#i like the soup she makes it’s very good

[princessbrunette]

omg!!! the week of kittys outfits was so well done and fun i loved it!!!! would you be down to make deer reader’s with pope next? 🤎

a week in outfits: deer!reader edition 🦌

monday

deer!reader is working at the library. she enjoys it there, peace and quiet for once which is nice when she’s constantly around the pogues. she gets to sit and quietly check people in and out, print library cards and catch up on her own reading. sometimes pops comes to bring her lunch which is sweet, sometimes he brings the loud mouthed jj maybank along which is not so sweet.

tuesday

popes off doing god knows what, so deer!reader takes the time to bake cupcakes to deliver to the pogues and her man once they’ve arrived back to the chateau. she doesn’t mind having days apart from pope. she’d say she definitely has her clingier moments, but they’ve always had their own thing and their own hobbies — so she’s happy to play her part in this.

wednesday

forcing pope to volunteer at the local soup kitchen with her to help feed the less fortunate. it was for a good cause, and whilst it was a tedious activity she likes to give back to the community. she’d been sneaky and asked pope infront of his father the week before, knowing that mr heyward would push his son to do it. as one might imagine, pope was very grateful — note the sarcasm, but knew he would have said yes to his girl anyway. after volunteering, the two walk around for a little while doing some shopping and checking out niche little antique spots that deer!reader had sniffed out.

thursday

unavoidably, deer!reader reluctantly finds herself wound up on a pogue mission — rattling around in the back of the twinkie, wide eyed and clinging to popes arm asking him one million questions about the logistics and the safety of the mission. it was equally as stressful for him as it was for her, knowing just how skittish she was — capable of taking off at any moment, but she was well behaved and kept herself out of trouble — something pope took note of and acknowledged.

friday

dinner with popes family, also known as the day of damage control. whether it was a stolen truck from mr heyward that week, or disappearing for days at a time whilst still living under his fathers roof — pope knew that bringing deer!reader, aka the light of mr heywards life round for dinner would do ample damage control, causing him to forgive pope for whatever nonsense he’d got into that week. deer!reader always brought a gift for his parents and would happily talk about any of her recent ventures, impressing them both.

saturday

party time! whilst deer!reader is a huge introvert, she loves playing dress up (which coincidentally is the most fun part of going out with the pogues) she makes pope promise they won’t stay too long, but loosens up a little after a drink or two (still having her wits about her, paranoid and continually tugging her dress up to escape the wandering eyes of the eldest cameron son.)

sunday

the weekly sunday sleepover with pope at her house. they debrief the party from the night before, gossiping and giving their hot takes on their friends behaviour (pope has a lot to say about everyone), quietly read together, fuck like rabbits, and eat icecream. everyone’s happy— and ready to start the new week.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 20

wooo we hit chapter 20!! yeaahhh

MASTAPOST

Beautiful, sunlit beaches blanketed the coastline underneath the street level where colourful tiles crisscrossed. An umbrella kept the heat away from the rustic wooden table at which the Fenton family, minus their youngest, and Bruce Wayne sat. The SAV sat peacefully by the pier where they had disembarked.

They had been sailing for the better part of the afternoon, finally stopping to pick up lunch at Jazz’s insistence. Mr Wayne’s insisted on paying, ever the rich philanthropist.

Jazz Fenton couldn’t be more worried, although she had to hide it. Sitting opposite her, Mr Wayne idly chatted with her parents about their college days. Once she knew what she was looking for, it was painfully obvious that he was interrogating them for information on Vlad Masters, another billionaire thorn in the family’s side (not that her parents knew).

She fidgeted. Her foot tapped repeatedly on the stop, arched to not make sounds that would give her state of general anxiety away. Once she told Tucker what was happening, the boy had gotten to work right away. It would take some time to locate the files containing the specs for the newest inventions, and then more time to analyse them and pinpoint what damage she could do.

She’d need to call Sam next. Tucker had given her the number for Sam’s spare, although there was no guarantee she’d be able to answer soon.

Until then, Jazz was on her own. She picked at her sweet and sour fish broth soup, rolling the tomato chunks around. If she gave herself food poisoning somehow, that might give the boys potentially a week to get away. Then again, there was an equal chance one of her parents would stay with her while the other went with Bruce.

As it was, she could definitely malinger a stomach issue, and delay them for maybe half an hour. Sirens swam quickly, so that time could be valuable for them.

“What about you, Jasmine? What got you interested in psychology?” Came Bruce Wayne’s baritone. Shit.

Jazz was startled out of her thoughts. Before she could open her mouth, she did an awareness check. A mental checklist of where she was and what she needed to do and not do appeared in her head. If she tipped off this man, then it could very lead to her brother underneath a scalpel. No pressure at all.

“Uhm, well. Mr Wa- Bruce.” Jazz found herself stuttering when talking about psychology for the first time in her life. Dammit. She looked to the side, where her father nodded like an excited puppy. Not helping, dad.

“Well I’ve always been interested in people, you see.” Jazz kept a close eye on Bruce Wayne’s posture, studying him. “What makes them upset. What makes them happy.”

She side-eyed her parents. On one side, her mother glared viciously at her fried fish. On the other, her father arranged fries into smiling faces.

“With this family, I’ve had a lot to think about.” That was a good start, right? With any luck, he would be the one to give something away, something she could use against him.

Bruce Wayne chuckled, an easy (fake?) smile worn like a mask. “I can certainly relate. Many times my boys have left me pulling my hair out. It’s a chaotic house most days.”

