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stromblessed · 5 months

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Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:

"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.

Kind of like another bird in this show:

#blue eye samurai #mizu #akemi #kinuyo #bes #women are birds okay they are BIRDS #the let me die line is so SCARY AND SAD like a part of Mizu wants death but she cant? she doesnt know how?? excuse you show???#when all these other delicate birds are dying all around her #akemis character gets more and more gutwrenching upon subsequent rewatches because whenever she says her life is in danger #NO ONE BELIEVES HER - certainly not other women #because shes rich and pampered and that means shes safe and is worrying about nothing right? right?????#and it turns out that all of akemis instincts were right and she was in danger the ENTIRE TIME #also I need to make a post just for kinuyo because I am sad

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clairenatural · 6 months

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Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.

It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.

It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.

He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.

Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.

So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.

It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long.

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.”

The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”

It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.

Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.

"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.

Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.

"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.

"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.

He turns the keys. He drives them home.

Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).

Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.

It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"

Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."

"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."

"You didn't correct her?"

"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.

"Uh huh."

"It felt trivial."

"To tell her we're not married?"

"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.

Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."

"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.

Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.

"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"

Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."

Across the table, Cas grins at him.

"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.

"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."

"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."

They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.

#mae clairenatural writing fic in the year 2023......#go easy on me im rusty #i started this a year ago and decided to finish it and that was PAINFUL #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #1.2k words #my words

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cerisereids · 28 days

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𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗻𝗻𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹- 𝘀.𝗿.

pairing- dad!spencer reid x mom!reader

summary- spencer reid is the best girl dad on the planet

warnings- hurt/comfort and fluff, post s15!spencer- he is no longer with the bau but there are references to his time there, lowkey some angst bc apparently i can’t write anything for spencer without him being sad, spencer’s daddy issues, a lil makin out/grinding, brief discussion of sex/baby making

a/n- divider from @real-afterglow! happy easter to everyone who celebrates! here’s a cute little thing about girl dad!spencer :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

spencer reid’s bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed together. usually, this look of concentration was reserved for intense cases, ones spent pouring over complex documents into late hours of the night. tonight, however, he’s traded serial killers for pastel eggs, taunting him from the kitchen table. spencer’s engaging in an intense staring contest with the plastic eggs as he pores over the array of candy and decorations littering the rest of the table.

his head snaps up as he hears your feet pattering down the steps, knowing you’re about to catch him in the midst of a battle between him and your daughter’s easter goodies. you take the eggs’ place as the object of his visual affection when you appear in the kitchen, staring back at him in silence. his puppy dog eyes plead into yours. he knows you know what he’s trying to say, i’m trying, i want this to be perfect. he also knows you won’t let him destroy himself to make you and your baby girl happy, even when he wants to.

“she’s only two, you know. she’s not going to care if the right piece of candy is in the right egg. she’s just happy to be with us,” you speak to his anxieties like you can read his mind.

it’s one of the many things he loves about you, his sweet wife. the way you just know what his brain is fighting against, and can speak to it. your sweet words don’t appease his guilt this time, though, and you both know it. he plows ten fingers through his mop of hair before sliding his glasses onto his forehead.

“i know,” he breathes, and you both know he has more to say.

“but it’s not enough,” you finish for him.

“it’s not enough,” he repeats, defeated.

“well, then let me help you,” you declare, pulling a chair up next to him.

“no, no,” he insists, shaking his head, “you just put her to bed. you must be exhausted, rest.”

“we’re both exhausted, spence. just because i was the one to put her to bed tonight doesn’t mean i’m the only one doing the parenting around here,” he knows you’re trying to reassure him, but he flinches anyway. his ability to be a father has been a sore subject since you first became pregnant almost three years ago.

“plus, we both know i won’t be able to rest while you’re over here, very clearly in need of a helping hand,” you glare at him, checkmate. he relents at that, and allows you to wrap yourself into him. your arms around his bicep, your head on his shoulder, his chin atop your temple. slowly, he allows vulnerability to pierce through the tension between you two.

