#;; & headcanon

[0scarp1astr1]

Spoiled Much? (P1)

જ⁀➴ Desc: || Pranking them but telling them you let another man pay for you. ||

P2 (COMING SOON)

ᯓ★ Featuring: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Fernando Alonso.

ᯓ★ 1x Genre: Humor

ᯓ★ Warning: None

ᯓ★ Requested? Yes

Author Note: We are back to headcanons! and doing requests given to me. I've been working on the masterlist that will soon replace the original pinned post. It'll have links to each part of these headcanosn so I hope you all enjoy.

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Max Verstappen

It all started with a few innocent scrolls on TikTok—girls pranking their boyfriends left and right—and you figured, why not? Max had just handed you his card to go grab a few things from the store, trusting you like he always did. That’s when the perfect plan popped into your mind.

"Call me if you need me," he said casually, completely unaware. You hummed in response, leaned over to kiss his cheek, and slipped out of the car with a little too much pep in your step.

Max leaned back in the driver’s seat, letting the car sit idle in the parking spot. At first, he thought nothing of your delay. He assumed you were just stuck in a long line. Meanwhile, inside, you were hunched over a cart, hiding your giggles behind your hand as you rehearsed the prank in your head.

Eventually, you managed to compose yourself, strolled out with your bags in hand, and tossed them into the back seat before slipping into your place beside him. You buckled up, eyes wide with innocent mischief.

"The man I ran into was really nice—he paid for everything," you said smoothly.

Max turned toward you, brow already furrowing. "The man?" he echoed, confused. "What are you talking about, lieverd?"

You nodded, playing it cool. "Yeah, he said I was pretty and that I shouldn’t have to pay on my own, so...he paid for everything."

Max leaned toward you, staring like he was trying to read your soul. "You weren’t paying on your own? That was literally my card."

"Yeah," you shrugged, holding it out to him. "But he insisted."

He took the card from your hand, jaw tightening slightly. "How old was this guy?"

You pretended to think, dragging out the moment. "Hmm… around your age, I guess?"

Max scoffed. "And he just—what—started complimenting you and offered to pay? Just like that?"

You fought the urge to burst into laughter. "He wasn’t hitting on me," you said, smiling just a little too much.

"He called you pretty," Max shot back, frowning. "And don’t get me wrong—you are—but still. He clearly meant what he said. That’s not casual."

You just nodded solemnly, letting the tension hang in the air a second longer before he abruptly unbuckled. "Alright, I’m going back inside to find this guy."

You grabbed his arm, laughter spilling out now. "Max, wait—"

"No, seriously," he huffed. "He thinks you’re single or something. Like he has a shot. I can afford to fly you to Monaco, let you live in my house, be spoiled every day of your life—what can he offer you?"

You were full-on laughing now, tears threatening to sting your eyes. "Baby, I was pranking you. There was no guy. I used your card like you said."

Max froze, blinking at you. Slowly, his stern expression melted into something softer, almost amused.

"You’re evil," he muttered, shaking his head. Then he let out a quiet laugh of his own. "Don’t joke like that, lieverd. You know I don’t care if people think you’re pretty—but if someone’s actually hitting on you? No. Absolutely not."

You leaned over, kissing his cheek. "Look at you, all protective and jealous."

"You nearly scared me to death, lieverd,"

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Charles Leclerc

Charles was home, lounging on the couch with Leo curled up beside him, the little dog resting his chin on Charles' leg like the most loyal companion. The TV played softly in the background, a comforting buzz. Before you left, Charles had handed you his card with a smile, telling you to get whatever you were craving for dinner tonight. But instead of heading straight home after shopping, you were too busy plotting your latest prank—one inspired by a few too many TikToks.

"I'm home!" you called out as you stepped inside. At once, Leo perked up, leaping from the couch and padding over to greet you with his tail wagging wildly.

Charles looked over his shoulder. "I was starting to worry," he said, standing up. "You took longer than usual."

You smiled innocently, setting your keys down and slipping off your shoes. After leaning in to kiss his cheek, you dropped the first line. "Sorry, this guy paid for everything and we just got caught up in conversation."

Charles froze, staring at you like you'd just said the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “Je t’ai donné ma carte ?” he asked, blinking slowly.

You hummed. "I know, but he was really sweet. Said I shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about paying. He covered it."

Charles just stared for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “That’s unbelievable. People are going to assume you're dating him.”

You fought back a grin, holding it in with all your strength. "No one’s going to think that but you, Charles."

“Sure, sure,” he muttered, eyes narrowing as he turned on his heel and headed toward the kitchen. You followed him, bags in hand.

"Tu fais la moue ?" you teased once inside, catching a glimpse of his unmistakably pouty expression.

Charles didn’t even try to hide it. He just stared at you, arms crossed like a sulking prince. “I treat you well. We live in Monaco. We have Leo,” he gestured around, like the dog was part of his romantic résumé. “I drive in F1—and you're letting some random guy hit on you, baby?”

You couldn’t help it anymore. You broke, laughing as you set the bags on the counter. “I was just messing with you, Charles. There was no guy. I used your card—like I was supposed to.”

He let out a long sigh, his head dropping back slightly. “Don’t scare me like that, woman. I thought some random was actually going to take you away from me.”

You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m with you, Charles. Why would some random have me?”

He gave a tiny shrug, still sulking. “You never know.”

You patted his back playfully. “I got you good,” you said through a soft laugh. Leo barked at your feet as if to agree, his tail wagging like he, too, was in on the joke.

Charles looked down at the dog, then at you, his pout slowly morphing into a smirk

“Yeah, well—just wait, Y/N. One day, I’ll get you back.”

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Lewis Hamilton

You and Lewis had been shopping together most of the day, casually wandering the aisles like the soft domestic duo you were. At some point, Lewis veered off toward the pet section to get Roscoe a few new treats and maybe a fresh toy or two, promising to meet you up front when he was done. You nodded sweetly and went your own way—though behind that innocent look, you were plotting. And not just any plan: a prank. A classic, lighthearted trap for your sweet, loving, “just tell me what you need and I’ll buy it” boyfriend.

After grabbing everything you came for, you paid for your cart using your own money, then waited with the most innocent look you could muster. Lewis eventually showed up, a plush dog bed under one arm and a pack of Roscoe’s favorite snacks in the other.

"You already paid for your stuff?" he asked, dropping the items onto the counter.

You nodded, slipping into character. "No actually… this really nice guy offered to pay. Said I looked beautiful today, and he didn’t want me lifting a finger."

Lewis blinked. “He what?”

"He paid for me," you repeated with a shrug, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. "Said it was his pleasure. Real gentleman type."

Lewis squinted at you like you just told him someone insulted Roscoe. "Baby… that man was flirting with you."

You shook your head, playing dumb. “No, he was just being nice.”

“Right. ‘Just being nice,’” Lewis echoed, making air quotes with a look of complete disbelief. “Because men randomly pay for groceries out of the kindness of their hearts and not at all to shoot their shot with a gorgeous woman.”

You kept your poker face as he grabbed the shopping bags and kept going. “I don’t see myself out here buying random women’s almond milk and cucumbers just to be nice. That’s a move.”

You tried to hide your smirk. “You sound a little… jealous.”

Lewis narrowed his eyes. “I’m not jealous. I’m logical. Man sees a beautiful woman, she’s alone, he tries his luck with his wallet. Basic flirting algorithm.”

“I mean, it worked. He was really sweet.”

That did it.

Lewis ran a hand down his face and let out a long sigh. “Look, it’s great someone thinks you’re hot enough to swipe a card for—but you know I’m right here. You never have to let some man pay for you when your boyfriend drives for a living. Just sayin’.”

You watched him ramble with a barely contained laugh as he kept going.

“I mean, come on, I spoil you for a reason. And now some stranger thinks he can step in with a grocery run? That’s his whole move?”

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You burst into laughter, your body shaking as you leaned into the cart. “Lewis. Babe. It was a prank. I paid for everything. No man, no flirting, no almond milk Casanova.”

He blinked, pausing mid-rant. “Wait… you’re serious?”

“I am. Gotcha.”

He took a breath like someone who’d just been pulled from open water. “I’m forty, woman. You can’t play with my blood pressure like that.”

You grinned. “Alright, old man.”

Lewis straightened up immediately. “I am not an old man.”

“You didn’t even catch on to the prank, grandpa.”

He narrowed his eyes, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Forty doesn’t make me old. It makes me wise. And this wise man now knows he’s being pranked in public.”

You patted his back “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go easy on you next time.”

Lewis gave a low chuckle, wagging a finger at you.

“No, no. You started something. A prank war is officially declared. So… just be prepared.”

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Lando Norris

When it came to you and Lando, pranks weren’t just an occasional thing—they were a lifestyle. The relationship came with love, laughter, and a mild risk of heart attacks. Like the time he woke you up at 3AM with a horror mask and you nearly karate-kicked him into next week. Or when you served him a fish smoothie and he banned you from the blender for a month. Your TikTok followers? Obsessed. They lived for every prank war update, every meltdown, every squeal of revenge.

So when you got tagged in a new viral prank trend, it was practically a public request to strike again. You didn’t hesitate. The phone was propped up, camera rolling discreetly, and you were all set. Lando, of course, had no clue what was coming.

You heard the door open and quickly pretended to be busy with prep in the kitchen. He walked in, hoodie slightly damp from the gym, cheeks flushed from the workout. “Smells good,” he said, setting down the grocery bag before leaning in for a soft kiss. “Took me forever to find that stupid oat cream you like.”

You smiled sweetly. “Oh, you didn’t have to. I ended up sending that list to Joshua earlier, and he already grabbed everything for me. Paid for it too. Said, and I quote, ‘anything for the pretty lady.’ Sweet, huh?”

Lando froze, hand still half-in the bag. “Joshua?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, biting your inner cheek.

