#the food was awful but at least it was also expensive

[st-just]

Actual destination restaurant had a 40 minute wait, so we were tricked into going to a Chinese buffet place with thousands of 4-5 star reviews.

Quite literally every stereotype I might have had about sprawling chain Chinese-American/Canadian buffets in the middle of the suburbs have beem justified.

I have never in my life felt like more of a snobbish out-of-touch downtown cultural elite.

[rosicheeks]

why drive so long? is it cause airfare is so expensive?

My family went to Disney world for a little trip 🥰

And we drove for a few different reasons I guess

[radiance1]

Witch au but Sam looks far too much like Martha Wayne than a lot of people are comfortable with.

I hear you ask, "but Sam is younger than her in this au" and I tell you that Martha Wayne had the genetic trait of looking younger than she actually was, a trait that was in her family for generations.

Thus, we have Sam who resembles Martha Wayne far too much, the philosopher's stone that makes her immortal, and a genetic trait that has Martha looking younger than she actually is and you get misunderstandings.

So, Sam was just minding her business trying to figure out what exactly for her castle to be anywhere that wasn't Amity Park when someone stepped onto her property and, getting a feel for them she realized that they don't seem to be magical in nature.

Also, scratch that, it was more than one person.

So, she decided to give them a... 'warm' welcome.

A group of people who believed in the supernatural decided to get together one day to explore the castle that spawned randomly one day in Gotham for shits and giggles. So there they were, stepping through the fog, barely able to see the ground let alone each other.

They had to solve a puzzle for the door to the castle to open in those conditions, which was weird but it was also the fun kind of weird so they weren't complaining about it. When they opened the door it was very dark, which made them second guess themselves for a second and then they decided to step in anyway.

They live in Gotham what's the chances of this castle being worse than what they go through weekly?

The door slammed shut behind them as soon as the last person stepped inside, leaving them in total darkness for a moment before candles lit themselves up and they saw the inside of the castle in its full glory.

It looked, very, very beautiful.

So beautiful in fact, that they almost missed the woman stood at the top of the stairs. She looked very, very beautiful and was wearing a dress that looked very expensive (think Blue Diamond from Steven Universe but black) with a red gem right in the middle of her chest.

The lady welcomed them into her castle, and suddenly they found their vision going back as the woman's sinister chuckle echoed all around them and they found themselves in separate rooms of the house.

Fun fact, this group of people were also streamers and streaming everything up to the point of Sam's entrance and then her magicking them all in different rooms. They also had a pretty good following, so safe to say the chats were going crazy over what just happened.

So, the various live streamers investigate the castle to find a way to escape before their assumed death, they solve various puzzles both with their own wit and the help of their chat that were magical in nature. The various puzzles and traps were, genuinely, very fun to solve, both for the chat and the streamers doing them.

All the streamers manage to meet up again, and boy are they genuinely thankful for the fact that-so far at least, this doesn't seem to actually be anything life threatening and just seemed to be a grand time all around.

Then they all headed down a hall together, and the chat just went absolutely ballistic when they saw a large portrait of the witch and another man standing together and smiling.

The chat never got a good look at her before the streamers got teleported to different rooms, but that painting?

It changed everything.

Because the woman standing in that picture-as pointed out by a chat member, looked an awful lot like Martha Wayne, and the man standing next to her? Thoms Wayne.

The streamers, obviously, think they've hit the jack pot because their viewer count is just going up and up because of this new information and also think they've hit some sort of scandal because, wasn't Martha Wayne dead?

Eventually, the find themselves sitting at the dining table with said woman who was silently drinking tea with a bunch of food sitting on the table in front of them. The woman smirked as she placed down her cup, asking if they enjoyed the various puzzles she laid out for them.

Everyone agrees, and the chat is exploding for them to ask if she's actually Martha Wayne.

She doesn't answer save for a cheeky smile and then suddenly they were standing outside of her castle and couldn't get back in.

Safe to say, reporters were flocking to ask various questions.

[writella]

Daryl Dixon Kissing Daydreams— A little look inside Daryl’s memories of kissing his favorite person in the world.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader (no pronouns are used but there is one instance that I use the word princess), suggestive but overall, just some lovely sweetness! wc: 2k, slightly proofread— my apologies about any misspells, I just really want to get this out and get back to writing!!!

A/N: Let’s get back into things. ♡ I hope you’re all doing well. With love from writella. ♡

Daryl Dixon loves kissing.

He’d never admit it though— albeit that is a weird thing to admit out of nowhere— and he’s never said it out loud— albeit that is a weird thing to say out loud in most normal instances as well— but either way, he does. He really, really does.

Ironically, it’s his fifth favorite form of affection.

The first is acts of service. He doesn’t call it that though. He probably doesn’t even know the phrase. To him, it’s just being useful. Helping, or as he’d pronounce it, helpin’, or jus helpin’ awut.

This includes hunting to feed others, preparing food (even though he’s awful at it other than roasting things on a fire, so everyone agrees, just hunting), remembering things you like and getting them when and if he can find them, thoughtful gifts that remind him of you— basically any stones or trinkets he finds on his journeys, finding shelter if need be, keeping you safe and warm— even at the expense of himself, fixing things, taking the time to teaching you survival skills you want to learn, the sort.

The second is beating the shit out of people in his loved ones honor. Walkers, “Saviors,” men named Negan, basically, anyone out to kill you. He didn’t like seeing people hurt his friends, but he does enjoy when he gets to fuck people up in case it happens. To that, a subconscious part of Daryl’s brain says thank god there are no therapists in town; or, that they are either too scared to speak to him or have not gotten the chance to speak to him so he doesn’t have to reckon with the fact that his not-so-secret thirst for punching and shooting arrows at people might be just a little too high.

The third is listening. He didn’t know he was good at this until you told him. He doesn’t interrupt and he is not quick to judge, you had said, “or really you just know how to keep the mean things to yourself.” He smiled at that. He realized that yes, he is a silent judger, but he’s also pretty open-minded. He liked that about himself, and he found out because of you. It made him feel nice.

Also, if you were wondering, yes, you may have noticed that these three forms of affection can all be argued as kinds of acts of service, but again, Daryl doesn’t know phrases like that, and even if he did or if he was classifying any of his interests or skills, beating people up and shooting things with arrows would always be in its category.

The fourth is hugging– another one he wouldn’t admit out loud. He’d never say he needed a hug, but wouldn’t deny a friend one, and they became more meaningful to him after moments he’d thought he’d never see them again, or see you again. Hugs became incredibly important then. It made him realize that hugging was also the first form of intimate, physical touch that he ever felt comfortable with. He obviously didn’t grow up in an affectionate home, but he was at least used to getting a pat on the back from Meryl when he caught something good to eat, said something Meryl thought was funny, or did whatever Meryl told him to do “right the first time.” Seldomly though, if Meryl was in one of his good moods, he’d give Daryl an actual hug, one of those nice, brotherly ones. Maybe Meryl was laughing with his friends when saw Daryl, beckoning him over, hugging him by the side saying, “Hey little brother,” as he tussles Daryl’s hair; or at night, when Meryl stumbles in as a sleepy-go-lucky-drunk, lazily throwing his chest and arms around Daryl, telling him, “I love you.” He knew never to take it that seriously in those moments, but he did, he couldn’t help it even if he was good at making it look like he didn’t from the outside. The only other time Meryl would do or say that is when one or both of them got it from their dad. Nevermore did they feel closer, as if they were one half of the other, than in moments like those. Daryl felt almost bad for liking it. He used to have to earn affection, he realized. He’s almost ready to talk about it. With you. You give him so much so freely. He’s shocked and sometimes terrified by it. But your helping, your saving, your listening, your hugging– it made him feel ready to speak. It is what also helped him learn his last favorite form of affection, the one mentioned above and only saved for you, the fifth–

–kissing.

One of his favorite places to kiss you is by your fireplace. You two would sit on the rug and you’d ask him to drag the coffee table to where you sat. The two of you ate dinner there sometimes, near the fire on a cold winter evening, or you used it as a place to set down your drinks and whatever game you two were playing, or to use as a resting spot for your elbows as he listened to you talk for what felt like an enchanting forever.

He never tired of your voice as you spoke about your old favorite tv shows and movies and books that he had never watched or read, listening with no interruption– as he always does– or waiting for moments to ask you questions or follow-up questions about this character or that and you’d answer with as much as your memory recalled. You’d make yourself laugh with how silly and passionate you got over these things and he would smile softly, blue eyes glowing in the firelight because he liked hearing you speak, he liked everything you had to say.

It’s moments like this when your smiles catch one another’s and your eyes lock a few seconds longer than before because there is nothing else left to place your gaze on that Daryl places his hand on yours or on your leg and you know that means he wants you closer. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently swipes and caresses your jaw and you both stay there for a moment, looking at each other. You move in slowly and you kiss him so soft and and tender and tentatively like a princess. His princess. The one who made everything so lovely and magical to what he thought of as his weird and jagged gremlin self.

Daryl gets excited during the times you decide to initiate. It makes him feel courageous when you’re courageous. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer, taking control as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You sigh, warmth and happiness surrounding you as you allow him to take control. Grabbing your head as gently as his rough hands would allow, he sets you on the rug, giving you pecks before looking down at you one last time, seeing the fire illuminate your face with red and orange— the colors of his heart and mind when he’s around you— and then, finally, places himself atop of you and goes back to kissing you. Once again, he slides his tongue in your mouth, wordlessly telling you how much he loves you and how much he loves this. His hands trail down from your waist to your neck as you grab his and play with his hair as you kiss into the night until your mouths are sore.

Daryl also remembers your first kiss. You were angry with him, or at least that’s what he thought. But it was more so frustration, a tinge of disappointment. You were falling for him, desperately so whether you wanted to admit it or not, but it’s so hard to fall for someone not willing to open their heart— you can only be so patient. So, uncharacteristically, at least when it came to him, you got in his face, you got loud, you told him how you felt. Not that you loved him, no, not yet. You told him he’s closed off, that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you wanted him to be honest, to be real, to just say how he felt anytime, all the time, whenever he wanted. You never took him as fearful, but still, thoughtlessly, as your faces almost touched, you asked, “What are you so afraid of, Daryl? It’s only me.”

And then, he kissed you. Because it’s not “only” you, it’s because of you. You were everything. So despite bubbling anxiety that rises in his throat, he did it, he put his lips to yours and did it accidently so much more harshly than he should have, but he did it. He was honest. He was real. Because even if he didn’t say it yet, he loved you too. You almost cried when it happened. Nothing ever felt that right. As he lets go, you have so much to say but you’re speechless. All you could do is take the chance he gave you— you kissed him back, again and again.