“what do we got here, handsome?” you croon, and he’s never been so certain that he doesn’t deserve you, that you’re too good for him. there’s not much he can do about that now but kiss you on the forehead and hope his lips convey a decade of love and devotion in one small kiss.

“i just want it to be perfect,” he croaks, eyes glossing over. “i wasn’t here last time. i don’t think i’ll ever not feel guilty about it.”

“i understand, spence. i’d feel bad, too, but that doesn’t mean you’re not there for her, that you don’t love her. because you do. and you show her, and me, everyday, don’t forget that,” you finish your mini speech with a firm kiss on the lips.

a year ago from this very moment, he was pulled away on a case. the call came at 11 pm, the night before your daughter’s first easter. to say he was devastated would be an understatement. he put on a brave face that morning over facetime, watching the chubby hands of one little eloise reid tear through the plastic easter grass hiding the candy in her basket.

he was brave until the time came to hit the hang up button. with the blankness that filled his screen and his hotel room, he broke. he was of no use on the case, and the team knew it, too. he left the bau shortly after that. he didn’t want to feel that way ever again, and he knew if he stayed there, he would. that time it was only one holiday, sure, but what about when she ends up having a dance recital? or graduates? he couldn’t risk it, he knew his family took the biggest priority.

between that and his own father’s absence in his childhood, he was determined to make this easter absolutely perfect for your daughter, no matter if he fell dead asleep on your kitchen table trying.

the staticky rustling of plastic basket grass tears spencer away from his loud, busy brain, and his eyes soften as they fixate on you. helping him. you’re nestling a little stuffed bunny atop the plastic frills of the basket and spencer watches in awe, wondering why he didn’t think to do that first.

he knows the answer. it’s because it’s you. you’re the best mom, and he loves catching those little moments where you prove that to him. it doesn’t take much, like the way you’re slipping $1 bills into each plastic egg, while also making sure you put a piece of candy there as well. it’s a small gesture, maybe, one that doesn’t take much deep thinking, but he knows that it comes from the deepest love your great beautiful heart can muster.

and of course he loves your daughter too, so, so much, but he struggles to show it the way you do. his lack of a paternal presence in his childhood sometimes leaves him feeling empty handed in his journey of fatherhood. you never let him feel this way for long, though. again, just like now, with the way you immediately jumped in to help him. even after he said no, even if you’re absolutely exhausted. you do it for him, because it’s him. because you love him. he still can’t believe it some days.

he smiles, so full of love for his two girls and lets his gaze linger as you run into the living room. you return yielding the carrots and cookies the three of you left for the easter bunny earlier.

“up for a little midnight snack?” you tease, waving the carrots in one hand and the cookies in another before you sit.

“not my preferred treat but i’m not going to say no to one of your sugar cookies,” he jokes, pulling you to the edge of your chair by the small of your back.

he places a kiss on your lips. an intense one, one that conveys every thought blundering through his mind the 10 minutes you’ve been downstairs. how much he loves you, specifically.

he feels you chuckle against him and can’t help but deepen the kiss, pulling you ever closer so his leg comes between yours, your core pressing warmly against his knee. he hears you whimper, a sound he’ll cherish forever, before you rub against him gently and pull away.

“not tonight,” you peer at him over your glasses, a faux concern dancing through your gaze, “if we do you’ll end up giving me another baby. we both know we’re not ready for that yet.”

it’s his turn now to hide his face in the crook of your neck, placing gentle kisses along your neck and jaw. you dedicate the rest of your night to making this holiday special for your little girl.

after nibbling on the carrots and cookies, you place them back on the plate with a thank you note, signed E.B. he raises a brow as he sees you pad over to your cupboard, pulling out your bin of flour. your cheeky smile invokes butterflies, and he’s breathless. it’s late, you’re in sweats, your hair is a mess, and you’re currently half-bent, sifting flour over a stencil of a bunny foot, and he’s never been more in love with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

spender hears rustling and sweet talk echoing down your spiral staircase. baby eloise’s sweet morning rasp, her high pitched baby voice asking mama if the easter bunny came. he hears you coo at her, telling her she has to wait and see, followed by kissing noises and baby giggles. his heart grows three sizes.

when he sees you appear in the stairway through the lens of his phone, he quickly tears his gaze away from the screen to see the real thing. his girls, eyes tired and hair messy, float down the steps, light from the back window illuminating them, like his own personal angels.