That was right! Jazz recalled the preliminary research she had done earlier in the day. Bruce Wayne was known to be an endlessly kind man, but suffered several interpersonal issues over the years. One was the notorious apparent teenage tantrum thrown by an 18-year-old Dick Grayson, shortly before his second son, Jason was adopted.

The less said about Jason’s unfortunate fate, the better. Although he may have been brought back, somehow??

She wasn’t sure whether to envy his therapist or not.

It had been exhausting teasing the truth out of the myriad gossip articles on the Wayne family. If Danny were here, he’d bully her relentlessly for going back on her noted disdain towards the ‘shallow and vapid celebrity news industry dedicated to turning private interpersonal conflicts into products to be consumed.’ Oh how the mighty have fallen.

What she could be reasonably sure of was that the present-day family dynamics of the Waynes were testy, to say the least. Apparently their youngest, the Damian who had disappeared into the waves just two days ago, had been dealing with violent tendencies for some time and had no patience for entertaining the elites like his brothers used to. And that was just the public stuff.

Right. She could work with this.

“Was it difficult? In the early days, with your first son.” Jazz said, putting on tones of sympathy and empathetic connection, the kind she would use when she’d try to get Danny to open up.

A pained look came over Bruce. That was good!

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to poke any sensitive issues.” She added with false franticness. The longer the ball was in Bruce Wayne’s court, the better.

Mr Wayne waved her off. “No, it’s fine. Just old memories.”

“Are they fond memories?”

“Yes. It was the happiest time of my life. There was a lot of adjustment. I was a bachelor in my twenties, and suddenly I had an entire child in my hands. Dick had me running around like a headless chicken half the time.”

“Did it get easier?” Jazz asked. The billionaire’s eyes almost glazed over.

“Not particularly. If anything, things got harder. I learned very quickly that experience raising one child does not entirely transfer to another.”

Oh, that was good. Jazz filed this information into her mental notebook.

“But enough about me and my old man troubles.” With that endlessly disarming smile, she could tell why people fell for the playboy turned beleaguered father. “If you’re looking for a good psycho-analysis, I’m afraid I’m a bit basic compared to what Gotham has to offer.”

Drat. Was she that obvious? No, he’d just talked about her psychology interest. She could handle this easily. She just needed to be careful what she said, and didn’t say.

“I guess you could say I’m interested in non-traditional family dynamics. My parents have always been… eccentric.”

“That’s the Fenton way!” Her father shouted. Several other patrons looked at them scathingly. “Too bad Jazzpants hates siren hunting almost as much as… as…” Her father’s expression sank.

That calculating look came back in full force. Dammit dad! She needed to salvage this.

“My feelings towards my parents’ profession aside, the evidence points very strongly to Phantom being connected to my brother’s disappearance. I may not enjoy the siren hunts, but my brother comes first. What else can I do? Sit home and do nothing?”

Her father clapped her back, grinning proudly. “You wouldn’t be doing nothing, sweetie! You’d be keeping Vladdie company!”

Yeah… Jazz mustered all her will power to hide the cringe.

 “And besides, have you seen my parents when they’re at work? Yesterday they spent like 36 hours straight preparing the SAV with only one single break.” Jazz’s head fell back. “They’d probably forget to eat if I weren’t here.”

“Hey that’s not true, Jazz! Your mother and I are excellent at this work-life balance you always babble about. Yesterday we took two breaks instead of one. Progress!”

Jazz gestured to her father with an exasperated sigh. “See what I mean?”

Bruce Wayne hummed. His head tilted in thought as he sampled his mackerel. “Have you always been this responsible, Jasmine?”

“Of course! Look, I may be sixteen, but I very much possess the maturity of an adult. If it’s my job to wrangle this family into healthy habits, then so be it.”

Bruce Wayne appeared to have something to say about that. Jazz’s phone buzzed at that moment, having been turned silent earlier. It was Tucker, you miracle worker.

She shot up from her chair, twisting her expression into an agonisied grimace. “Sorry I think I’m having a bathroom emergency. I’ll be right back!”

Jazz dashed away, feeling perfectly fine in the stomach, except for her nerves.

“I have questions.” Damian told him. They were well on their way south now, Danny’s tail swishing away at top speed. Mostly the boys stayed silent, enjoying each other’s company and the rushing of water.

“Shoot.” Danny said.

“Are you a male? Or is this merely an assumption that others have made?”

Danny sputtered. The question almost knocked him off course with how sudden it was. “W-What? Why would that be a question?”

Damian hummed. “My brothers have taught me not to make assumptions. In addition, siren biology seems heavily based off of fish, many of whom are hermaphroditic in some way.”

“Uhh…”

“Which leaves us with the question. What am I to call you? For most of time together, I have been thinking of you as a male. Was that incorrect of me to do so?”

Danny’s eyes subconsciously drifted to his navel. Was he actually biologically male anymore? He’d always assumed so, but being a half-siren in a siren-hating down didn’t leave much time to learn siren anatomy in and out.

Had he been a girl this entire time? No way… No, he always acted the same as he always acted. If he was a boy before being turned, and acted the same, he could be a boy now, right?

“Uhhh yes. I think I’m a boy. Maybe.”

“For that matter, I would like to inquire how sirens reproduce. Surely the turning of humans is not the only way your species increases its numbers?”

Danny’s face heated to boiling. Blue blushes crept down his cheeks and covered his neck. “Maybe you could ask your dad about human reproduction first?” He squeaked.

