#i love them and i love working on these little prompts

[dollishmehrayan]

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

[gardens-light]

I always look forward to seeing these types of posts on my feed, as it gets me thinking about what writing goals I'd like to achieve or set. As well as, see the goals/accomplishments of other fellow writes.

My answers are below, and keep reblogging with yours. :)

💖 Might be a tad small, but I'd like to achieve at least 50 fanfics by the end of this year. Weather they're requests/prompts or ideas of my own.

🛳 Maybe dive more into platonic ships. As I do favourite romance.

🤔 I would like to write one shots/series for under rated characters. Such as Crosshairs, Hound, Bulkhead (and more) from Transformers, Abe Sapien from Hellboy, etc.

🥸 My sister knows, and has read a couple of mine. As we often share ideas, inspiration, character/fandom ideas etc, since she also writes fanfics. My husband is aware that I write fanfics, but he doesn't quite know exactly what kind of things I write. But I don't plan on telling anyone else.

🥵 100% yes.

👻 Maybe more in depth the with action genre. And step out of my comfort zone by exploring horror or dark elements.

🦄 I do prefer 2nd person. But might write a fic in 1st or 3rd.

🐌 May not be writing goals exactly. But organizing my drafts better, as there has been a few fics that sat there for months collecting dust.

🦖 I'd like to get back into Hellboy, as I realize that I abandoned a series idea years ago. And my attempt at it really needs to be re-written, as I don't like how it sounds anymore. I might also do more anime fandoms, but the faze tends to come and go for me.

🍄 DC Comics/Universe. Although I'm mainly a Marvel fan, there has been a few ideas I've had, that would better suit DC characters.

🌈 It may not be research, but I do tend to read a few fanfics or orgianal fics of fandoms I'm new/returning to. As well as, binge watching TV/movies of that character/fandom.

But I also do research on writing. (Sub-genres/plots. Kinks/fetishes. Cliches. Building motivation, organization, writing goals. etc.)

✨ I'd say my use of deceptive language and onomatopoeias. And how I try to use other writing techniques to immerse readers that little more.

🥕 Certainly my grammar, as I've noticed a few spelling mistakes over the time. And my sense of scale and anatomy, I appreciate people telling me how way off I've been in my past fics and how it affected their reading experience.

🫘 I'm actually planning on writing a young adult, fantasy novel with OCs. And I've recently started up on Fiverr for writing commissions.

🥳 I'd probably just give myself a cheat day from my diet and exercise. Or buy that thing I've been eyeing up for ages.

🎃 I've actually been meaning to write seasonal fics. But the time I have a moment to write, or the idea comes to me, the season's over. But certainly gonna try and give those ago this year.

🐾 Another thing that's been on my 'To Do List' for a while, and would like to try to participate at least one or two this year.

✍️ Honestly it would have to be comments. Not the amount of comments, but just comments in general- even if it's just one or two. As that's the main way people have given me valuable feedback, and it helps me grow to be better writer.

👾 I'm honestly not sure what 'bad' writing habits, that I may have. There's bound to be a good few that I don't notice, and would try and break them if they're pointed out to me.

🤖 I mainly use my laptop or phone for writing for convenience. As I do tend to do a bit of writing on my breaks at work, but I suppose having an area dedicated to me writing at home wouldn't be too bad.

🦷 I'm currently working on two different series for the Transformers fandom. One is for the character Knockout in TFP, I love this character and have many ideas for the series, but he's mainly seen as asexual in the fandom. I agree and respect the views of this character, but since I don't really have anyone in my friends/family that identifies as asexual, I'm honestly worried I may accidentally misrepresent the character and/or those who identifies as such.

💥 I have an idea for a one shot for The Joker from DC- Suicide Squad. As the one-shot I've got planned is an semi original idea, and many dark elements that would challenge me, and get me out of my comfort zone.

🍕 Due to my part time job, and personal commitments. I do only write/post things whenever I have a free moment to dedicate an hour or two to this hobby. But I'd would like to try and post more per month, but also not to flood anyone's feed.

🛏 I'm sure there's a few tropes/cliches that I've already written for. But I'd like to write 'bed one' or 'cuddle for warmth' cliche, as they're surprisingly the ones I don't write about. Yet they're my favourite.

🪩 Might be a little controversial, but don't be afraid to give your reader a nickname or codename in your fics. For example, in my Transformer fics, Reader is an military officer so they have an nickname such as 'Lieutenant Echo' or 'Private Valkyrie.' As to me, these give the Reader a little more depth and personality to their character, and doesn't take them out of the reading experience by reading 'Y/N' over and over.

🎉 In all honesty? Probably not, as just like anyone. I'm my own worst critic.

💌 Yep! Those sort of things keeps my motivation going, and gets me out of writer's block sometimes.

Writer Goal Ask List for a New Year 🎉

These writer asks are always so fun to both ask and answer. Fanfic or original fiction writers, reblog away! These are asks based in new goals for a new year.

💖 What is your primary writing goal for this year?

🛳 Are there any new ships you want to write for? (Platonic, romantic, or anything in between.)

🤔 Are there any new characters you want to write about?

🥸 Does anyone in IRL know you write fanfic or original fiction? If not, do you plan on telling anyone this year?

🥵 Any plans to write steamy or spicy content this year?

👻 Is there a new genre you'd like to write?

🦄 Is there a new POV you'd like to try writing?

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

🦖 Are there any fandoms you wrote for in the past that you'd like to return to?

🍄 Are there any fandoms you've never written for but want to try?

🌈 What research do you plan on doing for your writing?

✨What's one area of your writing that you think needs the least amount of improvement?

🥕 What's one area of your writing that you think needs the most amount of improvement?

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?

🥳 How are you going to celebrate when you achieve one of your writing goals?

🎃 Do you plan on writing any seasonal fics?

🐾 Do you plan on writing for any fests or competitions?

✍️ Which stat matters most to you (if at all!): subscriptions, kudos/favorites, comments, bookmarks, word count, or hits?

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

🤖 Are you looking to change your current writing setup? (Or establish one, if you don't have one?)

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

🍕Will you be making any changes to your posting schedule (if you have one)? (Or do you want to establish a posting schedule?)

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year?

🪩 Do you have any "good" writing habits you want to cultivate?

🎉 How are you going to be kind to yourself if you don't meet your goals?

💌 Are you willing to take requests or prompts for writing?

[oneforthemunny]

made with love, my valentine |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: you recruit eddie's help to make valentines for your class.

contains: fluff. just lovey dovey, lovesick fluff. early in their relationship, but super sweet <3

“There?” 

Eddie grunted as lightly as he could, one hand holding the bouts of frilly, lace paper hearts, the other balancing the loaded staple gun that he should definitely not be holding so carelessly on a ladder. 

“Yes, that looks perfect.” You gave a quick nod from below, holding his ladder steady. 

Eddie caught a glimpse of the tiny smile you gave when your eyes met, beaming from the inside out the way you always did. His knees felt weak, heart skipping with an adrenaline rush of adoration and heat that poured out of his chest, crept all the way up to his cheeks. He hoped you couldn’t see, that his hair hid his blushing grin. 

“Perfect.” You grinned, stepping back when Eddie stepped down, work boots wedged into the old, creaky ladder. “That looks amazing. So much better than I could’ve done.”  

“I don’t think that’s true,” Eddie shook his head, looking around the fully decorated classroom. You’d gone all out. You always did, trying to make the holidays the very best for your kids. Decorating to the nines, even with the little supplies and budget you had. You were crafty, that was for sure, a talent that always left Eddie in complete and utter awe. 

“You did a helluva job without me. This place looks sick.” Eddie’s finger jammed against a paper heart that was dangling from the ceiling. 

“Sick is good right? Sick in a good way?” You giggled, light and airy. Eddie knew his heart was stopping. 

“Yeah, o-oh yeah, sorry, no, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like sick, bad. No, sick-sick means good. Sick in a good way, like a cool way, ya know? Or that’s what I meant. When I use it, it means good and cool, n-not ew sick as in ill-” Eddie’s cheeks flamed, stammering around fumbled words. The last thing he wanted was to insult you, he would never.

“I’m joking with you, Ed.” You grinned, bumping your hip playfully against his. “I’m glad you like it. It took me hours.” 

“Right, yeah,” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hours?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I had some of it from the years before, but most of the glue started coming undone, or they got all crinkled, so I had to start over.” You shook your head lightly. “My hands are completely torn apart. I have so many paper cuts.” You giggled, holding up your hands for Eddie to see. He had to fight the urge to hold them, intertwine your fingers in his like you had the weekend before. 

“Looks pretty gnarly, sweetheart.” Eddie sucked in a breath, pointer finger tracing over the cut on your knuckle, leaving you shuddering. “Should’ve asked me to help. Could’ve at least brought you some gloves to wear.” 

“It was fine. I did it during my planning period mostly.” Not a total lie. You had done most of it on your planning, and the other at home, until nearly two in the morning, when you were slumped over piles of shredded construction paper and glue sticks. 

“But, if you’re offering,” The sing-song in your voice had Eddie’s heart lurching with hope, trying to still himself, remain cool at your soft smile. “I do need to finish up making Valentine’s for the class.” 

You paused, giving him a tiny grin, lip tucked between your teeth. “And by finish, I mean I haven’t actually started.” Your lashes batted at him so sweetly, like you needed to sway him. Like he was on the fence of saying no, rejecting spending time with you? As if.   

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Eddie tried to play it cool, shoving his hands in his utility pants pockets. “Whatever you need me for. I’ve finished for the night, so y’know… ‘M all yours.” 

“Well,” You hummed, neck craning to look at the clock. “If you’re done, I thought maybe we could go back to my place?” Eddie was sure he was going to pass out, head reeling at your words. 

“I just think that would be a little more comfy just to not… be here, ya know? I can order us a pizza and we can knock these out.” You paused for a moment, really scanning Eddie’s features. “Maybe you could stay the night if you want? If it gets too late.” 

“Yes,” Eddie blurted before his mind could rationalize him stopping, eyes wide and words dripping with eagerness. “I mean, yeah, that would be… great.”  

“Great,” You repeated, your own heart thumping with excitement that spilled all the way to your face, lips curling in a wide grin. “I just, um, let me grab a few things, and- You remember where it is, right?” 

How could he forget? Eddie had been beyond nervous, palms too sweaty every time he came to pick you up. The handful of dates you’d been on were slowly becoming more and more frequent. 

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie’s lips twitched, swallowing down his excitement, maybe his nerves. “I just gotta put this up and lock up, and I’ll meet you there?” 

“See you in a few.” The words squeezed out of your chest, clutching your planner close to your body, slinging your purse over your shoulder. 

“Oh, is pepperoni okay with you?” You stopped, turning the lock to your classroom, your voice echoing down the dim lit hallway towards Eddie. Damn, he had moved fast with that ladder, practically sprinted down the hall. 

“Perfect for me.” Eddie called back, curls bobbing when he nodded. He’d nearly flung the ladder into the small hole of a janitor’s closet, snatching his lunch pail and keys before sprinting to the front, locking up and sailing down the cement stairs at the front of the school. 

Every second that went by was a second too long, tires flying over the snow dusted roads that led to your small home. The porch light was on when he arrived, bright and warm and welcoming. 

Eddie hesitated for a moment, whether he should ring the bell or just walk in. You knew he was coming, what would be the harm in going in? Still, it felt rude just to barge right in. Just to walk in felt arrogant, and what if you were naked? What if you were naked? Eddie’s cheeks began to heat, squirming at the thought. 

“Hey,” The door opened before Eddie could decide, leaving him standing there, wide eyed and blinking in your presence. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You giggled, leaning against the doorframe lightly. 

“I couldn’t remember if I left it unlocked or not, and then I saw you standing here, so…” You trailed off, a little unsure of what to say, what not to say. It was all still so new. 

“Yeah, s-sorry, I, uh, I was just trying to see if I-I left my wallet in the van.” Eddie stuttered out a lie, patting his pocket for emphasis, heart slightly dropping when he didn’t feel it there. Shit, did he leave it in the van? 

“No worries, um, come on in.” You stepped back, opening the door for him. 

Eddie immediately was wrapped in a warmth, a soft, sweet aroma that smelt entirely yours. He loved it, the few times he’d come over, every time it left him just as light and airy. 

“Thanks so much for coming to help me.” You hummed, watching Eddie carefully from your place in the door frame as he shed his winter jacket, hanging it on the hook. “I thought I was going to be up all night again trying to make these.” 

“Again?” Eddie lifted a brow, his tone teasing. “Sweetheart, you just call me whenever, alright? I’ll come over any time and help you out. Even if it’s the middle of the night.” 

Your giggle was music to his ears, heart bursting at your smile. “That’s sweet, thank you.” Your smile warmed over him, left him spinning with desire. “I just need to finish these. I have six done, I think?” 

Eddie followed you into your kitchen, stacks of construction paper laid out with scissors and hot glue guns, a list of names propped on the middle. “It was easier last year. I only had twenty-two kids, but with the zoning and all these new kids coming in…” You shook your head lightly, thirty-three kids listed on the attendance sheet. Eddie remembered Steve bitching about it at the beginning of the school year. He still wasn’t sure how either one of you handled it, but you both made it work, despite the district uncaring. 