“hi girls!” he lilts, gentle as to not startle his baby girl.

her big brown eyes that she got from dad bore into his, and he can feel himself welling up at her sweetness. sap.

“hi sweet eloise,” he bends down for a kiss from both his angels as you set her at the bottom of the steps, “i think someone special came,” he coos, stealing some more kisses from the baby’s soft chubby cheeks.

she nestles into spencer’s chest, a tiny little thumb settled gently on her lips, and his heart bleeds. he loves her so much.

“i think the easter bunny came!” he croons, hugging her tight and close, “do you wanna see what he got you?” he feels her head nod against him and he hands you his phone. the three of you walk into the living room and spencer sets her down, letting her choose where to go first.

she runs right to the fireplace, where the eaten treats and thank you note lay, her eyes wide.

“wow!” he hears you gasp, and he pulls you to him so you can walk to her together, “i think he ate our treats!”

eloise turns to you two and giggles, clapping her chubby little hands. you two can’t help but pull her in, attacking her with kisses before letting her go on to her other surprises.

she squeals at the bunny feet, repeating, “bunny! bunny!” she gets presents too, of course, spoiled little thing that she is.

you’re better than spencer at shopping for the girly things she loves, so he was an observer shopping for the special things she’s getting this morning.

you nailed it, too. you got her pink, purple, and blue ruffle swimsuits for the summer, and he’s already dying inside imagining how cute it will be. she immediately opens the tinted lip balm with a unicorn on it, as well as the princess jewelry kit, complete with fake earrings and a necklace with aurora, her favorite princess, on the pendant.

she demolishes the easter egg hunt you set up for her in the backyard, just like her dad always did. she squeals when she opens each one, even though all the $1 bills don’t mean anything to her, and will end up being spent by you two anyway. you agreed to spend the total $10 on her, regardless. it’s about having something that’s her own, forming an identity at an early age.

later in the morning, when you appear in the living room, ready for easter brunch with your family, he falls in love all over again. his girls, now a complete contrast to his view earlier this morning, clad in your easter best, look so beautiful, he’s now thoroughly convinced you’re angels.

you’re in a pink ruffled maxi dress, hair and makeup done to the nines. your baby girl got her hair styled by mom, one of her favorite pastimes. her curly hair lay beautifully behind the world’s cutest bangs, and she’s cute as pie with her yellow flowered dress.

he saunters over to you, piercing you with a gaze that said ‘i’m ready for baby #2 now’ before kissing you, then eloise.

“you are the two most beautiful girls in the entire world,” he croons, hugging you both close to him in his big arms.

“i love you,” you whisper up to him, kissing his jawline sweetly, “what do you say to daddy, sweet girl?” you prompt, rubbing her baby belly.

“thank you daddy, i love you!” she chirps, planting a big kiss on his cheek.

he never thought his life could be filled with this much joy.

#oh i want his kids BAD #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid smut

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gojonanami · 5 months

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BEST PART OF MY DAY - KENTO NANAMI

✴︎ summary: on a bad day, you give nanami just what he needs, and remind him why you are truly the best part of his day. ✴︎ contents: pure domestic fluff, reader and nanami are married, taking care of nanami the way he deserves, making breakfast for nanami ✴︎ wc: 795

“What can I do?” you whisper, whisper in his ear, because you know Kento is having a bad day. You know that he’s having a bad day from the way his shoulders tense and his lips are in a tight line, instead of curled in that small smile.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head simply, running his fingers through his hair, “I’m okay, sweetheart,”

And you know that certainly means that he’s not.

