#send more fluff

[sillygoofyqueer]

Silly fic idea for you:

SVSSS AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates as a half-human half-crow-demon Phantom thief character.

He doesn’t want to steal from Bing-ge, but his System makes him, and naturally Bing-ge ends up obsessed. Bing-ge keeps luring him into traps with shiny things he just can’t help but want!!! Stupid crow impulses. (That he kinda wants to see Binghe again is irrelevant, obviously).

This is SUPER silly. Anon, this is so funny, I feel like I simply have to write this now oh my god. The idea that Bing-ge is confused at first, and he then sees this super handsome half bird-half human-demon thing and is like "man I need to get me more shiny things, I want to keep this fucker". ALSO, (I've heard that) crows are quite intelligent and start leaving presents as a response to getting fed or being given shiny things, so it could also be something where Shen Yuan starts having the urge to give Bing-ge things back after receiving all these shiny things (better if he doesn't recognise most of the traps as traps, mistaking Bing-ge for being a generous demon who doesn't need all of the shiny stuff he takes) and starts giving him shit like rocks and plants and the cool parts of beasts he fights... It also can be silly no matter when in the timeline this happens - it could be during the QJ peak arc where Shen Yuan sneaks around because he wants to see the awesome protagonist up close! The first time he steals something from Bing-ge, it's something super dumb like a particularly shiny rock or a coin that the boy left lying around, and Bing-ge's quickly like "??? The fuck just happened?" so he sets up a trap with the axe he uses for chopping wood (kind of rusty but still useable and particularly shiny). After that, it's chaos of trying to keep Shen Yuan the demon hidden while also stopping him from stealing other shiny things (cultivator's swords and such). Liu Qingge finds Shen Yuan trying to steal one of the swords he was gifted after saving a village and is also like "??? Kill?" It can also be after the Endless Abyss, when Bing-ge is like a demon lord and just has shiny stuff lying around. He throws it out occasionally and one day, while doing this, he notices a certain person swooping in and grabbing one of the shiny things. More antics ensue but I don't want to crash my laptop lmao (Which one would you rather me do, anon? Before the Endless Abyss, or after? Or both??) {part one! Part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven!} [This gorgeous fanart from @slurmdog that's making me go insane here] [More awe inducing fanart from @moonlightobsessions that has made me pass out here]

[starsinmylatte]

Saw your "Veritas with a baby" idea, and. I feel like he'd be the kind of guy to avoid baby-talk. Like when the baby throws their bottle, he'd just pick it up and tell them that "Yes, the bottle still exists. It may have left your line of sight, but it is still there." It makes for a great way of getting a baby to sleep, especially when he lectures them on some complicated science stuff.

Ooooh, yes! I don’t think Veri is ever the “true baby talk” kind of guy, but he would know that using some characteristics of baby talk would help his child learn faster. So, I could see him speaking in complete sentences but slower and with more enunciation (especially when alone with baby).

I also think that around 16-18 weeks of pregnancy, when infants can first hear and respond to sounds, Veritas would suggest to his partner that they spend time reading to their child. It’s a tradition that he makes time for every single night, tucking his partner into bed and softly pulling them in close, caressing their stomach gently as he reads to the baby in the low light of their bedroom. Even if he has to be away on Intelligentsia guild business, he calls every single night to read to his family.

This only feeds into his uncanny ability to calm the baby once they're born. If Veritas’s partner has to be away and can't take baby with them, he baby wears while teaching and the child just snoozes away while their daddy explains quantum physics to his class.

Bonus: His baby inherits Veri’s eye color and “stare of death”, so when a student says something dumb they get two pairs of reddish-pink eyes glaring in their direction.

[sincerelybubbles]

Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm

even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.

emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3

warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.

word count: 5.4k

Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.

-

It’s a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag. 

You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness. 

Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk. 

“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return. 

“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”

You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s. 

She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time. 

“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor. 

You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.

“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”

“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box. 

“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you. 

“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan. 

Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch. 

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”

“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”

-

You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night. 

“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet. 

“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”

And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless. 

You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class. 

You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue. 

“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”

“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”

“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses. 

“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy. 

“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”

“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”

“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, you’re not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash. 

“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”

“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”

“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her. 

Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends. 

It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, it’s literally the least you can do. 

“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”

You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.

It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up. 

-

“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group. 

This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.

Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong. 

You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute. 

“Clear!”

Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isn’t helping your nerves. 

“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms. 