“I am already aware!” Damian grouched. “I believe I deserve to know the specifics of the body which I have been forced into.”

“What if I told you I didn’t even know where siren babies came from?” Which was a sad, sad lie, bullshit that Damian clearly saw through.

“Lies!”

Danny threw his hands up, which threw off his balance for a moment. “You’re tiny. Can you guarantee your dad won’t sell me to the GiW for telling you this stuff?”

“I absolutely can.”

“Not the point! Please ask something else. You ain’t getting crap out of me on that front. I am like Davy Jones’ locker. Zip. Shut. Tight. Not happening.”

Damian seethed. This close, Danny could feel the kid’s chest vibrate with growling sounds.

“Very well. What are sirens classed as?”

“Inhuman non-sentient sea monsters bent on the destruction of humans.”

His back stung as Damian slapped him with his tailfin. “Biologically!”

“I dunno! Do I look like I have a marine biology degree?” Danny shrugged.

Damian lowered his head. “So you are uneducated.”

“Hey, rude!” Biology was never Danny’s strong suit. His mother was the one with the however many PhDs. And Sam was the one campaigning for animal rights every other week. He was more of a space guy! This was not new information to Damian! “You tell me! You’re the kid with the animal obsession.”

“I shall lay out the evidence. On the one hand, we possess scales, gills and fins, like all fish do. However, the heat your blood, despite the cold water suggests warm-bloodedness. Furthermore, I have paid very close attention to you, and the female sirens we met in your cave.”

“And what did you see?” Danny tilted his head back.

“The nipples.” Damian ground out. “Which suggests breastfeeding, which is a mammalian trait. However, I am not sure if my own are because of my former status as a human. That is why I must ask you this.”

This was definitely going to be awkward. Danny preemptively suppressed the cringe reflex.

“Do sirens breastfeed?” Damian asked. Danny blanked at that one. Yeah. That question was a hard no clue. “Have you ever breastfed?”

Damian. Oh Damian. Kids just say the darnedest things. Damian. Danny’s cheeks heated up again. He squeaked out an answer. “N-no! I’ve been on my own in the ocean.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at him. Did suspicion have a smell? Because Danny felt like it did, and he was smelling it.

“Do siren parents not take care of their children?” Damian finally asked.

Danny thought back to Youngblood, how Ember basically made him her younger brother (which made her teasing of him for having Damian around totally hypocritical). It was in this moment that he realised he didn’t know any sirens outside his normal enemies. 99% of all times he had interacted with another siren. Hell, any other sea person, was when he was fighting them.

“Danny? Danny?” Damian’s voice raised.

Danny shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just thinking…”

He sounded so pitifully sad in that moment. When a series of familiar whale calls breached the surface, he eagerly welcomed the distraction.

“We’ve caught up to the whale pod!”

Damian gasped, attention turned fully away from his interrogation. “Where are they?”

Danny carried him forward, surging to greet Damian’s new friends again. However, what he saw chilled him.

About a hundred feet away there was a small boat with a flat open deck, a dingy vessel with barnacles coating its hull, and men carrying harpoons and operating cranes, pulling in a net that thrashed violently. And on the deck, tied up by rope and netting, was a baby whale.

Damian swore in a language he didn’t understand. Danny swore too.

Damian’s fins shot ramrod straight. His teeth bared with an inhuman growl. His hand went to the sword sheathed at his waist. He itched to sink it into the bodies of these treacherous men.

“Wait.” Danny said. Wait!? What a preposterous thought. They needed to save Dorothea and her pod now.

“Are you insane!?”

His companion’s voice lowered dangerously. “You realise if we attack them, then the GiW will know, right? The whalers will call for help, or get to shore and it’ll be on the news. We’ll be hunted again.”

Damian did not hesitate. “Do you intend to prioritise our own safety over that of an endangered species being poached illegally?”

Danny shook his head. “Nah. Let’s go fuck them up.”

[ultrone]

Shauna taking care of reader when sick :-)

very motherly for sure. would check your temperature every hour, administer your medicines, and ensure you're well-hydrated throughout the day.

she'd put her journal to good use lmaoooo she's the type to make a list of things needed: tissues, soup, tea, pills, etc.

i've always headcanoned her as being good at cooking cuz she was the butcher, so she'd definitely cook for you a lot. she'd mainly prepare soups, but she'd probably bake a batch of cookies as well cuz she knows you'll complain abt not wanting any more soup lmaoo

she'd get mad at you if you don't get enough rest or don't eat well. she'd literally force the spoon into your mouth as if you were a toddler LMAO

i can also see her calling one of ur parents while she's at school to ask them how you're doing and if u’re taking ur medicines 😭

i feel like initially, she wouldn't want to get too close to you to avoid catching whatever you have (prolly to avoid missing school) 😭 so, to show her affection, she'd stick to massaging your scalp and doing favours for you.

but she'd eventually give in and give you lots of cuddles while watching movies.

lotssss of forehead and temple kisses

very meticulous about hygiene, she ensures everything is in order. hand sanitizer? check. disinfecting surfaces? check. she even fluffs your pillows and changes your bedsheets.

like at this point your parents won't even take you to the doctor, they'll just call shauna and ask her to come over 😭

she always brings you things as she drives to your house after school, such as take-out food, coffee, more blankets, plushies—whatever she thinks will make you feel better.

she also rewrites her notes for the classes you share, so you can review them when you feel better.

every night, she'd read aloud from a novel or book, running her fingers through your hair and along your back until you drifted off to sleep. afterward, she'd either drive home or, preferably, spend the night cradling you in her arms.