“Yeah, I bet it’s… rough.” Eddie nodded, pulling out a seat. “You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yours for the night.” 

Your smile spread, sitting next to Eddie. You showed him how to cut the hearts out, hot glue the paper lace on the edges, then press the other heart on the back to hide it. Eddie made them, setting them to the side so you could address them. 

The better part of two hours was spent in your kitchen, giggling and chatting over pizza and beer, wiping your greasy fingers off on napkins so it didn’t stain the cards. You both wanted them to be pristine, perfect. 

“So, uh, what-” Eddie cleared his throat gently, trying to shake the rattle in his voice from his nerves. “What are you doin’ on Valentine’s Day?” 

He felt your eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. “A-Any big plans?” Eddie cringed at the tweaking crack in his voice. He felt like he was in junior high again, asking Lisa Caltrelli out to the Sweethearts Dance. He hoped you wouldn’t reject him like she did. 

“No,” Your voice squeaked in response, creasing the paper between your fingers from your tight grip. You don’t know why you were so nervous, I mean, Eddie and you had been out before. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much when he asked you, but still, you were filled with an excited thrill. 

“No, I-I didn’t really plan to do anything. I mean, I would like to, but I just… I haven’t made plans.” You winced at your babbled answer, anything but cool. 

There was a pause, one that left your heart dropping with fear, your hands shook when you cut out the heart on red construction paper. “Um, well, I-I was just wondering if, if you’re not busy- shit, well, I know you just said you’re not busy. I just- I was wondering if you’d want to maybe go and get dinner?” Eddie’s wide eyes met yours, rounded with complete and utter fear and hope, like a deer in headlights. 

“With me?” His mouth was dry, heart beating so fast he could feel it in his eyeballs, sweat starting to bead at his hairline.

You tried to swallow down your own excitement, heart soaring with adrenaline, biting back a wide grin and a squeal. “Yeah,” You nodded, lips curling and eyes shining. “Yeah, I would. I would love to go out with you again.” 

“Really?” Eddie blinked, the words falling from his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, really? Uh, great, that sounds… great.” Eddie ducked his own head down, gluing the paper lace to the heart, hoping his curls hid his pink cheeks and dimpled grin. 

“I was thinking we could go to Dino’s- Do you like Italian food?” 

“Yeah, I do. Love Dino’s.” You nodded. 

“Great. Um, my buddy, Jeff is the manager there now, and they do this Valentine’s Day special. It’s- It’s not anything crazy, they just put like candles and rose petals and shit on the tables, but he said he could get us in.” Eddie’s knee bounced, buzzing with excitement. 

“That sounds amazing,” You tapped the pen against the table, lips twitching with a smile you tried to hide. “It’s a date.” 

Eddie laughed, grinning so wide you thought your heart might burst. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Is that enough time?” 

“That’s perfect. I’ll have to clean up after the Valentine’s Day party, but-” 

“-I’ll help you.” Eddie nodded eagerly. “I’ll swing by after I get done in the cafeteria. I’ll help you clean up.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly, ducking back to your craft. 

Eddie’s hands were clammy when he leaned in to kiss you later that night, at your doorway, under the glow of the street lamp outside. He was even more surprised when you wrapped your arms around him, pulled him closer and deeper into the kiss, one that left you both swooning and heads swirling with adoration. 

The next morning, Eddie was beyond pumped, eager for the day, knowing he had a date tonight. He nearly missed the small red heart that was waiting on his desk- a Valentine, from you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie. I can’t wait to see you tonight.” 

[emacrow]

Lilith, The Mistress of Fear is getting her small scarecrow. By emacrow/prompt creator pt 1

It was her turn to watch over the young king in his latest, most rarest vacation, reincarnation at the finest.

Unfortunately, being alive is the cost she paid gratefully because the last reincarnation vacation his majesty had took was ended shortly due to the idiotic ghost guard who fell to watch him.

This time Fright Knight was smart enough to use the reincarnation trip easy enough, but being reborn in a woman body that was shocking similar to her own original body from back then was nostalgic in a tragic way.

Same two birthmarks under her right dark emerald eye and right side of her mouth. The chaotic scar covered her left arm, and long scar going through her right eyebrow across her pale emerald eye, ending at her cheekbone.

Her body was still strong and muscular in the sense of tallness, but unfortunately she can still feel the softness that she needed to train more as she could still hold the soulshredder that seemed to had grow larger in size for her. (I think because your ghost form was much taller than you think?)

Clothes are a bit smaller as she gotten older and much taller then most ladies and men, then what she used to but getting specially tailored clothes to match her size was a godsend.

She had been alive for twenty-four year now, working as a bounty huntress that these small men whisper of The Mistress of Fear at night, while taking care of the young king in the daytime who was born to shameful parents that dare abandoned him in a wasteful bin.

Thankfully She can trace where his newest body was at the right time, not mere a couple minutes before the disposal men come with their raging machine on wheels.

Five years in Gotham, she kept a downlow considering there is a liminal in a bat suit patrolling around. Unfortunately that didn't last with a particular scarecrow.

Said scarecrow who was in sack mask looking at her with his face redder than a tomato considering she was sitting on him in her living room.

Jonathan Crane, supposed bringer of Fear as the Scarecrow.

Amateur at best.

Lilith considered Crane annoying at the beginning the first three dozen times they has met up with him trying to spray her with 'Fear Toxin and Gas' considering how he believe he was better at her with bringing Fear to other.

That declaration made her laugh hard that first meeting if Crane think he could best her, with how short and scrawny he was compared to her majestic tall and strong form, even her young King wasn't that scrawny when he was a ghostling.

This supposed 'Fear Toxin' was nothing to her, for she was The Mistress of Fear, formerly known as The Fright Knight in the infinite realm.

Then came the odd courting such a present with a doll stuffed filled with exploding Fear toxic, chocolate with toxic vial filled with the hazelnut spreading inside added a nice flavor, the dance between the two during a gold spar giving her a good nick on her shoulder was a nice touch, switching the candle in her crafted pumpkin with a ticking bomb full of Fear gas was a lovely gesture for her halloween party, and the best was a beautiful Sword sheath filled with concreated Fear toxic that melt even the hardest metal, but the soulshredder seem to love the spa treatment in it. Lilith swear the soulshredder was spoiled rotten by that sword sheath.

The little sneaky seeking short man somewhat crawled into her anicent void of a broken heart, and took over. She enjoyed their weekly meeting between them now that was until two weeks ago.

Jonathan can deny and struggle all he wanted after the last discussion and spar two weeks ago when she told him that she accepted his courting, which led to him avoiding her like a ghost, ha.

Jonathan think he could avoid her after taking her heart with him was rather dull of him considering she knew all his secrets hideouts by now with the amount of time he had kidnapped her in the previous years.

He should be honored to gain the hand in marriage of Mistress of Fear afterall the beautiful lavishly courting gifts he sented her the passed 2 years. Badly lying and saying they were to sabotage her was laughable. He had seduced her mind, then she will seduced him the same way all the way to marriage.

There no escaping The Mistress of Fear, Jonathan. You dug into this haunted housr of a heart and once you're in, there no escape.

Second part link here<-

[naturallykenma]

wordless 'i love you's'

a/n: it's me, hi! i'm *trying* to get back into writing again, so here we are! please reblog/leave feedback!! i'll probs do more of these later but for now, enjoy! inspired by these prompts !

warnings: general: 18+ only due to implied nsfw in oliver's part, reader has long-ish hair in oliver & nagi's part, petnames (love, beautiful, sweets, pretty, pretty thing, angel) / sae: none, just fluff / oliver: implied fwb relationship, mutual pining, implied sexual activity, a little angst, a little fluff / rin: none, just fluff / nagi: mentions of reader having a long/bad day, established relationship but in the semi-early stage :)

featuring: sae, rin, oliver, nagi <3

sae: traveling long distances just to see them.

it’s 3am and sae is fighting sleep in the back of an uber on his way to you. he wasn’t planning on coming back for a mere weekend, but he missed you more than he could handle while he was away. he just needed to see you, even if it was just for a weekend. 

he couldn’t help but wake up a little bit as the uber turned onto your street, excitement filling his body. he knew you would be asleep when he entered, but he didn’t care. he would get to see you and hold you, and that’s all that mattered. 

sae entered your shared apartment quietly, careful not to wake you. he couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of your sleeping figure in bed, curled up on his side, wearing one of his shirts. he quickly changed out of his travel clothes, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and carefully sliding into bed with you. 

he froze as you shifted, mumbling a soft “sae?” as you pressed yourself against his chest. 

“‘s just me, love.” he whispered softly. “go back to sleep.”

he couldn’t help but sigh in relief when you nodded softly and curled up in his arms. finally, sae allowed himself to be consumed by sleep. he knew he’d have to leave in three days, but right now he didn’t care. what mattered was that he was home and that he was with you. 

oliver: tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

you never stayed over oliver’s after one of your sessions. you stuck to routine. you would go to his apartment, fool around, and then leave. each time you left with a hole in your heart and a note in your brain not to fall for his sweet talk and charm next time he reached out. yet the next time he reached out, without fail, you wound up back in his bed. so how did you wind up staying over this particular night? 

“oliver, ‘s time for me to go.” you whispered, hand tracing shapes on oliver’s chest while the two of you were catching your breath. “i gotta get going.”

“no you don’t.” he hummed, draping an arm across your back and pulling you closer to him. “just stay. for tonight. you’re falling asleep on me, sweets. promise ‘m not that bad.” 

he wasn’t wrong. you were fighting sleep. 

“it’s not that oliver, it’s- nevermind.” you sighed, stopping yourself from confessing your love to the soccer player. “ okay. i’ll stay. just for tonight.” 

oliver hummed happily, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, watching you drift off to sleep, covered in nothing but his t-shirt. he thought you looked so beautiful like this, laying on his chest with your hair spread out behind you. but oliver couldn’t tell you he loves you. he couldn’t risk ruining the relationship with you that he currently has. 

oliver groaned as he felt a cold wave wash over him. you were no longer in his arms. glancing over at where you were in his bed, oliver frowned as he noticed the sheets were no longer on your body, rather they were strewn about around you. 

“oh sweets,” he sighed, moving to tuck you back into the sheets, smiling when you sighed in relief, shifting closer to him unconsciously. 

no, oliver couldn’t tell you that he loves you just yet. but he could make sure that you were comfortable while you slept until he could tell you how he felt. 

rin: giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

rin sighed as he heard the blaring of his alarm. you were still fast asleep in his arms, causing rin to pause and admire your beauty before forcing himself to get up and get ready for practice. 

he went through his usual morning routine, including a jog and some yoga. he hated having to leave you. he kept telling himself that he’d come back later, and that in all likelihood, you’d stop by to drop off a lunch for him. that was his motivation each and every day. 

rin stepped into your shared room, smiling softly as the sight of you waking up slowly. he made his way over to your bed, kneeling down so he was eye level with you, smoothing your hair back with his hand. 

“hey sleepyhead.” he said softly. he didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t help it. he thought you looked absolutely beautiful in the morning. 

“hi rin.” you whispered, moving his hand from your head and lacing your fingers together. “off to practice?” 

“yeah. i’ll be back for dinner, okay?” he told you, smiling when you nodded softly. 

“kay. have a good day.” you smiled as rin leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. 

“have a good day, beautiful. see you later.” 

nagi: helping brush their hair after a shower.

nag was laying on his bed playing a game on his phone while waiting for you to return from your shower. he knew you had a long day at work, he could tell by the text you sent. none of the usual emojis or cute smiley faces you used were present in your messages, and he could tell that the underlying tone of the messages was exhaustion. 

you returned to nagi’s apartment, where you had been staying as of late, and greeted him quickly before heading to the shower. you needed to wash away this awful day. 

when you returned from your shower, you looked visibly tired. your hair was towel dried, nagi could tell. and by the way you attempted to climb into bed with him without brushing your hair, nagi could tell you were exhausted. 

“mhmm pretty, don’t lie down jus’ yet.” nagi mumbled, shushing you as you whined in protest. “sit up, angel, lemme brush your hair. don’t want your hair to be all tangled tomorrow.” 

nagi positioned you so that you were sitting up on the side of your bed and grabbed your brush, softly bringing it through your hair. the two of you sat in silence as nagi brushed your hair. nagi put the brush down when he finished, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your head, but paused when he heard you sniffle, worry infiltrating his veins. 

“what’s wrong, angel? did i do something wrong?” he asked softly, sighing in relief when you shook your head. 

“no, sei. just a long day. thanks for brushing my hair, it felt nice.” you sniffled. nagi nodded, though you couldn’t see him with your back facing him. 

“wanna watch me try and clear this level? sometimes helps me when ‘m stressed. helps when i’m with my pretty thing too…but if you wanna be alone that’s ok too.” nagi said quietly. he hoped you didn’t want to be alone. he wanted to cuddle with you and try to cheer you up. he hated it when you were sad. 

“sounds perfect, sei. wanna cuddle.” you mumbled, turning around and pressing yourself into his chest, and placing a kiss on his cheek as the two of you laid down. “thanks, sei. love you.” 

he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “anything for my pretty.” 