You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button. 

“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”

“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct. 

She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch. 

“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl. 

You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening. 

“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking. 

“We’ll try to cut him off,” Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints. 

“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair. 

You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out. 

“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops. 

Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes. 

Your blood has gone cold.

“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”

Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s is the last to stay green, blinking.

You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him. 

Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.

-

“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door. 

Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow. 

“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen. 

“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand. 

You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile. 

You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her. 

“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open. 

“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably. 

It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next. 

“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”

You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”

“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked. 

“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her. 

“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”

Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”

“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“I knew you would love it,” she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well. 

You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts. 

“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact. 

She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown. 

She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. 

-

Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home. 

“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm. 

You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom. 

You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit. 

“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands. 

You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”

You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room. 

You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests. 

-

Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked. 

“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge. 

You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him. 

“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face. 

“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth. 

You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you. 

“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor. 

You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.

“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”

All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you. 

And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”

You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment. 

And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?

Except she doesn’t let it go. 

She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit. 

Not that you really want to leave. 

She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work. 

“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally. 

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver. 

“Enjoying the view.”

You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh. 

-

You’d love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness. 

You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities. 

That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows. 

You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped. 

Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains. 

You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored. 

Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head. 

You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts. 

You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity. 

When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him. 

Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now – keep him happy so he keeps you alive. 

“Good girl,” a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood. 

You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.

You want to run but know now’s not the time. 

“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin. 

He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones. 

It’s becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found. 

You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click. 

“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested. 

You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now. 

“This way, doll.”

You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap. 

Then, there’s a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back. 

“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”

You don’t get an answer.

-

You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened. 

The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway. 

It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down. 

“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”

There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that. 

“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open. 

His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”

Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds. 

“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him. 

“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp. 

“Oh my god, is she okay?” You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes. 

“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest. 

It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder. 

She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that you’ve broken two, maybe three. 

She tries with you in the ambulance. 

You can’t help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that she’s there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldn’t have been there for her in the same way. 

An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system. 

-

You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you. 

Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored. 

So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help. 

You’re cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time. 

Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.

There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway. 

You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”

“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes. 

You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged. 

“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”

You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”

“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”

“So why are you here?”

“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”

“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.

“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes. 

You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared. 

Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when you’ve been standing so closely?

“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut. 

Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.

And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours. 

You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair. 

But she doesn’t pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it. 

A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 

And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she won’t allow it.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further. 

“I’m perfect.”

[rissouu]

Ony is the yummiest, he deff watches as u do ur makeup and asking about each and every step, he’s also making fun of the face you make when ur trying to focus. But he always complements you after each step.

Ony Brianrot will be the death of me fr 😭👍🏾

omg yes like! im so obsessed.

ony knew how much you loved doing your makeup in the bathroom because the mirror is huge. so most of the time he would already be in there waiting for you.. sometimes he even got your makeup products out for you, if he felt like it.

“wait so what is that you doing now?” he watched you put some type of powder all over your face.. it didn’t make any sense to him, what was that powder even helping with?

“im putting on setting powder boo, it helps the makeup look more smooth,” you always found it cute how concentrated he would be, and how many he would ask questions.

“oh now i see, shit.. it looks good when you blend it all together.”

he let out a low chuckle here and there when he saw your frustration. your mascara kept getting underneath your eye, and you were so ready to just say fuck these bottom lashes. “it always becomes a fuckin’ problem when im damn near done.” you huffed.

“why don’t you just stop tryna go so fast mama? we don’t have to be at the reservation for another 4 hours, take yo’ time.”

another thing you loved about your man, he always knew how to calm you down.

[mariahcarreyyy]

Totally not thinking about coming home to lando and max passed out and you throw one of their shirts on and landos hand immediately grabbing one of your tits, totally not thinking it (this is what happens when I run out of melatonin gummies)

no yeah and im also totally not thinking about being sandwiched between them both after a long night out. your back pressed against lando's chest and max's chest against yours, his massive arms wrapping around you both. your eyes burn from the lack of sleep and just as they flutter shut, lando's hand sneaks inside the non-existent space where ur tits r being squished against max.