[kn11ves]

world is cruel but my grandmother's dark brown skin is warm and shes old enough for her hair to be peppered grey and white and theres so much strength in her bones when she squeezes my hand when i sit on the edge of her bed and the skin of her palms is hard and smooth and i get to talk to her and hug her. so consider that

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

Ok life update. I’m fully in college again! I like some of my classes (all stem classes) I kinda hate some other classes (theatre classes ironically). I am so deeply not moved in at all. Unpacking who? Could not be me. I do not have enough storage. I like my third roommate a lot and living with my ex is not as scary as I thought it would be. I finally get an adhd and depression test in two weeks and i start therapy in a week.

[rexscanonwife]

Ok fun fact about Brea that I don't necessarily share with her is that she is a TERRIBLE cook 😂😂

They don't exactly have home economics courses in the Jedi Order, she knows how to forage and what plants are safe to eat on hundreds of different planets and ecosystems.

But does she know how to soft boil an egg? Absolutely FUCKING not!!

[cool-as-steel]

finished steadfast — as expected, the extremely compelling setup did not turn land on its feet as well as hoped, but I had fun anyways

[highwaydiamonds]

It was one of my nights to make dinner - and I hadn't done a good job planning ahead. Whipped out a jar of arrabiata sauce I had and i knew i had some leftover hamburger from earlier in the week.... Then looked around for pasta and did not find good pasta candidates for the most part... Gnocchi and Tortellini - that I knew other people might want to tap on their dinner nights... And then I remember boxes of lasagna noodles that had been sitting there for months - and they weren't no boil noodles. (lets be real - the person who bought those hates cooking and there's no way on god's green earth do i see her making any kind of lasagna from scratch - let alone boiling the noodles first ok? ) So I was like - YEP , you're mine, you orphan lasagna noodles!

Broke the noodles ehhhh into relatively similar size pieces and then for good measure tossed cream cheese into the sauce - do not come for me. authentic? hell no. creamy and a nice balance to the extra red pepper i added to make the sauce spicier? yes. Also since I had sauteed onions and a whole buncha minced garlic before cooking the meat and sauce - it was niiiice. at least niiiiice for very little forethought.

(and i had made paul's pumpkin bars - like pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting for dessert - that cake is life ok. and i hadn't had it since my mom passed. that one was for you out there mom- and whoever the heck paul was - mom got the recipe from someone at work or the newspaper back in the day)

ANYWAY - when we sat down to dinner, someone looked at the bowl of pasta and sauce and asked, " So.... What is this exactly?

My response to this semi-saltily delivered query was," FOOD."

After letting the resulting silence sit for a nice little moment or three I then added, "But if you feel you need a fancy name, consider it as 'Deconstructed Lasagna served in a Creamy Tomato and Beef Ragout to be followed by Pumpkin Bars ala Paul."

The peanut gallery let me have this one.

[rotturn]

.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I recently learned that Julia Child’s “The French Chef” tv series is free on YouTube and started watching it and I can see why people liked her so much.

She’s like here’s how you do it the “proper” way but if you don’t have time for that here’s how to trick people into thinking you didn’t use canned soup. Can’t get this bottle open. Well while I’m here with this problem here’s how you get a stupid bottle open. Here’s how you chop an onion step by step. I know it looks scary but you can do it. It’s simpler than it looks. I made this ahead of time because you don’t want to watch me stir something for 20 minutes. Here’s what goes good with this dish.

She’s very straightforward and honest about what she’s doing and isn’t afraid to tell you to use canned stuff if that’s what you have or explain how to do things easier. I think she’s still worth watching today. I’m gonna use some of her tips for making onion soup the next time I make it. I think the tip she gave about adding oil to your butter might solve some problems I’ve had in the past with it.

[laomelettedufromage]

Pride nai wong bao a success😎

[genshin-impact-updates]

Chivalrous Shadow, Shrouded in Cloud

"A new resident in the city, you say? Oh, it's Cloud— I mean, Xianyun. Don't be fooled by her usual manner... She's someone you can truly rely on when the going gets tough. If you ever find yourself in trouble, just tell her — I'm sure she'd be willing to help."

— Madame Ping

◆ Name: Xianyun

◆ Title: Passerine Herald

◆ New Resident in Liyue Harbor

◆ Vision: Anemo

◆ Constellation: Grus Serena

Everyone has something to say about Xianyun: "That tall woman with the updone hair," "that bespectacled artisan," or perhaps "that talkative new neighbor." They all say different things, but together they paint a picture of the impression she leaves — of someone who's witty, chatty, warm-hearted, and easy to get along with.

But that's not how Xianyun sees herself. In her own eyes, she's inarticulate, reserved, and unyieldingly proud. Aside from her mastery of mechanics and knack for making all kinds of little trinkets, it's an entirely different image from how others would describe her.

Some curious individuals, seeing how her mannerisms and bearing set her apart from ordinary folk, are convinced that she's a heroine — so they go around trying to uncover her heroic backstory and whether she goes by any other names.

Ask the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's consultant, and with a wave of his hand, he'd say: "Xianyun? We're not well acquainted, but going by her name, she sounds like a good person."

Ask Madame Ping from Yujing Terrace, and she'd nod and reply: "Xian... Oh, Xianyun? We've crossed paths, yes... She's a good person, you know. Once you've met, you'll find that your days seem to go by much more smoothly."