[radioactiverats]

Curious question, (First, I love your mentor Starscream x seeker reader fics) what would it be like if Thundercracker and Skywarp were around? Because I keep imagining them as those weird uncles who decided to annoy Starscream by pulling reader into their shenanigans.

Hello, first of all thank you so much for reading! I absolutely love the idea of elite uncles. Starscream moaning that Skywarp has led you astray (shitty flying habits. Taking you out for your first drink of engex and trying to hide the fact that ur shitfaced before Starscream comes to skin you both. Oooh there's an idea). For now my brain vomited this out but thank u for the prompt I will prob return to it again!!

------

You’ve never formally met Starscream’s trine. The first reason being that he is fiercely protective of you, even if he’ll never admit it. Despite the bond he shares with his trine, he wants to keep outsider interference to a minimum - he gets one chance at keeping you safe, and if even one of Skywarp’s pranks go awry… in the privacy of his own processor, Starscream has never dared to finish that thought.

However, things have changed. As Megatron’s bloodthirstiness grows by the day, Starscream, like any good tactician, knows that the current strategy won’t work for much longer. With only him standing between you and Megatron’s idle and violent whims, he is regrettably forced to admit that he needs help to guarantee your survival. So what if a teensy part of him doesn’t want to share your attention? If you offline, he won’t have any of your attention at all.

As SIC, any overt moves will attract Megatron’s attention - so Starscream finds a tactical excuse. Your first group mission, he proposes under the guise of ‘training’ - to tag along with the Elite Trine.

Starscream is incredibly stiff when he informs you of the meeting - he’s usually forthcoming with details in your presence as he rants freely about something or other. But this time, he remains oddly tight-lipped, refusing to tell you who you’re about to see.

“As long as it’s not Megatron, I think it’ll be fine,” You finally mutter when you grow exasperated with his evasiveness. It seems to ease the mood a little because Starscream pauses, and you watch some of the tension bleed from his wings.

“It’s not,” He says at last. “Thank Primus for that.”

With that out of the way, you assure yourself it can't be that bad, beginning to grow curious as you follow Starscream to the open, grassy plain that has now become very familiar to you. Would it be someone you already knew? Or someone you’ve never met before?

Starscream stops when you reach the scuffed circle of earth that has more or less been forcibly converted into a landing pad. A sudden gust of wind ruffles the dry grass and Starscream nods curtly, although the expression on his faceplate seems slightly pinched. “Here they come.”

The distant roar of jet engines reach your audials and you squint as you spy to rapidly approaching blurs from the horizon. Blue and… was that… purple? There’s only two jets with this colour scheme that you know of. Your helm whips up to stare at Starscream in disbelief, but he stubbornly continues to stare straight ahead, optics tracking the approaching jets.

The clicking and whirring of transformation replaces the screech of fiery thrusters - with an impact that shakes the very earth, Skywarp and Thundercracker are standing before you. It's your first time being face to face with them - you're instantly struck by how similar they look to Starscream, all at once familiar and unfamiliar. It's uncanny, and you shrink back a little, choosing instead to study the freshly turned dirt circle around you. At least your landing pad is much bigger now.

“Screamer!”

“You call that a landing?” Screamer snaps. “I’ve seen sparklings do better than that.”

“Aw, lay off,” Thundercracker mutters. “It’s been ages since we last met.”

He turns to Skywarp. “But he’s right, you know.”

“Hey!”

The Elite Trine. To ordinary seekers, they were the stuff of legend - that aside though, you were busy drinking in this side of Starscream. Arms crossed, trading banter with Thundercracker - more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. Distracted, you don’t notice Skywarp sidling closer to you, and you yelp when his voice comes right next to your audial.

“This the ‘sparkling’?”

Starscream whips around so fast that you can’t help but flinch at the further damage done to your landing pad.

"Hello," you greet awkwardly. Should you be going for formality? You may have the privilege of being familiar with Starscream, but these are still your superiors, after all. Skywarp, however, has no such qualms, a smirk on his faceplate as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “So you’re the one Screamer won’t stop talking about, huh?” You blink, and the words are out before you can stop them. “He talks about me?”

You both look over at Starscream, who’s looking more and more constipated by the nanoklik, an undeniable flush of energon on his faceplate dampening the might of his scowl - you looking with an expression of puppy-eyed wonder and Skywarp with a shit-eating grin.

“Sure he does. He tells us tons of stuff - okay, okay - stop glaring at me like that. Does he talk about us? You know who I am?”

“Um,” You say. Of course you know who he is. But Starscream has… not talked about them, for reasons that he has deliberately kept from you. You’re not sure where you stand in this, but before you really begin to flounder, Thundercracker mercifully comes to your rescue.

“Let go, Skywarp,” He scolds. “You’re throttling the poor thing.” You gratefully stagger towards Starscream, who’d already taken a step forwards when Skywarp sulkily releases you - his enthusiasm had been rapidly turning into a very friendly headlock. Thundercracker sighs, finally turning to you.

“My designation is Thundercracker. We are a trine - you don’t need to worry about formalities. Your trust in Starscream can be extended to us, too.”

You know his designation as well, of course, but find yourself nodding along to the gentle cadence of his tone. It seemed that Thundercracker had a way of making others feel at ease. Even Starscream, whose wings had been twitchy all week in preparation to tell you of the meeting - was looking calm. Well, calmer. He’d nodded at you as Thundercracker spoke, looking relieved that someone more well-versed in emotions had translated his intentions into words before he had to do it himself.

Tentatively, you decide that you like them - independent of their relationship to Starscream. The more time you spend with them, the more distinct they're becoming, in personality, in the details of their frames and faceplates.

“What he said,” Skywarp added, serious for a nanoklik before promptly growing bored of the conversation. All three of you watch with trepidation as his expression grows mischievous.

“Hey, kid. You like me best, right?”

Starscream’s wings promptly flare, EM field prickly as the cacti in the Terran desert. This escapes absolutely nobody’s notice, and Skywarp cackles as Thundercracker buries his faceplate in a servo to emit a long-suffering sigh. You shuffle closer to Starscream as Thundercracker wearily goes to haul Skywarp up from where he’d collapsed in howling laughter on the ground.

“You’ll always be my favourite,” You mumble.

The pulse of his EM field reaches you even if he’s drawn it tightly against his plating.

“Yes, well,” He splutters, suddenly caught off guard. “I… I should hope so.”

Feelings are neither of your strong suits, but the silence that falls on you both is companionable and you allow yourself to enjoy Skywarp’s antics, Thundercracker’s exasperated attempts to get him to behave.

“Okay! Okay,” Skywarp wheezes. “I’m done. You should have seen the look on your faceplate, Screamer-”

“Why don’t we get down to business?” Thundercracker interrupts quickly.

“Thank you,” Starscream growls. He sighs dramatically, but his wings remain relaxed, hip cocked. You glance over at Thundercracker and Skywarp. Thundercracker shakes his head fondly, and Skywarp winks at you. There’s a strange sense of unity, a comfort in knowing that you’re all familiar enough with Starscream to know that the irritation is merely an act. Like you've been let in on a precious secret.

Starscream strides leisurely over to his trine, the three of them standing in front of you. It’s a takeoff formation - Starscream in the lead, flanked by Thundercracker and Skywarp. It’s the most common flight formation for trines, but it seems that they’ve purposely left an open space towards the back. A flash of recognition overtakes your processor - you’d studied this one night in the academy, holed up in the library. Trine formations were designed to be flexible, and one of the adaptations allowed the inclusion of a fourth when necessary.

There’s a glint in Starscream’s optics as he addresses you, a hand on his cocked hip.

“Your mission,” He drawls, “Is to keep up.”

[holyguardian]

It was a surface-level observation and a demonstration of how quick her mind could work. Aerith was far too enthusiastic to share her little revelation too, because it felt far too fitting while both of them sipped their drinks.

Though it seemed she had frozen Somnus in place. He eyed their arms thoughtfully and she wondered not for the first time what exactly was going on in that guarded mind of his.

His reaction prompted a great big grin from her, sharp and toothy. Of course he would be so practical. He was probably wondering how she paled so much against him — and surely he figured his outdoor training and his hunting had a factor in it.

"While you are correct, I would hate to do any further damage to this lovely villa." Besides, she didn't want to disturb the peace. Alba was no longer so highly on alert and Nidhogg was being relatively quiet himself. "I can show you some things here but the rest will have to wait until my Uncle returns. I don't suppose Lucis has a special training ground for casters?" she tilted her head, tapping her cheek thoughtfully with her finger.

If anyone knew a good place to practice, it was probably going to be him.

Without further delay, Aerith rose to her feet and retrieved her nearby stave. Tapping the base of her weapon to the ground at her feet produced an instantaneous sigil that pulsed a gentle green glow. "This is one of a few wards that I know. It extends the effects of spells, so, let's pretend you're preparing for a battle. Please stand up." she gently directed him, motioning with her hand for him to step a little further out onto the grass.

Only when Somnus moved into position did she nod and prepare a cast. Stave held in front of her body, she focused and channelled her magic through it. The act itself wasn't impressive. She seemed to ready a spell in favourable time — if they were under a time crunch in a genuine fight, he didn't have to wait long at all.

Though what was special about it was only revealed when she directed her magic to the Prince. It washed over him, a gentle green caress. And then it happened — the hardening of a physical shield accompanied by the reflective gleam of a magical one, a sudden and powerful surge that raised his bravery and faith, and a final gift, one that shifted time to his favour.

Multiple beneficial spells fired off simultaneously. It was quite a rare act, one made possible by her unique Cetran stave. "Congratulations, warrior. You are an army of one." Though her attention shifted. His bodyguard seemed less distant than before. In a split-second decision, she waved her stave and dispelled the effects, regarding Somnus with a sudden wide smile. "Good thing there aren't any battles to fight here today! I'm not sure the world is prepared."

She was calm in accepting defeat. A trait that honored her - and yet surprised him a little. He would have expected a little bit of disbelief and bargaining, her inspecting the figures and all. But it was endearing. She was toasting him even - and dropping a comment that was already too sweet. 

But even that paled in comparison to her sudden ‘outburst’. 

Holding her thinner and whiter arm beside his own, Somnus’ first reflex was to pull his arm away. But he did not. 

Milk and honey. 

It made the lingering taste on his tongue sweeter. It made him hesitate. It made him quiet. Frozen in his movement of taking a sip of the drink himself, Somnus stared at their arms. 

She was not trained like he was. And her skintone suggested she came from a colder place than Lucis. Where his own arm had dips and lines that surrounded his muscles, hers was soft and thin. 

She looked a lot frailer than him - and yet no doubt she had strength. Enough to wield that stave. At least Somnus believed that. 

But there was something so strange about her sudden comment, too. He could not place this feeling or describe it properly. It was… disarming. What was he supposed to say to this? What could he possibly do?

It felt like any reaction… wasn’t good enough. And a small red streak across the bridge of his nose gave that away. No one had ever called him something like that. 

“We get a lot of sun here…”, it was a little helpless, like he was avoiding any real reaction. Somnus could not even look at her eyes in that moment. Just a vague gesture with his hand. 

“Well… you owe me a show of your abilities now. Please. I would love to see them.”, he tried to escape the situation with that, lead it to the next. To something he knew a lot about. Training. Specific capabilities. Fighting techniques. That felt a lot safer than… whatever the Princess was challenging in him.

[reginalusus]

I am impressed with your work! I'm still on my way to explore Bruharvey. Maybe you have some headcanons for them, maybe something from a previous life when both were in college?

Aweee, thank you... <3

My Bruharvey headcanon: Harvey is taller than Bruce and Bruce is a whimpering, pining mess for him. Harvey is an oblivious dumbass. Scarvey knows and weaponizes it. That is all. Goodbye.

Ok, fine. <3

But oh, God, my Bruharvey is kinda rusty but here I go. I don't have many headcanons around the college era of their lives because it's not a particular era that kind of... interests me? Except for a few things which I will indulge in down the list. You know what? I'll be fair and do five for each.

Childhood

Harvey was the curser of the two. Bruce would always try to get him to stop using such language, but it made him laugh, and is there anything more addictive to a sad child than laughing?

Bruce always knew he liked Harvey, even as a child. He couldn't quite explain it yet obviously, this odd feeling of puppy love, but there was always something about his friendship that felt different from others.

Bruce would buy makeup/supplies for Harvey to help cover/hide his bruises and wounds. People at school talk. It's the least he could do.

Harvey would take advantage of his father's drunken comas to sneak out of the house and play with Bruce until the street lights came on. I DO imagine Chris disapproved of Harvey's relationship with Bruce, but that's EXTREME HC territory with no real canon to help me explain.

Scarv was beginning to rear his head as Harvey approached his tweens. It came with headaches, bad nausea, frightening voices, fatigue, so much so that Bruce's worry for Harvey only worsened when Harvey suddenly wouldn't show up at their meeting place to play and hang out.

College

Harvey's crush on Bruce starts to bloom. But it's shattered to pieces frequently because Bruce is a man that seems to get around. He always seems to be talking about a girl he thinks likes him or a boy he's thinking of asking out.

When Harvey gets drunk, Bruce would engage/prompt him into some silly courtroom roleplay. He'd claim it was 'practice'. Sometimes, when the verdict was reached, there was a kiss. Or two. Maybe more.