"lan?" you whisper as to not wake up the dutch.

the curly-haired boy only grumbles incoherently in his sleep, and you swallow thickly when he starts unconsiously kneading at your tits. arching your back slightly into his touch because they'd been in a bra the entire day and theyre sore and its so fucking relieving when lando massages them.

also totally not thinking about max parting your thighs with his knee while hes still asleep— because cmon its a comfortable sleeping position —with lan's thumb lazily rubbing circles on your nipple. Or how you'd start grinding on max's bare thighs till it put you asleep, like a weird ass horny lullaby.

[ennabear]

What do you think Abby's breath feels like? For example, when you're talking face to face or when she leans in to kiss.

so soft and sweet!! i imagine when you’re talking face to face with her she’d be confident enough to lean in close and make you blush, but when you lean in to kiss her she sucks a breath in because she gets butterflies.

when she’s sleeping, it’s probably fanning out to tickle your neck or your back depending on the position you’re cuddling in (and she won’t sleep without her cuddles, obviously.)

when you’re having sex, her breath prickles your flaming skin as she pounds into you. her mouth sucks hickies and punctures bite marks into your skin but once she pulls away, that sweet sting is lit ablaze by her warm breath.

also as a bonus, i think her breath smells like mint 24/7. she probably brushes her teeth like 4x a day, flosses, mouthwash, gum/mints, etc. her hygiene is CRAZY good. yeah, it’s probably because her dad drilled into her about the benefits of having good oral health as a kid and scared her with stories of kids who lost all of their teeth, but her dentist loves her anyways. <33

[b0red-b1rds]

Okay, I can't get the idea out of my head of either Neuvillette or Wriothesley having a soft/chubby/fat partner and just adoring them and their body. Loving how opposite they are from them. Just cute fluff about strong men enjoying a fluffy partner 😌

On GOD anon you're so right

I know for a fact that Wriothesley would love a chubby partner. He's like a giant puppy when it comes to cuddles and playfully picking you up and laughing light-heartedly when you try to protest. You say you're too heavy? Utter nonsense, this man could probably do push-ups with you on his back. In fact, please do that. Not only does he get to finish his workout a little quicker, but he also gets to spend time with you!

He'd also delight in finding a perfect tea-and-snack combo that you enjoy when you have tea with him. Don't like tea? Got it. He'll find something you like so he can chat with you during his breaks! (If you eat something sugary, he'll chuckle and say something like, "With all the sugar you're enjoying, it's no wonder you're so sweet.") (I know it might sound mildly insulting, but trust me, he only means it as a compliment!)

And don't even get me started on Neuvillette. This man would be head over heels for a chubby partner. Soft hugs, gentle hands, and a sweet personality all wrapped up in a comforting fluffy package? Oh, be still his beating heart. You've got this man writing poetry about you (not that he'd ever share it. He's too embarrassed.) He'd actively find time to take breaks during his busy workday just to spend time with you. Do you want to spend time with him at the café? Alright, just let him finish reviewing this file, and he'll escort you. Would you rather spend time with him in his office? Wonderful, he'll have some snacks and tea delivered. Much like Wriothesley, Neuvillette will absolutely memorize your preferences and act accordingly when asking for food for you.

The cuddles from these two are immaculate. Always so gentle, but always eager to wrap you up in a warm hug and just stay there for a while. Wriothesley prefers to lay on your tummy or thighs, claiming they make for good pillows while he reads a book or reviews some important documents. Neuvillette, meanwhile, prefers laying on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat. It never fails to lull him to sleep, no matter how hard he tries to stay awake and talk with you.

Both of these men would be absolutely whipped for a chubby partner it's true guys mhy told me so-

[platossoulmates]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE drop any x-men found family fic recs- all of the major stuff is solely cherik and the first class cast which is so good BUT i want team fluff so badly 😭

[heartfeltcherie]

you know what? i’m tired of reading fics about lucifer that portray him as awkward and shy and stutters with every sentence (not that i’m saying he wouldn’t)

but did you guys see his confidence in the finale?

the way he talked to adam about stealing his two wives?

or even singing his part in “hell’s greatest dad��

or when he says “charmed, i’m sure” in that voice

i need more fics with him being, i dunno… cocky? confident?

[devilfic]

Saw the previous Matt Murdock post and I can’t help but think of him as college professor dynamic???!

LIKE HOW WOULD HE BE?

❝criminal law professor!matt murdock❞

cw: law school professor matt being everyone's wet dream, brief mention of alcohol, brief suggestive content. words: 1.3k.