Another one of his favorite places to kiss is behind houses Kisses behind houses were for a quick session or during the moments he’d be leaving for a trip. Sometimes the things he had to do meant there was a possibility of him dying, and while there were times that you’d journey with him, there were other times when you were needed elsewhere whether at home or on a journey of your own. This meant goodbye kisses. Passionate but bittersweet.

These are the moments he wishes more than ever that fucked you— he means had sex with you– he’s a gentleman— the night before, just in case he didn’t come back. Most of the time he cannot even think about kids. This world is crazy, and he enjoyed his freedom far too much, but there were moments, like when he thought about how he couldn’t see life without you that he did wonder about legacy, about a domestic life with you, or, if he did die, to at least leave you with a piece of him and the love you build together. But then other times he thinks, fuck, no; he always comes back and he’d never want to leave you to do something as big as raise a child on your own– you liked your freedom too, and he liked being an uncle. Either way, it was a fleeting feeling anyhow, but it did make him feel like a gross guy sometimes. Not only because he had never spoken to you about the future yet and didn’t know what you want, but especially during the times where he thinks, damn, he should have turned you over onto your stomach last night, give you something you’d really remember him by, but truly, if one likes sex, these thoughts are that one has sometimes… no one can blame him, he’s just a 40-something-year old girl, after all.

Daryl also likes taking you into the woods for a hunt or taking you on his motorcycle to find a good place to kiss. He is obsessed with privacy. He wants to feel free to be himself. And even though he does feel like he can with the core group, the real him around them is not the same as when he is the real him around you– the one who is your boyfriend and partner, the him who can also be a romantic and sexual being when you two are alone. Almost no one knows him like that and he’s never been in a rush to share or talk about his experiences. He’s not like Rick, he feels, that kind of effortless shifting between roles Rick has about him, not afraid to be open, communicative, affectionate about different areas of his life with friends. In some ways he will always still feel new to all this romance stuff, therefore, he likes to keep it to himself. So yes, sometimes since the group thinks they all have the right to walk into each other’s houses whenever they feel like it— (Daryl is actually the main culprit of this since he has had free dinners and slept in most of their couches and basements than anyone else, but we wont talk about that now)—you have made out or had sex in quite a few different places.

Moving back to the sweeter stuff, Daryl also loves forehead kisses. Giving them and reviving them. But if he was receiving he only liked it when you two were alone. In fact, he likes any kissing only when you’re alone anyway, but especially so to any kissing or affection that look super domestic. Daryl doesn’t try to look cool, but he also doesn’t need the public to know he has more emotions and ways of nurturing that people in town don’t need to know of. He doesn’t consciously consider himself a mysterious person but, ever since most people started generally liking him and talking to him– which he equally found as both pretty nice and weird– he realized he covets the fact that there are still some people who were shy, confused, or on edge by his presence. He doesn’t totally get it and sometimes he’s confused by other people’s confusion but he likes that it means he has some sort of control. You think about how people treat him versus how he is with Rick or the kids in town, or you are hilarious. People think he’s the guy who gets it done or that he’s domineering or both, and he is those things, but he’s also just a massive teddy bear that likes caring for people while also not liking people. It's the most interesting paradox.

Lastly, here is Daryl’s favorite kiss. It was one you had given him. He said it. He finally told you. You had told him a story of how someone left you, how much it hurt, how hard it is to know you’ll never get to talk to them again, to settle things, to let go the proper way now that you’re in this new world. So, in return, to make you feel less alone and to finally get it out, he told you that sometimes Meryl only ever told him he loved him when he got hurt. He told you that it felt like Meryl picked the times that cared for him, cared for him like brother should and not just sidekick or accomplice, that it was those instances and others things that had happened to him in his past with his dad or with the group in the beginning of all of this, is what made him feel he was unlovable. So many other things came out after that and even through the shock, you could see everything he said happening to him, it made sense, and your heart broke for him.

This time, you move your hand to his, you beckon him closer. Your fingers trail down his face after placing a piece of his hair to the side, caressing his. You tell him, “I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve never had a love like you. I love you all the time. You’re always worthy.” And with that, you seal your words with a kiss.

That was when he truly knew he liked kissing. He learned what it could actually mean and feel like when it happens with someone so perfect for you— the true peace and romance of it all. He had never experienced something more beautiful.

[fatehbaz]

Today, as you read this [...], there are almost 2 million people locked away in one of the more than 5,000 prisons or jails that dot the American landscape. While they are behind bars, these incarcerated people can be found standing in line at their prison’s commissary waiting to buy some extra food or cleaning supplies that are often marked up to prices higher than what one would pay outside of those prison walls. [...] If they want to call a friend or family member, they need to pay for that as well. And almost everyone who works at a job while incarcerated, often for less than a dollar an hour, will find that the prison has taken a portion of their salary to pay for their cost of incarceration. [...] These policymakers and government officials also know that this captive population has no choice but to foot the bill [...] and that if they can’t be made to pay, their families can. In fact, a 2015 report led by the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, Forward Together, and Research Action Design found that in 63 percent of cases, family members on the outside were primarily responsible for court-related costs [...].

Rutgers sociology professor Brittany Friedman has written extensively on what is called “pay-to-stay” fees in American correctional institutions. In her 2020 article titled, “Unveiling the Necrocapitalist Dimensions of the Shadow Carceral State: On Pay-to-Stay to Recoup the Cost of Incarceration,” Friedman divides these fees into two categories: (1) room and board and (2) service-specific costs. Fees for room and board -- yes, literally for a thin mattress or even a plastic “boat” bed in a hallway, a toilet that may not flush, and scant, awful tasting food -- are typically charged at a “per diem rate for the length of incarceration.” It is not uncommon for these fees to reach $20 to $80 a day for the entire period of incarceration. The second category, what Friedman refers to as “service-specific costs,” includes fees for basic charges such as copays or other costs for seeing a doctor or nurse, programming fees, email and telephone calls, and commissary items. 

In 2014, the Brennan Center for Justice documented that at least 43 states authorize charging incarcerated people for the cost of their own imprisonment, and at least 35 states authorize charging them for some medical expenses. More recent research from the Prison Policy Institute found that 40 states and the federal prison system charge incarcerated people medical copays. 

It’s also critical to understand how little incarcerated people are paid for their labor in addition to the significant cut of their paltry hourly wages that corrections agencies take from their earnings. Nearly two-thirds (65 percent) of incarcerated people work behind bars. According to the Prison Policy Initiative, those who work regular jobs in prisons such as maintaining the grounds, working in the kitchen, and painting the walls of the facilities earn on average between $0.14 and $0.63 an hour. [...] Arkansas and Texas don’t pay incarcerated workers at all, while Alabama only pays incarcerated workers employed by the state’s correctional industry. [...]

For example, if someone sends an incarcerated person in Florida $20 online, they will end up paying $24.95. [...]

Dallas County charges incarcerated people a $10 medical care fee for each medical request they submit. In Texas prisons, those behind bars pay $13.55 per medical visit, despite the fact that Texas doesn’t pay incarcerated workers anything. Texas is one of a handful of states that doesn’t pay incarcerated people for their labor. 

In Kentucky’s McCracken County Jail in Paducah, it costs $0.40 a minute for a video call; this translates into $8.00 for each 20-minute video call. [...] For those who need to use email, JPay charges $2.35 for five emails for people in the Texas prison system ($0.47 an email). [...]

People in Florida prisons pay $1.70 for a packet of four extra-strength Tylenol and $4.02 for four tampons. And with inflation, commissary items are priced higher than ever. For example, according to the Kentucky Center for Investigative Reporting, incarcerated people in Kentucky experienced a 7.2 percent rise in already-high commissary prices in July 2022. Researchers noted that a 4.6-ounce tube of Crest toothpaste, which costs $1.38 at the local Walmart, is $3.77 at the prison commissary. [...]

In Gaston County, North Carolina, incarcerated individuals who participate in state work release may make more than the state’s $0.38 an hour maximum pay, but they pay the jail a daily rate based on their yearly income of at least $18 per day and up to $36 per day. In fact, Brennan Center research indicates that almost every state takes a portion of the salary that incarcerated workers earn to compensate the corrections agency [...].

These room and board fees are found throughout the nation’s jails and prisons. Michigan laws allow any county to seek reimbursement for expenses incurred in relation to a charge for which a person was sentenced to county jail time -- up to $60 a day. Winnebago County, Wisconsin, charges $26 a day to those staying in its county jail.

---

Text by: Lauren-Brooke Eisen. “America’s Dystopian Incarceration System of Pay to Stay Behind Bars.” Brennan Center for Justice. 19 April 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

can I please get headcannons for the bones boys taking you out on a first date? Thank you so much for writing for bones!

A/N: anything for my bones boys

Booth would definitely do something unconventional. Something fun, unexpected, something that was a bit competitive, but mostly something where he could show off.

"Really?" you almost laughed as you stood in front of the entrance. "The fair?"

"Oh, come on. When was the last time you did something like this?" He nudged you on your shoulder, wagging his eyebrows at you.

He would then proceed to win you a giant stuffed bear at the duck shoot.

"What?" he shrugged nonchalantly, "Like's hard?"

"Not for you apparently," you teased. "Though I expect being a ranger turned FBI agent probably helps."

You started walking backwards enjoying the challenging look in his eyes.

"Are you trying to rial me up?" he questioned, smirking at you.

You leaned in close to him, enjoying the way his breathing increased. "Depends, how easy do you fluster?"

You pulled away, making your way towards the ring toss.

"Oh, I see how it is," Booth shouted as he trailed after you, slinging his arm over your shoulder.

The first date with Booth would solely about getting to know you, making you laugh, and gauging just how comfortable he could be around you. It would absolutely end with him being a giant tease and kissing you on the corner of your mouth or your temple.

Hodgins, rich (so rich he doesn't even know how rich), Hodgins would try and impress you. At least that was his first thought. Private and obscenely expensive dinner? Check. Expensive car to get you there? Check.

But like many things in Jack's life, it never really went according to plan.

"Oh, come on!" Jack grumbled at the flat tire. "I just had the car serviced. I can't believe this."

It was only when you started laughing that he relaxed enough to look at you.

"What?" He asked a bit in disbelief. Crushing thoughts about how this was the worst first date to never actually even start diminished at the sight your smile.

