkey in the microwave, congratulations on finding yet another way to prove SOLDIER enhancement doesn't affect common sense."

• "Guys, I just mopped these floors. Now there's muddy boot prints all over it! Is basic hygiene too advanced for your enhanced brains, or do you just enjoy making my life hell?"

• "I saw a 20 gil candle today labeled 'smells like the ocean.' For that price, I better hear seagulls, taste saltwater, and feel sand in my ass."

• "Sephiroth, for someone who can sense danger, you sure don't sense when you're making the cadets cry by standing silently behind them in the elevator."

• *To Sephiroth and Genesis* "How do you two destroy a Wutai stronghold in thirty minutes, but take three hours to fold a basket of laundry? Is that like a skill of some kind?"

• "These mission reports read like a teenager's diary. 'And then I heroically swooped in'. Genesis, no the fuck you did not. I was there. You tripped over your own coat."

[brynn-lear]

"𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩" 𝐈𝐧 𝐀 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞

Relationship: Diluc Ragnvindr/Gender Neutral!Reader Synopsis: Diluc doesn't seem to like the ex-pirate who visits Angel's Share all that much, but he'll change his mind soon enough. (600 words)

Everyone working for the Dawn Winery didn't know what to make of you for the longest time.

You were becoming a new regular in Angel's Share, though you never bought alcoholic drinks for yourself. Instead, you'd go out of your way to pay Charles extra with specific instructions. You'd buy yourself a glass of wolfhook juice, pay for the next customer's shot— without batting an eye on the price tag, mind you— and then request to keep the glass bottle left behind. The staff would find you chatting up whoever was lucky enough to have their 1L pain reliever paid in full. There had been rumors that you once worked for Beidou from The Crux, so there's no wonder where you received the fortune.

There's also this tiny fact that you enjoy staring at the owner a lot.

If you want to be more charitable for troubled folks, there are better ways to go than paying for their drinks. Therapy is a better start; at least, that's what the Master believed. Despite profiting off your dubious goodwill, he wasn't fond of the execution. Diluc was under the impression that you find a twisted sense of pleasure in watching others poison themselves slowly. A hypocritical line of thought coming from the owner himself, so he has yet to voice them out loud. On the other hand, Venti doesn't think you're any cause for concern. The archon even implied you were an artisan— an attribute that confused Diluc even more.

"Is Master Diluc here?" Venti chirped, one foot inside the tavern while the other hovered outside in case he caught everyone in a sour mood (which isn't a rare occurrence on his end).

Diluc pinched the bridge of his nose. It was far too early for him to open the tavern, so he was the only one occupying the ground floor. He didn't look at Venti, instead his eyes were on last month's payment logs.

"What do you want, bard?"

Venti's face lit up as he marched forward. "I knew you would be too busy this festive season, so I bought you something from (Y/n)'s stall at the recent art fair!"

"(Y/n) sold something?" Finally, the jaded businessman met his gaze. He doesn't attend those. They were more or less Kaeya's scene than his.

"Not just sold— they literally sold out pretty quickly, actually!" Venti grinned, chuckling to himself. "Here's yours, open it!"

…

...

"A... vineyard in a bottle…?"

"Yep! I heard (Y/n)'s hobby was to make ships in a bottle, but this time, they're very inspired by something— or someone— else." Venti nodded, giving him a quick and playful wink. "I guess you two have much more in common than you thought, huh?"

"Instead of emptying bottles, you were both born to fill them."

Diluc chuckled softly.

He gently took the ship on the box, inspecting it. Diluc must admit, he doesn't quite understand the meaning of every detail, but the colors of the miniature people alone reminded him of regulars and other Dawn Winery staff. The people held baskets of grapes, some positioned themselves for a picnic, and he swore he saw a version of Stanley drinking with Venti by the vines.

Diluc made a strangled and surprised noise when he saw a particular red-haired man hidden from plain sight, pouring what was quite possibly grape juice for the (h/c) haired person facing him.

"I suppose so." Diluc nodded, fondly gazing at the ship. "I suppose so."

Ah, so that's what those stares were for.

You were collecting bottles to make these.

Maybe you weren't so bad after all.