Ask Ganyu, and she'd nod too: "She is a heroine, but a very discreet one — hence why she's living incognito in Liyue Harbor."

Ask Shenhe, and she'd respond pensively: "Xianyun... Of course, she's a master. Whatever you do, you must not offend her."

As it turns out, such speculations are not wrong. There's far more to Xianyun than meets the eye, but those who know the full story are few indeed. If someone was to address her as "Cloud Retainer"... Well, people would know her instantly, and you'd hear a torrent of praise flow her way: "Who doesn't know Cloud Retainer? Noble, brave, loyal, and wise... A most worthy friend if ever there was one!"

So try asking Xianyun herself then: "Are you a heroine? Surely you're not... an adeptus?"

You catch the new resident just as she's working on her latest invention, her pride and joy — what she calls an "Exquisite Mini Broth Pot." She's too absorbed to take the question seriously, so she simply waves it off as a load of old nonsense and tells you not to bother her while she's busy.

As for what exactly an Exquisite Mini Broth Pot is... No one really knows, other than having been told that it brings out flavors much better than a regular soup pot. Likewise, none would know how profoundly it might impact Liyue Harbor's future gastronomic development. Suffice to say — if Xianyun says it'll be impressive, it'll be impressive alright.

[moonstruckme]

hi lovely I was wondering if you could do a fic about a touch starved reader where she’s just really needy and wants to be held but is nervous to ask? and it’s just very fluffy and sweet, thank you so much!!

Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting!

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Sirius is cozied up between James’ legs on the couch, tuned into his phone while James watches the football match on TV, and you’re oozing a jealousy so tender it hurts. 

It’s silly, but you can’t help thinking about how warm they must both be. James has one of his forearms draped over Sirius’ chest, their hands linked casually, Sirius’ bony, pale fingers intertwined with James’ thicker ones. They look comfortable and at ease with each other in a way that feels so out of reach. You wish you could join them, but they look too happy like this. You couldn’t ask them to move. 

“Dove?” 

You blink, focussing back on Remus. “Sorry?” 

“I asked how your meeting went.” A bit of concern digs into the space between his brows as he continues stirring the pot of soup on the stove. You give him a little smile, and it melts away. 

“Oh, not bad at all.” Today you had your first team meeting at your new job. You’d been nervous leading up to it, worried your boss would ask you to introduce yourself or present something, but it had blown over smoothly. “I was stressed for nothing, I didn’t even have to talk.” 

“Mm, good for you.” Your boyfriend gives you a knowing look, well aware that your shyness can sometimes get in the way of you sharing your ideas. “I’m glad it went well. I hope you start to feel comfortable enough to talk soon, though.” 

“Maybe,” you say agreeably, moving closer to him to rest the side of your head on his bicep. It’s an awkward sort of lean, but the most you’ll allow yourself. 

You can sense Remus’ confusion even without him making a sound. You know that if you pulled back to look, you’d find a familiar little indent just above his nose. “Tired?” he asks. 

Your heart gives a pitiful throb. Remus isn’t the most tactile of your boyfriends, but it would take so little for him to reach up with his free hand, wrap it around your shoulders. That’s all you want. “No,” you reply, though you do sound tired, voice soft and breathy, “just love you.” 

“Sweetheart.” His voice is sticky with affection, and your heart balloons with hope. You feel his arm shift underneath you, then his hand comes up to hold your cheek, keeping you steady while Remus presses a brief kiss to the top of your head. The hand falls away. “I love you too.” 

It feels ungrateful and a bit traitorous to feel so dejected after hearing those words, but you do. You leave your head where it is, heavy with a loneliness that’s completely invalid, while Remus continues stirring the soup, humming now. 

“Look at them.” Sirius’ voice gets your attention from the living room, dripping with faux rancor. He’s glowering at you over the top of the couch. James begrudgingly turns from the match to look at him, half curious what he’s on about. “They’re being all ooey gooey in the kitchen without us, can you believe it?” 

You sort of want to laugh at the irony. 

“You were given the opportunity to join,” Remus reminds him mildly. “I said I needed help chopping, and only y/n came to my aid.” 

“Yes, well I didn’t know there’d be declarations of love involved,” says Sirius, never one to be made to feel guilty. 

James, on the other hand, looks a tad penitent. 

“I didn’t hear you,” he says helplessly, climbing out from under Sirius. “Do you still need an extra pair of hands?”

“No, almost done now,” Remus says, but James comes anyway. He peers over Remus’ other shoulder, pecking him apologetically on the cheek. 

“Smells great,” he notes appreciatively. He leans across Remus to see your face, grinning in that way of his that makes it seem like someone’s brought the sun inside. “Thanks for taking up the mantle.” 

You make a quiet sound of amusement, and James’ smile fades. You hate yourself for doing it to him, even though it wasn’t intentional.

“You alright, lovie?” He scrutinizes your expression, and you’re reminded that James is often more perceptive than you give him credit for. “You look a bit sad.” 

“No, I’m good.” You give him a smile. Remus’ shoulder shifts under your head as he looks down, trying to see you. 

James appears unconvinced. He moves behind Remus, over to where you stand. “Hug?” he offers. 

God, you feel like you could cry. That wouldn’t be good. “Sure,” you say as if it isn’t the deepest, most desperate desire of your heart. 

You turn into his arms, and he wastes no time in enveloping you. James gives the best hugs. Somehow, intuitively, he always knows just the amount of pressure you need, when to squeeze your back and when to rub it, exactly the right time to let go. It feels like he’s pouring love into you through his touch. He sets his chin on top of your head, and you swallow a happy sigh. 