He blinked. “As in your friend Joshua? The one who wears too much cologne and tried to teach me how to salsa at that dinner party?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah, he insisted.”

Lando scoffed, standing up straighter. “I literally sweat through my hoodie at the gym, fought for a parking spot, went to four aisles for oat cream—and you let another man, one who smells like a Hugo Boss sample sale, buy your groceries?”

You struggled to keep a straight face. “He was being nice.”

“Oh, nice? Nice?! That’s the international signal for flirting. What’s next, is he gonna tuck you into bed and read you poetry? Babe, if I see him handing you a spoon while you're cooking, I might lose it.”

“Are you jealous?”

“I’m insulted. I’m offended. I’m—” He placed a hand over his chest. “—deeply betrayed. I mean, I pay rent! I drive race cars for a living! I went out to get snacks for your cravings at 4AM one time! And now I’m just… footnote boyfriend?”

You snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”

He gasped. “Go ask Joshua to massage your feet tonight then. My spa services are officially retired. Hope he has peppermint oil.”

At that point, you burst into laughter, pointing toward the camera recording from the corner. Lando followed your gaze, groaned, and dragged a hand down his face. “You little gremlin,” he muttered. “Of course it’s a prank. Of course.”

“Aww, you love me.”

“I do. Too much. Which is why you’re lucky you’re cute, because anyone else trying this would be blocked and reported.”

You leaned up, kissing his jaw gently. “You’re my favorite victim.”

He smirked. “And you’re my favorite menace. But just know—this war? It’s not over. I know you're scared of some bugs and some...other things. I’ve got Oscar on speed dial.”

Your eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I will. I already know where you hide your slippers.”

“LANDO NORRIS!” you shrieked as he backed into the hallway, giggling like the absolute child he was.

“Love you!” he called over his shoulder.

“Calling Oscar now! Let’s ruin her life!”

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Carlos Sainz

Carlos and you had been on the road for way too long, the kind of drive where you’ve already debated three podcast topics, played the same five songs on repeat, and shared half a bag of chips in silence. You were coming back from a much-needed trip—two full weeks away from the chaos of daily life. But now, you were finally heading home. And honestly? You were ready.

Still, you needed one last laugh before real life kicked back in. So, naturally, you plotted a prank.

You’d been riding like a queen in the passenger seat the whole time—pillow tucked under your head, cozy in the Christmas blanket Carlos had gotten you last year, doing everything but offering to drive. So when Carlos offered to go into the store to grab some snacks, you stopped him with a sweet smile and a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go,” you insisted, taking his card from his hand.

He smirked. “Okay, but bring chips. Whatever you pick, I’ll eat it, mi amor.”

Inside, you grabbed everything you both liked—chips, drinks, something sweet. But instead of swiping his card, you paid with yours. And as you made your way back to the car, the plan was already in motion.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you handed him his card back with a calm smile. “You know,” you said casually, “the cashier was really nice. Paid for everything himself. Said he’d just take it out of his paycheck. Also told me my shirt looked cute.”

Carlos stared at you. “Wait—my shirt? That’s literally mine, you’re wearing my clothes.”

“Yeah, but he liked it,” you said with a shrug. “Said it brought out my eyes.”

Carlos blinked at you like he’d just short-circuited. “Oh my god.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide your laugh.

“Mi amor, what do you mean some random cashier paid for your snacks and flirted with you while you were wearing my clothes? Do I look like I’m sharing?”

You tried to keep a straight face as he gestured wildly at the snack bag like it had betrayed him. “I don’t even want these anymore. I can’t eat the chips. They’ve been... compromised.”

“Carlos—”

“No, seriously. You have a ring on your finger! Granted, it’s a promise ring, but still, the promise is loud and clear! I was gone for five minutes and I already lost you to a gas station Romeo?”

That was it. You burst out laughing, your head thrown back as tears formed in your eyes.

He narrowed his gaze, suspicious. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me...”

Still giggling, you nodded. “It’s a prank. I paid with my card.”

He groaned and started the engine again, shaking his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack, mi vida.”

You wiped your eyes, still giggling. “I have to tell Charles about this. He’s going to love it.”

Carlos turned, deadpan. “Do not tell Charles. I swear, if that man starts calling me Gas Station Cuckold or something—”

“You’re being dramatic!”

“I’m being real!” he exclaimed. “That was emotional damage.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You love me.”

He sighed. “Way too much. And that’s exactly the problem.”

You laughed again as he muttered under his breath, pulling back onto the road. “Just know...this isn’t over. I’ve got something planned. Something evil.”

“Oh yeah?” you smirked.

He grinned. “Just wait till you wake up to find glitter in your shampoo.”

“CARLOS!”

“Love you!”

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Fernando Alonso

You and Fernando had only recently tied the knot — rings still shining, wedding playlists still stuck in your heads. The honeymoon? Cut short by his ever-demanding racing schedule. But to make up for it (and to keep his guilt in check), Fernando had surprised you with a follow-up getaway, your choice of destination. Romantic, thoughtful… and, as you decided, the perfect setting to prank your new husband.

The internet had become obsessed with your marriage — overnight, you'd gone from “regular girl with decent taste in sunglasses” to “Fernando Alonso’s wife who posts adorable reels.” So when fans started tagging you in prank challenges, you figured: why not give the people what they want?

Camera hidden. Kitchen smelling like garlic and glory. Tomatoes being sliced with intention. You were ready.

Fernando walked into the vacation home and immediately lit up. “Huele bien,” he smiled, shrugging off his jacket.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sliding the tomatoes into the pot. “Took me a minute to get it all, though. I accidentally brought the wrong card with me to the store.”

He frowned immediately, concerned. “You should’ve called me, mi amor. I would’ve paid—”

“No need. A very sweet guy at the store paid for me. Said he didn’t want a pretty girl like me to struggle.”

The air stilled. Fernando blinked. Once. Twice.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said slowly.

You kept stirring the pot, tone completely casual. “Yeah, he just insisted. Said it was no trouble. Even complimented my top. Super nice guy.”

Fernando was now planted in place like he’d just been hit with a yellow flag mid-race.

“So... some stranger,” he started, arms crossing, “paid for your groceries. Complimented you. And you just… thanked him and left?”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t say, ‘Oh, I’m married to Fernando Alonso, two-time world champion, racing legend, heartthrob since 2001’?”

You blinked innocently. “Didn’t think it was necessary.”

Fernando threw his hands up. “Necessary?! That ring I gave you is the size of a small island. It has its own timezone. You could signal planes with it.”

You bit back a grin as he kept spiraling. “And this guy? Just decided to be your white knight? At the produce section?! He sees you picking tomatoes and thinks, ‘Yes, this damsel needs saving’?”

You nodded, trying so hard not to laugh. “Pretty much.”

He started pacing. “No. No, no, no. See, I make you feel better when you’re down. I buy you things. I compliment you. I signed up for that role! This guy? He’s just freelancing emotional support. I should find him.”

You turned, finally pointing toward the fruit bowl hiding your phone. “Or... you could relax. Because you’ve been pranked.”

Fernando froze. “You’re joking.”

You just smiled.

He leaned in, spotting the camera, then groaned dramatically. “Oh my god. I gave a full speech. I even included my racing credentials.”

“And it was a very passionate monologue,” you teased.

He stared at you, narrowing his eyes. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe. But I’m your evil.”

He shook his head, muttering something in Spanish before pausing. “Also… be honest with me. Was I really hot in the early 2000s?”

Your head snapped up. “Fernando. You were unfairly hot in the 2000s. Like, ‘could’ve ruined my life if we’d met back then’ hot. The hair? The fire? The attitude? I would've fallen hard.”

He raised a brow, trying not to look too pleased. “Gracias, mi vida. Very sweet of you.”

Then he pointed at you, smug returning full force. “But don’t think flattery will save you. You will be pranked back. And when it happens? You’ll regret ever stirring that tomato sauce.”

You giggled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re dramatic.”

He smirked, grabbing a spoon and tasting the pasta. “I was adorable in the 2000s too.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to post this entire thing.”

“I know,” he sighed.

“Just tag me in it — and put ‘Oscar-worthy performance’ in the caption.”

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[lightfin]

After a hard long day, even as the Trollhunter, sometime’s you need that little bit of escapism to feel that touch brighter.

Fun fact! just as Gun Robot is Toby’s favourite film, Jim’s is his worlds Httyd. Evidence from the picture of toothless on the home page of his laptop at the end of episode one!

So I head-cannon he listens to the music when he has had a particularly harsh day, and needs to take his mind elsewhere.

This is cannon in my mind.

And I love it!

[missninapea]

Awww, I love this headcanon so much!😍😍😆🐍

grumpy crowley wants his snek tattoo back <3

[hatethysinner]

Papa remmick oh lord my heart…more hcs with an older daughter maybe??? Like tween-teen age

ᴘᴀᴘᴀ!ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ ᴘᴛ. 2

ᴀ/ɴ: PART 2 OF MY 3-PART PAPA!REMMICK SERIES WOOHOO (part 1 here)! I love writing headcanons so please don't stop requesting them y'all, whether they're more of this or something else. I don't have many more ideas in the tank but I'm gonna work my ass off on that third part!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Just more of the most sickly sweet papa!remmick headcanons, tween edition! Minor exploration of hybrid physiology too, but nothing crazy.

she, just like everybody else, can not get a lie past this man. ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ can literally hear heartbeats, so he'll simply listen to her make up a whole story to explain something and once she's done he'll simply say:

“ya wanna try it again with the truth this time?”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ was patient zero of the sassy man apocalypse. don't let her try to backtalk him cause he will shut it down with EASE.

speaking of, if she ever says “you just don’t get it, papa,” ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ will turn around and unload a millennium's worth of “getting it”. after the first few times of an hour long lecture, she just stopped saying it. yapper ass 😭.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ still does her hair every sunday morning. she groans about it now, tells him it takes too long and all that jazz. but she never once asks him to stop, and he still ends it with three kisses and compliments galore.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ takes every single one of her tweenhood rants very seriously. plot holes in her favorite book? he's nodding along. complaints about homework? arms folded and agreeing with every critique. she's wrong more than half the time, but he just loves hearing her talk.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ is THAT parent who checks to see if she's sleeping multiple times a night. he's literally the warioware mom but if the game was entirely rigged and not winnable.