“Are you?” You sit beside him on the couch, one leg tucked under the other, curled up beside him, “because I’m pretty sure you’re not,” you place your chin on his shoulder, “come on, there must be something, even if it’s—“

And he’s pulling you into his arms, leaning back on the couch, your body beside him, as he buries his face in your chest, “baby,” you run your fingers through his hair, “is this—“

“You’re everything, do you know that, love?” His words are soft, but the impact is heavy, warmth flooding your body at his words, “just a few words from you, and I feel my fatigue melt away, how’s that possible?”

“New jujutsu technique?” And he snorts, “should I tell Gojo?”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, leaning up to press a kiss to your lips, and you smile against his touch, tasting the hint of bitter coffee and the faint taste of melon bread on his lips, “how’re so perfect?” And he’s nosing the nape of your neck, pressing sweet kisses.

“Well you deserve only the best, Nanami Kento, and what is better than me?” You say teasingly, and he chuckles, a quiet rumble that makes you nearly shiver.

“Nothing I can think of,” and you’re running your fingers through his hair again and again, pressing sweet kisses to his brow, and his eyes are growing heavy, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to put me to sleep,”

“Maybe I am, think my husband needs some sleep,” you kiss him softly, “dream about Malaysia, only a few months away,”

“Not soon enough,” he murmurs, “but you’re all I need, my vacation,”

You chuckle, pressing sweet kisses to his forehead, “Your 5 to 9?”

“With no overtime,” he sighs, as you snort, before he’s looking up at you, “the best part of my day,”

And he’s falling asleep, slipping into the sandman’s grasp, and he only wakes underneath a blanket, in the soft sheets of his bed, morning light streaming in. He blinks sleep from his eyes, a small groan in his throat, as he reaches beside him for you, but only finds an empty space.

His breath catches — where were you? Panic grips him, until he listens — hearing the quiet sounds of pans and spoons clinking, the soft sounds of your humming, as he slowly settles back, easing himself back into bed for a moment, before slipping from bed.

He comes out to find you only in one of the blue button ups you had “borrowed” from him - one of three you had on rotation, giving them back only when you had washed them. You were humming along to music playing softly on your phone, as you cooked — you had seemingly picked up his favorites from the bakery nearby and even were making some scrambled eggs for the both of you.

How did he get so lucky?

He sneaks up on you, his arms curling around your middle, as you jump slightly, before relaxing into his touch, “Kento, I didn’t wake you, did I?” And he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek — you smelt so good, like lavender, apples, freshly baked bread — “baby—“

“No, I just woke up when I didn’t feel you beside me,” he sighs into the nape of your neck, “did you stop by the bakery?”

“Yes and I think the worker has a crush on you,” you chuckle, as he hears the click of the stove turning off, “she asked about you,” and you turn to face him, lips curled in a teasing smile, “you interested?”

“No, I’m only interested in my wife,” he hums, finding your lips in a kiss, his lips curling, “my very beautiful wife,”

“Oh, I’m beautiful? What else am I?” You tease, but then he’s tilting your chin up, lips pressing to your forehead first.

“Lovely,” he murmurs, as his lips move to one cheek, and then the other, “honest,” lips finding your nose, “far too kind,” and then your lips again, “perfect,”

“Kento…” and he’s kissing you in earnest now, his hand cupping your cheek, while his other arm curls around the small of your back, “shouldn’t we have breakfast?”

And he only smiles, speaking before finding your lips again, “it can wait, I have to start my day with the best part of it, don’t I?”

✴︎ a/n: i woke up to all the edits of nanami and i'm depressed to say the least. but it's okay he's in malaysia with us, right? denial, denial is my only option.

✴︎ taglist: @ethereal-softie, @glaceliy, @yumihisusupermacy

#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami fanfiction #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami fluff #kento nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

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geekgirles · 3 months

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Even though we all saw it coming from a mile away, I really do think Vaggie being a fallen angel is the best direction for her character and the one that best explains it.

First of all, it explains how one of the most decent demons in Hell after Charlie would even be there in the first place. Because she never belonged there.

Then we have an immediate explanation for her hinted military background back in Scrambled Eggs. Of course she was a warrior, she went out to massacre demons each year!