Bruce begins to notice that a stressed Harvey seems to own an odd rasp to his speech. He becomes snappy out of apparently nowehere, and he doesn't seem to recall what they talked about moments prior. Bruce's search history suddenly becomes less focused on his studies and more of symptom checking.

Bruce has joked about Harvey gaining some extra cash by being a nude model for art students. Little does he know the impact this will have later.

Harvey will show coin tricks to people at parties as a conversation starter. Bruce doesn't have the heart to tell him how dorkish it makes him look - mainly because he loves it.

Adulthood

Bruce would frequently come around to Harvey's DA office when he could, normally with flowers and a proposal to try and get him off work. 9/10 times he failed.

People seem to forget that Harvey is also good at detective work. So I bring upon you this (which I have mentioned before): Harvey sometimes gets a whiff of faint aftershave on Batman that's... oddly familiar. The practicing grips of CQC are... vaguely familiar also. When he's with Bruce, what's with the odd calluses on his palms?

Bruce is a strong man; he can cope with a lot of horrible, mental images. He can power through almost anything. But Harvey's various suicide attempts are one of the few things that haunt him.

Bruce uses himself as a grounding mechanism for Harvey's bad derealization/dissociation episodes. He'll guide Harvey's hands over him, asking him what he feels, how it feels.

Harvey and Scarvey are fascinated with Bruce's duality. Harvey, in canon, has said that he finds Bruce's duality beautiful. Harvey takes particular interest in the Bruce Wayne persona, Scarvey takes interest in the Batman persona. For both philosophical AND romantic reasons.

And a cheeky sixth one: Harvey will always be the gorgeous Apollo to Bruce, even with the scars, the stressed aging, the sins on his back. One day, he will utter it in Harvey's ear. He will not be prepared for how this backfires.

I have been thinking about them a little lately. A lot of people talk about them in an AU sense or when they were younger and before the Canon Event which is fine and sweet and all, and still interesting in its own right. But, personally, these two interest me most when they are at their most seasoned. Two aging men with the world on their backs and their worldview changed by a city that refuses to change. When said city has completely digested them. How two men burdened by duality can make each other feel like one. That's my interest. But anyway, headcanons!

[sunshinemage]

OC Kiss Week incoming!

I'll be participating in this OC Kiss Week, following the prompts from this post (courtesy of @ockissweek) 💙

I'm going to do the same as last year, answer asks with little smoochy sketches, so don't hesitate to send your amazing OCs in my askbox with a prompt of your choice between the ones listed on the post (or if you have another idea in mind that doesn't fit any of the prompts, feel free to ask, of course)!

Prompts:

desperate

first

stolen

reunion

worship

forbidden

caught

Now, for the fun part! The actual OC Kiss Week runs from February 10th to February 16th, but I will be answering asks and doing sketches until then! When the actual week starts, I will be picking a random ask each day among the ones in my askbox and do a fully rendered piece for it ^^

Who will be doing the kissing? Well, let me introduce you!

Lelei Haurasha (Dragon Age: the Veilguard)

37, nonbinary (they/them), pansexual Lelei is a Dalish elf from the desert at the west of Orlais. They love exploring new places, especially if it involves tinkering with magical artifacts or discovering new species of plants. They're not the most talkative type, but they love listening to others, especially if they're rambling about something they're passionate about.

_

Nindarhmen Lavellan (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

28 (as of the events of Inquisition), male (he/him), bisexual Do I need to introduce him? Nin is a Dalish elf from the Free Marches. he's a well-spoken, kind and compassionate fire mage who probably has the biggest sweet tooth of all Thedas. He is working as Seneschal of Elvhen Affairs for his husband, Inquisitor Thalon Lavellan ( @ourinquisitorialness) and sometimes describes himself as a scholar.

_

Oya Cenric (Wayfarer IF)

32, nonbinary (they/them or she/her), grey asexual (as she says sometimes: 'romance is complicated, affection isn't'.) Oya is half-Aeda, originated from the Coveran Republic. They like peace, the sea, the blue hour before sunrise. She acts somewhat aloof, unless she knows you well.

_

Rinnariel Haurasha (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

28 (as of the events of Inquisition), female (she/her), bisexual Rinna is Nin's twin sister. She left clan Lavellan at 16 and became a Grey Warden under the orders of Warden Commander Telhara Surana ( @ourinquisitorialness). She is quiet, practical and straight to the point. She hides her playful side really well.

_

Feel free to borrow any of them for OC Kiss Week, and don't hesitate to ask me about them 🥰

[sammyluvr]

✶ the object of his affections — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, sunshine!reader, fluff, lawyer!sam, talk of feeling unloved, unedited, 1K words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : in the patch of sunlight cast through a window + “you’re loved.” “but how do you know?” “because i love you.”

you’re not yourself today, that much is apparent to sam as you stand at the window, bathed in early evening sunlight. most days, the soft light on your face would make you smile. you’d look out at the hills and grin at the sight, even if you see them most days. and somehow, your face would become ever brighter when you hear his dress shoes clacking against the marble on the third floor of the courthouse and turn to see that it’s him.

he’s glad to see that you perk up just a bit at the sight of him still. he likes the way your eyes look when they catch the sunlight for a moment as you turn. they look a little sad, maybe run down, today. he’d like to fix that, though he’ll have to pry it out of you somehow. sam has a feeling that quiet you is the complete opposite of your normal talkative self, and it won’t be easy to get you to tell him what’s bothering you.

if only a love confession could lift your spirits; he’s been working up the courage as he’s gotten to know you. he’s a young lawyer, but a skilled one, and you’re working your way up, interning here for the semester. you’re professional when needed, but outside of that you’re sweet and nerdy and always happy to talk his ear off.

right now, your face is missing that bubbly smile he so loves to see, though he can’t deny that your subtler, softer one is quite pretty too. another day, you might bound up to him with news of something from earlier in the day. this time, you let him approach you the whole way, eyes staring back outside by the time he’s leaning against the windowsill. the fabric of his smart, well fitting black blazer brushes against your light blue button up. a little closer, and his shoulder would be pressed right into yours.

“something special out the window today?” he asks, mostly teasing and voice quiet to match your mood. there’s something special standing at the window, that’s for sure. you are very special to him. all four hands resting on the ledge are cast in shadow from the way the sun hangs in the sky, but your faces are lit. he’s not even looking out the window to see what you might be peering at so intently; his eyes are on you. your nose looks pretty in this lighting, he thinks. all of you looks just lovely.

“no,” you murmur, the word almost leaving your lips as a sigh, “nothing special.” your voice falls a little flat, almost as if you’re a bit upset that there isn’t anything special, or maybe that you can’t seem to find anything that feels that way right now.

will it cheer you up if he tells you he’s pretty confident he’s going to win his case? you always seem so happy for him when he succeeds in even the smallest of things. but he frets that you’ll just feel like you have to act glad for his sake, so he thinks he won’t say anything about it until he’s sure you’re feeling better.

his pinky is so close to yours. he wants to touch you, be as near to you as he can, all the time. silence reigns for a few long moments. most people have left the building for the day by now.

“can i tell you something sort of pathetic?” you ask quietly, almost out of the blue if he hadn’t caught the sound of you breathing in before you spoke. he likes the sound of you breathing in. out, too.

“you can tell me anything. i’m sure it’s not pathetic,” he murmurs. the look on your face tells him that you still think that it is.

it takes you another moment or two to feel composed and unashamed enough to actually let it out of your mouth. it’s very soft when you say it, nearly drowned out by the sound of footsteps down the hall. it’s not late enough that everyone’s gone. but sam leans in close, and he has a certain affinity for your voice. his ears tend to filter out all else when you speak.

“i’m having a bit of trouble feeling loved,” you whisper. his heart aches. you’re the most loveable person he knows. but everyone feels that way sometimes, he supposes, including you. he thinks you deserve to never feel that way, though, out of everyone that he knows. “i- i know i am, but i… i’m having a hard time feeling like it right now.” 

besides the pang in his chest, he feels honored you’d tell him something so vulnerable and intimate. “that’s alright,” he says, very gentle. “knowing isn’t the same as feeling, and it’s not your fault if you’re having trouble feeling it.” he knows that sometimes all you need is to hear it from someone else. sometimes you need a reminder from someone other than yourself. so, he tells you, “you’re loved.” he sounds very confident and sure of it. he leans over, the side of his head pressing against the cold glass as he tries to meet your eyes.

those words wash over you, and he’s right that you need to hear them, but you’re still sort of unconvinced. “but how do you know?” you ask, avoiding eye contact. you feel a bit ashamed to ask it, but you’re still in need of reassurance. you expect him to give it through compliments; he knows because you’re nice, you’re pleasant to be around, you’re smart. “because i love you,” he says instead, and frankly it gives you quite the little shock. you finally meet his gaze and there’s no doubt that he really, really means it. the way he looks at you fixes it all. there’s no second guessing whether or not you feel loved in this moment, because his face tells you that he loves with all that he has, and you are the object of his affections.

[graceisinthelibrary]

Another prompt! If you haven't done it, how about 19?

Thanks for the prompt :-) It's a bit of a stretch, but I think this works:

“Tell me where you are, I'll come and get you.”

Usually this was his sentence. Since she had taken over the role as a blackout warden, she had called him twice for help. 

The first time she had found the fatally poisoned Bingo, the second time her bike had broken down in the middle of nowhere. He had picked her up that night and they had finished her round together and he had been surprised how many blackout offenders lived in and around Darrowby. It had pacified his mind immensely and she was, of course, not happy about it. At least Bosworth, the old grump, had given her a better bike after that incident and Siegfried secretly hated that she had never called him again. 

This time however he had been the one needing her help. 

What he hadn’t anticipated was how quickly she had found him, not on her bike though. It had only taken her fifteen minutes and he figured she must have pushed the engine of the old Morris to its limits. To his surprise, she was wearing her uniform, but no helmet. The jacket, however, looked strangely astray, because she had missed a few buttons and he noticed her flushed cheeks. His pulse became a little unsteady as he watched her approaching him. The stiff breeze up here in the Dales tore at her hair and a few strands had come loose and she was eagerly brushing them behind her ears. The sun was setting behind the hills and the air got chilly. He shivered a bit. 

“Mr Farnon!” She shouted, her voice filled with a worry he couldn’t grasp. “I came as quickly as I could.” 

“Where you out on a mission?” He asked, pointing at her uniform, when she stopped in front of him. 

Perplexed, she shook her head. “You said it’s an emergency. Something about a crash in a field.” She went over to the wall and looked over it.  

He cleared his throat. “Err… Mrs Hall…” 

“There’s nothing,” she said deadpan after she wasn’t sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. There was no crashed plane or any other debris that could be remotely war related. All she saw was a meadow in the endless beauty of the Yorkshire Dales. 

“Siegfried Farnon…” 

“I never said anything about a crashed plane,” he clarified before her wrath could hit him with full force. “I said I had a problem near a field, where I almost crashed.” He pointed at his beloved Rover that stood about ten yards away. The vehicle parked near a ditch. She went back to him and with a heavy sigh she took off her warden bag. “What happened?” 

“One of the tires bursted,” he reported. “But the Rover’s fine, just a bit shaken up. And now I need a lift.” 

She gave him one of her killer looks. One that was reserved for muck on the floor in the kitchen or when she caught him using the Lord’s name in vain. 

“You do know I dropped everything on the spot to come here,” she said, deliberately calm. “I thought you were hurt or worse.” 

“Well…” He swallowed. “I am most grateful to you, but that was a misunderstanding…” In retrospect, he thought, the line had been a bit cranky and he may have hung up the receiver a little too quickly. He also didn’t have any more coins on him, so he had to cut the call short. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“I called Bosworth. He’s on his way. With the whole cavalry.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Feeling awkward he looked to the tip of his shoes. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she said after a few seconds of silence. “Ridiculous creature.” 

He stole a glance from her. She wasn’t as angry with him as she pretended to be. He heard it in her voice. She wasn’t amused, but she was certainly relieved that he was still in one piece. 

“Admit it,” he joked. “You would have loved to play the heroine who saves the damsel in distress.” 

“You’re as much as a damsel as I’m a patron saint. And now get in the car, before I let you walk.”  

Sensing he was back in her good graces, he followed her to the Morris and obediently climbed into the passenger’s seat. As he watched her starting the engine, he couldn’t help but smile. She had dropped everything to rush to his rescue; it was a thought that warmed his heart more than he could say. 

“What’s so funny?” She asked when she saw the broad smile on his face. 

“Nothing.” 

“Mr Farnon…” 

“I just thought how lucky the whole of Darrowby can be to have you as their patron saint. That’s all.” She groaned and shook her head, but didn’t offer a retort. He loved having the last word on the matter. At least this once. 

[frozenjokes]

tall claims court!

convex week day 4 - gift/prank - prev/next

@convexweek if I name drop the prompt in the end it counts right

“So you see, your honor, this sun is unworthy of his position in such a high value system, and I believe that the rest of this hearing should leave you and the jury thoroughly convinced!” Scar made a little flourish with his hand at the end of his opening statement, which Cub thought was stupid, but all of Scar’s opening statement was stupid, so this wasn’t a huge surprise.. but the judge, Bdubs, seemed to enjoy it regardless. This was going to be a long day.