“I know something’s bothering you,” he says quietly. He sweeps a hand up and down your spine, and you shiver, pressing your palms into his back. He does it again. “Talk to me, honey.” 

“I’m good,” you promise him. It’s a lot more truthful now. 

Still, you can feel James’ dissatisfaction. He cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the baby hairs at your nape. “Anything I can do?” 

You clutch him to you, the fabric of his sweatshirt bunching in your hands. It smells like laundry detergent. “Just this, please.” 

“Aww,” Sirius croons, and it’s not until then that you realize the other two boys have been silent. Probably worried about you. You feel instantly sheepish. “I get it. You just wanted some love, didn’t you babydoll?” You look at him over James' shoulder, and predictably, he’s insufferably smug. He sees you watching and pats the top of the couch invitingly. “Come here, sweet thing, let me fix you up.” 

“I think I’m doing just fine,” James teases, but his grip loosens, one hand remaining on the small of your back as he walks you over to the couch. 

“Yeah, but we can share.” Sirius rolls his eyes. He grabs for you the second you’re close enough, hauling you up against him while James flops down on your other side. “What game are you playing, standing over there and looking all forlorn?” he asks you, peppering your cheek with kisses. A startled giggle spurts out of you, but he remains completely serious. “If you wanted a cuddle, all you had to do was ask.”

“It seemed dramatic,” you admit, though now that Sirius has got your face squished in his hand and James’ arm is draped around your shoulder, your silence feels a bit dramatic too. “And kind of needy.” 

“Babe.” Sirius is heartbroken, pulling back to give you a horrified look. “Being needy is my thing. I hardly think asking for a hug could challenge my hard-earned reputation.”

“You’re not needy,” you say warmly, but Sirius only rolls his eyes as if you’re being difficult.

“Anyway, wanting a hug is hardly needy,” James chimes in. “I’m always happy to give you one.” 

“Same here,” Remus says from the kitchen, sounding a bit apologetic. “Though I wish you would have asked, dove. I can’t read minds like Jamie can.” 

Your chest tightens guiltily. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he says easily. “Listen, dinner’s almost done, but want to put on a film to watch while we eat? I could make it up to you with a cuddle.” 

“That sounds great,” you reply thankfully, and James grabs the remote to begin going through the movies while Sirius gets comfy against the side of the couch. He lifts your legs to drape them over his. 

“Good luck getting you away from me,” he murmurs conspiratorially. James chuckles, arm a welcome weight around your shoulders. “I’m not giving you up.” 

It seems like there was room for you after all.

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

My last work post :(

My little crocheted things were met with great happiness :)

[thepeonysbackup]

◇Dry Humping◇

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gumbo, a soup that brings out more then just the taste of its ingredients, but desire from within from a source only taste can trigger. A broth that acts as a honey sculpted cup that holds the aphrodisiac to the minds most fondest of memories. Affection. That is its purest name.

Tags: Mdni, boring plot, dub con (She ultimately enjoys it), dry humping, something I came up with on the spot.

Word count: 2.2k (not proofread)

Request: Yes/No

Part two at: 600 notes!🎉

As you stirred the ladel within the large deep pot from your place at the stove, atop your stool with your apron. You gently leaned over the pot as steam rose, inhaling the heated air so you could smell your progress, it was daring to graze the mark of heavenly, much to your excitement as you shifted to finish chopping up the vegetables that were set up on a chopping board on the off side of the stove as the radio played soft jazz in the background.

Being the kind and sweet little vixen you were, you thought you'd do the hotel a favor by cooking the rest of the staff a meal. Taking care to check on the individuals before you went all in on your choice. Angel wanted Asian food, claiming that he'd seen one of the girls at his work snacking on rice balls and wanted some too. Husk said he'd been craving seafood, groaning about how none of the places near the hotel had anything good to sell. Vaggie was bias, 'okay with whatever was cooking in your noggin' in her own words while Charlie urged you to surprise her with excited squeal. Nifty had ended up finding you before you could her, and then handed you a bag of maggots that were still very much alive and asked for a paste. Creepy, but you said okay before actually thinking it through. Pentious had taken a rather long while of thinking before he settled on soup, he wanted a tomato soup. That left you puzzled at what you could possibly make for everyone to equally enjoy, because fusing palletts with rices and seafood was a breeze, but adding a soup into the mix? Oh dear, your idea was becoming difficult to come into flourishan as you trekked down the halls of the hotel to locate the facility manager and overlord whom was currently residing in his pocket dimension like room, which never seemed to stay in a singular one of them, but shift everytime he wanted it moved. So it was a game of chance, knocking on every door you knew as vacant before finally having one opened by the smiling radio demon. He held his cane in the same hand that he had for the door, the other arm folded behind him as he tilted his head to the right in question down at you. "A meal, you say? My, I was going out this evening but I must ask what it is!" He had enthusiastically voiced through his static, but when you said you hadn't decided yet because of how different everyone's cravings were he seemed interested in also giving an option to you. "You always choose Jambalaya, why not another meal?" You complained while thinking of what you could do with all these choices. "I'm afraid it's Jambalaya, my dear. Unless you have any access to some truly delicious venison!" He chuckled out, lightly twirling his cane in his hand as he tapped it on the ground so he could lean his chin on the handle. This was so unfair, what could you possibly make that would—

"Wait, Jambalaya- Jambalaya, Cajun‐ Cajun means that rice, shrimp and- Yes, wait, hold on- Soup- Tomatoes- Vegetables and add extra meat like chicken and venison—" You babbled quickly aloud, drawing Alastors attention a bit more. He cocked a brow at you, lips thinning out as he grinned at your unintelligible banter, "My Dear, you must speak up. I simply can't understand anything when you mumble." He straightened himself up so he could examine his nails as you let out an excited noise, in all fairness it was so sudden that he had every right to tense up as you grabbed his arms suddenly in a tight grasp so you could pull him towards you, "You're a Genius Al, thank you!" You beamed, bouncyness following your stride as you began to quickly make your way back down the hallway to the stairs after letting him go like you hadn't even realized that his static was buzzing like a hornet around the two of you. You were something alright.