It also sheds her attempts to protect Charlie in a more meaningful light. Because let's face it, admirable as it is, a mere sinner, and not even an Overlord, acting like the Princess of Hell's loyal guard dog and facing off against threats like Alastor seems extremely foolish; if she were a mere demon, she would definitely be biting more than she can chew. But she is not a demon, she's an angel, an exorcist; a species that isn't just far more powerful than demons, but that can even kill Overlords. And even if she lost her wings, given Lucifer's angelic nature is the reason he got to rule Hell in the first place, then clearly, Vaggie still is more powerful than most demons.

And finally, it explains her stance on Charlie's plan; that unyielding support coated in rightful doubt. On the one hand, her devotion comes from the fact that Charlie, Lucifer's daughter and a demon, showed her more compassion and care than her fellow angels, the supposed personification of everything good and perfect. Not only has she seen first hand how not all demons are that bad or deserving of death, but she stands out as the only angel so far to feel any mercy for them even before being exiled.

And what did that get her? Exactly. Exiled from Heaven and with both her eye and wings amputated. Again, Vaggie knows first hand how truly vile Heaven is. How, when it comes to demons, everything is a mistake that must be rectified through the most violent means possible. If Heaven, which is supposed to reward virtue, punished Vaggie, one of their own, for displaying a virtuous behaviour towards a demon, what chance do actual sinners have to ever be redeemed in their eyes and hence accepted in Heaven?

I guess this all comes to show how that just because a development is obvious, it doesn't make it any less good or fitting.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #vaggie #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #heaven #sera #emily #adam #lute #hazbin hotel analysis #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #vivzieverse

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strawb3rrystar · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel characters longing for you.

Pairing: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Adam, Vox, Valentino, Velvette x GN! Reader

Warnings: Implied breakup, Stalking, Just all around angst

Word count: 600

✰Masterlist

Charlie will hangout with her friends to get your mind off you. This strategy works for a little while, until she starts to notice small bits of your personality in them. All the little things pile up and it brings down her mood, causing her stay away from her friends as to not get reminded.

"Sorry guys, can't hangout today, not feeling the greatest."

Vaggie will bottle up all her emotions and avoid everyone. But, being all alone causes her to start thinking about you more. All the happy memories you created together. Laughs and smiles shared. Vulnerable venting sessions that ended in cuddles. She won't be able to scrape you from her mind and end up crying angry tears.

"Why... after everything we've been through! Why.. why did you leave me..?"

Angel Dust will probably be too distracted with work to think about you. But of course he misses you and wishes to have you back. If he ever does get time to just sit and think about you, his insecurities will get the best of him and he'll think your better off without him.

"Maybe.. they're better off. More happier without me.."

Husk will drown himself in alcohol like he always does. Silently doing his job. It wasn't much of a change to most of the others. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he'll see your figure. He shivers every time he realizes you're not actually there.

"Must be the alcohol makin' me see shit..."

Sir Pentious will lay awake at night thinking about you. It doesn't help that his eggs will keep bringing stuff up about you. He doesn't want to think about you, but he just can't get you out of his head. He wishes to see you one last time before he lets you go.

"I haven't asked for much. Please, just let me see them again."

Alastor will convince himself that he was perfectly able to go on with his afterlife before he met you, so he can definitely do it after you left. Although, that's a lie, because he misses your presence everyday. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he goes over your daily schedule before you left in his head and goes to the places you used to frequent.

"I am perfectly capable all on my own."

Lucifer will dream about you every night after you leave. He'll dream about all the good times you had together. Your smile and your laugh. His dreams are so realistic that when he wakes up it takes him a minute to remember you left.

"Right.. they left.. but, my dream was so.. real.."

Adam will kinda stalk you, justifying it as protection. Whenever he sees you hanging out with another angel, though, envy will fill his veins. Even if he knows it's one of your friends, he'll still get jealous.

"You were supposed to hangout with me, not this fucking nobody."

Vox will also very much stalk you with his cameras. Nervously searching his screens whenever you leave your house. He just wants to know where you are, and that you're safe.