At least Mumbo’s response was strong, even if Cub was only half listening. Mumbo was nearly as confident a speaker, and the things he was saying actually made sense, so that helped! Cub felt the need to emphasize that he literally hadn’t done anything, but whatever.

The other half of Cub’s splintered focus was on Scar, just sitting at his place in the stand, regarding Mumbo with more attention and respect that Cub was giving his own lawyer.

“Despite his rocky exterior and curt dealing with the moons in his system, my client has done nothing deserving of this drastically out of proportion proposed sentencing.”

When Mumbo sat down, Cub was still looking at Scar. Mumbo elbowed him and Cub jumped, a few sparks flying from his shoulders.

“What?”

“Stop ogling the prosecutor.” Mumbo hissed under his breath, to which Cub responded at a normal volume, no need to whisper.

“I’m not.”

Judge Bdubs glanced their way, but said nothing as the court was passed back to Scar, the moon introducing his first witness. Cub had no idea who this ‘witness’ was, not by name or face, and he assumed this would likely be a trend. Whoever they were, though, they did not look happy with Cub. Scar prompted them to begin.

“I was a Mars moon, one of the two orbiting that planet, and I was having some interpersonal issues with the other moon, with few places to go. We just didn’t get along, and I was feeling lost, anxious, and while I would have loved to visit Earth, I just felt too anxious to be in such proximity to other life. I was in a bad way. So I went to Cub.” The moon turned their frosty glare to Cub, which took him a second to notice with how intently he’d been staring at Scar, but then he remembered he didn’t care, and continued his Scar-gazing.

“Cub doesn’t have to leave the sun to watch the Earth, I never knew what kind of magic made that possible, but I thought this could be a solution for me, a break from the other moon, and a less anxiety inducing way to witness the life I’d worked so hard to be able to see. Cub was civil, I guess, when I first visited the sun. I’d never met him before, I didn’t know what to expect. I told him exactly how I was struggling and what I wanted, but he was always more concerned with the moons, that everything was okay on Mars, and the other moon was doing their job and not how the two of us were getting along. Mars was fine, the moons were fine, everything was fine, but when I told him that, he just stared at me and asked what the problem was. I told him! I had run him through it several times! I was sent back to Mars before I could even ask about his alternate Earth viewing station.”

“From there, everything was worse. When the other moon found out I’d gone to Cub, they were furious, my anxiety was debilitating, and I was desperate, I just needed an escape. When I tried to go back to the sun, explain what was happening, Cub was nothing short of foul. He extended no pity, no empathy, was frustrated with me for bothering him, for asking for something so stupid when I could just go to Earth with no issue, and I felt my position was threatened when his concern lied only in how well I could perform my guardianship of my moon. After spending decades working towards that position, I didn’t even last another month. I never got to enjoy the Earth, and only got berated for issues outside of my control.”

Scar nodded to his witness when they finished, turning his gaze to Cub. “Now, I would just like to know if the defendant has anything to say about this. It was a long time ago after all, maybe he’s changed his point of view.”

Cub rolled his eyes and made Mumbo tensed, kicking him under the table, which, everyone probably saw. Deny deny deny.

“I am the guardian of the Earth system. My first priority is ensuring every moon, planet, and star are being properly and competently cared for. I have no other obligations, especially for asinine requests. No life on Earth knows we exist, you don’t have to bother me every time you want to see it, you can just go, that’s so stupid-“

“My client has nothing else to say!” Mumbo cut in, but Scar looked pleased nonetheless. Luckily, Mumbo had a lot of reasonable smart things to say to the jury, so Cub didn’t have to, and even after a seemingly endless amount of mostly benign accounts from moons Cub barely remembered, Cub felt very little like he was on the back foot here. Maybe Scar’s goal was truly just to waste his time. He certainly kept throwing smug looks back after each of his exaggerated flourishes.

But in the end, Cub was just bored. There was nothing better than doing fuck all on his own sun, but it was cold and Cub couldn’t just space out because people kept talking at him and getting mad and telling him to stop staring at Scar, but Scar was the most interesting thing to look at in the room, and if Cub was going to be subjected to this much bullshit, he might as well rest his eyes.

And then all the fire in the courtroom flared with a loud fwoosh, then burnt away into nothing, embers floating to the ceiling and promptly dying, leaving the entire room in complete darkness.

Something clicked, and Cub was suddenly blinded, squinting at the bright light assaulting his vision. There was another spotlight across the room, centered on Scar. Cub threw Mumbo an alarmed look, but his lawyer looked just as surprised.

A dim light faded in over the judge’s stand, Bdubs’s imposing form illuminated in his raised position overlooking the court room.

“I’ve noticed..” the judge drawled his words, making sure he had the attention of every single star and moon in the courtroom. “Some tension abound.” Bdubs looked from Cub to Scar and back to Cub again, which was weird and annoying.

“You’re being weird and annoying.”

At the same time Mumbo elbowed him, Bdubs grinned, not without menace. “It’s not your turn to shine yet, Cub, so why don’t you simmer down before another strike is added to the board.”

Cub looked up, the ‘strikes’ above his head illuminating once more. He had four, three from talking out of turn and one from a brief scuffle between Mumbo and Scar, but both of them had gotten a strike for that, then got dropped into The Pit for a brief twenty minute recess. In Cub’s defense, Scar also had two additional strikes, it wasn’t like it was exactly hard to get them. If Cub’s side got five.. well, Cub didn’t know exactly what would happen, but he was a little bit afraid of Bdubs and didn’t particularly want to find out.

“Comment revoked.”

“Thank you.” Bdubs sat up a little straighter, pleased. “Now! Let’s play a game called Will They Won’t They!” Scar groaned, head hitting the desk, and Cub was almost certain he’d get a strike for that, but Bdubs was too intent on explaining his game.

“Now, unless I’m mistaken, and I’m never mistaken, it seems to me that kindled passion burns bright in one of our contestants tonight, and the other; heart burned and scorned so many times before, still shows interest despite it all..”

Scar sat up suddenly, flakes of frost flying from his hair, “Objection! Bdubs, will you stop trying to set me up with the criminals on the other side of the stand? I don’t know how to explain to you that this is possibly the worst place for me to find a partner, especially if that star is the asshole I dragged here in the first place!”

“Ah, yes, yes, young love.. You say you can’t stand them, yet you’re always bringing the same kinds of stars back to my courtroom, I see you, Scar, I see you.”

“I’m a criminal prosecutor!”

“Objection dismissed. It seems to me, Cub’s got the eye for you too. What say you, Cub?”

“I’m confused.” Cub looked to Mumbo, but Mumbo seemed nearly as resigned as Scar as did distressed. “I’m confused,” he said again, to Bdubs this time. The judge was no less radiant.

“He’s confused..” Bdubs spoke slyly, like this was some grand reveal, “Now, is he playing coy, or does he really not know..”

“Is this part of the trial?” Cub tried, strained. He didn’t like all this attention, he didn’t like standing out so much, it had been a long time since he’d been in a courtroom, but he didn’t remember this.

“Ogling was the word Mumbo used, and I think it suits your behavior over the course of this trial quite impeccably, don’t you think, Scar?”

“You know, I thought he was into me too for a very short couple of minutes, but I really think he’s just stupid.”

“What?” Cub bristled, caring very little for the way Mumbo tensed up. “I’m not- I’m not into you, where would anyone have gotten that impression?”

Bdubs knit his fingers, squinting at Cub with a great scrutiny. “If I thought this star had any capacity at all to play coy, I would be greatly suspicious right now. Maybe he is stupid. He just doesn’t know he’s in love with you.”

“That is not what I meant!” Scar hissed, while Cub just sat there, dumbfounded.

“Do no one else’s eyes hurt, like, all the time? My eyes were so tired I didn’t even know it until they got a break, I don’t even know why his insides are so black, but I refuse to believe that no one else here’s eyes aren’t constantly drawn to the dark.” There was some murmuring among the crowd, faint discussion that seemed to come to the conclusion of yes, Cub was the only person in the room who had this problem. Great.

“Irrelevant!” Bdubs declared, drawing the attention back to himself. “Now everyone in the stands, the jury, witnesses, everyone, please look under your seats where you will find three cards; they will! they won’t! they could! I am going to introduce the contestants, and on the count of three, the audience will decide their fate! Are you ready?”

The silence was deafening. One star in the back gave a small pity whoop.

“Great!” Bdubs clapped his hands together, having no qualms with the lack of enthusiasm from the crowd. “On the right we have the civil hero, actor for justice with a mysterious past rivaling the dark side of the moon, Scar!”

A few small, if not hesitant claps followed this up.

“On the left with have Cub, the infamous Earth sun, a light in the dark, but certainly not for most moons in his system, though, our hero seems to have caught his attention, and on a journey of love and acceptance, the two of them might just make each other more fulfilled celestials..”

Silence.

“What do ya say? Will they, or won’t they!?”

The dark walls of the courtroom suddenly ignited, flame greedily swallowing up the cold that had drafted in, its light revealing the opinion of the entire courtroom. ‘They won’t!’ Unanimously, except for Bdubs, who was holding a ’They could!’

“Great.” Scar seethed through gritted teeth, firmly setting his ‘They won’t!’ card face down on the desk, “Can we get on with it now.”

“Ah, yes, the sentencing!” Bdubs declared, and it was probably lucky for Cub that Bdubs couldn’t hear Mumbo’s WHAT over the sound of his own voice, or they might’ve gotten their fifth strike.

“I- Objection? Objection, your honor!” Mumbo gathered himself, though Bdubs looked less than interested, “The jury haven’t even decided whether or not Cub is innocent or guilty, how can we just move to the sentencing?”

“This is my court mister Mumbo, and in my court, anything goes! Anything I want that is. And I want the Earth system to be open!”

Cub’s heart dropped. What!?

“Cub, sun of the Earth system, for your crimes of negligence and unnecessary cruelty to the moons in your system, past and present, you will be sentenced to one Earth month of complete accommodation for any moon, star, or planet that wants see life on Earth.”

“I- I can’t do that, I literally can not do that.” Cub whipped around for any kind of support, but it seemed every single celestial in attendance was greatly excited by the idea of visiting a life system that had been so exclusive for so long. “Your honor, I have these strict entrance guidelines in place for a reason. Just because most life forms can’t see us, doesn’t mean we don’t exert energy- a lot of energy, heat especially- Cramming a trillion celestials in the Earth system would destroy it, and if you think that number is an exaggeration, you would be wrong. But even with smaller numbers- life is sensitive, I could not possibly sustain the kind of parade you are suggesting without massive consequences.”

Bdubs considered Cub thoughtfully, but hoping was a mistake, Bdubs’s eyes narrowing in keen interest. “This is true, I know. But you aren’t the only sun in charge of a life-system, and nearly all accommodate some kind of visitation. The number of celestials a life-system can accommodate without affecting the atmosphere isn’t anything to scoff at either, and many have already dug into the metrics of your own system, Cub, despite your continued insistence that it is more fragile than what is reality. I will have these numbers double and triple checked, then halve it, and that will be the final tourist population you will be accommodating. I can assure you, no life will be harmed. But I think you already knew that.”

Oh god. Oh god.

But Bdubs wasn’t finished.

“Additionally, I understand it’s been many, many years since your initial training, and that’s a lot to forget, truly it is. You seem to have forgotten how to act, and we can’t have anything but the best for your future visitors, yes? Your sun training aids will be reinstated, and I am personally appointing Scar to supervise. You will be delivered the dates personally, and be included in all planning meetings to ensure this goes smoothly.”

Cub felt his blood run cold. He wanted to speak, argue, but his voice seemed to have left him completely. This- This had to be some kind of prank or some- some- he didn’t know! He opened his mouth to try and negotiate- anything, he’d take it all, he’d take the whole universe in his system, but not the training aids. He couldn’t do that again.

No words left him.

Cub looked to his right, stunned. Scar was smiling.

[numinousmysteries]

The Baying of the Six-Pound Hound

For the @twocakesficfest (several months too late) prompt:

immortal / invincible queeqeg who likes to show up and mess up a case or two (probably by eating the victim - e.g. Mulder: the victim walked away, cut to a tiny dog dragging a leg away)

A very special thank you to @leiascully for catching all my nauseating tense changes, ensuring I didn't accidentally summon any evil spirits, and making me work a tiny bit more to get them smooching.

[on Ao3]

1. 

He'd been in an uncharacteristically deep sleep when the yapping woke him up, which made it all the more annoying. It was rare for him to be so fully disconnected from the waking world. Typically, he'd float just below the surface of consciousness, the smallest noise enough to rouse him. But on this night, in a narrow, single-story motor lodge wedged up in the Colorado mountains, Fox Mulder had been completely, deeply, aslumber.

He'd been dreaming, too. Not his usual fretful nightmare but a rather sweet dream that featured his partner. It wasn't the first time he dreamt about her, although those dreams were typically of a more erotic nature and would leave him waking up feeling filthy with guilt—and more often than not, rock hard. He'd dream of bending her over the desk in their basement office, burying himself in her, and hearing her soft little moans as he gripped the curves of her hips. Or they'd be on the couch in his apartment and she'd be in his lap, riding him as he watched the smooth undulation of her breasts. These dreams would send him to the shower full of shame. He'd shut his eyes and take himself in his fist, gripping his cock with a firmness that bordered on pain to break the mounting tension with enough self-punishment that he could face Scully in the morning.