AHHHHHHH criminal law professor!matt who never set out to teach but got invited to a lecture held by an old lawyer friend of his and built up such good rapport with the students that when one of them came up to him after class and told him they'd sign up for any class he'd teach, the cogs started turning

only teaches one class a semester, probably one class a year

one of those professors that almost everybody wants to get in with but is prone to several dropouts after the first two weeks because of his teaching style

he's very casual most of the time but very much hands-on and will not let up on you for a second if he thinks it's a teaching moment

he's relentless. he is not an easy A but you will come out of his class better than you went in

his favorite part of the job is getting into ethical debates with the students

likes to do a lot of mock trials and very regularly stick his students with cases that test their moral judgment

it's not to make them feel bad or play at having the higher moral ground if they make a "wrong" decision, but more so to force them to consider what they're willing to compromise on to win a case

and whether winning cases is the best thing for them or for their client

he's the type of professor who will gladly stay an hour or two after class just chatting it up with students over cases he's done in the past or answering questions about practicing law professionally

he grades hard but he always offers ample feedback to make his students do better next time

has a saying that he'll never turn down a coffee from a student trying to butter him up

and immediately follows up with "it won't make me change your grade but it will help me remember your name"

this motherfucker definitely likes to sit on the edge of his desk while teaching, too

undoes his tie a bit when he gets passionate about a topic, rolls up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, has to stop himself from pacing the room without his walking stick when he feels particularly excited about a discussion

does not care about late work like at all

as long as you get it to him before the end of the semester, you'll be fine

you'll be panicking, emailing him about how you're so sorry but your laptop got stolen on your way home and that you'll have to rewrite your entire paper from scratch in the school lab tonight so it'll be a day late and you'll get a response back in 4 minutes that just says "No problem, stay safe - Sent from my iPhone"

and... your laptop is mysteriously returned a few days later. apparently whoever stole it had a serious change of heart. you also got a 98 on your paper

(he may not be swayed to change your grade with coffee but he is a bit of a softie when it comes to stuff like this)

he's also just the hottest professor on campus. do I even have to say it at this point

comes to class everyday in a nice button-up, very form-fitting trousers (none of his students have ever seen him in a pair of jeans nor will they), glasses perched on the tip of his nose, a leather messenger bag at his side that is mysteriously well-stocked with first aid supplies, and a loose red tie around his throat

do you see the vision

cancels class often because of daredevil business and treats these as days to work on papers

tries not to cut class short because of daredevil business

it actually makes him a bit sad when he has to, and so he makes it an open invitation that if students catch him out in the wild or walking around campus, they can bother him as much as they want

his TA is a little (a lot) exasperated with him but he makes up for it by buying them food. it has actually put a dent in his budget at this point but their appeasement makes it worth it

he has an office on campus but he very rarely uses it for office hours, you can pretty much find him anywhere BUT his office

he likes to meet in coffee shops or lecture halls or parks on campus because he feels like it's less daunting for students to just sit and talk out in the open

he's very popular on valentine's day

students and faculty alike will shower him with chocolates and mini bottles of wine and roses and proposals to go out for drinks sometime and he always accepts the gifts graciously

and then passes them onto his TA, karen, or foggy

although he'd be lying if he said he didn't keep some of the wine for himself

he has a strict rule against dating within the university, he'd just rather it not be awkward

now,,, a one night stand with a fellow professor maybe? no strings attached? he's not opposed to that

let's just say that tie and office are getting put to good use-

if you're a student and want a piece though, you're gonna have to wait until you've gotten your degree, sorry

he happens to like his one class a semester/year and he'd very much not like to deal with the legal repercussions of getting caught with a student. repercussions of which he is well-versed in

but alright. I mentioned that he sometimes has to cancel class because of daredevil business and so I MUST tackle the big question: does anyone suspect him

yes and no

it starts out simple. sometimes he shows up to lectures with cuts and bruises, some bandaged but fresh, and swears that it's nothing to worry about. you might catch him wearing the rare sweater on those days, even

when he gets questioned about it, he sort of spins some half-baked lie about boxing being his part-time hobby

and then people start noticing that he's never around when there's a daredevil sighting

now, he doesn't always cancel class for daredevil business. sometimes it's because he's got a client to take care of!

but he also loves to invite his students to sit in on the less serious cases so. what gives

one student starts a rumor and then it kind of becomes a joke in class that professor murdock is secretly daredevil

most of them don't take it seriously because how could their sweet, chill, blind professor murdock be a crime-fighting vigilante? it just wouldn't make sense!