"My sweet would never have to worry about their safety again."

Valentino will check your past messages 50 times a day. He's just itching to text you, but if he does you might block him, and then he'll lose your conversations forever. He might throw his phone in frustration.

"God fucking damn it!"

Velvette will regularly check your social media for any updates from you. If you do post something new, expect her to be one of the first to like it.

"@Velvvette liked your post."

Star's notes -> I've binged Hazbin Hotel like 3 times now OMG

(Requests are open!)

Taglist -> Join the taglist

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avtrbee · 10 months

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the prince

✢summary: what happens when your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

✢tags: arranged marriage gojo satoru x reader, reader is a clan kid, she’s v traditional, obvious cat and jon snow references

✢tw: implications of cheating, mentioned abuse, misogyny ig

✢ a/n: i’m not gonna lie to you guys, i know i’ve been a while and im really ashamed that i come back with something that i believe this isn’t my best work at all. i had this prompt in my head for a long time and i have wanted to publish this ever since. always love hearing from all of you and i’d like to get some feedback as well <33

You were a clan kid fortunate enough to be born with the clan’s cursed technique but unfortunate enough to be a woman. Your childhood tutors had drilled the duties of wives in your head, and had made you comfortable with the idea of an arranged marriage. You pride yourself as a good traditional daughter, whose greatest honor would be marrying your husband.

Never in your life did you imagine yourself caring for a child that is not yours.

That was, of course, until you met your husband.

You have heard of Gojo Satoru before and fought him a few times during sister-school events, but never in your life did you think he’d be who you were destined for. Still, he surprised you.

“You are my wife, my equal,” he promises you at the night of your wedding. The ceremony was over and the guests have gone home. You have said your vows in front of the gods and they have bounded you to this man.

He drags you off to bed and makes you sit on the floor with him.

Satoru looks at you with the moon shining on him making him look like an ethereal god. And to you, he was. Which is why you tilt your head at his statement. “Gojo-sama, I do not understand-”

“Satoru,” he says. “I am your husband, you should call me by my name y’know.” His voice is light and teasing, underplaying the reality of the situation. “I don’t want a slave. I want a confidant. A partner. I need someone. Do you understand?”

You nod. Strangely you do. “We must protect each other.”

You were both very lonely people thrust into a union none of you asked for. There are targets on your backs for sins you cannot control. You were alone, but not anymore.

Your husband nods and he takes his glasses off. You realize for the nth time that Satoru is a pretty, pretty man. His blue eyes shine and twinkle like the stars above.

He reaches for your hand- a strange gesture but you allow it anyway. “I will do right by you,” he promises. In his mind he remembers his mother, the one who loves too much but is loved so less. Like her, Satoru’s marriage is arranged by the clan. But he will not be his father.

He is a man of his word.

The next morning you find yourself waking to an empty bed with a smell of burning food. You catch your husband defeated before the stove with burnt scrambled egg on the table. “This is what couples do, right?”

You stare at him, simply horrified that you had failed to wake up first. You were supposed to cook him breakfast, not the other way around.

Satoru catches your expression. “Hey! It’s not that bad!” He pokes the pathetic excuse of a scrambled egg. His mother had always cooked for the family, it shouldn’t have been this hard. “…right?”

You ban him from your kitchen.

He takes you to the school next. You walk behind him, as is the norm, but Satoru makes a face that pushes you to stay beside him. His voice echoes in your head, you are my wife, my equal.

The weather was perfect, but he fusses about the fact that you decided to wear a sleeveless sundress that he deems inappropriate for the wind.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“Yes, Satoru.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow suspiciously, like he does not believe you. He reaches over and takes your hand in his. His face morphs to an expression of victory. “Ha! Your hands are cold. You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.” He spits, but his voice lacks venom. You pretend to ignore his poor excuse to hold your hand. Deep inside you like it. Romance is for fiction and some anime you were lucky enough to watch. A distinguished member of your the Gojo clan does not deserve it, but your husband is a romantic.

He stops you from walking out of the shade of the trees and into the sunshine. He opens his tote bag and points to a closed umbrella. “Do you need this? To protect you from- y’know.”