But this most recent dream left nothing to be ashamed of. They were walking hand-in-hand, fully-clothed, down a Georgetown street near her apartment. The sun warmed his face and Scully's small hand fit perfectly in his. They weren't in pursuit of a suspect or off to meet an informant, just strolling aimlessly like two people in love. In a way, this mundane dream felt more illicit than his most perverse fantasies because it seemed like more than anything he deserved. He could better imagine a tense moment, even an argument between them, dissolving into frenzied sex than allow himself to indulge the idea of a happy, out-in-the-open relationship with Scully. Which was why this dream was so lovely—and why it had been so frustrating when the yapping shocked him awake.

It sounded like Queequeg. But Scully didn't bring the dog with her on cases, not since– Shit , he remembered. Scully's annoying little furball of a dog, whom she inexplicably loved (which, he considered fleetingly, might bode well for her capacity to love other irritating beings), had died on the shore of Heuvelmans Lake, eaten by an alligator, or Big Blue, depending on who you asked.

The barking must have been coming from one of the neighboring rooms. But Scully was in the room to his left and the room to his right had appeared to be unoccupied when they arrived. 

By the time he showered, dressed, and made it outside to meet Scully at the rental car, she was already waiting for him with a cup of bitter coffee from the urn in the motel lobby. 

"That dog wake you up, too?" he asked.

She arched an eyebrow at him as she sipped from her styrofoam cup. "What dog?"

"Nevermind," he said, unlocking the car door.

They snaked around the mountain to the ranger station where they'd planned to meet the park ranger who’d supposedly spotted the Slide Rock Bolter. The Bolter, according to legend, was a giant landfish with a forked tail that could pick up a lumberjack and split him in two. It also had the jaw of a whale, the teeth of a shark, and the power to cause avalanche-like rock slides, hence the name. The ranger who contacted Mulder claimed that his partner, who’d gone missing the previous week, had been swallowed whole by the Bolter.

Their interview proved to be less than illuminating and they spent the rest of the afternoon hiking the mountain on their own searching for the creature. The high altitude left them both breathless so they were slower than usual as they ascended. Mulder was annoyed that they couldn't cover more ground before the sun started to set. Their descent was even slower as neither had brought the right shoes and they found themselves stumbling down the rocks and grasping onto each other for support.

Then, he saw it. A flash of auburn darting between a row of skeletal aspen trees. He gasped. 

"What is it?" she asked, turning back to face him. 

"I saw something," he said. 

"The Slide Rock Bolter?"

He frowned and shook his head. "Probably just a fox. Maybe a coyote.” Although, if he were being honest,  it kind of looked like a small dog.

Scully shrugged, turned away from him, and started heading back down the mountain. 

2.

He didn’t want to say anything, but Scully's apartment smelled bad. It normally smelled nice. Like the candles she lights or even freshly baked bread, even though he knows she doesn't bake bread. But now, it smelled like wet dog. He specifically wouldn't bring that up because she hadn't owned a dog in nearly a year now. For reasons that might have been, depending on who you asked, his fault.

He tried to hide his disgust as he spread open a file of photographs on her kitchen table, but the odor was truly overpowering. It was as if Queequeg—or let's say any anonymous dog who had not been eaten by, depending on who was telling the story, Big Blue or an alligator—had been mucking around in sewer water after not bathing for several weeks.

"Sorry, Scully, but what's that smell?" he asked finally. He felt his stomach contents rising to his throat, and it wasn’t because of the gruesome crime scene photos on the table.

She paused and tilted her chin up to the ceiling. He watched as she sniffed the air in sharp, short inhales through her perfectly proportioned nose.

"I don't smell anything," she said. 

"Really?" he asked, stunned. "It smells like—and I don't mean to bring up any unpleasant memories—wet dog in here."

She sniffed again, then shrugged. "I really don't smell it," she said, shaking her head. "But I can open a window if you want."

"Nah, it's okay."

He tried to run through his explanation of the case as quickly as possible. Three victims found without tongues, but no evidence of any procedure or act that would've resulted in the loss of said tongues which, their friends and family members insisted, were surely present before their deaths.

"The killer could be a surgeon and have access to fine tools or even lasers for seamless cuttage," she said, examining the autopsy photos.

"Mmmhmm, mmhmm," he nodded, trying to open his mouth as little as possible to keep the scent out. "But there's no sign of cutting or scarring. Which there surely would be if the procedure was performed so recently? None of the victims were missing for more than 24 hours—and all had been seen, with tongue no less, within a day. No wound could heal that fast, right?"

"So, what's your theory?" she asked. "Cat got their tongue?"

She was pleased with her little joke and gave him a rare, precious Scully grin. He wanted to at least humor her with a laugh but the mention of a cat—so close to a dog that smelled like crap—made his stomach gurgle yet again and he had to swallow sharply to keep the acidic bile down.

"You okay, Mulder?"

"Yeah, it's just...that smell. It's nauseating."

She shook her head again, that long neck taunting him. "I'm a little concerned," she said. "Are you feeling alright? A sinus infection could cause phantosmia. Or a head injury. Although you weren't banged up much on our last case."

"I'm fine," he said. "Anyway, it's not a cat I'm thinking of, but a cannibalistic spirit documented by Algonquian-speaking Native American tribes in the Northern US and Canadian wilderness.” 

"A wendigo?" she asked, eyebrow arched and ready to fire.

“Very impressive, Scully,” he grinned. “Although you should know that merely saying the spirit’s name is considered taboo. Some believe doing so could summon it into being.” 

She rolled her eyes.

He swallowed hard, and continued. “The spirit possesses a man, who then becomes unable to resist the temptation to eat human flesh. Specifically, the delicacy of the tongue."

"So you think a possessed person ate the victims' tongues?"

"Perhaps," he says. "And the legend goes that because it's actually the spirit feasting on human flesh—not the killer himself—there are no wounds where the tongue is removed. It also explains how these victims lost more than half their blood volume with no signs of trauma."

"It could be severe gastrointestinal bleeding," she said, ignoring his theory. "Perhaps as the result of a communicable illness which would explain why three members of the same community died in the same manner."

"So you think they shat out all their blood?"

"It's not unheard of," she shrugged. “Have any of the victims traveled to a region where ebola is endemic?” 

It was all making him nauseous now. He thought he'd gotten used to it after being in the room for a few minutes but the smell, if anything, was getting worse.

He felt vomit rising into his mouth and cupped  his hand over his lips. "Sorry, Scully. I gotta--" he started before bolting to her bathroom and puking into the toilet. 

"Are you okay?" she asked when he re-entered the room, eyes bloodshot.

"I think I'm coming down with something," he said. "Listen, why don't you take a look at those photos and we'll discuss more in the office tomorrow. I better get going."

"Jeez, Mulder, if I didn't know any better I'd think you were pregnant, between the heightened sense of smell and the vomiting. But that sounds like one of your theories, not mine."

"Very funny, Scully," he said, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair and heading to the door.

In the hallway, he gasped a sigh of relief. Whatever disgusting dog odor permeated Scully's apartment fortunately hadn't made its way out here. 

3.

At first, he thought the sharp prick at his heel was Scully's toenails. He was about to tease her about trimming them when he realized she was sitting beside him on her couch with her feet tucked underneath her. They were back at her apartment a week later debriefing their previous case. He hadn’t been able to prove the existence of a cannibalistic spirit and she hadn’t been able to come up with a plausible scientific explanation so they were left in their typical stalemate. Although the animal smell had dissipated, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. 

He was listening to her recount her autopsy findings when— fuck , there was that sharp biting sensation again. He involuntarily kicked out his foot as if fending off an invisible ankle-height assailant. 

"What's wrong?" Her eyes popped open. 

"Shit, sorry Scully," he said, trying to settle back down. "I could've sworn something was biting my ankle.”

"Biting?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah," he trailed off, folding in half to examine the carpet underneath the sofa. "Almost like a little dog."

"Like Queequeg?" She smirked. 

"Actually, yeah, I think that's exactly what it was like. Like that fur ball was nibbling at my heels.” 

“I don’t have to tell you that’s impossible.” He detected a hint of sadness in her voice and his heart sank, not for the first time, for all that their work had taken from her.

He opened his mouth to tell her about the other recent events—the barking sound, the flash of auburn in the Colorado wilderness, the wet fur smell of her apartment—but he knew she’d just dismiss it all.

“What?” she asked, sensing he was on the verge of revealing something. As if they were on a case and he was holding back a vital piece of information. Something he had been guilty of doing in the past, he knew, but he usually had a valid reason. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Mulder….” She dipped her chin down as her eyes bore into his.

Powerless against her, he told her everything. "Maybe he's haunting you," he concluded.

"Oh, no, Mulder," she said definitively. "I don't think it's me he's haunting."

4.

They decided to hold a seance the next day. Scully sneered at first but ultimately went along with it without needing too much convincing. She still had Queequeg’s leash and collar, so they set up a small shrine on her coffee table. She gathered a mismatched array of candles from the bathroom and living room and put them around Queequeg's memorabilia.

"How does this work?" she asked. 

He considered reminding her that she'd demonstrated the ability to transcend the boundary between the living and the dead in the past, but that would have required bringing up her father, which would have put a damper on this otherwise delightful evening. Scully felt warm next to him and they were essentially hanging out without the pretense of a case. Sure, they were having a seance for a dead dog, but how else would the two of them bond after hours?

"Let's just close our eyes, hold hands, and try to summon his spirit."

"Is this just an excuse to hold hands, Mulder?"

"Any excuse I can get," he said, as he reached out to take her hand in his. He hoped it came off as a joke, but he really did mean it. It felt so good to hold her hand when neither of them were near death. 

"Mary Todd Lincoln used to host the nation's most renowned spiritualists at the White House for seances to speak with her late son," Mulder said, trying to lend an air of legitimacy to their makeshift session. "Even honest Abe would sometimes make an appearance."

"Don't we need a medium?" Scully asked, keeping a firm hold on his hand. 

"I figure you could play the role, Madame Scully," he said, tipping his chin in her direction. She smiled. He liked making her smile. Her smile always had the effect of flicking a switch deep in his belly that felt like the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wings.

"I think Melissa and I had a Ouija board back in the day."

"Pfft," he snorted. "The Ouija board is a purely commercial invention. I don't think anything made in the same factory as Chutes and Ladders can be trusted to commune with the dead."

Scully smirked. "I assumed Ouijia boards would fit right in with the Fox Mulder cosmology."

"Then, Scully," he said, shaking his head, "I don't think you know me at all."

He grinned at her and she smiled back. 

"So, how do we start this thing?" she asked.

"First, we have to close the circle." He extended his free hand to hers and she squeezed tightly onto it.

They stood silently for a beat, facing each other, holding hands. He wasn't actually sure if there was a spiritualist reason for creating the closed circle, but it had to have roots in ancient concepts of energy channeling. He'd done silly little seances in college, typically led by witchy girls with dyed black hair and crystal jewelry, and they always stressed the importance of not breaking the circle. Once he had taken the time to dive into the occult and 19th century spiritualism—the heyday of the modern seance—he couldn't find anything on the importance of maintaining a circle. But then again, if holding one of Scully's hands was nice, holding both of them was even better.

He closed his eyes and, without saying anything, sensed that she'd closed hers, too. He relished the trust she placed in him, listening as her breathing slowed and deepened. He inhaled the heady mix of candles they'd gathered from around the apartment. Vanilla and eucalyptus mingled in the air with musk and gardenia and he suspected these weren't all supposed to be lit at once, but somehow it worked. 

"Do you want me to say something?" she asked, her soft voice drifting over to him in the dark.

"Um, if you want," he said.

She paused, then began. "Queequeg, we welcome your spirit into our circle. If you're near us, please make your presence known."

"Not bad, Scully," he said, giving her hands a squeeze.

"Melissa used to do this crap all the time."

"Hey, don't rain on my parade over here."

"Sorry," she said with a giggle that set his soul aflame.

"We miss you, Queequeg, you were a good dog," she went on. "You didn't always smell the best, especially when you were flatulent, which seemed to be more often than not—"

"What were you feeding that dog?" Mulder interrupted.

"Shut up," she said. "But no matter how poorly you smelled at times, I loved you very much and truly enjoyed the time we spent together. If you've come back because you're angry at Mulder for leading you to your demise at the hands of an alligator—"

"Or Big Blue," he piped up.

She tugged on his hands and ignored him. "If you're angry at Mulder, he'd like to take this chance to apologize and request your forgiveness so you can transition on to the next plane in peace."

"Scully, this isn't half bad," he said, genuinely impressed. 

"It's your turn now—go on, apologize."

"Are you serious?"

"Do you want him to stop haunting you or not?"

Mulder smiled and tried to convey his happiness through their grasped hands.

"Queequeg, this is Mulder speaking. I want to apologize for calling you names and dragging you out to Heuvelmans Lake where you met your untimely demise. I wish we could have spent more time together with Scully—” 

She cut him off with an adorable snort of a laugh.