“mmhmm. i see them eyes movin’. hand me the book, baby.” “i was just-” “you was just stallin’. now gimme. ain’t no story better than sleep.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ still sings to her, and now she sings back. she's way better, but he'll never admit it. they've been getting really into this one irish jig recently...

when she gets a compliment, she always turns to ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ first.

“they said my dress was pretty!” “i told you it was. papa always knows.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ keeps a running mental list of the little things she likes. favorites snacks, books, clothes, colors. updates it daily, and he will turn the house upside down if her preferences change.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ wakes her up soft, always. even when they're in a rush, he will never wake her up with anything but a kiss to the forehead and a gravely “mornin’, baby girl.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ starts planning for her birthday at least six months in advance. theme ideas, guest lists, menus, gifts, he's got everything in a secret folder. and when the big day comes, the whole house transforms overnight. do not come out of your room while he's preparing though because his ass will be looking like a madman.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ spoils his daughter constantly. new shoes? hers. favorite dessert? made fresh. saw something cute in the window a week ago? already wrapped and waiting. but she never expects it and always, ALWAYS, thanks him and gives him the biggest hug. he gets real close to crying every single time. HE'S A SENTIMENTAL MAN OKAY?!

“thank you, papa,” “you’re welcome, baby. i’d give you the world if i could.”

speaking of sentimental, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ's the type of dad who says “my girl’s growing up” EVERY OTHER DAY. she could drink a glass of water and he'll start with his misty-eyed reminiscing about how he used to hold her in his arms. it always makes her giggle.

she sleeps exactly like him. dead silent, barely breathing, sprawled in weird poses. ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ thinks its adorable.

when her fangs started to come in, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ lost his mind. walked around the house beaming and asked her to smile a million times that day. he still gets a kick out of it.

“that’s my girl, look at them teeth! ain’t she perfect?”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ's explanation for why his reflection is always funny in the mirror has stayed the same for years.

“papa’s just shy.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ's teaching her gaelic. he just is. in his eyes, she's going to revive the “dead” language.

they have a million inside jokes between each other. they'll say the most random shit and have each other in stitches, and nobody else will ever get it.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ does not play about school picture day. her clothes are ironed out the night before, her hair is always done, and he walks her to school personally while plucking out every speck of dust that dares to threaten his baby's look. and yes, he has every school picture framed in chronological order.

the one and only time she called herself ugly, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ sat her down, looked her dead in the eyes and said:

“don’t you ever lie like that again, baby. you’re the sun. you hear me? the sun.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ makes her lunch every single day, and best believe there's a handwritten note in perfect cursive tucked inside, with a doodle on the back. each one is unique and incredibly heartfelt. sometimes, she’ll write a note back.

and every night, guess where ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ is? kneeling at her bed and asking the same question he's asked since she was still in his arms.

“ya know who loves ya?” “you do, papa.” “damn right i do.” same as always. hand over heart. eyes full of stars.

[lucychanart]

cassian's dream, bye🚶🏻‍♀️‍➡️💜

full on patreon :3

[colossrat]

reporter: do you support immigration?

marvel, caught off guard: ducks? or birds in general?

reporter: no. i mean illegal immigrants

marvel, now thinking about ducks carrying drugs: hmmm define illegal immigrants

reporter: An "illegal immigrant" is a person who enters or resides in a country without the necessary documents or who violates the immigration laws of that country

marvel: oh... you should ask superman that one, it would be really funny

[p1girlfriend]

koala mode. - lewis hamilton x younger!reader.🐨

content: reader is younger than Lewis (both legal adults), fluff, clingy behavior, domestic sweetness, playful teasing, age gap mentioned softly, no angst just love.

Lewis calls it your “koala mode.” You call it “just being in love.”

It starts with the mornings. Or more like: the mornings where you absolutely refuse to get out of bed unless you’re stuck to him like Velcro.

“Babe,” he laughs softly, voice still scratchy from sleep, trying to sit up while your arm clutches tighter around his waist. “You’re strangling me.” “I’m cuddling you,” you murmur, eyes closed and nose buried in the crook of his neck. “There’s a difference.”

He sighs, tilting his head down to kiss your hair. “Koala mode?” You nod against his shoulder. “Koala mode.”

The thing is, you’re both like this. He's no better. He literally FaceTimes you from every airport gate. He sends you voice notes that are just “I miss you already” twenty-five minutes after you’ve left the house.

And when he’s home, he's always touching you — hand on your thigh during lunch, fingers grazing your back while you do your skincare, chin resting on your shoulder while you pick what series to watch next. He says he’s just chilling. You know better.

“You’re such a koala,” you whisper one night as you lie half on top of him on the couch, your cheek against his chest, his hand tracing lazy circles on your spine.

Lewis chuckles, lips brushing your forehead. “You started this koala thing,” he says. “I’m just adapting to your wildlife ecosystem.”

You lift your head. “So I’m the tree and you’re the clingy one now?” “I’m the tree? Girl, you literally hung onto me while I tried to brush my teeth this morning.” You grin. “Clingy together. That’s the deal.” “That’s the dream,” he corrects. “A little clingy koala paradise.”

It becomes a running joke between the two of you. You buy matching koala slippers. He gets you a mug that says ‘This Koala Needs Cuddles’. You get him a hoodie with a cartoon koala holding a coffee that says ‘Barely Awake, Hug Me’.

And anytime someone (a teammate, your friend, the internet) says anything about the age gap, Lewis just wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulls you into him, and goes, “Let me be clingy in peace. She’s my comfort koala.”

And when he’s on the podium, and the cameras catch him with a silly grin as he points toward you in the crowd, he mouths: “That one. That’s my koala.”

©p1girlfriend

[yourlittlegoblin]

How they show love without saying it

SOrry that I was gone for so long gang

Pls forgive me

Here is how I think tall Genshin men would show their love

Pls enjoy

Its long af

Also minors DNI as there are NSFW themes mentioned and explored here so for your safety and developmental health DO NOT READ THIS!!!

✦ Diluc

Acts of service are his primary love language. He’ll quietly fix things around your home. Your broken lamp, a creaky door, even your cracked tea mug—and never say a word about it.

He memorizes your daily routine, making sure your path is always well-lit at night, and there's always hot tea waiting if you're late.

When you come home whining and crying about how stressful everything’s been, how your boss was a fucking nightmare and nothing's going right, Diluc just listens at first—stoic, quiet, pulling you close like always. But comfort only goes so far. He knows exactly what you need, and it’s not tea. It’s him dragging you to the bed, spreading your legs, and eating you out like it’s the only thing that’ll fix you. He holds your thighs down, tongue deep and slow, making you sob from the overstimulation until your eyes are glassy and your voice breaks—because if you’re going to cry, it sure as hell won’t be from work.

You never ask him to walk you home, but he shows up anyway—silent beside you, but his presence says, I worry, I care, I’m here.

When he hears you’re sick, you just wake up to a stockpile of medicine, soup, and blankets, all with no note. Just a faint scent of his cologne left behind.

He’s bad with words, but his gaze lingers. Longer than it should. And when you look back, he looks away.

✦ Kaeya

He flirts with everyone, but the way he remembers the small things about you—your favorite fruit, that one story you told in passing—is how he truly shows affection.

Always has a spare coat or handkerchief ready. Not that he’ll admit he brought it for you. “You just looked cold, sunshine.”

He flirts with the whole damn tavern, but the second you’re alone in the alley out back, he proves just how little anyone else matters. You're barely able to catch your breath from the walk there before he’s got you pressed up against the cold wall, dress rucked up, panties shoved aside, and his cock buried deep. He holds your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your waist, his breath hot against your ear as he fucks you hard and fast from behind. The bar's music still thumps through the walls, but all you can hear is the wet slap of skin and your own breathy moans as he drives into you like he’s been waiting all night. You wanted his attention? Now you’ve got it—and he’s going to make sure you don’t forget who you belong to.

If someone dares upset you, they mysteriously have a very bad day soon after. He never confirms it, but his smug smile says enough.

He buys two drinks from Good Hunter—your order and his—without asking. Just slides it toward you while pretending it’s no big deal.

He walks on the outer side of the road, always between you and any danger. Never says why. Never will.

✦ Zhongli

He speaks poetically, but the love is in his constancy. He shows it in the way he listens to you—truly listens. No interruptions, no drifting attention.

Keeps you out of the rain with his umbrella—so subtly that you don’t notice until you’re dry and he’s half-soaked.

He’s slow, deliberate, reverent—your body worshipped like something ancient and sacred beneath him. In the soft golden light of your shared bedroom, he moves with purpose, hips rolling deep into you, slow enough to make you whine for more. He kisses every inch of your skin like a vow, hands firm on your thighs as he splits you open with such aching care. And when he finally presses a kiss just below your navel—right over your womb—you feel it in your soul. It’s not just sex with him, it’s devotion. He’s filling you with more than just his cock—he’s pouring every ounce of love, want, and need into you until you’re trembling beneath him, completely and utterly his.

He always remembers what flowers you like and places them in vases around your shared space without saying a word.

Brings you warm tea just when you're thinking about it. Every single time.

If you're anxious, he’ll place a grounding hand on your back or shoulder—no words, just silent strength.

✦ Childe (Tartaglia)

He’s loud and dramatic, but his true love comes through in his protectiveness. He’ll keep a casual arm around your waist when walking in public—not just for affection, but to keep you close.