and you know what this bitch does? he feeds into it

student: yeah, professor murdock is daredevil. that's a good one

matt: what do you mean?

student: oh, it's just a joke! we know you couldn't be daredevil

matt: but I am

student: hahaha that's funny

matt: no, I really am daredevil. haven't you noticed? same build, never in the same place at the same time, devilishly handsome

student: uh-huh, sure thing professor

matt: is it cause I'm blind? that's pretty insensitive, don't you think? you don't think blind people just read braille all day and get walked across the street, do you? is that what you think?

student: well I mean no but like... I mean.... uh....

matt: nahhh I'm just fucking with you. I am daredevil, though

student: hahaha for sure man, definitely

matt:

he does fly too close to the sun one day though when one of his students tries to debate him in class about it for shits and giggles and accidentally comes up with such a compelling argument for why he could definitely be daredevil that he sort of just nervously laughs and stops making jokes about it for the next four weeks

also keeps a flask in his desk drawer to pour into his mug after a rough night on patrol. but if anyone asks, no the fuck he didn't. mind your business. you have a C in his class

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[onlyswan]

lovely iw!couple,

what is y’all’s fav skinship?

xx

“oh! kissing,” jungkook says, failing to hide his grin. “i love kissing every part of ____’s body.”

you hum in thought, head resting on your boyfriend’s shoulder as you cling to his arm. “i think… i might like hugging more.”

“yup, that’s true.”

curious of the body that has entirely slumped against his side, he tilts his head to scan your face.

“are you sleepy already?”

you yawn, and then you meet his gaze with an innocent flutter of your eyelashes. “sorry… hugging you makes me sleepy.”

[yarasdead]

matt and his pregnant gf are on my mind heavyyy today I just know he’d take the sweetest care of her :(

this is such a cute ask ahhhh i love dad!matt so much :(

matty & his pregnant gf.

matty would probably start to tear up when you tell him too. you found out earlier that day and just couldn't keep it from him for a long time. buzzing around your guys' home as you wait for his arrival. immediately jumping up when you hear his eyes jingling in the door. patiently waiting as you watch him set all of his things down, leave his shoes and hate near the door as he walks towards you. embracing you in a hug and kiss.

"missed you. been a long day." he mumbles against your lips.

you smile. "i think i have something that could make it better."

"oh, yeah?" he corks up an eyebrow at your words.

nodding, you reach behind you, removing the pregnancy test from the band in your sweatpants, handing it to him. he looks at it, taking in what the little word on it says.

pregnant.

he looks up at you, eyes wide."

"no way!"

"yes way."

he'd pull you into a bone crushing hug, burying himself in the crook of his neck. letting out a small, "thank you."

because matty melts when it comes to you, and now he melts for his unborn child too. thank you for making him a father, thanking you for wanting to go into parenthood together.

matt would be even more attentive from there on! always rushing to complete a task for you.

you're trying to reach for a bowl in the cupboard? matt's right behind you, hand on the small of your back getting it for you.

having midnight cravings? matt's slipping on a shirt, sweatpants, his hat, and slides and driving to the nearest store to get it for you. he even stays up along side with you as you eat it.

your feet and ankles swollen? he's guiding you to the couch, quickly turning on your comfort show before he runs to get a bottle of lotion to rub your feet.

are you months into pregnancy and your back is aching? matt is right there to stand behind you to push up and take some of the weight off of your back from the heavy bump.

don't even get me started on how the two of you announce it to bomens and the rest of the crew. you guys would probably wait until you enter your second trimester to make sure everything is healthy with the baby. it wouldn't be any extravagant reveal but you guys do privately commission someone to custom make a bad omens style onesie. matt would quietly slip away to get it from where the two of you have been keeping it away for this exact moment. he comes and ask the guys if they'd be interested in adding this to the next merch line up. they all just stare at the little onesie before it clicks and they look at you. a huge group hug definitely happens as they hurdle over to you while matt grumbles about giving you air.

you also cannot tell me that matt is not the biggest sucker for baby clothes. the tiny onesies, tiny socks, tiny shoes, tiny everything. it makes his heart swell at thinking that in just a few months you and him are going to have your own tiny human that is the perfect mix between the two of you.

reality hit him like a truck the first time he ever felt the baby kick.

"matty! come here quick!"

matt comes rushing from out the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

"wha' wa' wrong?" he ask the best he could with toothpaste in his mouth.

you giggle at him. "nothings wrong. sprout is moving, want you to feel them."

visibly seeing how matt becomes relaxed at the fact that both you and the baby are okay. he holds a finger out before going back into the bathroom. rinsing out his mouth and setting his toothbrush into the holder. emerging from the bathroom once again to climb into bed.