His points up to the sun.

Against your will you find his needless worrying endearing. He does not know his role as a husband well, but he is trying. When you finally arrive inside the Tokyo school, his hand is still clasped in your. Satoru is loud and proud when he introduces you to everyone, even if you have done nothing to deserve such pride. His co-workers pity you for being married to him and offer their condolences. Satoru protests strongly.

“Y/N loves spending time with me!” he says, stomping his feet like a child. He tugs your hand and looks at you in support. “Right?”

You smile and nod. You do. You wonder if you may love him someday.

The night is dark, and Satoru is not home yet. It has been a slow 8 months since your marriage. The ladies from your clan were wrong. Your husband is not cruel. He does not scold you if you use your cursed technique even when you accidentally use it on him.

You have never been someone good with words, so you decide to bake him a simple carrot cake. Your husband has a sweet tooth and he has a penchant of liking things better if it came from you.

You had only just finished adding icing the cake when you felt Satoru’s cursed energy through the door. You take a look at your cake one last time before heading towards the door to greet him.

Traditionally a wife must wait for her husband to enter in the middle of the room kneeling for supplication- a tradition most ingrained in your head more than most. As a compromise, Satoru suggested to have you greet him by the door instead because- “The first thing I want to see when I get home is your cute face. Obviously.”

You dust off imaginary crumbs off your hands by wiping it on your pants before sliding the door open.

“Welcome ho-”

In front of you, Satoru looks cold. You wonder if this is how others see him. He looks down at you with a cold gaze, He does not tremble. There is a child in his arms.

Both child and Satoru looks at you with twin cold eyes. You shiver. “He’s mine.”

You hear maids scuffle from behind you, but you do not care. The child innocently rests his cheek on Satoru’s shoulder looking at you.

There is no doubt the child is his. Your husband’s hair is on his head and dear god- their eyes. They have the same eyes.

In your head you hear the ladies of your clan again. Stand tall, Y/N. They may have their mistresses, but you will always be his true wife.

Of course you knew about Satoru’s womanizer past- present. Are you upset? Are you angry? You do not know, truly. You are simply confused.

Your clan’s ladies have prepared you for worst; what to do when your husband brings home another woman, what to say if they came home violent, where to go if you are too broken and beaten to sleep beside him. But what if your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

There is a pain in your chest you do not understand. This is expected! Men cannot be held down by just their wives. Did you expect him to be different? A cold fury washes over you

“Welcome home.” You finish instead.

check out my masterlist, and don’t forget to lmk how i can improve this fic <33

#gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen

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luveline · 3 months

Note

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

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

cw for domestic violence and workplace abuse

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

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

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

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

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

You look tired, too.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” he says.

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

“It's getting better.”

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

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

“I'm really okay–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

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

“And he hit you?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

Sometimes he just wishes they’d ask twice.

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

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

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

You laugh wetly. “He’s not my pimp.”

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

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

“Now he’s hitting you.” Very badly.

“I’m not stupid.”

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

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

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

“Can I buy you something to eat?”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

#spencer and stripper!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 days

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Surgery VI

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Baking when you were Little Cub

"In trouble, again?" Paredes asks as Mapi leaves her meeting," What is it this time? Still the food issue?"

"There's no food issue," Mapi replies with an eye roll.

"If you're struggling with healthy food then-"

"There's no struggling to make healthy food," Mapi interrupts," It's fine. We're fine."

"I'm just saying, Mapi. I know Cub's properly weaned now so if it's difficult then just come over to mine. Lucía will be happy to feed you both."

"It's fine," Mapi insists," We have no nutrition problems in the house."

Paredes looks sceptical but doesn't push anymore as you toddle over, grabbing onto Mapi's legs and giggling as Ingrid tickles your tummy.

You've taken to Ingrid like flies to honey.

Paredes hasn't seen anything quite like it. You're notoriously impulsive and wiggly (she's still trying to convince Mapi to get you checked out by a professional) but you don't mind sitting still in Ingrid's arms.