"I don't think I've seen you this stressed since you tried to hide TNT experiment from Cam," you said laughter dying down.

"Hey, that civil war exhibit didn't need it as much as us," he reasoned, a smile now stretching across his own face as he leaned against his car.

You mirrored his movements, shoulder pressed against his as you leaned against the car.

"I wanted this to be perfect. But just about everything seems to have gone wrong."

"Well, it's a good thing the night isn't over yet," you looked around. "You know, I think we're close to the diner."

"You can't be serious," he laughed. A mixture of disbelief and awe.

"Dead. I never needed anything fancy anyways - just you Jack."

From that moment, he knew that he wasn't ever going to mess it up. You were it for him.

Sweets would want to do anything where the two of you could just talk. We know he's done a pottery class before so something along those lines. Really anything where he got to just look at you with a big grin on his face and listen to every word that came out of your mouth.

"Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"Your chicken is burning."

"Oh, shit."

You let out a laugh that made him forget all about the charred chicken. He, in hindsight, should have known better than to plan a cooking class as your first date. Not when you distracted him so easily he could chop a finger off. Definitely not his best idea.

"Here, we can just share mine," you said as you fed him some of your food. All teasing smiles and delicious prolonged eye contact.

Definitely not his worst date idea.

Wendell is one for simplicity. He wants to get to know you, but he also doesn't want to go overboard and scare you off. He'd plan for a simple dinner (your pick) and make a walk around the city.

The street lights illuminated the city, a cool breeze rushing past you. You tried your best not to seem cold - you'd opted for looks- not practically. Now you were paying the price for it.

A sudden rush of warm hit you, you looked up at Wendell who'd wordlessly placed his jacket over your shoulders.

"Wendell-"

"Don't even mention it. Can't have you getting sick now, can I?" He gently nudged your shoulder with his own as you walked side by side. "Wouldn't want you to rain check the next date."

"The next one?" you prodded - warmth washing over your cheeks. "Someone is presumptuous," you teased.

"Nah, just optimistic," He smiled brightly at you. "So, what do ya say?"

"I think your odds are looking pretty good," you looped your arm to hold on to his.

Wendell wouldn't necessarily consider himself a betting man, but he'd say he won out on this one.

Vincent was quiet sure how he'd managed it. It was all a bit of blur if he was honest. One second you both were discussing how no number before a thousand contains the letter a, and the next he had asked you out. And you'd said yes.

He almost thought he'd dreampt it, really. You'd had to call out his name twice before he blinked himself back into reality.

Now he stood in front of your door holding flowers that were wilting away by the second - he swore he'd just gotten them and they looked pristine.

He let out a sigh, knuckles frozen over the door. This would be, fine. You already said yes. Oh, God.

Knuckles knocking against the door, he frantically smoothed out his hair.

"Vincent!"

You leaned in for a hug, crushing the flowers, but he couldn't bring himself to care. You pulled away giving him this brilliant smile that put him at ease.

"Are those for me?"

"Wha- yes. Yes, they are for you." He handed you the roses. "Did you know over 30,000 rose varieties exist today?"

You let out a small laugh, eyes still sparkling. "I didn't, but thank you for telling me."

That smile of your really did put him at ease. This would be fine - this would be great - because he was with you.

When Colin asked you to go out with him to the Slasherthon at the local movie theater he wasn't actually sure you'd say yes. But he figured the worst you could say was no - or you know, laugh at him until he fell into an endless abyss of shame.

Either would be fine.

He expected the abyss.

He did not expect you to say yes. Let alone actually show up. But there you were in a Jason Voorhees t-shirt all smiles as he walked up to you.

"Are you ready for lots of gore and eating our weight in popcorn?" You asked practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. He'd never seen anything more lively or beautiful in his life.

"A person after my own heart," he said dramatically - hand placed over his own heart.

"Come on, Colin," you grabbed his hand pulling him into the theater. As you led him away he realized the abyss option would have been much worse than he had anticipated.

You were a light shining into his abyss.

Aubrey would take you to a nice sit down restaurant. He spent the better half of the week trying to decide where exactly to take you. He'd finally settled on a restaurant you had been talking about trying for a month now.

"Aubrey, how did you know I wanted to eat here?" You asked, leaning forward. Your eyes excitedly bouncing between the menu and Aubrey.

"You've been talking about it," he shrugged, trying his hardest to be nonchalant about it.

"Aubrey- I mentioned it once, like, a month ago." You laughed a bit in disbelief.

"And?"

"And how do you remember something like that?"

"It sounded important to you, why wouldn't I want to remember it?"

He'd be lying if he didn't say he enjoyed that look on your face. A mixture of disbelief and being heard - actually heard.

"Now, I'm thinking we go family style on this bad boy and see what all the fuss is about." Aubrey leaned forward, both of you so close to the other. If the flowers in the middle of the table weren't in the way he just might have leaned in for kiss.

"You sure you can leave some food for me?" You teased, your eyes sparkling in a way that made Aubrey realize he never wanted to see your eyes without it.

"Sweetheart, I'd leave all of it for you if you asked."

"Liar," you laughed.

"Alright some of it, but that's better than none!"

[nownahc]

31/32 with Seungmin from skz. I’m thinking he does something embarrassing in front of reader, maybe trying to impress them? I imagine him being so shy when trying to flirt for some reason!

idiot | kim seungmin

seungmin x reader

main masterlist

prompts list send in an ask to request

▶• ılıılıılılıılıılı. mr. angel by tommy newport

notes. i saw a post about someone booking a hotel room in another country and couldn't think of something else

warnings. none

prompts. “You weren’t supposed to laugh!”/“This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“This is by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

A few hours prior.

Seungmin was a wreck, opening closing the same application on his phone every few seconds, he sat on your couch waiting for you to come out of your room. After weeks of tucking his tail between his legs, and pushing the date of asking you out, this was finally it… or so he thought. The thing was, you didn’t know it was a date, in his defense, he had really thought that his demand of going out with you, just you two, was clear enough. Apparently, in between his blabbering and messy line delivery, you had mistaken this as a simple friendly hangout. Friendly. That word sent chills down his spine. How had you not realize that none of his feelings for you were just friendly? Sure, he was aloof most of the times, hell some might even think he despises your guts but, it was Seungmin and, anyone who was close to him, knew how his brain worked. He teases what he likes, bothers what he loves, and apparently, he’s also a huge mess when it comes to asking people out.

At least, where the first steps of this new adventure were far from perfect, he knew he had dealt with the entire organisation side of the final product flawlessly. He had managed, calls after a calls, to book you two a table at a nice restaurant that kept popping up online, with only praises and good reviews, nothing too expensive but the food was apparently excellent. Afterwards, he had planned two tickets for this new film you had been talking his ears off about. Really, everything was perfect, so perfect, he hoped you might realize that one doesn’t usually put this much effort in a simple friendly hangout.

Finally, you come out of your room, dressed casually, but by all hell, you could sport a patchwork of ugly cloths and he’d still be in awe of you. He tries to play it cool, nonchalant even as he guides you out of your place, leading you through the streets. Whereas you were relaxed and behaving as usual with him, his eyes kept glancing at his phone to make sure he took the right route to the restaurant… something was up though. It has now been 20 minutes that you’ve been walking, and you swore you passed by the same store twice already. You tried to ask him if it was the right way, but, poor Seungmin all nerves and anxiety kept affirming that he knew what he was doing when quite frankly, he didn’t know shit about why they hadn’t reached the restaurant yet.

At some point though, reason come back to him and he sits on a bench with you, desperately fidgeting with his phone to understand what the deal was. He doesn’t notice when you pull out your own phone out to type in the name of the restaurant. He does notice though when you bark out a short laugh.

“This is by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

He blinks twice as he looks at your side profile and he wishes that there wasn’t another stupid thing he had done, but it was useless now as you show him the screen of your phone, pointing to the address. Japan. He had booked a table for a restaurant, in Japan. Was the world against him this much or was he just plain stupid?

“What?” You can’t help but stiffle your laughter as Seungmin’s reaction adds in to the nonsense of the situation. “You weren’t supposed to laugh!” Seungmin is almost offended by your reaction as he furiously refresh the restaurant page, as if by magic the country would change. “And we were supposed to be in a restaurant right now, we don’t always get what we want.” This was perhaps, far more entertaining then if you had actually been in that restaurant. To see Seungmin like this, helpless and dumbfounded was funny in a way. “I swear, I checked a thousand times…” “Maybe you should have checked a thousand time and one more then.” He glares at you then, knowing you were just taking the situation lightly, as you should, it wasn’t even that big of deal but, he really hated himself for messing up everything from beginning to end.

Leaning back on the bench, he checks the tickets for the cinema too, if he had made a mistake for the restaurant reservation, he hopes he hadn’t made one for the movie theatre. What he sees on his screen is something he’ll never tell you. He had booked the film alright, simply, it was for the day before. Luckily his embarrassed tinted cheeks go unnoticed by you in the night as you turn to him, that damn smile still on your face. “So… What had you planned next then?” “Nothing… I planned nothing.” Seems like this dream date of his, have to be postponned.

main masterlist

[pedroshotwifey]

Ahoy Hottie! 💜🥩💜 you know I gotta do it to ‘em…

#9 & chubby!Frankie x f!reader 🥩 or just a plain ol’ fat frankie… I’m not picky.

Beefro👌🥩💜

Hey, Beefro! I can't tell you how excited I was to see this request! Hopefully I did fat Frankie justice 😘

Good 'n' Deep

Pairing: Fat!Frankie x f!reader

Word Count: 2.6k (oops 😅)

Tags/warnings: finger fucking, oral, multiple orgasms, piv sex, slight overstimulation, soft dom frankie, mentions of weigh gain, dirty talk, smut, fluff, idiots in love, manhandling, frankie being a fucking unit

Summary: Fat Frankie can't be sated.

*****

You get home late. And feeling awful. 

It was supposed to be date night with your husband, but the boss kept you in for overtime. You know Frankie doesn’t mind, and reassured you about forty times that it’s not your fault, but you still hate to skip it. But as he says, you always go out on Fridays, and the two of you have plenty of Fridays to make up for this one. 

It’s not much, but you did pick up dinner at Frankie’s favorite fast food place on your way home. He doesn’t know yet, and you’re excited to at least surprise him with that. It’s a bit on the expensive side, but definitely worth it—both in the sense that it’s fucking delicious, but also that you’ll be able to see Frankie excited. 