"—listening to Scully talk. And have Scully check us for fleas and ticks."

Her giggle was a full-blown laugh now. He was desperate to open his eyes and see her face light up. but he’d bought into this seance, so he wasn’t about to break it now.

"I checked you for ticks once , Mulder," she said. "And that was because we'd just spent the night in the woods."

"Well, you're welcome to check again any time."

"I think we're getting off topic," she said, collecting herself. "Keep talking to Queequeg."

5.

There was no gust of wind, flickering light, or even jingling collar bells ringing through the room after he finished speaking, but they both sensed a change. It was as if a six-pound weight had been lifted. 

"I think his spirit is free," Scully whispered to him, solemnly. 

"Run free, Queequeg," he said. He gently opened his eyes and found that hers were open too, and she was looking at him warmly. Despite her reputation for being cold and closed off, he knew that Scully emanated warmth. Once she let someone into her life, she’d hold them in her warmth and protect them with her loyalty. He was only slightly peeved that she had opened herself up to Queequeg before him.

She loved with a fierceness and dedication outsized for her tiny frame. Then again, everything about Scully was larger than her small size would suggest. Her brilliance, her strength, and yes, her love, all seemed like they should overwhelm someone so tiny, but Scully managed to contain it all in just a few inches over five feet.

In that way, she was  like Queequeg. An outsized force stuffed into a small package, with a tuft of auburn hair, who would bite if necessary. He wouldn't dare compare her to Queequeg out loud, though.

Instead, he said, "He was a good dog."

"I thought you couldn't stand him."

"I don't know if we ever saw eye to eye, per se, although that might've been more of a height issue." He gave her a crooked smile. "But I know you liked him, that he kept you company."

"That makes me sound pretty pathetic," she sighed. 

"I didn't mean that. Just that—" he paused to choose his words carefully—"it's nice to come home to someone. I know fish aren't really the same as dogs, but sometimes it's soothing to see them after a long day of the shit we deal with. It just helps me put things in perspective—I'm dealing with lies and gaslighting and conspiracies, and they're just obliviously swimming along and enjoying their lives. A dog must be similar, I imagine."

"Yeah," she nodded. "It was like that with Queequeg. Whenever I'd get frustrated with work or with you"— he gasped in mock outrage and she just smiled and continued—"he'd always be here and look so excited to go for a walk or get his dinner. The consistency was comforting. And he was good at cuddling. He'd get so warm, like a little ball of heat."

"You know, Scully," he started, "I'm available for cuddling if you're ever feeling cold."

“I’ll keep that under consideration.” She smiled. “For now, want to stick around for a glass of wine?”

“Sure,” he said, and she disappeared into the kitchen to fetch a bottle and glasses. 

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to speak with Queequeg's spirit," he said when she returned,  accepting a glass of red wine from her. 

Settled into the opposite corner of the couch, Scully sat with her legs scrunched up underneath herself with her own glass of wine. He couldn't deal with how precious she looked—nor with how far away she sat.

"Get over here, Scully," he said, patting the cushion next to him.

She smiled, untucked her legs, and moved to scoot over next to him. He transferred his wine glass to his left hand so he could drape his right arm over her shoulder. 

"Maybe Queequeg just has to realize that I'm not a threat to you," he said. Emboldened by her lack of response to his arm over hers, he started lazily tracing circles on her tricep. "Then he'll stop haunting me."

"You're not a threat to me," she said, seriously.

"Come on, Scully." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I'm responsible for so much shit that's happened to you over the years. If I were a little Pomeranian in love with you, I'd do everything in my six-pound power to make this Mulder guy's life a living hell."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think Queequeg was in love with me?"

"How could he not be?" he spit out without even thinking. "I mean—" he tried to recover—"you took good care of him."

Scully just gave him a Cheshire cat grin. She wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.

"You think that's all it takes to fall in love with me? If I take care of you?"

"Well, there are lots of reasons a guy—or a dog—could fall in love with you. You're loyal, kind, and caring. You're fucking brilliant. And you're not half-bad to look at either."

"’Not half-bad,’” she repeated, frowning. “I’m flattered, really.” 

“Give me a break. I’m trying to play it cool here,” he admitted. 

She blushed and took a sip of her wine. He did, too, as if trying to use the alcohol to mask his sudden confession. Although it was his first sip and he'd been drunk in love with her for longer than he cared to admit.

"Oh, fuck it," he said. He leaned forward to set the wine glass on the coffee table and pivoted to face her. Bravely, he delved into uncharted territory. "You're breathtakingly beautiful, Scully. I'm not about to speculate on what got Queequeg's gears going, but if he's anything like me, he wouldn't be able to resist you. Frankly, I'm jealous of how many nights he got to spend in your bed."

"I didn't allow him in the bed."

He smiled wide. “Of course you didn't," he said. "Because you know about things like pet dander and how sleeping with a dog in your bed can interrupt your REM cycle and that's another reason why you're so lovable.”

“You’re making me sound more anal-retentive than lovable.” She looked up at him with sad eyes before quickly glancing down again. 

“Oh, Scully, you know that’s now what I mean.” He leaned forward to nudge her shoulder with his. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, her eyes still downcast. 

“Just that—” He paused, struggling to find the words. “You’re so you , Scully. You’re so fully realized, so completely yourself, but not in a way that makes you predictable or boring. It just makes it all the more thrilling when I learn something new about you that somehow both surprises me and fits into the puzzle of what makes you you.”

“And that fact that I didn’t let a dog sleep in my bed somehow makes me more lovable?” 

“It does to me.” He brought the tip of his pointer finger to her chin, softly encouraging her to look back toward him. “What I’m trying, and apparently failing, to say is that I love everything about you. I love that you’re particular and exacting. I love that you force me to be honest and vigorous in our work, and I love that you’re part of my life outside of work, too. And while there’s nothing I value more than our friendship, I hope I’m not being too presumptive to say that I’m getting the feeling we’d both like to be more than friends.”

Terrified, he searched her eyes for confirmation, any sign that his feelings were reciprocated. But she simply stared back at him, her chin wrinkling as she considered his words.

“Although, I suppose, sharing your bed with a creature a lot larger than a Pomeranian might be much more disruptive to your sleep cycle,” he added. 

“I might not mind the interruption,” she said finally, her voice low and breathy, her eyes still locked on his.  

“Even from your defiant, alien-chasing, nutjob of a partner?” 

“Do you mean my incredibly tenacious, intelligent, and loyal partner for whom I might just harbor similar feelings?” 

"Do you think Queequeg would approve?" he asked.

"Let's find out," she said. Before he could question her, Scully's lips were pressed against his. She tasted like tannin-rich wine but also something deeper and more Scully-like: warm and tangy with other unidentifiable undertones that he could drink from his whole life and never get enough of.

He took her wine glass from her and placed it next to his on the coffee table. With both hands free, she felt her way up his arms to frame his face. His own hands wandered wildly, up her back, through her hair, on her soft and tender cheeks. She opened her mouth to him and he tasted her tongue with his. He felt his body responding to her kiss—and judging on how she was squirming and shifting her hips towards him, he knew she was responding as well.

Just as he was about to slip a hand up and underneath her feather-soft sweater to caress the even softer skin underneath, he heard a low, deep growl off in the distance.

He pulled away and faced Scully, puzzled.

“That couldn’t be—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I heard it, too. I think my neighbors down the hall got an English bulldog. It’s not a ghost.” 

“Good enough for me.”

“I should kiss you more often if it gets you to agree so easily.” She smiled at him, inching even closer on the couch.

“I think you should test that theory, Agent Scully.” 

She leaned in again. This time, there were no howls or growls interrupting them.

[wannab-urs]

Left Behind

Summary: Cleaning your apartment after Javi leaves the DEA and you.  Warnings: Angst, alcohol, smoking Rating: T A/N: Thanks to @murder-wife for helping me come up with this one. Love you, wife. I actually have two ideas for this so I’ll be posting the other one later! (It’s part of the A Ghost of You series!!) 

Javier Peña Masterlist | Masterlist | Prompt Fills | AO3 | Kofi

He’s left you behind, for good this time. You always knew your time with Javi was limited. That one day he’d up and leave Colombia and you would be forgotten. It doesn’t make it hurt any less though. It wasn’t just sex, even if that’s how it had started. He took pieces of you with him when he left, and now it was time to get rid of the pieces of him he’d left behind. A little spring cleaning to erase all traces of him in your apartment. 

You find one of the dress shirts he always wore to work under your bed. You hold it to your nose and inhale the scent of Javi still left in its fibers. You toss the shirt on your bed, planning to get rid of it later. There’s a framed photo of you and Javi, one of the few you took together, on your nightstand. You toss the photo, frame and all, into the trash can. You can’t quite believe he left you behind so suddenly, tossed you aside so easily. Throwing away his things is so hard for you, but it seemed like moving on was nothing to him. 

There’s a lighter on half the surfaces in your house because he always had one within easy reach. You collect them all into a little pile and then stuff them in a drawer in your kitchen. You can use them to light candles or something. 

The last items are a handle of whiskey, half gone, and a pack of cigarettes, nearly empty. You pour yourself a glass of the whiskey and light up a cigarette. A tear rolls down your cheek and lands in the glass. You miss him, you can’t help it. You shoot the whiskey and pour yourself another glass. Best way to get rid of it is to drink it, right? You curl up on your bed, put out the cigarette in his ashtray, and use his shirt to dry your tears.

@fanfictionoverload

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Physical

Wolfstar, January 8, word count 722

Previous part First part

Everything was delicious. Remus had three platefuls to Sirius’s amusement. 

“Where is it all going?” He asked, prodding a finger into Remus’s flat stomach. Remus shrugged as he swallowed another roast potato.

“No idea. Mum used to say I had hollow legs. She used to joke that she’d never managed to fill me, I just kept eating.” He hadn’t talked about his mum for a long time. It usually came with pain as he remembered her, but with Sirius, talking about her filled him with warmth.

Once they were finished, Remus dutifully took their plates to the kitchen and began washing up. Sirius slid in beside him and began drying what Remus had washed. They worked in comfortable silence, but Remus could tell Sirius was building up to ask him something. His eyes kept darting towards Remus and his mouth kept opening and shutting without any words coming out. 

“So, erm, this Sunday my parents are hosting an event for MS and I wondered if you might want to go with me? You don’t have to,” He added quickly, seeing Remus wince. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to go with you because I do. I just agreed to work Sunday night, and if I cancel, I might not get asked again.”  That was the problem with his other job. If you turned down the work, then the next time you’ll be the last person on the list they ask and right now he couldn’t afford that. 

“Oh, alright,” Sirius said sadly, reaching up to put the plates back in the cupboard. Remus opened his mouth to explain further, but right at that second, his phone went off. Olivia Newton-John singing ‘Let’s Get Physical!’ On repeat. It was James. 

“Sorry,” Remus apologised as he answered the call. “Hey James, what’s up?”

“Hey, babe,” Remus could hear the smile in James’s voice and found a smile of his own creeping across his mouth. “You still up for Saturday then? Lily wanted me to check,” Shit, he’d forgotten about Saturday. It was Lily’s birthday, and they were all getting together for a party at theirs. Remus suddenly had an idea. He turned to Sirius and, holding the phone against his shoulder, asked. “Do you fancy coming to a friend's party with me on Saturday?” Sirius’s face lit up and he nodded yes. Remus put the phone back to his ear and found James rabbiting on about all the decorations he’d bought and how it was going to take him forever to blow up all the balloons. “Hey, James, would it be alright for me to bring somebody?” The line went silent. “James?” Remus asked, pulling the phone away and checking the screen to make sure they were still connected. 

“What, like a date?” James asked curiously. Remus looked at Sirius. He had no idea what their relationship was. Sirius held out his hand and Remus passed him his phone. 

“Hi, James, is it? This is Sirius. Remus doesn’t know it yet, but I’m his boyfriend… Yes, that’s right, the one that keeps inviting himself over for sleepovers… Oh my god, yes, Sweeny Kebab, right?… He totally is… I did, it was the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth… No seriously… Did you get one of those hand pumps? One of those would make it so much easier… We could come around early and help you set up… Yes, of course, I can’t wait to meet you. I’ve only met Remus’s father… Oh, yeah… He left pretty quickly once he found out who I was… Oh, erm, Sirius Black… Yeah, yeah, that’s them… Really?… Damn, James, that's, that's so sweet… Yeah, see you on Saturday… Bye.” Sirius handed Remus his phone back. 

“I love him, Remus, I demand that you keep him,” James told him as soon as he put the phone back to his ear. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” He answered, watching Sirius move about his flat with easy familiarity. The little weirdo had completely enamoured Remus. His boyfriend. It felt right somehow, even if they’d only known each other for days, it felt like so much more. “See you Saturday,” He said to James, before hanging up and going to sit with Sirius on the sofa. Sirius immediately cuddled up to him and Remus pressed play on his DVD player. 

Next part

[nanamis-bigtie]

loving your chubby body

↬ feat. higuruma hiromi, ino takuma, gojo satoru, geto suguru, kusakabe atsuya x gn afab!reader ↬ jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, pwp, reader has a vagina, piv sex for most of them, warnings wary per character (read them especially at geto's part), MINORS DNI a/n: on my way to spread more love for plus size readers! inspired by this art. divider by saradika

higuruma hiromi

cw: intercrural sex, clit stimulation

"Just a little more—" Hiromi's voice shatters with each breath. He's fighting brave but his own excitement is his greatest opponent, and each drag of his hips brings him closer to the delicious defeat.