Teaches you how to fight—not to make you a soldier, but because he wants you to be safe when he’s not there.

He’s loud, cocky, and loves to show off—but when he’s got you on your back with your legs over his shoulders, he gets real serious, real fast. After a long day of spoiling you and hauling your bags like the overprotective bastard he is, he ends it by fucking you like it’s a war he's winning. He slams into you with wild precision, rough enough to make the headboard crack against the wall, grinning every time you moan his name like a prayer. When you’re shaking and crying out, nails digging into his back, he leans down, sweat dripping off his jaw, and growls about how tight you are—how no one else will ever get you like this. Not when you're this full, this ruined, this his.

Whenever he travels, he brings back something small for you. A trinket, a snack, a funny story. “Saw this and thought of you. Weird, huh?”

You never carry heavy bags when he’s around. He snatches them from your hand with a scoff, “What kind of guy would I be if I let you do all the work?”

Late at night, when he thinks you’re asleep, he strokes your hair and murmurs how much you mean to him.

✦ Baizhu

He checks on your health constantly, but in soft, non-intrusive ways—subtle glances at your hands for signs of stress, casual questions about your sleep patterns.

Slips herbal sweets or calming tea into your bag without telling you. Just in case.

He handles you like a fragile prescription—careful, methodical, but with a knowing touch that always lands exactly where you need it. You come to him aching, worn down, and he insists on giving you a "full-body remedy." He spreads your legs on his clinic table like he’s preparing for an exam, fingers slow and deep inside you, stroking places that make your back arch. He talks you through every pulse and tremble, voice low and clinical, even as you're gasping for more. And when his cock finally slides in, it’s a slow, thorough treatment—his hips grinding deep as he murmurs about how good you're taking it, how your body’s responding perfectly. It’s filthy and tender all at once—Baizhu doesn’t just fuck you, he treats you, and you leave that table ruined in all the right ways.

Always has a warm cloth ready if your hands are cold. Holds them gently like he’s diagnosing the soul.

If you mention a minor ache or issue, the next day there’s a custom remedy made “for a patient” that just happens to be perfect for you.

Doesn’t always say “I love you,” but he adjusts his schedule to make time for you—something he does for no one else.

✦ Ayato

A master of keeping feelings hidden, so his love shows in how he makes space for you in his world—in his schedule, in his home, in his heart.

Silently ensures your favorite dessert is served at every gathering he hosts. Even if you say you don’t want anything, it’s there.

He’s polished, composed, always one step ahead—but when the doors are locked and your knees are on the edge of his expensive desk, he fucks you like you’re the only thing that ever made him lose control. He doesn't rush—no, Ayato devours you with finesse, hips grinding in deep, slow circles that leave you trembling. Your cries echo off lacquered walls, but he doesn’t care. He slides a hand into your hair, tilts your head back, and keeps going until your legs shake and you’re clenching around him like you’ll break. He’ll go right back to attending meetings with his usual calm after, but the bruises on your hips and the mess on his pristine shirt say otherwise—because you are his favorite secret to indulge in.

He’s always busy, yet if you text him late at night, he replies instantly—even if it’s just an emoji or a single-word response, it means you come first.

You’ll never see him panic, but when you’re upset, he’ll appear by your side with your favorite book, a cup of tea, and a quiet smile.

He doesn’t talk about you publicly, but his subordinates know: if it involves you, it matters.

✦ Thoma

The king of quiet caretaking. You’ll never have to do chores around him—he’ll cook, clean, and hum while doing it all, smiling softly when you offer to help.

If you’re having a bad day, he doesn’t ask what’s wrong—he just makes your comfort food, lights a candle, and sits beside you with patience.

He’s the kindest man you know, always cleaning up after you, doting like it’s second nature—but when he gets you alone, he’s dangerously sweet. He has you bent over the kitchen counter he just wiped clean, fucking you from behind with a low groan in your ear, your apron still half-on and your moans muffled by your own forearm. He grips your waist like he’s holding you together, thrusts steady and deep, muttering soft praises about how good you feel, how perfect you are for him. And when you start to fall apart, he wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you upright like the good boy he is—always taking care of you, even when he’s fucking the life out of you.

Keeps a list of all your likes and dislikes in his head and plans around them. The weather’s cold? He already packed your scarf.

Always brings back something small from his errands—flowers, snacks, a shiny rock he thought you’d find cool.

He says “take care” like he means “please don’t get hurt, I’m begging you.”

✦ Itto

He’s loud, chaotic, and messy—but his love is in his loyalty and pride in you. You’re his favorite topic. If someone asks about his gang, he ends up bragging about you instead.

Will fight anyone who so much as jokes about you in a weird tone. Immediately. Doesn’t care who it is.

He’s all bark and biceps until he’s got you pinned under him, rutting into you like he’s got something to prove—and he does. You’re his, and he’s gonna fuck you like he wants the whole neighborhood to know. The bed creaks, the headboard bangs, and you’re gripping the sheets like your life depends on it while he keeps pounding into you with wild, relentless thrusts. He moans loud, praises you louder, and when you start crying from the stretch and the pressure, he just grins, wipes your tears with his thumb, and keeps going. “Look at you, takin’ all of me like a champ,” he’d say if he wasn’t too busy making you scream his name into the damn mattress.

Shares his food with you, even if it’s his last dango milk. That’s a big deal.

Tries (and fails) to do things like write you poems or make handmade gifts. They’re usually bad—but endearing in the way he gets so excited to show you.

He’s the kind of guy to carry you on his shoulders just because. To him, it’s not about showing off—it’s about holding you up where you belong: “at the top of the world, babe.”

✦ Alhaitham

He’s not showy about his feelings, but his love is in his consistency and attention to detail. He’ll remember exactly how you like your tea, your preferred seat in a library, the book you were curious about three weeks ago.

If you're walking beside him and the sun is too harsh, he’ll casually tilt his book to shade you instead.

He’s all quiet control and precision until you catch him alone in his study, the world muted except for the slick slide of his fingers undressing you. No grand gestures—just slow, calculated exploration of every inch, tongue tracing lines like he’s memorizing your body’s secrets. When he finally sinks into you, it’s measured but deep, hips pushing forward with deliberate pressure that makes you gasp, then shiver. His dark eyes lock with yours, calm and intense, as he leans close to press a whispered curse against your collarbone, dragging you deeper into the kind of silence where only breath and moans exist. You’re not just his partner—you’re his obsession, and he’ll make sure you feel every damn second of it.

Doesn't say "I miss you." Instead, he leaves sticky notes with neutral reminders on them that end with: You’d better come back safe.

He listens—even when it looks like he’s ignoring you. Later, he’ll reference something small you said during a rant. "You were worried about this, weren’t you? I took care of it."

He offers his headphones to you. That’s his version of an intimate gesture. Quiet, shared peace. Just vibes and closeness.

✦ Kaveh

He shows love by romanticizing every little thing you do. You pick a flower? He compares you to a Renaissance painting. You trip? He calls it a "graceful stumble of a poetic soul."

He decorates your shared space with warm lights and cozy throw pillows, always claiming it’s for ambience, but it’s really for you.

He’s all softness and warmth until the moment he pins you gently to the couch with a sigh, lips trailing hot kisses down your neck as his hands roam possessively over your curves. His voice drops low, full of poetry and promise, murmuring filthy words that make your skin crawl and your pulse race. When he slides inside you, it’s slow and tender but with an edge of desperation, fingers threading through your hair as he presses you closer, whispering about how you’re his perfect masterpiece—flaws and all. You’re tangled in his arms, drowning in the sweet ache of his touch, every kiss a brushstroke painting you as his ultimate muse, craving and claiming you in every lingering thrust.

He always walks you home, no matter how tired or late it is. And he sings—just softly enough that you almost miss it.

Gives you handmade gifts, even if he’s broke. A framed drawing, a handcrafted pendant, a poem he accidentally left on your pillow.

If you’re sad, he tries to cheer you up by distracting you with a passionate monologue about something ridiculous. Works every time.

✦ Neuvillette

Reserved but deeply observant, he notices when your mood shifts by the slightest margin. He doesn’t press—you just suddenly find time clearing on his calendar so he can spend it with you.

Carries a handkerchief for you at all times. He’ll wordlessly pass it to you during emotional moments, his hand gently brushing yours.

He’s calm and reserved until he’s got you backed against a bookshelf in his private study, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your most sensitive places. His tongue follows the path of his fingers, teasing you with maddening precision—pressing just enough to make you whimper, then sliding deeper where you need it most. His touch is confident, almost clinical, but there’s heat in every stroke, every flick, building you up until your legs tremble and your breath hitches. When he finally parts you with his fingers and slips inside, it’s slow, intense, and unrelenting, as if marking you not just with pleasure but ownership, leaving no doubt that you’re his to cherish and unravel.

He walks at your pace, even if it means slowing down by half. Always on your left, always watching the crowd for trouble.

Will place your favorite snack on your desk during long days—officially “from the court’s hospitality,” but you know it was him.

When you're overwhelmed, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder and quietly reads to you from his favorite books. His voice alone feels like safety.

✦ Wriothesley

Tough exterior, heart of warm, guarded affection. His way of showing love? Protecting your peace like a guard dog with manners.

Keeps a second pair of gloves just for you in case your hands get cold. Doesn’t say anything—just offers them casually like it’s no big deal.

He’s all controlled strength until he presses you hard against a cold wall, hips snapping into yours with rough, rhythmic force, fingers sliding underneath your clothing to wrap around your pearl-tight heat. His grip tightens with every thrust, his breaths sharp against your neck as he fucks you like he’s got something to prove—something only you can unlock. He doesn’t say much—just curses under his breath, low and urgent, as his hand teases and toys at your most sensitive spots, making your body shudder and your moans spill over. Every hard slap of skin, every calloused finger pressing deep, says plainly: you’re his, and he’s taking what’s his without mercy or apology.