"you had me worried."

"'m sorry. i just want you to feel them." you apologized, taking one of matt's hands to place it on your growing belly, right over the spot you felt them kick.

after a few seconds of his hand being there, matt frowns at you. "i missed it."

"it's only been a few seconds. speak to them. they know your voice."

matt shifts further down the bed. resting his head against your belly.

"hi, sprout. i'm your daddy. your mom and i can't wait to meet you. i used to think life couldn't get better when i got with your mom, but now you're going to be here pretty soon, jus' gotta finish cooking. you're going to be the most badass kid ever because not only am i your dad but you're mom is the most badass person i know."

you smile down at him, bringing a hand to swipe some of the hair that fell in his face behind his ear.

"we already love you so much, more than anything."

and with that a kick.

[rissouu]

Now imagine modern doctor law with his pregnant wife ofhdhdjh

Just him being so caring about what’s good for her

bro that man will literally never leave you alone istg 🌚!

for instance, whenever he sees you munching on the hot chips you love so much, he immediately snatches em’. “how many times do i gotta’ tell you to stop eating that shit?” even before you got pregnant he rarely let you eat hot chips, well around him at least.

“paaa stop taking my shit! your son is hungry, and the only thing he wants right now is some hot cheetos!”

you were fed up at this point, especially because you were also pregnant. you barely had control over your emotions and the only thing you really wanted right now was some damn hot chips! but of course, being the wife of a doctor came with many inconveniences.

“nah mama, don’t try and blame my son. he want you to stop eating that shit just as much as me, you can get ulcers from eating too much of those toxins,”

you rolled your eyes at the fact that he was right. you’d came close to getting an ulcer before back when you were younger, but clearly that wasn’t enough to stop you permanently.

law knew you would probably have an attitude with him for the rest of the day, but he was just putting your safety first. “you can have a attitude all you want, better go get you some lay’s.”

“but you know i don’t fucking like lay’s, they’re disgusting.”

“well that’s too damn bad!”

[etherealyoungk]

skye ml !!! hear to gift u some soft thoughts <33

imagine applying makeup on hoshi!! perhaps you bought some new makeup from the store or something and wanted to try it out, and he just so happened to walk in at the right time. imagine applying lip gloss or lipstick to his lips or putting some blush on his cheeks or just glitter to his face and he just looks so adorable :(( and he just lets you because he's so w h i p p e d and he kisses you with the lip gloss to your lips

RANIAA BUBS <3 stop omg this is such a cute thought aaaa i love this

you're back home from going on a little therapy shopping run is what you're justifying this as. you only went into the store to buy a new eyeliner since your previous one was almost over. but the salesperson was maybe a little too persuasive and they were having a really good offer too, so that's how you came back home with more than just an eyeliner.

"babe are you home?", hoshi asks, calling out for you when he hears the front door open. he sees the little bag you have and smiles. "did you buy new makeup products?", he prompts and you nod. "i got some cute products plus they had a good deal going on", you explain, walking towards hoshi.

"im gonna try them on!", you tell and hoshi follows you to your bedroom like a puppy. "why don't you sample them on me?", he suggests. "i'll be like a model for you", he adds, looking so excited how can you tell him no. so that's how hoshi was in front of you, smiling and eager as you took out all the products you got and placed them on your vanity table. he looks at the products curiously and you smile.

hoshi sits up all ready and you chuckle at his eagerness. you take some primer and apply it to his face, followed by foundation. and then you grab the blush. you look at him and he looks and waits. you dab the big brush in the blush and gently dab it to his cheeks. he tries to hold back his smile at the ticklish feeling but fails, a sweet giggle leaving his lips. "does it tickle?", you ask and he nods and you smile along.

you grab the lipsticks and hold them in front of hoshi. "which one do you wanna try on?", you ask and he looks at the colors and points to the dusty pink one. "great choice baby", you tell opening the lipstick. and when you look up, hoshi's already pouting his lips for you to apply the lipstick. "that's not gonna work", you tell squishing his cheeks and you tell him to just open his lips a bit as you apply the lipstick. and you weren't going to lie, the color looked really good. "woah this one is so good!", you tell, leaning back a bit to admire the color. "really?", hoshi asks, turning his head to the mirror on the side, but you stop him. "im not done yet!", you tell and he chuckles.

you then decide to add some glitter from the highlighter and eyeshadow you bought. it was a pretty subtle pink and golden. you apply some to hoshi's cheeks and his a bit to his nose. you add a little glitter eyeshadow to his eyelids and he looks so cute already. you grab the final item, some lipgloss and open it. you put the lipgloss on him and dab it and hoshi looks at you with a cute lopsided pout.