“Babe,” you call into the dark house as you toe your shoes off. You smile when you hear Frankie’s quick footfall coming right for you. He wraps you in a hug as soon as he gets to you, engulfing you in his warmth and immediately relieving some of your stress. 

He leans down and kisses you gently, but only for a second because he’s suddenly very distracted by a certain smell. 

“Ohhh, baby,” he groans, hands already reaching for the paper bag in your hand. “You’re the fuckin’ best.” 

He plants a kiss on your head as you giggle. “You’re welcome, baby.”  

You both walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table, pulling your food out of the bags. Frankie looks excited, just as you’d hoped he would be. He looks so good right now, wearing his gray sweatpants, his standard oil cap (which you swear he has separation anxiety with), and an old, white tank. There’s a ketchup stain on the front from about a year ago that just never came out in the wash. You also notice that it’s gotten a good bit tighter since then—definitely one of those shirts that Frankie keeps trying to convince himself that fits. 

You won’t burst his bubble or anything, but he’ll need to try a bit harder, because there’s no way he’s fooling anyone. A sliver of his pudgy tummy peeks out from the bottom of the tank that used to cover him completely. The fabric hugs him tightly, probably just on the side of not being painful even though it’s being stretched to its limit. It used to hang loosely on him, but he’s gained a good bit of weight since the two of you have been together. You smile to yourself at that, glad to see him looking so happy and taken care of. 

He groans as he takes the first bite of his burger. 

“Fuck, thank you again, baby,” he says through a mouthful of food. You nod at him, mouth full as well. 

The two of you talk about your days as you devour your food, you finishing quicker than Frankie but staying at the table while he finishes his other burger and large fry. He tells you that his day went pretty good. All the guys showed up at work and there wasn’t an issue to keep them on the job for longer than necessary. 

You wait until he finishes his last fry before you start to pick up the trash. You take his cap off of his head as you walk by him so you can brush his hair back and place a gentle kiss on top of his head. He smiles warmly at you when you put his cap back on and move to throw the trash away. You glance at the clock, biting your lip as you decide there’s probably a bit of time to do something before you go to sleep. 

“You want to watch a movie, Frank?” 

He hms thoughtfully as you walk back toward him. “Maybe, " he says. 

You move to pass where he’s still sitting at the table, but you’re quickly stopped and pulled into his lap, both of your legs draped over his thighs. You yelp and wrap your arms around his neck for stability. 

“Think I’d rather have a snack though,” he says through a grin as he rubs the side of his face against yours. He then rotates your body so that you’re leaning against his back.  

“Frankie, honey,” you giggle despite catching his meaning. “You just ate!” 

You turn and poke his full stomach to prove your point, but he only grunts and holds you tighter.

“I’m feeling greedy,” he rasps into your ear as he grinds his hardening length into your ass. “Need my dessert.” 

You shiver, lust staring to cloud your head. Leave it to this man to want to fuck you after a huge meal. He doesn’t wait for you to respond as he lifts your shirt up and you raise your arms for him to tug it off. Your bra is next, discarded on the floor next to you within seconds. 

You give in—which isn’t very hard—and let yourself relax into him. You moan and he leans down to lick up the side of your neck, his beefy hand traveling even lower to worm itself beneath the band of your panties. He finds your clit quickly and immediately starts to rub circles just the way you like. Your hips buck a bit as you crane your neck to devour his plush lips with yours. 

“Mm-Frankie,” you whimper against him as your thighs begin to tremble. You feel him smirk against you in return but say nothing. All you can focus on is the building of your orgasm, that addicting feeling tugging deep inside of you with a promise for more. 

He lets his fingers slip down to your hole and gather the slick there before bringing it back up to create a smooth movement atop your bud, his hand moving faster and faster until the coil snaps and you’re crying out and convulsing on top of him. His other hand wraps around you to stop your thighs from closing, forcing you to prolong your pleasure as he keeps up his slowing movements.

You’re panting when you come down to your high, practically drooling with the back of your head planted on Frankie’s shoulder. You’re not sure when that happened, you leaning back and clutching his forearms so tightly that there’ll be nail marks when you let him go. 

He chuckles darkly as you release him from your clawing grip, trying to calm your breathing. You’re only slightly aware of him helping you off of his lap to stand. He takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. You must only be in there for a half-second before he’s pushing you down on your back and dragging you until your ass is basically hanging off the edge of the bed. 

“Frankie!” You screech his name at all the movement, the way he’s man-handling you. He only smiles cheekily through the grunt he lets out as he gets down on his knees in front of your cunt to kiss the inside of your thigh. 

“Sorry, hermosa,” he coos. Though he’s very obviously not that sorry because he goes right to practically ripping your pants and underwear down your legs. You don’t even bother yelping or reprimanding him this time. You know that he’s determined now, and Frankie Morales doesn’t relent until he gets what he wants.

He’s back at your cunt—in your cunt—before you can blink. You scream as he burrows the entire lower half of his face into your soaked folds and grasps your legs over his shoulders. Your hands fly to his hair, knocking his cap off in the process of getting to his thick, soft curls between your fingers. He moans sharply as you tug, unintentionally forcing him closer to you. You don’t worry too much, you know he loves it. He once told you that he would die a happy man if you ever got tired of him and chose to suffocate him in your sweet pussy. 

He licks and sucks at a furious pace, completely skipping a buildup and going right to the action. It’s unbelievable to you how quickly he manages to make you come sometimes. You yell his name as he eats you out like he’s mad at you. It’s so fucking good, this blinding pleasure making your entire body shake and your blood run firey hot. And you know he loves it just as much as you do.

You start to fall limp again, sweat covering your entire body as he keeps drinking you up. You hiss, your body bucking as you pull on his hair again to try to get him off of you. You’re about to tell him you need a break, but then he suddenly has a finger gliding into your hole, and then two, and you don’t get the chance as your second orgasm melds into your third. He finger-fucks you at an inhuman pace, almost hurting your poor pussy with how hard he shoves them into you as he sucks harshly on your clit. The sounds are obscene even through the blood you hear pumping in your ears. 

He starts to slow after you ride out your third high, though you’re not sure if it’s because he’s taking pity on you or if he genuinely just can’t handle not being inside you for another second. You assume it’s the latter as you listen to the sound of his clothes being tugged off, one arm thrown over your eyes as you try to collect yourself. 

“God, you look fucking gorgeous, baby,” Frankie groans as he admires your limp, sweat-slicked body. 

You lift your arm to find him between your messy thighs again, this time standing over you. Despite the three fucking orgasms he just gifted you, you feel your cunt clench at the sight of him standing so imposingly in front of you. He’s so fucking big and intimidating. He’s stripped all the way, as naked as you now, letting you see every inch of his gorgeous damn body. 

He watches you with a gaze that tells you he’s in the mood to pound you through the damn mattress. You find yourself excited, despite already being sore, as he takes a step forward and lines up his blunt tip with your slippery hole. You whimper and grip the sheets as he starts to make shallow thrusts to push in, stretching you despite your excessive preparation and the amount of times he’s had you before. 

He moans right along with you, gripping your hips and pulling you onto him. Your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open once he’s fully seated and breathing heavily above you. 

“Fucking christ, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” he accentuates the last word by pulling out slightly and thrusting hard back into you, making your back arch when he slams into that spot deep inside of you. 

He starts at a slow but forceful pace, making you see stars every time he pushes himself in. You watch him with hooded eyes, admiring how gorgeous he looks when his own eyes close and his lips part. His pelvis comes flush with your ass each time and he uses the opportunity to grind into you, rubbing your walls in a way that makes you want to cry. Actually, you think you are. It’s only now that you feel tears start to leak down your ruddy cheeks.

Frankie must have opened his eyes at some point while you were lost in your head, because he’s suddenly letting out a breathy laugh and using one hand to thumb away the tears. Your toes curl at the gentle touch compared with the brutal treatment of your cunt.

“I know, sweetheart,” he coos. “I know it’s a lot.” 

God, he feels so good leaning over you. You want him closer—need him closer. 

“F-Frankie,” you manage to get out. “N-Need you closer.” 

He smirks at you and thrusts a bit faster, pushing you up the bed and leaning over you to kiss you deeply. One hand stays on your hip as the other cradles your face, keeping you where he wants as he devours your lips in a messy kiss. You wrap your arms and legs around his broad body, smiling a bit when they don’t wrap around him all the way. You love when he overwhelms you like this, completely trapping you under him as he pummels into you. He’s barely even pulling out now, just slapping his hips to yours as fast as he can as he whines and moans into your mouth. The grip he has on your hip is crushing, but it feels good because it’s him. 

The coil is tightening once again within you, making everything go hazy as you focus solely on how he edges you closer and closer with every slam of his cockhead against your cervix. 

He’s getting frantic, too. You can tell by the way he loses control of the kiss and his thrusts get even shorter. 

“F-Frankie,” you mumble into his lips. “M-More.” 

He picks up the pace yet again, making you scream when he hits a spot that you didn’t even know existed. You jolt against him, startled but the burst of pleasure that sparks through you. 

“M-More,” you beg him again, panting so hard you think you might pass out. You need more. More of him inside you, on top of you. You need everything to be filled with him until there’s no room for anything else. 

“‘M so close, baby,” he whines to you. 

“Frankie, please!” 

He growls against you and tugs back, slipping out of you with a lewd squelch. You don’t have time to cry out from the loss though, because he’s back in an instant to grab you and flip you over on your stomach. Then he’s over you again, slamming back into you with a single thrust. You’re forced to stay flat, your hands scrambling for purchase in front of you until he drapes himself completely over you, threading your fingers through his so he can use them as leverage to fuck deep into you. 

“Better?” He grunts out, almost angrily. He’s so heavy above you, using all of the force he has to nail you into the bed in furious ruts, the entire thing moving with each pound into you. You can’t respond though, finding your voice trapped in your throat as you convulse around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, even with him. It’s what you wished for—to be so overwhelmed that everything else is purely pushed from you. It’s all static right now, your brain, your body. You think you may scream his name, but it might have been a bunch of gibberish.

“This what you need?” he asks as he fucks furiously down into you. To be fucked good—hmng—good an’ deep?” 

You use what’s left of your fried brain to nod beneath him, practically drooling onto the bed sheets. 

“F’kn deep,” you slur, half-delirious. 

You let him continue to pound into you until grunts loudly beside your ear and you feel his cum spurting into you. It makes you moan again, the way he keeps fucking it deeper and deeper into you. You quiver and he groans as he starts to come down himself, joining you once again in the real world. Your ears are still ringing and your entire body feels like you got tossed off of a mountain and possibly into a bit of lava, but you find yourself laughing once Frankie untagles your fingers and rolls to the side, taking you with him. 