Gives you his coat when you’re cold. Always. No matter how freezing he ends up.

He watches you when you talk—not in a creepy way, but with a sort of awe, like he can’t believe you’re real.

If you're upset, he won’t make you talk about it. He’ll invite you to box with him or cook with him instead, letting you work it out your way. He’s not good at emotions—but he’s always there.

✦ Ororon

His love is in the little things: the way he always makes sure your weapons are clean and ready, even if you never asked.

When you’re tired, he insists on carrying your gear, grumbling under his breath but secretly loving the excuse to help.

Ororon’s quiet strength turns feral behind closed doors. When he pins you against a wall after a long day, his hands grip firm but possessive, sliding beneath your clothes with urgent intent. He doesn’t need to whisper sweet nothings—his actions speak loud enough as his mouth trails down your neck, teeth grazing skin, tongue flicking over bruises he plans to leave. His pace is relentless, a fierce storm of need and control, driving you wild until you’re gasping and trembling under him. No words—just raw, fierce devotion marked by every hard thrust and rough touch.

He’s the kind of guy who shows affection through playful teasing but softens when he thinks no one is looking — a quick brush of his fingers against your hand or a lingering gaze.

If you get hurt, he’s the first to patch you up, his touch careful and surprisingly gentle for someone so fierce.

He shares stories from his travels just to see you smile and hear your laugh.

✦ Ifa

Ifa is more outgoing and sociable than people expect, showing his love through easy conversation, teasing, and warmth mixed with his natural calmness.

He expresses care by listening actively and offering thoughtful advice, always ready to engage deeply with you about ideas or feelings.

Ifa’s playful charm turns deliciously wicked when he’s got you alone. Between teasing kisses and whispered jabs, his fingers find your most sensitive places with practiced ease, drawing moans that make him grin. He loves to push your limits, tracing lazy circles with his tongue where you least expect, making you squirm and beg for more. When he finally slides inside, it’s with a mix of gentle warmth and mischievous hunger, his hands never still, exploring, claiming. His low chuckles and soft curses fill the room as he takes you in waves, making sure pleasure and laughter are tangled together—his signature way of loving you hard.

Enjoys playful banter and sometimes uses humor to lighten tense moments, showing affection through shared laughter and connection.

He remembers little details about your preferences and surprises you with small, considerate gifts like plants or trinkets that reflect your interests.

His love is a balance of extroverted warmth and grounded steadiness—he makes space for you while keeping things lively and genuine.

(Guys I'm so sorry if Ifa and Ororon's parts are off character I haven't even gotten to the Fontaine archon quest and like I've seen them and like never fully interacted with them so like yeah I'm just going off of looks and edits I've seen on TikTok TwT)

✦ Capitano

His love is in his protective presence—always a little too close for comfort, but never crossing boundaries.

Brags about you loudly to his crew, making sure everyone knows you’re his priority.

He’s all sharp angles and rough edges when he corners you against the ship’s bulkhead, hands gripping your hips like he’s holding on for dear life—and maybe he is. His breath is hot against your ear as he mutters curses and promises you only feel when he’s grinding into you hard and fast, claiming every inch with the precision of a captain taking command. His fingers dig into your waist, nails teasing bruises as his tongue finds yours, rough and demanding. When he fucks you against the cold metal, it’s fierce, protective, and utterly relentless—like he’s marking you as his, no questions asked.

He fixes things for you—broken doors, leaky faucets, or a torn jacket—without being asked.

When he’s nervous about you, he fidgets or tries to distract himself with loud jokes, but his eyes always find you.

Offers his coat or armor to shield you from rain or danger, like a living shield.

✦ Dottore

His love is weird but real: he shows it through thoughtful (if bizarre) experiments designed to improve your life.

Surprises you with strange gadgets or potions that somehow end up making things easier—or at least more interesting.

His love shows in strange ways, but when he pulls you into his cluttered lab, the intensity shifts. Fingers slick with something cold and unfamiliar, he teases your skin, exploring with scientific precision that somehow feels impossibly intimate. His tongue flicks with curious hunger, tasting, testing, driving you wild with the slow build of his calculated touch. When he finally takes you, it’s experimental—alternating between delicate care and rough urgency—his whispered calculations drowned out by your gasps and moans. Even in chaos, his obsession with you is clear: you’re his greatest experiment, and he’s determined to perfect every sensation.

Listens intensely when you talk, occasionally taking notes, then later shows up with solutions or improvements.

Despite his eccentricity, he always remembers your favorite things and makes sure they’re nearby.

When you’re upset, he offers a quiet presence, tinkering beside you, proving that love can be shown in many unconventional ways.

✦ Pantalone

Love, to him, is control and provision. You’ll never go without—not when he exists. He ensures it.

Buys out entire boutiques just because you once admired a coat in the window. He won’t tell you—he’ll just gesture toward the wardrobe and say, “Take your pick.”

Behind closed doors, his need to control takes on a more primal edge. He pins you with that same quiet power, fingers trailing possessively over your skin as he claims every inch without words. His touch is both reverent and demanding, guiding you exactly how he wants—slow, deliberate, and with an iron will beneath the silk. When he whispers curses in your ear during the heat of the moment, they’re promises masked as threats, his tongue tracing patterns that leave you trembling. Control isn’t just a word for him—it’s how he shows he owns you, body and soul, in the most intimate of ways.

He never says “I care about you.” Instead, it’s: “I've already handled the problem. You won’t hear from them again.”

Holds your hand only in private—softly, reverently, like he’s touching the one thing he cannot own.

He gives you an untraceable bank account and says, “Just in case you ever need to disappear.” You know what he really means is “I want you safe. Always.”

✦ Dainsleif

He doesn’t speak of love—he speaks of duty and fate. But his gaze softens when it lands on you, as if you’re the one thing he’d defy destiny for.

You’ll never see him rest, but he’ll stay awake through the night just to keep watch while you sleep.

His duty-bound exterior melts away when it’s just the two of you. He’s dark and intense, hands rough but gentle as they explore the delicate places he guards fiercely. His lips brush your skin like a vow, every kiss weighted with silent promises and battles fought for you alone. When he takes you, it’s with a fierce urgency—like he’s defying fate itself with every thrust, every whispered curse. The shadows around you deepen, but under his touch, you feel utterly seen, protected, and claimed—like you’re the only light worth fighting for in his relentless night.

Fixes your cloak when it tears. Wraps your wounds even when you insist you’re fine. He never says anything—just works in silence, his hands careful, like you’re something fragile in a world that breaks everything.

Always walks behind you. Not because he distrusts you, but because he’s made to shield, not to shine.

You once asked if he’d ever known peace. He looked at you for a long time and said, “Only when I’m with you.”

[mollygrass]

Remmick x Reader Headcanons

So, I currently have two versions of Remmick that I’m obsessed with.

Left side is obviously evil Remmick and right side is loser Remmick

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺ ‧⁺ ‧

One: dark, evil Remmick who takes what he wants whenever and is possessive, obsessive and dangerous. He’s super cocky and secure in himself. He might also be a tad bit sassy. This Remmick doesn’t beg to be let in, instead it’s more of a convincing and manipulative tactic he uses, especially depending on the person he’s dealing with. Now if he has to plop down on his knees on your porch and beg, he will out of pure desperation. I’m talking the sun is beating his back in to a burning crisp and it’s life or death for him. However, he’ll make you suffer for every minute you made him do it once he’s let inside.

This Remmick wouldn’t give a fuck about your feelings. He would turn you into a vampire point blank period just because he can. And as vampires together he would take you everywhere he goes not in a romantic aspect but in a “I can’t let you out of my sight way.”

Also can’t forget about the hive mind aspect ability he has. He wouldn’t necessarily control you unless he felt like he had no choice. For example, you’re being disobedient to him, running away from him etc. When he finds you he’ll punish you in some freaky ass way or simply control you with his hive mind abilities. (Definitely gonna write a fanfic about Remmick’s hive mind power because I have yet to see it be implemented in a fanfic and it sounds fun to write).

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺ ‧⁺ ‧

Two: wet, pathetic, loser, rejected Remmick who is also obsessive, possessive but desperate and needy. This version of him in my head is less confident and more dorky and timid. Like I said before he’s not submissive, just needy and desperate, always begging to be let in. When you give in he lets loose, becoming feral. This version of him is WAY more nicer than the other one in my head. I feel like he’d also be actually romantic, but in a sick twisted way.

He’d say some corny ass shit like, “me and you together forever!” Hence him turning you into a vampire. He would also be a tad bit selfish because he would turn you into a vampire without your consent or permission because he’s used to rejection about the proposal in the first place.

Pathetic, loser Remmick is also a big pervert. Like you would wake up to this man between your legs, licking and slurping as if he’s dire in need of water. Did I mention that this Remmick likes stealing your underwear? Yeah, that’s something this guy would do then act confused and clueless about it. He’ll say, “your underwear is missing? Yeah, that’s strange, darlin.” Knowing damn well he has them in his back pocket.

Would this Remmick use his hivemind power? Probably not, but in the same breath maybe since he’s super desperate. Especially if you keep rejecting him ever after becoming a vampire.

[mirisss]

Enha reacting to their gf (accidentally) wearing another member's clothes

Enhypen x female reader

Summary: Enhypen live together, with separate rooms of course, however, sometimes when doing their laundry, clothes end up in the wrong member's closet, something their gf is about to experience firsthand today. So, how does Enhypen react when they come home to their gf wearing another member's clothes? 