"how do i look?", he asks. you could melt into a puddle right now at how adorable he looked. "cute, you look so cute!", you nearly squeal and hoshi looks at himself in the mirror. "i do look good and cute", he says with a smile and looks back at you. your smile was enough for him.

you look at the lipsticks and grab one. "let me try this and see how it looks on me", you tell but he stops you. "let me put it on you baby", he asks and you don't see why not, so you hand it over to him, only for him to put it back on the table. confused, you're about to open your mouth to say something but he kisses you.

"there! now you have the lipstick on you", he says, proud and he looks at you. you smack his hand at his cheeky move. "oh wait, i think i missed a spot", he adds and you pucker your lips and he grins, kissing you again. and maybe turns into more than just an innocent kiss or two, but who was complaining.

[the-broken-pen]

a villain who has cat based powers and a henchman who really like cats . do as you will -🐏

The villain came in through the window, paws pattering onto the floor, and the henchman jerked their head up.

A moment later, they shifted, lounging against the desk as if they hadn’t just gone from cat to human.

The henchman had to look away, fighting a squeal as they flushed furiously.

They had loved cats as a kid—cultivated a hoard of them that amassed in their house no matter how much their parents complained. When they had moved to the city, into a tiny shoebox of an apartment, they had left them all behind. And no matter how many photos their parents sent them, it was never truly enough.

So when the henchman had taken this job, on the tiny scrap of information they were allowed to have “heightened senses, shifting, good pay” they hadn’t known what to expect.

They had not expected a cat.

Thus, the furious fight to not lose their mind.

Out of the corner of their eye, they caught the edge of the villain’s smirk and raised eyebrow.

“Every time I come in here as a cat, your heart rate sky rockets,” the villain observed, and though the henchman hadn’t thought it was possible, they flushed further.

“Umm.” They tried to articulate a response that wasn’t along the lines of senseless mumbling, and amusement settled onto the villain’s face.

The villain pushed themself onto the top of their desk, settling their head into their hands as they sat cross legged.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who loves cats as much as you do,” the villain said. They sounded mildly fascinated.

The henchman was going to die, right there.

“I grew up with um. A lot of cats,” the henchman managed. “I think they’re great.”

The villain looked like they were fighting a smile.

“Always good to find a fan.”

The henchman’s face was on fire.

“That’s not—“

“Mhm.”

“Oh god.” The henchman covered their face with their hands.

The villain laughed.

“You’re fun to mess with, you know that?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

The villain grinned, all Cheshire Cat, and the henchman could imagine a tail swishing. If they looked closely, they could just barely see the diamond shape to the villain’s pupils.

“Whoever hired you is getting a pay raise.”

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

The villain shrugged. “You’re fun. I hate boring people, especially when I have to pay them. How awful is that? Paying for your own boredom. Should be illegal, really.”

“Oh,” the henchman didn’t have a response for that. “And I’m not boring?”

“No, you’re adorable,” the villain waived them off. “Hence the pay raise.”

They searched for something to say, before blurting out, “You really have nine lives?”

“Gathering intel on me, huh?”

The henchman had to sit on their hand to stop themself from slapping it over their own mouth.

“I don’t know why I said that.”

The villain laughed again.

“Enhanced hearing and vision,” they pointed to their own face. “And, of course, the shifting.”

The villain shrugged one shoulder. “As for the nine lives, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“Hopefully not.”

“Awww, you don’t want me to die?”

“I don’t want anyone to die,” the henchman agreed. The villains smile sharpened, all canine teeth.

“So I’m not special, then?”

“No—”the henchman stopped. “You’re messing with me.”

The villain slid off the desk in one fluid movement. “You catch on quick. Come on,” they jerked their head to the door.

The henchman stood eyeing the villain.

“What are we doing?”

“Bank robbery,” the villain said easily. They tilted their head slightly. “Or maybe knocking some construction equipment over. Crane or two, you know?”

The henchman had known about the shifting, but they hadn’t realized just how cat-like the villain was in behavior.

“….Because you’re a cat?”