As you had just finished throwing the rest of the vegetables into the pot, you pulled out the spices from the lazy susan on the counter, choosing the more mild spices and only about four drops of tabasco before the basil and parsley were dashed in on top. Now the lid was placed, holding in the mouth watering scents that were to come later when they were ready. The music continued, your figure bopping gently around the kitchen as you began to get the plates ready with the rice, plopping large scoops into the bowls so you could hallow them out by pressed them inward with the bottom of the ladel you were using. At the bottom of each of the rice bowls you'd made, you added thoroughly cooked slices of venison to everyone's except Al's and Niftys. Those two were getting their own special snacks added in, the maniacs. Al's bowl got raw, uncooked deer meat at the bottom instead that and a few on a plate below his bowl that had the maggot paste for the side dip. Niftys maggot paste was poured into her bowl and topped with raw shrimp and then the cooked venison. After all of them were prepped, you picked up a rag and wiped your forehead because all you had to do was wait just a bit longer.

"Ah, so you're really cooking. I would have assumed the hotel would be in flames if anyone else were to take a chance in this room, of course Nifty can make some delicious demon spik."

"Haha, very funny Al." Your back was facing the radio demon, ears on alert as his footsteps slowly but casually drew him over to your bubbling pot, inhaling while lightly using his hand to bring the scent of the steam rising from the sides of the lid. He made a delighted noise, static almost completely gone as his claws grasped the handle of the lid and tugged it off, steam bursting upwards to show the contents within. “Well, this sure isn't Jambalaya but by good golly it's gumbo! How clever of you, little darling!” He spoke loudly, amused and seemingly with a truly gleeful smile on his face as his other hand grabbed your waist to pull you near him as he examined your work, nose catching whiff of a different scent near as well. “And if my nose doesn't deceive me," He inhaled deeply near your ear, nose just barely grazing your cheek as he leaned further up until his head was resting above yours, using his height to allow himself to break character for a moment, his eyes turning wide with dials fixed in the center as blood stains began to run down his chin from how hard he was grinning,

"₮Ⱨ₳₮ ĐɆⱠɆ₵₮₳฿ⱠɆ ₴₵Ɇ₦₮ ł₴ VɆ₦ł₴Ø₦.."

The harsh sound of his static made you wince, body tensed further, “Yes, I thought it would be a nice addition, the meats flavor is a bit different and so when you eat it with the broth i-it tastes mildly spicier then without it.” His voice buzzed, a satisfied noise leaving him as he side stepped around you, now back to his normal cheery grin as he took hold of one of the raw slabs of venison and dangled it above his mouth before slowly opening his jaws like a snake threatening to attack. Then, with a swift move, he clamped down on the thin piece of meat and tore it out of his hand in a single whip of her head to the side. “Truly a marvelous snack you've provided here, darling doe.” His nicknames were slowly progressing to more dearing comparisons, making you flush as you lifted you ladel and placed it back into the pot to stir it, but not before you climbed back onto your stool to do so.

-

Time went by as you cooked, Alastor remaining hovering with his quiet buzz of static as he enjoyed the meat that you had to offer, the fact that you had taken so much time just to get everything you had needed for him making him feel as though he was more important, even if you were making dinner for everyone. His eyes held true to your figure, that smile that forever kept its place on his face widening as he slowly lost himself in thought as he observed your lips lightly shy away from the utensil you'd pulled from the hot boil to get a taste of the broth, the contents being too hot to consume so suddenly before you blew on it. He reveled in the way you moaned at the creamy liquid, eyes shutting blissfully as a hand came to cover your lips like it would hide the long trickle of the broth from his sight. No, he saw it, and how he craved to be the very thing that would lick the taste off you, the tongue that would replace your own that darted so quickly out to take the drop for itself. That, nostalgic.. that warm and soft, dare he say heavenly taste from your lips, from your tongue. Alastors static began to grow in volume, his body inching closer to yours on the stool as he felt a growing pain from below at your half bent over form over the stovetop. “Do you often leave yourself so openly vulnerable to just anybody.. or… Am I just lucky?” He asked, suddenly right against your ear from behind, both hands atop each of yours as his physique pressed you into the dangerously hot Kitchenware. “What?-” You had asked, bewildered at the sudden change in atmosphere the room was in just moments ago. 