She's your go-to babysitter now, even edging out Leila while Mapi's busy and you seem to love her.

"Are we still up for later tonight?" Ingrid asks as you duck back and forth between her and Mapi.

Mapi's cheeks turn pink and her voice goes embarrassingly high-pitched. "Of course! Cub's really excited. Aren't you, cub?"

"Makin' cookies 'gain?" You ask.

"If you really want to."

"Yes!"

"I see," Paredes laughs as you and Ingrid run off again," The nutrition problem is you can't say no to your kid. Cookies? Again? How many spare have you got?"

Mapi groans. "Too many. You know what Cub's like. My mama took her to a bakery last time she came to visit and she's obsessed now. I can't bake for shit so I think we've hit up every bakery in the city."

"And Ingrid came to your rescue?"

"I think Cub must have mentioned it because she turned up a few weeks ago with ingredients and they spent an hour baking together. I've never seen Cub so calm."

"And now you have too many to eat by yourself?"

"Way too many."

"Bring them in next time," Paredes laughs, clapping Mapi on the back," At least then the whole team gets the nutrition lecture."

"You know what? I think that's a great idea."

Ingrid follows Mapi's car home, having already bought more ingredients on the way to training so you could get right into the baking as soon as you got home.

The countertops of Mapi's kitchen (and every spare space) is already covered in baked goods, ranging from cookies to cupcakes to fancy bread that there's truly no hope in her eating all by herself, hence the reason she is constantly getting in trouble with the coaching staff.

"Alright," Ingrid says, commanding the room easily when you get distracted by showing Bagheera the lion on your t-shirt," Let's wash our hands please."

You go immediately over to the sink, letting Ingrid pick you up so you can reach while Mapi grabs the stool she keeps in the bathroom so you're tall enough to reach the countertops.

Mapi's in awe as Ingrid so easily gets you to follow her instructions. You're fairly unruly and impulsive at the best of times but you calm right down as Ingrid helps you break an egg into the bowl and stir it in with the rest of the mixture.

"Do you need any help?" Mapi's only really asking out of curtesy.

The first time you had baked with Mapi was also the last time when the cake mixture set on fire in the oven and the glass bowl you had mixed everything shattered.

"Why don't you just sit with Bagheera and look pretty?" Ingrid teases but Mapi feels it go straight through her body and she sits down quickly.

"Ingrid's da boss!" You giggle and Ingrid moves behind you to tie your unruly hair back properly.

"I don't think I'm the boss," She says to you and you shake your head.

"Are! 'Cause Mami's my boss and you tell her what to do! You're Mami's boss!"

Ingrid laughs, scooping out a bit of cookie dough and swiping it across the tip of your nose. "You're so sweet, cub," She says as you go cross eyed looking at the blob on your nose.

"Tha's what Mami says!"

"Well, your Mami is very smart. Now, what cookie-cutter shape are we using today?"

You end up choosing the star cutter and Ingrid helps you cut them all out before she puts them in the oven.

"I've noticed that," Ingrid says as she joins Mapi on the sofa," Doesn't she get bored?"

You're sitting in front of the oven, just staring at the cookies.

"It's normal," Mapi shrugs," You should see her watching the washing machine. It's so cute."

You watch the cookies bake the entire time until Ingrid comes over to get them out. You can't touch them just yet because they're still hot but you're pulled away by Mami making you help her box up the other things you made this week.

"Why?" You ask her.

"Well," She says," I thought it would be nice to give some to the team your snacks."

"But why?"

"Because your Mami really wants to share how proud she is of you," Ingrid jumps in," Your food is so tasty that she wants everyone to taste it too."

You gasp. "Can smash Tia Leila's face with cake!"

You're very determined to do that as you carry the box of cupcakes into the changing room the next day. Mapi and Ingrid lag behind with bags full of boxes.

"What's this?" Alexia asks with a laugh.

"Made bakery food," You say, tearing the top of the tupperware off," Tia Leila! Tia! Cake for you!"

As soon as she ducks down to take it from you, you slam it right into her nose.

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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