“No,” the villain blinked. “Because it’s fun.”

Overall, it was the best job the henchman had ever had.

[cerise-on-top]

Hiya! May I ask for a fluff alphabet for Price, if you haven't done that already. Since I saw in a recent post you only do 8-9 letters at a time now (which is okay!), may I specifically ask for: A, B, C, F, G, H, N, & Q? Thank you! 💗

Hey there! Sure you can! I've been in the mood to write something for Price anyway, so this came at a good time ^^

Fluff Alphabet for Price

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

On the one hand, he really loves going out to do something with you. Something along the lines of the occasional short hike, taking care of your shared garden or even just taking a stroll through the city, taking in all the sights and finding new ones you weren’t previously aware of. Those are things he likes to do when he’s been home for a while now. However, if he’s gotten home not too long ago then he’d much rather just stay in and sleep a little bit. Will want to cuddle you or just have you be his background noise. Don’t be mad at him if he dozes off while you’re watching a movie together, he’s just extremely tired and needs that rest.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He admires how resilient you are. Price knows that life isn’t easy, that it always makes an effort to throw one impossible thing after another at you, but you never seem to give up. No matter how rough life gets, no matter how often it knocks you down, you always get up, dust yourself off and continue to smile. Even if it really took its toll on you, you strive to make your life better. Although it may get you down when you’ve had the worst day of your life, you still won’t stay down forever. You do what you can, and that’s what Price loves about you.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

When you’re sad he’ll give you a hug, provided you’re okay with it. He’s a very good hugger, his hugs are very comforting and warm. Afterwards he’ll put on your favorite movie or series and watch it with you. If enough time has passed and you still feel down, then he’ll cook something you really like. Although he knows he can’t make the sadness go away forever, he’ll try to temporarily cheer you up. If you need to talk, if you need some advice, he’s also your man. If you have a panic attack then he’ll try to calm you down by taking you to a location with few people. Price can talk for a while if he needs to, so he’ll ask you to focus on his voice. Might also give you a rather simple task to take your mind off of things, such as counting backwards from 100.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

If it’s you, then he would forgive pretty easily, as long as it’s not something too big. If you accidentally knock down a mug he likes, then he might sigh and be annoyed, but he’ll forgive you. If you cheat on him, then he won’t. He’s usually calm and collected, even while fighting. Sure, he could be aggressive towards you and snap at you, but he loves you, so he tries not to. It’s sort of obvious when he is annoyed, his sentences become much shorter and he’ll actively try to get away from you. Won’t yell at you, won’t do any erratic movements either, but if he’s too angry then he’ll simply walk away from you until he’s calmed down.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Yes, he is aware and he is very grateful. How could he not be? You have the patience of a saint when it comes to him. He knows it’s rough to be with someone who is part of the military, he’s away more often than not, but you still decided to stay with him. You cook for him when he’s tired, you draw him a bath when he’s sore, you reassure him when he feels like you deserve better than him. You’re so much more than what he deserves, he doesn’t feel like he could ever repay you for everything you’re doing for him. He tries, though, but it’s never enough. Price could give you the universe and it wouldn’t suffice.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Aside from the obvious, such as military intel, he doesn’t really hide anything from you. Price doesn’t see the point in keeping secrets from you. You’re together, aren’t you? You deserve to know just about anything about him. He might not tell you everything from the get go, but once you’re close enough you can ask him about anything. You wanna know about his time as a private? Sure. How he came to be a captain? Yeah, he can talk about it. Just ask and he’ll likely tell you. But in the same vein he hopes that you trust him enough to tell him just about anything as well.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

He doesn’t really use very many nicknames. Just the classic ones, such as “love”, “sweetheart” and “dear”. Sometimes he feels the urge to call you “sunshine”, but he usually represses that since that’s what he’s called his soldiers before. As much as it would fit you, he tries not to bring work home. He likes to call you by your name too, though. But aside from that there’s nothing he really calls you.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He can keep calm in just about any situation, so he won’t lash out on you. He has an air of authority to him, so it’s not too often that someone is being a dick to him. And that extends to you as well. Price is a well respected man, so not very many people will come up to you and demand something from you. You, too, will be respected by most people, he’ll make sure of that. Regardless of whether you’re shy and timid or loud and boisterous, no one will bad mouth you. Price can fight, he will protect you. He will also fight for your honor if he needs to. He may have self restraint most of the time, but no one should ever talk badly about his partner.