Alastor hadn't really heard you, ears pressing back into his head as he pressed his crotch against the plush softness of your ruffled skirt, lightly moving the fabric of his bulge against your rear in slow rolls of his hips. It was sudden, hesitant almost, as if Al hadn't been planning for this to happen whatsoever. “I asked you a question, hmpf- d-dearest..” He hushed against the back of your neck, nipping it with his teeth with a hiss, his hands that had yours pinned down gripping harder to keep you in place as the stretchy fabric of your skirt rode up on your ass at the force used in his motions. The friction had you boggled in the brain, a few noises of concerned pleasure rising up into your throat as you thought hard about his question. “Ahn- N—no-..” She answered, earning a tut from the overlord behind her, the fabric of your panties were getting bunched up and pulled down about half way, “That's not a proper answer, now is it Mon Cher?” A little cry escaped you, the feeling of his pants rough texture against your soft petals making tears of overstimulation well in your big doe eyes. “I-I— I don't know- I can't- Ouu- Fuck!-” Alastor hushed you, a hand freeing one of yours so his could trail up to your neck so it could wrap around it in a firm grip. Your pretty face being cranned upwards and back so he could see the fucked out blissful expression on your face as your own hand reeled back to hold fast against his hip, a last attempt to push him away being futile as his movements became more spurred by you noises, faster and faster. "Such vulgarity," He groaned into your ear, breath hot and growling excitedly, "Speak again, speak to me. Tell me how you crave more, Mon Cher-" Your voice called to him, his name slipping past your lips like a hymn, a lament, a song.

Oh, how he adored your voice, strained and laced with need.

How he desired more as the coil in his mind snapped, antlers growing in size as he hunched over and into your back, head lightly using you as stability while his demonic form grew, long arms and gnarly claws digging into your clothes enough to tear the flesh, not only fabric. The dials of his eyes spun, his legs buckling as your bare cunts juices flowed lazily down his front, the warmth he felt as he released as well pulling a guttural growl from his throat as the both of you eased into a slower more controlled pace.

This hadn't gone as planned, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

[luveline]

If you're taking request for Spencer and Bombshell!reader I think it would be so incredibly adorable if they were both on the way to a case (or coming back) and their little baby Amanda was face timing them to say hi to them and the team 🥺🥺

“Video call for you, momma,” Penelope says, plonking a laptop down onto the desk in front of you, and then quickly being called away by Emily for help.

You ditch your pen immediately, nail scratching the laptop trackpad as you slide the cursor to ACCEPT. 

Amanda’s face fills the screen, a shy smile like her dad’s close to the camera, her eyes almost cut off by the top of the screen. 

“Amy, babe, you’re too close to the computer! I can’t see your lovely face.” 

Amy sits back in her chair. “Is this okay?” 

You take her in. You trust your babysitter to take good care of her, but nothing is as reassuring as seeing her unhurt and smiling. “Hi, baby.” 

“Hi mommy,” she greets. “Where’s daddy?” 

“He’s in the bathroom. Be back any minute. Are you being a good girl for Mrs. Gamorrah? How’s your tummy?” 

“I’m being good,” she says, ignoring the important question, “did you see my t-shirt?” She brings her shirt closer to the camera. She’s wearing her favourite pyjamas with the butterflies she had for her birthday, “Look, Mrs. Gamorrah got the soup stain gone.” 

You beam at her. You miss her like crazy when you’re not there. You and Spencer take turns staying home most of the time, and so being apart from her and knowing she doesn’t have Spencer to soften your absence makes it easier to worry about her, and harder to concentrate on the work. 

The door opens. You twist your head. 

Spencer’s drying his hands on a paper towel. “Is that Amy?” 

“Quick, she wants to see you.” 

Spencer hurries to the laptop, bending at the waist to see the screen and his impatient daughter. 

“Amy!” he says, like she’s the only person he’s ever wanted to see, voice enthused with his most dad-appropriate saccharine. “Hi, bunny, hi, hello. I miss you so much, are you okay? I miss you.” 

You tap his leg gently. Calm down. 

“Daddy, I am so happy, and I miss you too! We’re doing pictures.” She holds up a sheet of paper covered in crayon drawings. “Are you okay too?” 

“I’m great now I’m seeing you. I really miss you, sweetheart, I’m sorry we’re both away at work.” 

“It’s okay. Me and Mrs. Gamorrah are gonna have pizza and jiffy pop and soda tonight. It would be good with you, but it’s still fun.” 

“That’s good,” you say, putting your hand on the keys, wishing you could feel her soft arm in your hand, stroke her silken forehead. “We’re gonna be home soon. Maybe even tomorrow.” 

Spencer wraps his arm behind your shoulder. “Me and mom miss you so so much, and we’re so proud of you being a good girl at home. We’re gonna bring you a big present for being by yourself.” 

“I’m not by myself, dad, I have Mrs. Gamorrah. Plus, Uncle Morgan said he wants to take me and Hank swimming on Sunday.” 

“I’m sure we’ll be home before Sunday.” You smother your frown. Spencer kisses your cheek. 

“Give one for me, dad!” 

Spencer kisses you again. “That one good enough?” he asks. 

“Another one!” 

When you get home, you’re gonna spoil the death out of her. Like, worse than you’ve ever spoiled her before. Spencer presses another great kiss to your cheek and smushes your faces together, Amy on the screen reaching for you both for a ghost hug. “I wanted to say hi before we go to the store. Can I call you again before bed?” 

“Yeah, baby, call again!” You rush to answer. “Call daddy’s phone, okay? Mine’s not working right. I’ll answer you, we’ll talk all about your day. Okay? I miss you very much.” 

“I miss you too. Bye bye.” 

“Okay, bye bye,” you say, “I love you.” 

“Love you, Amanda,” Spencer says. 

She waves her little hand until it looks like it might fall off of her wrist. Spencer waves back just as hard.