He starts to laugh with you, neither of you saying a word but knowing exactly what the other is thinking. Which is something along the lines of ‘holy shit’. Despite your sweaty bodies, you sink back into him and let him hold you close, both of you stuck in giggling fits and sharing little kisses until you fall asleep a minute later.

*****

Want to read more requests or submit your own? Check this out!

[honey-minded-hivemind]

lmfao Dark Howlett/Creed!Reader having rankings for who they like the most

Imagine a tier list video except it's Reader ranking the X-Men and villains

Logan and Victor are probably F tier lol

Cube anon

Hahaha! Oh dear... Okay, I might as well do it, and make it canon (with hidden fun facts and lore for the au!)... This is in Creed/Howlett Reader's pov:

(Journal: List of Who Is The Least Awful)

(In the Green)

Gambit: is nice to me, only tries to steal my food and my spare change, wants information but at least attempts to listen to me talk first (he smells like cats and spice, maybe a hint of cinnamon) 7/10

Kurt: tries to be polite, but I know he's scared, and he went along with what the others did (I saw him wearing a cross necklace... Catholic, maybe? seems sweet, is blue and fluffy... smells like blueberry muffins) 6.5/10

Todd: still jokes at my expense, but is only as scared as everyone else... still doesn't like me, went along with their plan to use me (is he a feral mutant? or just a poor frog, erm, toad kid?) 6/10

Beast: was nice to my face, did not say i should stay, knew I was being tested, did nothing (why is it always the same?) 5.5/10

(In the Yellow)

Xavier: ... I don't like him, he set me up... but he is polite to my face, albeit he also decided I wouldn't be staying with them (who let him have kids?) 4/10

Rogue: isn't bad, but is distrustful of me (wasn't she in this position before?) 4/10

Magneto: terrifies me... but hasn't personally messed with me (he's Pietro and Wanda's dad, he's scary as f*ck!) 4/10

Evan: annoying and likes to mess around/make jokes about me, is not the worst (I'm not fighting him, he has SPIKES, I'm not that much of a sucker for pain-) 4/10

Lance: still annoyed me, was not nice, was rude and threw a rock at me in retaliation once (has issues, but don't we all?) 3.5/10

(In the Red)

Kitty: is a bit snobby and prudish, but hasn't tried to fight me or get in my way, smells like bubblegum (she's smart, once was in a club with her, was ignored, it's normal) 3.5/10

Jean: did not trust me at all, is suspicious of me, has tried to read my mind, she scares me (a telepath or telekinetic? how do any of these kids live under the same roof? smart, pretty, avoid) 3/10

Scott: definitely does not trust me, has tried to start a fight with me, his lasers burn, is very, very stubborn (I am not fighting him again, one time was enough, did he have to insult me, too? are he and Jean dating? ... they seem like a good fit...) 2.5/10

Wanda: ... no... nope... does not like anyone, is related to Pietro, is the nicer of the twins (wears red and black a lot... is dangerous... steer clear of her) 2.5/10

(In the Black)

Pietro: is annoying as f*ck, is rude, insults me and everyone else, will rub your insecurities in your face, is demanding, is dramatic, is addicted to drama (why did I ever try to talk to him? avoid at all costs. Is NOT worth it) 1/10

Logan: ... avoid avOid AVOID! dangerous, terrifying, deems me too dangerous, has almost hurt me, don't go near him, stay away from him and his brats (I thought he'd understand... what it's like, to be this way... he doesn't care...) 0/10

Sabretooth: Run Run RUN!!! Avoid at all costs! Do not talk to, do not get near, stay still, don't speak, pray, will bite and scratch and aim to hurt, deems me too soft (said it more hurtfully than that... is NOT nice...) -1/10

(Hmmm... I don't think I have friends... I have maybe Gambit, but he's, well... I know why he comes around. I know it's just a job, just a scheme. But I'm lonely, okay? I need someone to talk to, and out of everyone, he's the least problematic... Is it so bad to want someone as a friend? What am I doing wrong? I try to act normal, talk normal, eat normally... These people should understand, but they don't... Is there a point to this?)

(... I heard something outside... I need to check it out... I'll write in you again, Journal...)

( Last written entry of Reader ********, dated 12/03/200? , in their journal )

(How is this for a peek inside Creed/Howlett Reader's mind in their version of the Dark AU? And a reminder: they didn't know who their dad was at first but find out during **********...) (So yes, Gambit ai the closest they have to an ally/comrade, but they aren't quite friends...) (When Reader wakes up and finds the other three with them, those three are traumatized, trying to apologize, and telling Reader they'll be welcomed this time, that the others can't leave then after this, look at the state they're in-) (Well, um... look at this list, and tell me how well you think that goes over initially) ( @sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danni1323 @crowwithguns @thewickedweiner)

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 1

🎋The footprints he etched on the earth

Bokuto x f!reader

Prequel : 🌌The stars he left in the sky (can be read as a standalone)

Summary : The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth.

or when you meet bokuto koutarou and wonder if you’ve ever truly known beauty before him.

Context warning: time skip setting, ex!oikawa, alcohol consumption, swearing, a lot of french words sorry

Words count: 3.1k

chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4

You’re grateful for the life you’ve been given. You’re healthy, you have a loving family with supportive parents and a funny little brother. You’ve worked hard to become a pâtissière and had great opportunities in Europe. But right now, as your boss argues that a Tatin tart and a Normande tart are essentially the same thing, you can’t help but think the gods are conspiring against you.

“Huh? What’s the problem? They both have apples in them,” he dares insisting.

You’ve studied in Paris. Paris, France. Alongside the best chefs in the world. And yet, here you are, being contradicted by a fifty-something man on something so basic. You’re not just being told you’re wrong, but in front of colleagues and even a few customers.

So, yes, you’re grateful for your life. But you’d be even more grateful if you could punch that man in the face. Of course, you won’t. You can’t. You need this job to pay your bills, your rent (because Tokyo is expensive), and to save for building the pâtisserie you’ve dreamed of for years. You know exactly what it’ll look like—where the counter will be, what colour the walls will be. Everything is planned, except for one detail: how and where you’ll actually get the place.

You force out an apology. It’s painfully obvious that it isn’t sincere, but you bow anyway, hoping it hides your annoyed expression. Then, you retreat to the back room because the croissants are ready and even though you hate your boss, you hate letting food burn in the oven more.

Days have felt repetitive since you arrived in Tokyo six months ago. Your routine begins at 4 a.m., with a quick breakfast. Most mornings, your roommate, Umi, is still awake, surrounded by her mountain of medical textbooks. You don’t know how she manages to decipher the words in her books because the light from her desk is dim (well, that might be the reason why she’s using glasses now).

“I’ll be back around five,” you say, even though she knows your schedule by heart.

“Got it. Have a good day!”

“And have a good night,” you reply with a smile.

The walk to the bakery is usually pleasant. You love seeing the sunrise over Tokyo—except now it’s May, and the weather is horrible. Still, you’ve never regretted moving here. You remember your professor in Paris warning you about how tough and unfair the culinary world can be, especially for women. It didn’t deter you. You’ve never wanted fame; you just want to open a pâtisserie and make people happy with your creations. For now, though, gaining more experience is your priority, so you work at a well-known bakery in Shibuya.

It’s only temporary, it’s only temporary, you often need to remind yourself—especially on tough days like today.

You don’t think you’re gaining a lot of practical skills but at least, you’ve learned a bit of humility here (no matter how forced and unfair it feels).

When you return home that evening, you’re not expecting much. When Umi comes home later, she often brings groceries or takeout. For someone who bakes, you’re surprisingly terrible at cooking savoury dishes. Umi discovered this shortly after you moved in, watching you struggle to roast vegetables or boil an egg.

Weeks of your culinary disasters led her to casually take over dinner duties. Ever since then, she’s been the one in charge and seems satisfied with it. You don’t mind—it’s a fair trade, especially since she’s a great cook.

“My dad was awful in the kitchen, so I had to take over cooking for me and my siblings,” she once explained. “I also had two neighbours who played sports. I made bentos for them all the time. I mean, I used to help their mother make them, she’s the one who taught me everything about cooking. One of the twins would help, but the other was a total ungrateful bastard who just ate everything.”

In return, you sneak pastries home from your workplace (a small rebellion against your boss) and make pancakes on the weekends.

Tonight, you’ve just stepped out of the shower when Umi bursts through the door.

“Hiii!” she exclaims brightly. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” you reply, keeping it short.

You’re usually good at hiding negative emotions—your teachers in Paris were brutally harsh at times, and showing weakness only invited more criticism (maybe even exclusion) . But with Umi, it’s different. She has an uncanny ability to read people’s feelings and make you feel comfortable with those feelings.

“I grew up with two younger siblings, an introverted best friend, and childhood friends who were all boys,” she told you. “I’ve basically seen every version of emotional repression there is.”

So, it doesn’t take her long to figure out you’re upset.

“Bad day?” she asks. “Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just… my boss,” you mutter.

“What did that old geezer do this time?”

You sigh. “He was wrong about something, I tried to explain that he made a mistake but he just looked down on me. But I’m not surprised, he would rather die than admit that a girl like me is right… But honestly, it’s not just him. It’s the industry. It’s always like this.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird how everyone just accepts it and nothing changes.” She lets out a dramatic groan. “You know what the problem is? Men.”

You chuckle at that, it’s her usual response to every issue (not that you would deny it though).

You slump into the chair and press your face against the palm of your hand, when she suddenly pulls out a bottle of red wine from her bag.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You know I’m not that desperate to the point where I need to drink to deal with a bad day, right?”

“This isn’t about your bad day,” she grins. “It’s about celebrating.”

“Celebrating what? My shitty boss?”

“Let me explain!” she says, rushing to the kitchen to grab glasses. “You know my childhood friend, the one with the restaurant in Osaka?”

“The twin who isn’t an ungrateful bastard?”

“Yes, but his name is Osamu, I already told you. Anyway, a shop next to his restaurant just closed, and the landlady is looking to sell. Osamu knows her and I mentioned you’re looking for a place to open your bakery.”

You open your mouth to correct her (it’s a pâtisserie not a bakery!) but decide to you let her finish instead.

“He said he could arrange a meeting for you. Interested?”