Warnings: Some jealousy, some mean actions (more petty, I think), I think that’s it, 

Wordcount ≈ 3.2k

~~~ Heeseung ~~~

It’s late evening when the boys return to the dorm, laughing, bickering, arms weighed down with takeout bags and convenience store snacks. The door swings open and Heeseung is the first one to walk in, his voice casual as he announces, “We’re back!”

Then he sees you.

You’re curled up on the couch, scrolling on your phone, looking entirely at ease in what appears to be an oversized t-shirt. His shirt, at least that’s what he assumes for a split second. But then his eyes narrow slightly. He recognizes that hemline. That color. That faint logo near the collar.

That’s not his shirt. That’s Ni-ki’s. There’s a flicker of something behind his calm expression, barely a flash of irritation. But Heeseung doesn’t say anything right away. He walks over, bends down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs, brushing your hair behind your ear. You smile, unaware of the mini storm brewing behind his gentle gaze. Then, still leaning in close, he whispers, “Come to my room for a second. I wanna talk to you.”

Your brows furrow slightly, but you nod and follow him, unaware of the quiet chaos about to unfold. As soon as the door closes behind you, Heeseung turns on his heel and yanks the shirt off you in one smooth motion. You gasp, caught off guard, arms instinctively crossing over your chest.

“Heeseung!” you exclaim, stunned. “What are you doing?!” “That’s not my shirt,” he says flatly, already digging through his drawer. “That’s Ni-ki’s.” You blink. “I-I got it from your closet! I didn’t know it wasn’t yours!” “I know,” he mutters, finally pulling out one of his own oversized tees, familiar and worn, with the scent of his cologne still lingering in the cotton. He gently slips it over your head, careful now, his initial jealousy softening.

“There,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s better.” You’re still staring at him, flustered, as he turns back toward the bed, where Ni-ki’s shirt lies in a crumpled heap. And then, into the trash it goes.

“Heeseung!” you scold, jumping up. “That’s not yours to throw away!” He shrugs, not even looking guilty. “It was on my girl. I’m allowed.” You roll your eyes, grabbing the shirt from the trash bin. “You are so dramatic.”

A few minutes later, Heeseung returns to the living room, his arm casually slung around your waist now. But when he tosses the retrieved shirt into Ni-ki’s lap, the tension is still lingering in the air. “Here,” he says coolly. “You left this in my closet.” Ni-ki looks confused, glancing between Heeseung and the shirt. “…Oh. Thanks?”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything else. He just stares for half a second longer than necessary before walking off. Ni-ki blinks. “Did I miss something?” Sunghoon snorts. “Probably.”

~~~ Jay ~~~

The dorm is quiet for once. Some of the boys are out, a couple are napping, and Jay’s in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, carefully plating dinner for the two of you like it’s a five-star restaurant.

You walk in, barefoot, in what you think is one of his shirts, a loose, white cotton tee that smells a bit like fabric softener and something citrusy as well as a white mini-skirt. You love wearing his clothes, and he usually loves seeing you in them. Actually, he’s kind of obsessed with it.

Normally, he’d have that smug smirk. He’d wrap an arm around your waist, whisper something like “You look better in my clothes than I do”, and start calling you his princess until you’re red in the face. But today? Nothing.

He glances up briefly when you enter, gives you a small nod, then goes right back to stirring something in a pan. You blink. “Hey,” you say slowly, walking further into the kitchen. “You okay?” “Yeah,” he replies, not even turning around. That’s when it really hits you, he hasn’t said a word about the shirt. No flirting. No clinginess. No playful comment about how cute you look in it. Just silence.

Weird. You pad up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, cheek pressed to his back. “You like my outfit?” you ask, tone light and teasing. Jay pauses. “No.” You blink. Pull back just enough to look up at him. “No?” He finally turns to face you, arms crossed, a look on his face that’s somewhere between offended and resigned. His eyes flick to the shirt again.

“That’s not mine,” he says simply. “It’s Jake’s.” Your jaw drops. “Wait, what? No way. I got it from your drawer.” “We all did laundry together this week. I guess some stuff got mixed.” You burst out laughing. “So you have been acting weird because I’m wearing Jake’s shirt!”

“I haven’t been acting weird,” he says quickly. You raise a brow. He avoids your eyes. “Okay. Maybe a little.” You smile, stepping in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck now. “You’re seriously sulking over a t-shirt, Jay?” “No,” he mutters, slipping his hands around your waist, “I’m sulking because my girlfriend is walking around in Jake’s shirt and smiling like she’s in a commercial.”

You giggle and lean up to kiss his cheek. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” “I’m not jealous,” he lies. You kiss him again, this time properly, slow and sweet, until his shoulders finally relax and his mouth curves into a soft smile. “I’ll change,” you whisper, brushing your nose against his. “But only if you promise to stop acting like a stranger.” “I’ll only stop,” he whispers back, “if you wear mine for the rest of the week.” “Deal.”

Later, Jake walks into his bedroom to find his t-shirt folded neatly on his bed, smelling faintly of Jay’s cologne. He doesn’t ask. He just knows. 

~~~ Jake ~~~

Jake loves a lot of things: his members, his music, his dog, snacks, but nothing quite compares to how much he loves you. More specifically? You, in his clothes.

He’s made it a habit to beg, literally beg, you to wear his hoodies, his t-shirts, even his socks if he’s feeling dramatic. There’s something about seeing his girlfriend wrapped up in his scent, looking cozy and soft and completely his, that just melts him.

So when he gets home that night, tossing off his shoes and calling out a cheerful, “Baaabyyy, I’m home!” he’s fully expecting to see you flying into his arms. And you do. Almost. You peek your head out from the hallway, grinning, wearing a hoodie that’s a little oversized, sleeves hiding your hands.

But then his expression changes. His steps slow. His arms, half-raised for a hug, drop slightly. Because that? That’s not his hoodie. His smile falls into a full pout. His usual sunshine eyes dim into puppy dog sadness. You walk over, noticing instantly that something’s off. “Jake? What’s wrong?” He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at the hoodie like it personally betrayed him.

“Do you hate me?” You blink. “What?” His bottom lip actually trembles. “You must. You’re not wearing my clothes. That’s Sunghoon’s hoodie.” You glance down, shocked. “Wait, it is?! I thought this was yours!” He gasps softly, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. “You mean, you couldn’t tell? Mine has the little rip near the sleeve! Mine smells like vanilla and heaven and devotion!”

You try not to laugh. “Jake-” “No, no, it’s okay,” he sighs, already turning away. “You probably like Sunghoon’s better. I get it. He’s got good taste. His hoodie’s probably warmer or something-” You grab his wrist, spinning him back toward you. “Stop it, you big baby.”

He looks down at you, eyes still wide and mopey. You cup his face in your hands and lean up to give him a long, slow kiss, one that has him blinking in surprise, then melting into you like butter in a microwave. When you pull back, you smile. “Now, can you take me to your room so I can wear your hoodie instead?” His eyes light up immediately. “Really?” “Really really.”

Jake doesn’t waste a second. He grabs your hand and practically drags you to his room, fishing out one of his softest, most well-loved hoodies. As soon as you slip it on, he practically tackles you into bed with a grin.

You spend the rest of the night cuddled up, his arms around your waist, nose buried in your shoulder as he mumbles, “See? You’re warmer in mine anyway,” You giggle, burying your fingers in his hair. “I’d wear a trash bag if it smelled like you.” Jake groans. “Now you’re gonna make me cry again.”

~~~ Sunghoon ~~~

Sunghoon steps into the dorm, tired from practice but instantly energized when he sees you waiting in the living room. Without hesitation, he crosses the room in a few strides and wraps you in a warm, tight hug, burying his face in your hair.

“I missed you,” he whispers softly into your ear. You smile, melting into his arms. But when you pull away from the hug, Sunghoon’s eyes flick down and freeze. The shirt you’re wearing is definitely not yours. It’s definitely not his. It’s bright, a bit oversized, and unmistakably Sunoo’s. For a moment, a flicker of jealousy twists in his chest.

He doesn’t want to make a scene. Not in front of the other members who might be around. So instead, he keeps his tone calm and low, even though the tight grip of his hands around your waist lingers just a second longer than usual.

“Come with me,” he says quietly, tugging you gently by the hand toward the kitchen. You follow him, curious. Sunghoon opens the fridge, pulling out a carton of juice, and pours a glass for you both. He hands you the glass with a small smile, and then, accidentally, a little too clumsily, some juice spills across your shirt.

Your eyes widen in shock. “Sunghoon! Oh no, my- no, your shirt” He shrugs with innocent puppy eyes. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s time for you to change. Besides, it’s not my shirt, it’s Sunoo’s,” You glance down, watching the red stain spread across the front. It’s Sunoo’s favorite white shirt, you finally recognized it, and now it was marked with a bright splash. Sunghoon bites his lip, trying to hide a smile. “Maybe you can wear mine instead?”

Later, when you find out he did it on purpose, you can’t help but tease him mercilessly. “Three days with no kisses,” you declare, crossing your arms and giving him a playful glare. Sunghoon’s eyes go wide, and he instantly turns pouty. “What?! That’s unfair!”