With your thighs pressed tight together and bent over the kitchen counter, you're at mercy of his thrusts. This position is a little uncomfortable, your elbows will hate you for that later, but little do you care about it in the heat of the moment. It's happened too fast, too; one moment you're melting into your partner's embrace as he gently scoops you from behind and prompts his chin on your shoulder to see the work of your hands better—the other he's pounding into you like an animal in heat.

"Just—" He pants into your ear, chest flush to your back, both of his hands groping at your rolls and softness. Half-unbuckled belt digs into your exposed ass; he hasn't undone his pants properly, just moved clothes enough to slam himself against your slick.

He hasn't sunk himself inside though. The roll on top of your thick thighs, his beloved part of your body, bewitched him and swallowed the first, desperate thrust. He hasn't abandoned it since, forcing your legs to close and squeeze his cock in between. You feel it throbbing against your slit; he's hard, hot and gushing, right on the verge of finishing but somehow savoring the moment, only thanks to his stubborn temperance.

You would love to watch his fat tip poking through your clenched legs whenever he bottoms out. No chance for it in the current position, but from the sensation alone you can picture it—your own imagination has you drooling and needy.

"They're so soft..." Hiromi's voice is on the verge of crying. He nuzzles face into the back of your neck, teeth grazing your skin but not daring to take a bite. He's too busy fighting for air and chasing his pleasure.

He rocks himself whole against you, the sheer force of his moves forcing you into the counter and bruising your torso where it meets the edge. His arms around you tighten, his hands full of your chest and stomach, and his hips relentlessly meet your ass. He likes to take you from behind to watch it ripple but even this view can't rival the intoxicating warmth of your thick thighs. He won't pull away even for a second, not before he's covered them with his cum, milked of everything he has for you tonight.

The way he whines your name, broken 'I love you's and praises spells the finish—but Hiromi is stronger than that. He powers through it, almost crushing you in his arms all the way he can wrap them around you, and finds a new reserve of energy to rut into you with fresh pacing and angle. He's pressed closer to your cunt now, so close he's almost slipping in, but he's too lost in it to focus and buckle down to it a little more.

He can bump your clit right now, though, unintentionally edging you both together and eventually breaking you into moans and spasms, your legs too weak to withstand your weight and his enthusiasm.

"Keep it for me—" He growls when you start to falter, yanking you into the right position with impatience you would never suspect him of. "Please."

ino takuma

cw: weight-related insecurity, face-sitting talk, against the wall

"Why not?"

You wonder if Takuma is aware how soppy he looks now, cheek nuzzled into your thigh and looking up at you with a mix of shock and pleading in his eye. Just a moment earlier he's been relentlessly building up the churning in your abdomen with hasty kisses and greedy work of his tongue; his breath is still short after endless adoration of your rolls and curves. It's soothing the fresh hickey right under the edge of your groin, place that's stopped him in his tracks once he took a whiff of you, daring him to jump on you with an unexpected and selfish request.

"I don't want to— You know." You flounder between still heavy breathing and explanations. The answer is obvious with how there's nothing hidden between you two, all insecurities stripped naked for him, but it still doesn't want to pass your lips. As if you would crumble all of the courage and confidence you've built to be here with him if you admitted to the problem outright.

Takuma gets it and is having none of that at the same time.

"You think you could hurt me?" There's a shade of hurt ego behind his laughter. "Babe, please. You've seen the things I carried."

"Well... You've never carried me."

As if you ever let him, time after time escaping grabby and eager hands. Not in front of the others, not when you're wearing that, not when it's so hot, another day, another day, finally never. And you see it in the fire pushing the teary and pleading look in his eye away. His ego is one thing but being played like this right after being denied a delicious treat could not escape unpunished.

Still on his knees, Takuma hooks arms under your knees, still spread wide to fit his enthusiasm and adoration, and yanks you up. For a moment you're in the air with no support but your hands in panic grabbing any part of his body they could reach—but soon you find balance, supported by his strong grab on your ass. He holds you as if you were nothing, cheeky grin pushed right into your face as he's advancing on the nearest wall, soon having your back pushed against it, so tight and close you can't take a full breath anymore.

"If you don't want my face—" He adjusts the grip, having you with one arm while reaching down to align his cock with you— "we're gonna play this way."

You're dropped down just a little, enough to have him sinking inside with the help of gravity alone. Both of you groan in pleasure, your lips an inch away and soon meeting in a chaotic, wet kiss. He doesn't keep it for long, focused on raw and ruthless pacing, the deeper and faster the more you helplessly claw into his shoulders and back, your legs just useless and dangling by his sides.

"How are you feeling?" Takuma rasps into your neck, by no means tired, just barely restraining himself from destroying you right here, against the wall in the living room. "Still worried you're too heavy for my face?"

As if you could answer him, choking on moans, your eyes rolling back in your head on the deep and rough highway to your orgasm, the first of a few waiting for you tonight.

gojo satoru

cw: cowgirl, overstimulation, implied creampie

Your knees are slowly meeting their limit.

Luckily, this orgasm is not as strong, gently washing over you and having you shudder and sigh deep. Satoru holds you through it with patience, unheard of except intimate moments like these, but under the comforting pressure of his big hands creeps the insatiable need for more. You've been chasing him as best as you could, for the years you've been sleeping together already used to his habits and much better at this race than you were at the beginning—but in the end you're a human only.

No amount of stamina could ever satisfy the strongest.

He leans backwards but doesn't pull you with him, letting your bodies cool down each on their own. He's lying beneath you now, a delicious treat for your gaze. Disheveled, pink taint brushing his pale skin, sweat pearling all over his toned chest and abs, white happy trail wet with your juices, blindfold crooked and revealing one of his deep-blue eyes, following each move of yours with attention... You could never have enough of how pretty he is, of how lucky you are to have him like this for yourself only.

The swaying of your hips ceases, heaving of your chest the only move you have left for now. You feel discomfort in your knees, thighs and groin, not too much yet, but really close. If not for his girth still pulsing like mad deep in you, you would gladly help yourself and roll off him for a much-deserved rest. But after all those orgasms he's given you—well, mostly with the work of your body in his lap—it's just unfair to leave him unsatisfied. It's nothing you wouldn't solve with your hand or mouth, but you would not hear the end of it if your once-in-a-week treat for a whole night hadn't finished with him cum inside of you.

"C'mon, move a little." Satoru pokes your stomach, not so gently this time and smirking at your whine and a little wiggle of hips. He knows you adore when he's touching you there and he's gotten way too good at using it in his favor.

"Let me—" You haven't even collected your breathing and thoughts yet. "Just a moment, okay? Give me—"

With a bratty smirk, he plants heels into the bed and bumps you up, his huge cock finding a new angle to slide even deeper into you. Sudden spark of pleasure shakes your body whole, from eyes rolling in the back of your head to toes curling by his sides. When teetering on the edge of overstimulation, it's so easy to fall into another orgasm.

But you've withstood this one, hands clenched on his wrists so hard you mark his skin with your nails.

"Move," he orders half-heartedly, threatening with another thrust building in his hips—so you move, as much as your exhausted and strained legs let you.

It's enough for the insatiable beast for now. Pleased, Satoru pushes both hands against your stomach and kneads your rolls. At first, it's just a motivation for you to ride him faster. But something clicks and he's not teasing you anymore, blind and indifferent to everything but the feeling of your softness and the sight of your skin pouring around his fingers.

You test your luck, cease your moves again—just for the hold to squeeze you tighter and force you to pick the rhythm up. Hypnotized, Satoru is even more selfish and merciless.

geto suguru

cw: canon compliant geto, exhibitionism, cockwarming, dom/sub undertones, dumbification vibe, public sex, geto kills someone

The man kneeling in front of you two might have an idea what's going on, but he would never dare to let you know he's aware—yet to vocalize his confusion or indignation. He's sweating profoundly under the weight of Suguru's stare, mumbling chaotic explanations and excuses, his eyes transfixed on Suguru's feet.

You don't even know who that is and why has he's been dragged to writhe and babble. Before a different matter has occupied the top spot of your attention share, you've understood enough to recognize him as one of the windows sympathizing with the cause. But why did he fall from favor? Maybe it has been addressed already, maybe Suguru himself is not clued in enough, just treating the man as an excellent opportunity to play with you instead.

It doesn't matter. You're perched in his lap; you're engulfed by his greedy touch and perverse ideas. You're pressing against him with your whole weight, exactly as he likes, and squeezing his cock in your hot and tight hole.

Countless, wide layers of Suguru's clothes can cover your union with ease. Having one of his arms loosely wrapped around you, he hides the most of your body behind the sleeve. The other, resting on top of your lap, secures the rest. For a casual, lost eye, he's only holding you close, his favorite, his beloved toy, his doe-eyed innocent thing he treats like a comfort object. In reality, he's keeping you to cockwarm him in front of everyone who'll pass through this room until he'll be bored with torturing you and will take you on the same chair or on the floor next to it.

With no one around, if you're lucky.

As the man squirms on the floor, almost kissing it with the way he bows lower and lower, Suguru mindlessly traces your love handles. You twitch when he brushes a particularly ticklish spot and squeeze him even tighter. But you don't move, your face slotted in the crook of his neck, eyes focused on his handsome face and full of adoration. Part of you is terrified of delicious consequences, part wants to spare yourself overstimulation. With your nerves tense and teased relentlessly for what feels like hours, you're constantly on the edge of snapping. Even Suguru's breathing is like a torture; oh, what you would gladly give away to have him finally move and sate the fire between your legs.

"Did you hear him?" Suguru takes your chin into hand and brushes thumb against your slightly parted lips. When you can't stop the tiniest of mewls, he squeezes your cheeks, maybe with an encouragement, maybe with a warning. "What do you think, my sweetest, should we kill him?"

You roll your head further into him, feinting a whispered advice but in fact—wordlessly begging for this farce to end. You're meeting your limit, a minute more and you'll lose the last strand of dignity left in you and beg instead to be fucked right here and now, accidental voyeurs be damned.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood today." Suguru's eyes rest on the man, now crying in relief and thanking him in the sweetest words, but the sentence is for your ears only.

Suguru turns the unwelcomed witness away with an impatient flick of a wrist, closes both arms around you tight even before he leaves the room. You hear a loud thud by the door when a curse pierces through the man's back, killing him instantly, but the aftertaste of reaction is faint and soon disappears midst Suguru's deep kisses.

kusakabe atsuya

cw: big breasts fetish, handjob, reader in lingerie

When you unclasp your bra and let your breast pour out of its confines, Atsuya throws everything he's been holding and pounces on you right away.

You haven't seen each other for a whole weekend—weekends should be crossed out of his agenda, but luck wasn't on your side this time—and you know it was rough to him. He put on a brave mask and casually brushed off all your proposals, from the facetime to exchanging nudes, but his curt messages and taut voice through the speaker just reeked of desperation. He's been pent up for a while now, crumbs of intimacy he stole from you along the week not enough to sate his libido. 

Just to think he warned you beforehand that he might be too tired for you; since the day he's taken you for the first time you're the one who has to beg for mercy from his relentless desire.

You set a little trap. Lingerie Atsuya bought you for your anniversary hasn't been tested yet in action, its tight fit and very feminine appearance needing a particular opportunity and mood. Opportunity couldn't be better, the mood set itself as soon as his face went red and mouth agape at the sight. Work and travel exhaustion is gone in second—and the only thing you have to worry is whether the delicate lace will withstand how strong he grabs and pulls.

Atsuya buries his face into your bust straight away, no word said, no touch stolen from the other parts of your body—just a lewd moan muffled by your mounds and hands scooping them from sides to cushion himself better. He rubs himself into your warmth and scent, growls, pleased, when he catches your natural tinge not yet washed away after the day. The tent in his pants grows crazy fast; you don't lose a moment and free him as soon as he leaves you an opening for it.

He throbs against your palm so hard that you worry your surprise might be finished way too early. Atsuya withstands the temptation, somehow, but does nothing to control himself in any other way. He's more fucking your fist than letting you stroke him, his precum dripping down your fingers and turning your grip slick, almost too much.

Holding himself between your tits until he's out of breath, Atsuya finally peels away enough to look at you, "I missed you. I missed them."

He licks and sucks, peppers your breasts with kisses and hickeys until he settles on one of your nipples. He's rougher than usual, brushing at the line of discomfort and letting you feel his teeth; you will be too sensitive for a bra for a day or two to come, but you still pull on his hair and prompt him closer. You missed him. You missed that.

With the first hunger satisfied, you finally find the right, united rhythm. His hips slow down enough to let you work for him, your hold on him is gentler and leaving him more space and freedom. Atsuya is not going anywhere though, only once taking a sudden turn to kiss your neck, but the delicious valley between your breasts bewitches him again.

Both arms wrapped around you, hands adoring your love handles, he pulls you whole into him, having you perched in his lap, and groaning when you find a new angle to jerk him off. "I missed every piece of you."