Osaka. You’ve never been there, but the idea intrigues you. People from Kansai are known for their warmth and humour—so different from the quiet of your hometown in Miyagi. Change might be good, you find yourself thinking.

“Sure, I’d be interested,” you say cautiously (in case it doesn't work, don't get your hopes up).

“Great! Osaka is the best, and I know people there who can help you settle in. I’d recommend looking at apartments in—”

“Umi, I haven’t even seen the place yet.”

“Don’t worry,” she says confidently. “Just make them try your strawberry and cream tart. No one can say no to that!”

You laugh. “You mean the fraisier?”

“Gods, yes. Just use that sexy French accent of yours, and they’ll agree in no time.”

“Whatever you say,” you can’t help but laugh a little. “The wine is French, huh?”

She pours a generous amount into your glass, “of course. Last time I brought Californian you almost killed me.”

You take a look at the bottle to check if she’s telling the truth. You nod proudly and she smiles back.

“To your bakery!” She raises her glass and so do you.

A few days later, after pretending to be bedridden by a sudden and debilitating cold to take a fews days off from work (to which your boss complains), you find yourself standing at the station ready to leave for Osaka.

Umi had given you everything you needed: Miya Osamu's number, his address, and an enthusiastic list of typical Kansai expressions.

When you arrive there, you immediately search for “Onigiri Miya” on your phone. When you check it you are nothing but impressed by the 5 stars behind the name and the hundred and hundred of good comments.

Will you also get that someday?

Will your pâtisserie gather many people and be a place of happiness?

You try not to think too much about it, because with the flicker of hope comes fear, and you don’t have time to be negative. You have to move forward and put on a brave face, that’s what you’ve been taught.

As you step off the train and start to look for the right bus, a voice calls out behind you.

“Yer Umi’s roommate, right?”

You turn around to see a man with short brown hair. There’s a relaxed air about him that makes you feel comfortable.

“Miya-san?” you assume.

“The good one, yeah,” he replies with a boyish smile. You think his Kansai accent adds an easy charm to his voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come. I could have taken the bus, I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Nah, yer not. Follow me.”

He offers to carry your bag and leads you to his car, parked just outside the station.

The ride is mostly food-related, he tells you about his business. How he started as the employee of an old man who had a ramen restaurant, which eventually became his. How he transformed it into an onigiri restaurant before opening a second shop recently in Tokyo.

“Why onigiri?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He thinks for a moment. “I guess… it reminds me of home. My Ma’ used to make ’em all the time when we were kids. And I love makin’ ’em myself. Like, physically usin’ my hands. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” you say with a small smile. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your mother’s cooking.”

“It’s the best,” he says, and his tone turns soft. “Though, she didn’t really teach me much about baking. That’s why I’m impressed by what ya do.”

His compliment takes you by surprise, you restrain yourself from smiling with all your teeth.

You meet the landlady the minute you step out of the car. She listens to you carefully and even though you try not to overthink it, she seems more than happy at the idea of opening a French pâtisserie in the neighbourhood.

Osamu mentions after the meeting how you definitely “won her over with how detailed and motivated ya were.”

You don’t tell him that it only makes sense because you’ve dreamed of owning a place for years. You’ve imagined everything, thought about it during sleepless nights and overworked days. It is the lighthouse that guided you through heartbreaks and homesickness. So when the opportunity presents itself, there’s no way you wouldn’t give your all.

“I hope she’ll accept my project,” you simply answer.

“D’ya want onigiri?” The man offers.

You obviously accept (Umi dragged about how delicious they were, you need to find out whether that is true or not) and thank him again. He brushes it off with a “Umi’s friends are my friends and I’m always happy to feed people.”

His shop is warm and welcoming, and his food is delightful. You might yourself add a five-star review on Google.

“I never thought a rice ball could be that good,” you say with a mouth full of food.

“Rice balls? Ya don’t know how much time it took me to master that.”

Right, you don’t know, but you can only imagine. The culinary world isn’t only competitive and cruel. It’s sweat and tears, years of making to perfect a simple recipe. It’s giving your entire being into your crafts only to hear people say “well, that mustn’t be too difficult to make.”

But it’s also pride and art. Not a day goes by when you aren’t excited to try a new combination: replace wheat flour with almond flour for the brioches, add a spoonful of orange blossom to your cream puffs, and the list is long. And if you make someone happy, if they ask to have a second piece of your cake, that’s when you know the sweat and the tears aren’t that important.

You crave to build your pâtisserie, the same way Osamu built his restaurant (with warmth and love), and taste what it’s like to pour your heart into something tangible and undeniably yours.

Things move faster than you’d anticipated. The landlady approves your proposal, the bank grants your loan, and within the span of a week, you exchange your resignation letter with a lease and a pair of keys.

You’re sad to leave Umi, she is too.

“I’ll come whenever I can.” She says with a sad smile.

“I’ll sneak pastries for you,” you wink in return and when you hug, she congratulates you and tells you (for the tenth time) that you deserve it. You think a tear escapes your eyes.

Your newfound property is empty and cold. And when you open the door for the first time you realise that it might require a lot of work.

But Osamu is there every step of the way. He kindly offers advice and helps you with renovations. You’re a bit embarrassed by how much he’s done so far and at the same time, you know you have to take everything there is to make that place great. So it becomes a routine for him to cross the road from his shop to yours at the end of his shift to give you a hand.

“Yer makin’ the right choice,” he says one evening as you both sit outside Onigiri Miya, sharing a quick meal after a day of painting walls and changing seals. “That place is gonna bring in plenty of tourists and locals.”

You glance at him, there are nerves swirling in your chest. “I hope so.”

“Ya are. Trust me. Yer gonna have queues and queues of people.”

You hide your nerves with sarcasm, “And if they’re tired of waiting, I’ll tell them that there's a not-too-bad onigiri restaurant in front of my shop. Just so you know, time passes faster.”

He sneers at that, “’Not too bad’, ya sound like my brother.”

“Don’t know the guy but that didn’t seem to be a compliment.”

“That wasn’t.”

You roll your eyes and he laughs in return.

The hardest part of the renovation happens to be the most important one: the kitchen. You’re knee-deep in setting up the oven when you realise that maybe, you might need more people to assemble to equipment.

“I can find two or three more biceps to help,” Osamu tells you when he finds you trying to lift the 250-pound fridge by yourself.

“Yeah, I guess that would be useful,” you say breathlessly.

The next morning, you arrive early. Not as early as Osamu it seems since you see him standing outside your shop, hands in his pockets and wearing a sports suit (the clothes are unusual on him, you think). The closer you get, the blonder his hair looks. The sun has barely rise, and you blame the light for it.

You immediately call out, “Miya-san?”

He turns around, “Oh, hey!”

“You could have come later, you know. I was planning on cleaning a little bit before you arrived.”

“Don’t worry," he shakes his head, “’Samu would have killed me if I had been late.”

“Samu?”

And then, just as quickly, Osamu (the real one) shows up and for a second, you’re confused.

“Good morning,” he says before pointing to the other man, “seems like ya just met my brother.”

“I’m Atsumu.” The blond guy extends his hand to you and your knitted brows probably gives away your confusion. “Don’t tell me ya thought I was ‘Samu?”

Of course that’s his brother, you idiot. You curse yourself.

“Sorry. You guys look similar,” you say, but it’s not quite an excuse for your mistake.

They both share a glance before laughing and you think you just sounded stupid because obviously, they look alike, they’re fucking twins. You reason yourself by thinking that it’s very much early and that you’re not fully awake.

“We’re very different. I mean, our bodies aren’t built the same since I’m a professional athlete and ‘Samu’s not. I’ve always been the smartest one too.” He crosses his arms to his chest.

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. You’ll learn the difference soon enough. I’m the serious one.” He gestures to his brother. “He’s the disaster.”

Atsumu shrugs dramatically. “Hey, the world needs a little chaos, ya shithead!”

You can’t help but laugh despite the tension between them.

“Where’s the fridge?”

“I think we should wait for him; it will be easier if we’re four,” Osamu tells his brother. You didn’t know another person would come, you want to ask about them but Atsumu interferes before you can open your mouth.

“I’m pretty sure I can manage on my own, I’m a-”

“Professional athlete. I think we got it ‘Tsumu so can ya shut the fuck up now?”

You fear Atsumu will jump his brother if you don’t stop them.

“What sport?” You ask hurriedly before he can take a step towards Osamu.

“Volleyball. I’m the starting setter of the National Team.”

“Thought Tobio-kun was.”

The older twin glowers at the younger one.

“I’m impressed Atsumu-san, I actually know a professional setter.”

“Who?” The man’s eyes widen, and you decipher not only curiosity but competition on his face (typical man behaviour).

“He’s not in Japan though. But maybe you’ve heard of him, his name is Oika-”

“My bad Sam-sam, I walked past that place.”

A man enters the room. He is a bit sweaty and his hair, grey and raven, is falling on his forehead. 

“Did ya run to come here?” Osamu raises an eyebrow at him.

He grins and scratches the back of his neck nervously, “I took the wrong street.”

“But it’s the same as Onigiri Miya.”

“But it’s always Omi-Omi who guides us here. I never came on my own,” he pouts.

“Thank you for coming,” you hear yourself say and that’s when he finally sees you. His pout immediately disappears.

You think he is handsome. He and his golden eyes. But it’s only a sample of his beauty because when he replies “of course,” with his smile all bright and warm, you’re mesmerised.

It’s almost instinctive, the way you can’t look away. It’s like an effortless intake of air. Like your eyes seem to be glued to his features, and soon enough, to his arms and the way the muscles contract slightly when he offers his hand for you to shake it.

“I'm Bokuto,” he grins. “Nice to meet you.”

“Bokkun, yer hands are all dirty. She’s a lady.”

“Oops, Tsum-Tsum is right. Where can I wash them?” He asks you and hides his hands behind his back.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. The room is filled with silence for a very long minute before Osamu finally decides to show him the way.

Why are you disappointed? Why did you want so badly to shake his hand?

Perhaps because it’s too early for your mind to function properly.

Your brain tries to go for that answer (your beating heart whispers something else).

“Should we start workin’”? Atsumu proposes and you nod.

Well, it seems like you’re stuck with two bickering brothers and this god-like man named Bokuto.