You giggle as he runs off to find Sunoo, begging for forgiveness and hoping the punishment gets lifted. Sunghoon returns a little while later, cheeks flushed, holding Sunoo’s stained shirt wrapped carefully in a plastic bag. He kneels down in front of you, eyes hopeful. “Please,” he whispers, “kiss me? Just once? I promise to do all the laundry.” You grin and pull him in for a soft, forgiving kiss, watching the jealousy melt away into warmth and laughter.

~~~ Sunoo ~~~

Sunoo steps into the dorm, excited to see you after a long day. He spots you right away, lounging casually in an oversized shirt that looks familiar but not quite right. He blinks twice and his eyes widen. That’s Jungwon’s shirt. And not just any shirt, but one that looks like it’s been pulled straight from Jungwon’s sporty, casual wardrobe, definitely not Sunoo’s sleek, trendy style.

His lips press into a thin line. Sunoo takes a slow step toward you, and the moment you look up, he’s already pouting, arms crossed dramatically. “Why are you wearing that ugly shirt?” he asks, voice thick with mock offense. You blink, genuinely confused. “Wait, that’s your shirt. Why are you calling it ugly?” “Because,” he says, flicking a hand like he’s delivering a royal decree, “it’s not my style. And if you’re going to wear my stuff, it better be something good, you know, fashion-forward.”

He’s already plotting his next move, unwilling to let this slight slide. You try to laugh it off, but Sunoo is determined. He doesn’t stop pouting or dramatically sighing until you finally agree to change out of Jungwon’s shirt and into one of his own stylish, carefully selected pieces. Once you do, he practically tackles you with kisses, dozens of them, each one more insistent than the last. “See?” he murmurs between kisses. “Much better.”

Later that day, Jungwon walks past his bed and notices his shirt folded neatly… with a little note pinned on top. “Keep your ugly stuff away from my girl, thanks.” He chuckles, shaking his head. Sunoo might be dramatic, but he’s definitely his own brand of adorable.

~~~ Jungwon ~~~

Jungwon never gets jealous. He’s said it more than once, casually and confidently, because it’s true. He trusts you completely. Even when strangers flirt with you or his members playfully cling to you, he never bats an eye. He knows where your heart lies, and his is with you, without a doubt. But even the most composed hearts can waver sometimes.

It’s a quiet afternoon at the dorm when he walks into his room, expecting to find it empty or maybe you napping. What he doesn’t expect is to see you curled up on his bed, reading a book, the sleeves of an oversized hoodie draping over your hands.

At first, it warms him. You look so peaceful. But then he stops. That hoodie. It’s navy blue. A little worn. Faintly stitched at the bottom hem with a name. Jay. Jungwon’s heart dips.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there in the doorway, his fingers curled loosely at his sides, his gaze fixed on you in silence. It’s not anger, not really. It’s something quieter, smaller. A weird ache in his chest.

You glance up at him, instantly noticing the shift in his expression. “Wonnie?” you say, closing the book. “Everything okay?” He forces a small smile, steps inside, and sits beside you. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice is too soft. Too careful. You study him, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s wrong?” He hesitates, then exhales. “That’s Jay’s hoodie.”

You look down, startled. “Wait, seriously? I grabbed it from your closet, I thought-” “I know,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “It’s not your fault. I think our laundry got mixed again.” You frown, setting the book aside. “I’ll change-” “No, you don’t have to,” he says again, though his eyes betray him. “It’s not a big deal. I just didn’t expect it to bother me. I guess it did.”

Your heart squeezes a little. Jungwon, your ever-steady, gentle boyfriend, is actually jealous? You give him a small smile and lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re allowed to feel stuff, you know. Even things you don’t usually feel.” He doesn’t say anything, but his arms wrap around your waist and hold you tighter than usual.

A few minutes later, you reappear in his favorite gray hoodie, the one you always say smells like him. He looks up, and his face lights up with something warmer, more at peace. You climb into his lap, snuggling into his chest. “Better?” He kisses the top of your head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Much.”