(This is going to be a good day, you think discretely).

author notes: okay so this was supposed to be a one-shot but it will be a 3 or 4 chapters story haha

(writing this made me very hungry btw)

[lefarte]

Hi!! Can I ask you for some Pav headCanons? Especially the sweet ones, I really love him idk, anyways if you do it I really appreciate it!! <3 (srry for the extremely broken English lol)

No it’s okay don’t worry :> I understood you perfectly

Fluff, GN reader as always

First off, I think Pav developed some habits from the war, which are sometimes sad and sometimes funny. I think one of them is that he’s aggressive about food, like a dog. He eats really fast and doesn’t share, and then begs you to share yours…

We know he likes ice cream but he also likes sweet food in general. He likes fruit and berries a lot. I know that tropical fruit like oranges, pineapples, and mango were expensive and not common back then, but I think if he actually got his hands on one he’d go crazy for it. Not lemons though. He wouldn’t like that.

He would like burgers. And like the pickles a very strange amount. If you don’t like pickles he will eat them. If you do like pickles, he will still eat them.

He likes to be out in the rain, and especially the snow. He would NOT like to be in a hot climate. He runs very hot, like a furnace, to the point where it’s sometimes impossible to cuddle with him in summer because you will start SWEATING.

He will squash bugs for you :] if you don’t want him to kill the bugs he’d laugh at you, but pick it up and put it outside anyway. He’d think you’re really cute.

He sleeps like an actual log. Like, sometimes you might assume he’s dead because of how deep he sleeps. And he snores too. And crushes you in his sleep by laying on you. Maybe drools on you too. So, I’d hope you’re also a heavy sleeper, or at least strong enough to push him off.

BUT because of his military training he goes to sleep every night at 7:00 exactly and wakes up at like 4:00 AM. He doesn’t like it when you stay up, he tries to drag you to bed with him. You have to be like “no, honey, I’m not waking up at 4 AM…..”

He used to have nightmares, but now he never dreams. He hasn’t had a dream since he was 15.

He can cook basic food to help in the kitchen, but he’s good at cleaning. He cleans your room randomly.

He takes cold showers in the morning because that’s what he’s used to, and it’s awful. If you want to come with him though he’ll turn the heat up, just for you.

…He also is very pleased about the toilet in your house, because he’s used to either going in outhouses or in the woods…

[phoenixblaze1412]

Might seem crazy for what im bout to say…

HAI IM SORRY BUT IM NOT REQUESTING THE ORDER OF BAIZHU FLUFF THIS TIME😔🩷

But im gonna order for the regrator boys and girlies! So can we please get a pantalone x gn!reader fluffy? *cough* their first date *cough*

-🎀

No need to apologize love^^ let's go from Baizhu to Pantalone because man needs affection too.

First Date

Dating Pantalone has its ups and downs but you two were able to make things work.

With him being part of the fatui and bring the ninth harbinger, work always calls for him that it's rare for him to be at home to spend time with you, maybe even once in a blue moon.

Meanwhile you would be working at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and helping out your director and friend Hu Tao that you would always be home way past midnight.

But despite rarely being able to see each other, you two would communicate to each other through letters.

And maybe a pyro fatui guard or two that would be watching you from afar to make sure you don't get hurt. They were given strict orders by the Regrator himself or else they would be the next test subjects for Il Dottore's experiments if you were to be harmed.

So to receive an invitation from your lover that you were to have dinner at Liuli Pavilion, who were you to say no.

It's literally your first date with him.

If you're lucky enough, it would also be your first kiss with him if the chance is given.

Such a shame that the only contact you two shared was simple hand holding. Hu Tao even commented at how bland your partner was for not being able to at least give you a kiss. If only she knew that she was insulting a harbinger, but you wouldn't tell her that.

You had to ask her to give you a day off just to be able to prepare for it. And Hu Tao, being the supportive friend she is, immediately pushed you out of the parlor while rambling on about to use protection if your partner decides to give you more than dinner for the night.

Once you made it back to your home, you were surprised to see a gift placed upon your bed. Opening it and looking inside, you could only stare in awe at the expensive outfit laid before you. You were guessing the outfit was custome made, there were even jewels decorating it as it glimmered under the light.

"I hope this gift finds you, my love. I expect that you wear it to our dinner tonight. I shall see you then."

You were thankful for the outfit, noticing how it matches the usual colors you would wear with a mix of purple. You were a bit curious on how Pantalone knew your sizes but decided not to question it, assuming it was simply a lucky guess.

Entering Liuli Pavilion was simple. Finding where your lover resides, is a bit difficult. Before you could even take another step, you were greeted by a familiar voice.

"It brings me great joy to see you wearing the gift I sent, darling. How I have missed you so."

Pantalone stood there before you, taking your hand in his before placing a small kiss to your knuckles.

Oh if he knew how the most simplest action he does can easily make you melt.

Leading you to your dinner table with the food already prepared. The two of you dined in, talking about how the other has been doing.

Now, we know how no one has ever seen the Regrator's eyes before. But for you, you are an exception.

As you rambled on about the things that happened while he was gone (even though he always knows what happens to you every day considering his fatui agents would report to him daily, he simply pretends to not know. He does like listening to your voice after all), his eyes glanced at your form. Purple irises tracing and remembering each curve of your body due to how the outfit he had made hugged your figure nicely.

You stopped talking midway when you felt gloved fingers grasp your chin and turn you to the side before feeling a pair of lips pressing against yours.

You were glad your body immediately responded by kissing back. Meanwhile your brain is still processing the current situation.

Pantalone is kissing you. YOU.

ANWIEJDOQJSKJQOJSOJSKJWOXJ

(Y/n).exe has stopped working...

Pulling away from the kiss, you could only sat in a daze with your cheeks flushed red.

You are definitely going to tell Hu Tao about this.

Pantalone was simply enjoying your reaction. He too was waiting for the chance to be able to kiss you. He always wondered how your lips would taste like. After knowing it now, it made him crave for more.

Once you both finished dinner, Pantalone led you to the various shops and markets you two would pass by, offering you sweet delicacies and buying you expensive jewelry. Simply pampering you with gifts that he knows would look wonderful on you.

He doesn't ignore the fact that there are various people, men and women alike, who would eye you as if you were their prey. Nonetheless, he would have his arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you close to him. Showing the world that you already belong to someone else, him specifically. Pantalone wouldn't even hesitate to use his power and connections to take care of those that would try to lay their hands on you or even dare to take you away from him.

Pantalone would make sure that you get home safe once the date has ended, he would walk you back to your home.

He already has a promise ring in hand as he slipped it onto your finger, telling you that he would be visiting you more frequently from now on to be able to spend time with you.

You think he would just leave after getting you home and placing a ring on your finger?

He would pull you towards him before kissing your lips again, making sure this one lasts more longer than the one he did earlier until you're breathless before pulling away with a smile.

"I look forward to seeing you soon, dearest. Do expect that I'll be wanting your attention whenever I visit. I do deserve it after working so hard, no?"

Overall experience of the date? ∞/10

You are definitely giggling like a school girl while telling everything that happened to Hu Tao the next day. Her also giggling and squealing along with you. Zhongli could only shake his head in amusement as he drank his tea.

[princesssmars]

siobhan roy gets what she wants, and sooner or later its gonna drive her husband insane. 18+. fem!reader. fxfxm threesome. toms pov.

when she first brings up the idea, tom awkwardly laughs and goes back to his dinner. its some fusion chicken dish at this insanely expensive place in manhattan, no prices on the menus. he asks her to repeat herself and she gives the same response.

a threesome. sex between him, her and another woman. but notnjust some random waitress or escort from some top of the line site like willa. she suggests you. her best friend of the past eighteen years.

the number eighteen just reminds of his shiv's insistence on not having a baby for at least ten years. he picks at his food until she lightly pushes his shoulder to look at her.

she's busy explaining the terms of their agreement and how this is beneficial to the both of them while he just watches. her eyes are squinting like they do when she smiles, and he thinks about the last time she had a real smile while talking to him.

he bites the inside of his cheek and agrees.

tom thought you were hot. and it was a bit scary. he'd heard some social media startup at a banquet remark how it was a shame your family has prioritized the humanities and technology for five generations, because if there was any pick of them to woo the world with a face and body it'd be you.

he never had any doubts about how much he cared for shiv. she was shiv fucking roy, he couldnt believe she was talking to him in that nightclub in ithaca. but he'd be a liar if he said he didn't let his eyes wander the first time he met you.

but he'd also be a liar if he said he'd never questioned just how close you and shiv were. his first introduction to a family and friends golf trip, and he studied how she corrected your stance from behind you, pressing her body into yours. but girls could be..touchy with each other. that was normal. what wasn't normal was roman teasing shiv for 'taking any chance to remind me you got to have a lesbo relationship with the girl everyone wanted in boarding school.' she gives a 'fuck you' and a punch to his arm before sitting next to tom, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

after that, he notices all of the little hand grabs under tables, the shared smiles when one of either of your siblings embarrasses themselves, and the late nights where shiv stays out with you to "go over some business". but he stays quiet. you're just best friends. and he knows the roys' have...odd relationships with the people around them. he's glad shiv has you to rely on when he's not around.

now he's standing over the bed, their bed, as the two of you giggle while shiv tugs your dress over your head, moving to yank your underwear down with quickness. he isn't sure where he's supposed to be or what he's supposed to be doing. a mixture of arousal and uneasiness grows in the pit of his stomach.

he feels like a creep just watching so he settles beside the two of you on the bed, feeling like he's made a wrong move once the both of you stop and your eyes settle on him.

"aw babe, i forgot you were here for a second. don't be shy. she won't bite." shiv consoles him, although the first part of her sentence does anything but. her cut hair rests softly on her shoulders, the black lace of her bra looking so nice against the paleness of her skin. he gives a gentle nod and turns his body towards you.

"yeah, tom. won't bite unless you ask me to." your hand grasps his wrist and brings it to your chest, his palm spreading out over your nipple and squeezing until you let out a hum. he eases into it, jumping a bit when a loud moan leaves your throat and your head goes back.

he looks down and shiv is between your legs, her eyes closed in content as she buries her mouth into you. she doesn't tease you like she does with him, hands bringing your legs to rest over her shoulders and digging into your thighs. he can only watch as your hand moves downward, ready to tell you that shiv hates having her hair pulled, when you get a grip in the red locks and pull, the woman groaning from between your legs.

he knew it all along, but this, all of this, cements it. you've done this before. shiv, the love of his life, his wife, has slept with her best friend, the maid of honor at their fucking wedding, and never told him. he makes eye contact with you, and you give him a smile as you grip his head and bring him into sloppy kiss.

throughout the night he can picture all of it from shiv's point of view. sticking her tongue in your mouth and tasting your lip balm. biting into the skin of your neck to hear your cries. licking over your clit until you cum into her mouth. doing all of it and more to her in return.

he leaves autopilot when he's on the bottom, mouth agape as you sink onto him and take a breather as shiv sits on his face. he's back inside his mind, fucking shiv's cunt with his mouth until his jaw aches and his veins cry out from gripping her thighs.

she normally chastises him for it, hating when he leaves marks. but right now she's preoccupied in you, and if just the sounds of you two kissing is sending him into a frenzy he can only imagine what it looks like. you're laughing, and she's laughing, and his ears strain to hear what the two of you are whispering about over the sounds of sex.