Jungwon returned the hoodie to Jay a few days later, after washing it again, saying that it must have ended up in the wrong pile. Jay thanks him. Jungwon didn’t need to say anything or look at Jay weird because he knew your heart belonged to him, no matter whose shirt you accidentally end up wearing. 

~~~ Niki ~~~

Ni-ki has always had a cool, unfazed image. He’s the chill one, the youngest who knows how to keep his emotions in check. But behind closed doors, when it’s just the two of you, he’s anything but cold. He’s soft. A complete cuddlebug. Someone who craves your warmth, your touch, your presence. But he’s also a little territorial. Okay, a lot.

It comes from years of sharing everything, rooms, clothes, food, even sleep schedules. So now that he finally has things of his own, you being the most important one of all, he doesn’t want to share anymore.

So when he walks into the living room after practice, expecting to see you maybe scrolling on your phone or waiting for him with a snack and a movie ready to be played, what he doesn’t expect is to find you sitting on the couch right beside Heeseung. Too close. Laughing as you nudge his shoulder, fingers furiously tapping at the video game controller in your hand.

And to top it all off, you’re wearing a shirt. Not your own. Not Ni-ki’s. But Heeseung’s. He recognizes it immediately, the faded black lettering on the sleeve, the loose fit, the color slightly too pale to be his. Heeseung’s. And you’re wearing it while sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with him doing the exact thing you and Ni-ki usually do together.

Two things. Two reasons. Two flames to fuel the sudden flare of jealousy in his chest. His jaw clenches. He doesn’t say anything until the game ends, until Heeseung celebrates his win and you laugh beside him, clueless to the way Ni-ki’s eyes are locked on you, burning.

Without a word, Ni-ki steps forward, grabs your hand, and pulls you up from the couch. “Come with me.” You barely manage a surprised “Wait-Ni-ki?” before he’s guiding, no, dragging, you down the hallway and into his room, the door clicking shut behind you.

You turn to face him, breath a little caught, and you can’t deny how hot he looks right now, his brows furrowed, eyes dark, the tension rolling off him in waves. You open your mouth to speak but he doesn’t give you the chance. He presses you back against the door, one hand planted firmly beside your head. The other trails lightly down the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing, thumb tugging at the hem.

He considers saying something. Considers cutting the shirt right off you. But he doesn’t. Instead, his voice comes out low, and a little rough. “I don’t like sharing.” You blink. “The shirt? I’m sorry, I should’ve-” He cuts you off. “No. Not just the shirt, even if it’s his shirt and not mine,”

He exhales through his nose, finally letting himself look vulnerable. “I don’t like sharing you,” he says quietly. “Not with him. Not with anyone. Especially not like that.” Your heart softens instantly. It’s not just the shirt. It’s the game. The laughs. The attention.

You reach up, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Ni-ki, baby you don’t have to share me. I’m yours, you know that.” He still looks pouty, but some of the tension melts from his shoulders. “Then wear my shirt. Play games with me.” You smile and lean up to kiss him, slow and gentle. “Fine. But only if you let me win.” He pulls back, smirking now. “Not a chance.”

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Random Thought: Bucky Barnes

Extra Sensitive

It had always been embarrassing ever since Bucky had gotten back to his normal life-and that was while he was alone…it would be downright humiliating if she saw it!

Ever since being back to a relatively normal life, Bucky had been trying to get back to himself though he quickly realized his dating life would never be what it once was.

Thankfully he found Y/n.

Y/n was a friend of Pepper’s and she introduced them at a party that Tony was throwing. Bucky had stumbled upon her an hour later out on the balcony alone and he came to find that she hated crowds just like he did. In fact they had quite a bit in common, they were both introverts, they loved to read (Y/n recommending him titles from this century and Bucky recommending her titles from last century), they were also both huge nerds. Their first date had been spending the day in the Avengers compound binging the Lord of the Rings movies after Bucky had admitted he’d read the Hobbit back when it was first published.

He had to give Y/n credit, she knew exactly who he was and she never once judged him in any way-in fact she had argued with not just him but several others about him being a good person-going so far as throwing hands with multiple different SHIELD agents as well as people that worked at the Avengers compound.

The embarrassing problem in their relationship presents itself once he gets into the bedroom. He spent a lot of his time now a days with Y/n on his mind and his fist around his cock-which was the issue-every time he touches himself for more than a few seconds he is jizzing like crazy. He didn’t know how to make it stop-and no matter how hard he tried or what he pictured-he was still cumming all over himself.

The first time they were together he tried very hard not to quickly cum and ruin the moment but Y/n notices quickly.

‘Are you okay?’ She asked, stopping her movements where she straddled his hips with her hands on his abs, his cock buried in her tight hole-the tightest he believes he’s ever felt-having to bite his tongue up to this point to not finish inside her instantly only having been in her for 12 second at that point.

‘I…’ he sighed heavily, looking up at her and seeing soft, understanding eyes. His girl was a sweet, gentle soul and he knew that she wouldn’t judge him, he just didn’t want to ruin their first time in bed. ‘I’m…ever since I got out of Hydra I’ve had a problem…I’m Overly sensitive?’

She tilted her head to the side curiously. ‘That doesn’t sound like a problem Bucky-just enjoy it-‘

‘N-No, Y/n…I’m too sensitive…one wrong touch and I’m cumming…everywhere…it’s another result of the serum I guess, I cum…a lot-like a lot! And often…I just don’t want to finish too fast and disappoint you.’ He closed his eyes with a sigh, clearly ashamed of himself.

She didn’t look at all upset, her eyes were still soft as she looked down at him. ‘Bucky, you could never disappoint me…how long is your recovery time?’ Now it was his turn to tilt his head questioningly. ‘How long after you cum are you ready to go again?’

‘Oh! Immediately, I don’t have to wait but I need to get off at least 8 or 9 time before I’m-Oh Fuck!’ He cried out as Y/n rocked her hips forward and began riding him again and as he wasn’t prepared for it at all, he came almost immediately. ‘Oh God…I’m-‘

‘Don’t ever apologize! You are a miracle!’ Y/n breathed, grabbing his shoulders and holding onto him as she rode him faster.

‘I-I came inside you! I-‘

‘I’m on birth control Bucky, you can cum in me as much as you want to.’ His eyes widened before his smile grew as wide as the Grinch before he suddenly lunged up and flipped her over onto her back, thrusting his hips up into her at a near inhuman pace. ‘Oh God! Fuck! Bucky!’

‘C-Call me солдат.’ Her eyes widened in surprise, instantly needing to double check as she didn’t want anything to trigger him. (Soldier)

‘Are you sure-‘

‘Just while I fuck you like this, only like this!’ He insisted, lifting her up to wrap her legs around his waist and thrust up into her almost painfully.

‘Oh God! солдат!’ (Soldier)

‘Fuck-‘ he grunted, thrusting up deep inside of her-his body going stiff as he came again, painting her insides with his cum as deeply inside of her as he could. ‘You feel so fucking good…’ he pulled out of her hole, watching for a moment as his cum dripped out of her and down her slit to her ass. ‘Next time I want you to pretend to be my nurse. Taking care of my wounds before using me to take care of your needs. God you’d be such a hot nurse! Fucking Hell!’

‘I think I could definitely find a nurses outfit for that.’ She smirked, Buckys head falling back as he moaned, thinking about his time as a Soldier before Hydra, picturing Y/n as a nurse treating his wounds before yanking his pants off and taking care of her own needs by riding his cock. Once again his cock felt overly sensitive as he felt it twitch before he was cumming, filling her up all over again.

‘Fuck!’ He grabbed Y/n’s hips, turning her over roughly and thrusting his cock down into her hole, pushing her upper body down into the bed. As he did he was presented with her ass sticking up while he rocked into her body, her ass cheeks spreading apart and jiggling as he thrust into her body. He felt his cock twitch again at the thought of him shoving himself into her asshole. ‘Oh Fuck!’ He cursed, thrusting harder down into her body and hearing her cry out as her pussy clamped down hard on him, his Princess cumming on his cock. ‘Oh God…I’ve never felt anything like that before-I’ve felt girls cum before but everything is…it’s so much now…Fuck! God I fucking love you!’ He swore as her body went slack in his grip and he knew she needed a break. ‘Sleep for a while, you’re going to need all the rest you can get because I’m going to destroy this pussy when you wake up.’ He chuckled, pulling out of her and lifting her to lay her down on his chest, holding her tightly when she snuggled into him as if afraid to lose her…and maybe he was.

She was the first good thing that Bucky had had in a long time and he was terrified that she might wake up one day and realize that he’s a monster and she has no clue why she’s with him-or Gods forbid someone will hurt her to get to him. Bucky knew though that he would never let anyone hurt the woman that he loves more than anything else in the world.

He loves her so much and he will never let her go.

Bucky B. Masterlist

I want to know if I should do another Random Thought or even just a whole fic for Bucky’s little fantasy about a nurse that treats his wounds before riding his cock since she’s surrounded by soldiers constantly but unable to satisfy her needs. Also should the fic or Random Thought be a fantasy? Should it be Bucky and his girlfriend role-playing or should it be real? Bucky has been injured in combat and he’s treated by doctors before a nurse attends to him and actually uses him for her own pleasure-and if that’s is the choice should it be Yandere or not?

Please give me your opinions because I very much want to write this and I’m leaning towards the Yandere situation?

[heartsiebyul]

Hii what about jamil and kalim (separate) having A HUGEE crush on gn!reader!!!💕💕

how Kalim and Jamil act when they have a huge crush on you.

featuring — Scarabia : Kalim : Jamil x reader.

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・・୨୧

☀️ Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim having a huge crush is like being caught in a sunbeam that doesn’t let up.

He’s obsessed—in the most open way. Kalim doesn’t even try to hide it. He lights up like fireworks when he sees you. He waves from across the courtyard like it’s a royal parade, calling your name loudly and excitedly: “(name)!!! You look amazing today!!”

Gives you gifts. Constantly. From shiny jewelry to random things that made him think of you, Kalim just keeps giving. “This flower reminded me of your smile!” “These sweets are your favorite, right?” He’s like a love-struck puppy with a billion-dollar budget.

Physical affection central. He hugs you. A lot. If you even breathe near looking tired, his arms are already around you. If you seem upset? He grabs both your hands and looks at you with big, worried eyes. He doesn’t even realize how touchy he’s being until Jamil sighs in the background.

Talks about you constantly. To Jamil, to the other dorm members, to strangers at the market. “Oh, (name) would LOVE this color! Did you know they write poetry? They’re so cool—” And it never stops.

Would confess in a heartbeat… and maybe he already did by accident. He blurts out things like, “I think I love you—wait! I mean, I love hanging out with you! Haha! Unless... you’d want me to say that for real?”

🐍 Jamil Viper

Jamil having a huge crush is… complicated. And exasperating. For him, anyway.

Internally panicking 24/7. Jamil is the king of suppressing feelings, but you short-circuit that system every time you laugh, speak to him, or smile his way. He’s constantly clenching his jaw, muttering to himself under his breath like, “Why are they so... ugh.”

Steals glances like his life depends on it. He’ll act like he’s focused on his work, his food, anything but you—but his eyes always drift toward you. He memorizes how you style your hair, the way you tilt your head when you're curious, your laugh. And if someone else makes you laugh? He clicks his tongue and looks away.

Avoids you to protect his own sanity. He’ll make excuses not to be around you too much because he knows he’s dangerously close to slipping up and actually being vulnerable. His excuse to himself is always something like: “I can’t afford distractions.” But the way he lingers near your favorite spots around campus says otherwise.

Small acts of care, extremely subtle. You forgot your water bottle? Somehow, there’s one on your desk, chilled. You’re late to class? He somehow "happened to be passing by" and "reluctantly" walks you there. But he’ll grumble, “Don’t get used to it.”

Absolutely hates how much he likes you. But he also holds onto every interaction like treasure. When you say his name, he replays it later while pretending he’s not smiling.

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・・୨୧

[thedemonofcat]

Geralt and Jaskier getting into a fight.

Catastrophizing, Geralt assumes Jaskier will leave him forever, so he runs off into the woods and runs with the wolves.

Jaskier, who went on a 20 minute walk to cool down, has to spend two days searching the woods before stumbling upon his witcher.

It took Jaskier a full two days of wandering through the woods before he finally heard a familiar voice.

“No, don’t eat your brother,” Geralt’s voice drifted through the trees.

Following the sound, Jaskier soon came upon an unexpected sight: Geralt seated on the forest floor, utterly surrounded by a chaotic flurry of wolf pups tumbling and yipping around him.

“What on earth are you doing?” Jaskier asked, trying — and failing — to suppress a smile.

“Babysitting,” Geralt replied dryly, not even looking up. “Their mother was tired.”

Jaskier glanced over to see a large female wolf curled up nearby, sound asleep.

“Ah. I see,” he said, then lowered himself to sit beside the witcher.

No sooner had he settled down than the pups turned their attention to him, swarming over with eager curiosity. Geralt watched with quiet amusement; animals always did seem to take to Jaskier.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Geralt said after a pause.

“Yeah,” Jaskier replied softly, scooping up a pup and holding it close. “Me too.”

There was a brief silence before Jaskier looked down at the pups. “So… what should we name this little pack?”

Geralt opened his mouth, but Jaskier cut him off without looking up.

“No, we are not naming them all Roach.”

[escapisms-posts]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒍 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When you're alone, Daryl loves picking you up for absolutely no reason. He’ll throw you over his shoulder without saying a word. It pleases him knowing he can pick you up without breaking a sweat. 

When Daryl first finds out you're pregnant, it scares him A LOT. It will take him a while to gather his thoughts, because he has never had a good role model. The only thing going through his mind is all the mistakes he’s going to make. You reassure him that you see how he connects with the others. That he is a caring and loyal person.

Once the fear clears from his body, he becomes obsessed with the idea of you carrying his child. Before your bump is even visible, he’s holding you by the stomach. He’ll come up behind you and start rubbing your belly, reminding you of how beautiful you are. 

Daryl knows you're capable of taking care of yourself, even while pregnant. But he can’t help but make your life as easy as possible. He’ll walk with you to work and help you complete your tasks, even after being tired of doing his. Daryl begins to go on runs a little less often because he wants to be near you and the baby more. He loves taking care of you so much.

As your body begins to change due to you growing a whole new person, you can’t help but feel a little insecure. Staring in the mirror every night since you’ve noticed the first changes. Stretch marks are beginning to form around your stomach, your chest becomes heavier, and the fatigue that wears you down after a long day. You miss your old body. Daryl is there, telling you how ridiculous you sound. Telling you that it's normal for your body to go through this. His in your corner, cheering you on, telling you how sexy you are to him. Nothing's more beautiful than you creating his child.

Since you don’t have a pregnancy pillow, Daryl holds your stomach while you sleep. It doesn’t even bother him, all he wants is for you to be comfortable. This late into the pregnancy, he can feel the baby react to his touch. 

Worry-free creampies ꨄ︎

Sometimes his mind can’t help but wander, Pregnancy is incredibly risky during an apocalypse. Though you’ve talked about the risks, you still decided that you wanted this baby. It's not impossible, just difficult. Even understanding all this, he can’t bear the thought of losing you. Which is why he wants this pregnancy to be as easy as possible for you. 

Lying in bed together, Daryl talks to the baby about his day. It's the most he says all day. Pregnancy is almost coming to an end, the baby jumps, everytime they hear their father's voice. Daryl lies between your legs, planting kisses along your stomach. You don’t know if it's because you're hormonal or straight up dramatic, but every time he says, “I can’t want to meet you,” it makes you want to cry.

[mascarpony]

simon riley

"Baby," he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep. His nose nuzzled the nape of her neck as he tightened his arms around her waist. "Wake up. It's seven already." She stirred with a groan, yawning before mumbling incoherently.

"Three more minutes, babe…" Her head sank deeper into the pillow, ignoring the way Simon's body pressed against her backside.

She grumbled, swatting at his hands—already under his shirt that she was wearing, lazily cupping her breasts. She side-eyed him from the corner of her eyes, catching the way his body shook with laughter.

"I'm going to revoke your morning kisses privilege if you don’t stop doing that," she warned, her voice stern but soft, no real bite behind the threat.

Simon held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Alright, my queen. Wouldn’t want to lose morning kiss privileges. Not when I’ve got work to get through."

She smirked, turning toward him slightly to cup his face and press a soft kiss to his lips. Murmuring against them, she whispered,

"That's what I thought."