"god, you look so fucking hot-"

"'m so glad you finally did this, god, shit, got so tired of waiting-"

"i know, aw, i know baby. just a little longer, baby."

"im close, fuck tom, shiv!"

"god i fucking love you-"

tom's hips buck up as his high hits him like a freigh train, cumming inside of the condom he had fit on beforehand. you both tumble off of him, and once he gets his bearings he slowly stands and throws the condom into the trash. as he's walking into the en-suite bathroom shiv calls out that you're staying the night, her hand rubbing up and down your leg as youlay out on their bed.

can you tell which one of them i like more. its shiv i want to fuck shiv.

he smiles and closes the door.

[angrytomatto]

Summary of random facts about Merman because I'm bore (probably will update with time)

We talk about this in a discord server and I just want to leave it here in case I forget

(Every fact here is based of what has been said in game, fan theories aren't canonically facts in this list) Last update: December 2023

(This list probably contain spoilers)

Not only they learn how to walk with legs, but also how to swim in human form (Stitch Event)

It takes them time get used to breathe air properly, walking their first steps feel heavy and painful and some of them still feel uncomfortable in clothes (Floyd's Beans Camo story / Jade's School Uniform voice lines)

The black carriage that picks them up to go to NRC is an amphibious magic coach (Floyd's Ceremonial Robes voice line)

Merfolks and Humans are aware of each other but is extremely rare to encounter an actual merman on land (Magicam Monsters event)

They aren't afraid of each other anymore, since Ariel married Erik merfolks commonly come and go from land to sea(Some adults even own some stores on the shores) (Floyd's Beach Wear story)

The institution or land boot camp that train merfolks to became humans was founded canonically by Ariel. They need at least one month there to get used to their new body and how to eat our food correctly. Deep under water they only eat raw meat (Floyd's Beans Camo story / Jade's School Uniform story)

In there also teach them about the fauna on land by taking them to the zoo (Floyd Platinum Jacket story)

Merfolks also have passports once they live in human society (Floyd Platinum Jacket story)

They can turn into their true form willingly (Book 3 / Book 4 / Azul's Ceremonial Robes story / Vargas Camp event / Magicam Monsters event)

However they drink potions to keep their human form. Those are really expensive and if they forget to drink it in time they turn back into merman really slowly (Book 6 Riddle and Azul's tower)

The potion itself is paid by the school and currently they drink an experimental version that allows them to keep their human form for a week or two instead of a couple of days. And it taste awful (Book 6 Riddle and Azul's tower)

None of them have good eyesight: Azul mainly use only one par of glasses because it helps with the ''Business Style'' he's aiming for, and even if he can see pretty well without them the lenses are prescript just as his lab glasses (Trey's Halloween Dress story / Azul's Lab Coat voice lines) Jade roam around the school at night because he feel at ease in the dark (Ruggie's School Uniform story) Floyd is always amused of bright colored things because they looked really dark under the sea (Floyd's lab coat story)

Their skin in human form is really smooth. That's because they are cover by slime in their true form that keep their skin moist and soft (Azul's Ceremonial Robes story)

Octopuses are a pretty exotic race even between merfolks, they are way bigger that the common merman. They are slow, so they are usually targeted by predators but they also are brutally strong and are able to manipulate all their limbs freely (Book 3 / Book 4 / Book 6 / Happy Beans event / Vargas Camp / Azul's Beach Wear voice lines)

Halloween under water have very ominous and respectful traditions, way opposite that Halloween on land. There's haunted ships with ghost that lost their lives drowned, so they play music to calm their sorrows and loneliness. There's many pirate ghosts wandering on rotten ships that could actually harm young merfolks if they are not careful enough (Jade's Halloween Dress story / Floyd's Halloween Dress story)

The Coral Sea is a really small community and merfolks don't hesitate to eat each other in order to survive (Many hints said by the octatrio to mention here. And yes, Floyd WILL eat any student if he have to (Azul's Beach Wear voice lines))

They live under a Monarchy and the current prince is called Rielle. Is implied that the prince assist in the same elementary school that Azul, Jade and Floyd (Book 3) **( The 14 one doesn't mention all the times the tweels bully Azul by calling him slow because I will lost count) ______________ That's it for now, I will add more eventually but this ones are the ones I can remember now, feel free to tell me what did I miss~

[cookiepie111]

I just can't get over the idea of könig looking over at your plate of food, asking if you're going to finish it, so I wrote this 😭 (könig x black reader) also please let me know if there's a better take away place to use for this.

König's heard you talk about this upscale restaurant for a while, glancing past it when you're out on the street. When asked why you didn't go, " I don't want to go alone, it's also stupid expensive," he'd be more than happy to take you. Only he's quickly met with disappointment, seeing a sliver of meat and sauce on his plate. It was 7 course meal but if every course was going to be like this... "tch." it's too late to go somewhere else. They're already sat, and the number of hoops he had to jump through to reserve a table made his head hurt. You, on the other hand, looked ecstatic, in absolute awe of the slice of food they placed in front of you. The techniques, plating, and taste. You went on about each with every new dish brought out. He sighed if nothing else, at least you're enjoying yourself, he won't ruin your mood with his sour face.

Happy as you were it was clear to see könig wasn't enjoying this experience as much as you, and food of this amount probably wasn't going to fill him up, even after he you gave him your share. " Hey, why don't we go to Salzburger Grill after this?" it was a struggle to hold down a laugh after seeing him light out at the idea.

[weeping-statue]

Frederick x thief /poor reader !!

—Genre: Fluff, a bit of romance? Not really angst but maybe themes of how Frederick and Reader are struggling!! —Frederick (Main headcanons): Frederick, as in his lore, was cut off financially and almost fully by his family due to his ‘un-Kreiburg like talent’, but he feigns his wealth and status to fit in. Playing stray gigs in high class areas, pretending to belong, for both himself and his social life. But he barely has any savings, because he’s constantly focusing on making sure his appearance fits the bill, food and housing can come next. Frederick comes off as charming, gentle, and an elegant young man- but secretly, he’s bitter and untrusting to those around him, almost always on guard. Fredrick believes he’s both better and worse than everyone else, citing his talents as the cause for both and having breakdowns when he’s all alone, not understanding what he’s doing wrong, he’s great right? No. He must be awful. Right? At least those common poors are less than him, people like Reader don’t have his talent or status…

—Plot: Frederick often plays in high class areas, but this was one of those gigs that just barely hit the mark, ever so slightly bruising his ego, an expensive yet local café, but there were enough wealthy people there for him to settle in such a place. But since he values his appearance and status over his health, or hunger more specifically, Frederick was barely making it through his performance, being so light headed and hungry he was on the edge of just fainting, but he had to pull through. Unfortunately for Frederick, while trying to compose himself in an alleyway, he passed out, from the stress and hunger. Though Reader, a poor person themselves, who in truth was a bit more on the sleazy side, hanging around those same high class areas to pick pocket from those rich bastards- seeing Frederick, who was well known for being elegant and wealthy, a Kreiburg for christs sake (Though it wasn’t known for everyone’s social life’s sake that Frederick was practically disowned)!! As Reader was looking through his pockets, they were surprised to not see anything? Reader, curious as a cat that may or may not be killed, took him to your humble home, cozy, but small. In reality your cozy little home was in an abandoned apartment building that the only reason was still functioning with heat, water, and electricity- barely to be honest- was because the city, despite being oh so healthy and stingy, completely forgot about the place. When Frederick finally woke up when you were making dinner, a surprisingly high quality meal that was the reward of a good pick pocket. Naturally, Frederick was panicked, not only was he in some god forsaken obviously abandoned apartment, but it was also with a commoner!! Somehow, Reader manages to calm him down, offering him a meal- his ego was long gone, still heavily embarrassed from not only being seen fainting but being pitied by someone even less well off than him. But, Reader pries at how Frederick, the fancy man he is, was caught passed out in an alleyway, and they both awkwardly open up- it’s endearing, because even if they come from different backgrounds, they manage to somewhat bond over their struggles!! 

—M anon: Your biggest fan !!

(ALSO SORRY IF THIS IS LONG— With the Hullabaloo limited event I’ve been grinding and haven’t had a bunch of time to think of stuff to request to your very talented self… I may or may not be requesting a bunch of Mike and Joker stuff now.. hehe)

I’m so sorry it took me this long to answer</3 I always enjoy seeing you and 🔮 anon in my inbox! It makes me happy!

Fredrick x Theif/Poor!Reader

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Fredrick would at first keep you at a five foot distance and refuse to breath the same air as you

Fredrickhimself is a hard man to have open up. He hates being weak because he’s afraid of being hurt and left behind like a broken toy. His worst fear is being used, in every way.

Love has always been the last thing on his mind. Since self preservation comes first.

Fredrick would let you open up, do all the talking, so he can find your weaknesses and if needed too, exploit them.

He only chimes in here and there with his own personal story if he feels the conversation is dying.

You tell him he can stay here, that you’ll take care of him while he maintains his appearance in public.

He’s skeptical, but has nowhere to stay, so eventually agrees.

Fredrick’s paranoia gets to him at night, the gun in his cane is always clutched tightly then. He’s a very light sleeper and is always making sure you’re not going to try anything.

He doesn’t believe in kindness from one’s heart, because nobody’s ever shown it. Especially not to him.

Sometimes while he’s out doing a job, you’ll watch from the window into the expensive building at him playing.

Mesmerized by the beautiful man and lovely piece.

Only to be mid performance in and told off by the owner to stop scaring away customers.

Strays aren’t very welcome in nice places.

A few times when money was extremely low, he did street performances, and you would pickpocket the audience for extra change.

For as long as he lived with you, he grew to enjoy your company. He’d never admit it but he needs you in some way, and happens to maybe like you.

Even though the paranoia may never fully be gone, it has simmered down to almost nothing the longer your with him<3

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Hope you enjoyed!