#and that was mostly just on making him do the animation

[meenaxskz]

running out of protections aka everybody's sooo creative! (bf!hyunjin x reader)

drabble | bf!hyunjin x reader au genre: very light smut (just in case…but mostly crack) | crack warnings: mature suggestive content | language summary: you’re finally about to get SOME with your boyfriend but... uh oh. no condoms. disaster strikes. hyunjin, ever the dramatic creative genius, tries to solve the problem… with plastic wrap. a/n : please do NOT try this at home lol. saran wrap is for leftovers, not your love life. don't forget to wrap it before you tap it you hoes

you’re on the bed. it’s late. the lights are low. spotify is playing something vaguely sexy but honestly you stopped noticing the music after the second makeout session.

his hands are everywhere. your shirt? pushed up. his sweatpants? around one ankle. your legs? tangled. your breath? gone.

he’s kissing down your neck, moaning into your skin. his hand slides into your underwear and jesus take the wheel, you gasp.

it’s happening. this is it. you are moments away from finally doing the deed after a week of teasing, bad timing, and one horrifying moment when changbin walked in to borrow toothpaste.

hyunjin pauses “wait”

you open your eyes, dazed “huh?”

“condom?” he breathes, blinking down at you, lips red and pupils blown.

you blink back. “drawer?”

he nods. dramatic. heroic. pants halfway down, he dives off the bed and immediately trips over a hoodie on the floor and faceplants into the carpet.

you roll your eyes“oh my god.”

hyunjin muffled “i’m fine.”

he army crawls to the nightstand, still pantsless. opens the top drawer. freezes. opens the second one. then… the third. silence.

“…hyunjin???” no answer. you sit up. “what’s wrong.”

he turns slowly, face pale “we’re out.”

you blink. “no we’re not. check again.”

“i did. twice. and i even looked in the emergency sock.”

you gasp. “not the emergency sock.”

“it’s EMPTY. we’re animals”

you sigh, disappointed and… yeah, a little frustrated “okay. well. then it’s over. no big deal.”

“no big deal??” he gasps. “BABE. my body was READY. my soul is NAKED.”

you cross your arms “well i’m not doing anything without protection”

he sits up slowly, a glint in his eyes “i’ll make one”

you pause “what.”

he stands. “i’ll make one”

“…what.”

“i have saran wrap. and tape.”

“WHAT.”

he’s already sprinting to the kitchen. you chase after him in nothing but a tshirt.

“hyunjin don’t you DARE”

“i’m doing this FOR US” he calls, yanking open drawers “for SAFETY. for SCIENCE. for SEX.”

he slams a roll of plastic wrap on the counter like a mad scientist.

“okay, so if i fold it like this...”

“STOP.”

“...and wrap it twice for protection”

“STOP RIGHT THERE.”

“...and add a little masking tape”

“ARE YOU TRYING TO GET AN INFECTION??”

he spins around “NO I’M TRYING TO GET SOME AFFECTION”

you grab the saran wrap. he clutches it like a child losing his blankie.

“hwang hyunjin, if you put leftover sandwich wrap on your dick, i will call your mom”

he gasps “low blow”

“this entire situation is a low blow”

“you’re just mad you didn’t think of it first”

“OH MY GOD”

he folds his arms “then what’s the point of me learning origami if i can’t use it for sex”

“you are NOT learning origami you maniac!”

“...okay, true. but i believe in myself”

you groan, grab two capri suns from the fridge, and drag him back to the couch like a toddler mid tantrum.

cut to: 20 minutes later. you’re both in pajamas. face masks on. watching a baking show. sipping capri sun like nothing happened.

he looks over, sad “we were so close. i had a plan.”

you side eye him. “you were going to macgyver a condom”

“and?”

“you were about to stick your dick in a taco shaped plastic balloon.”

“it would’ve been beautiful.”

you smirk. “baby, you have a hot face. but your brain is held together by string cheese”

he grins proudly “you think i have a hot face?”

you stare at him “you literally tried to commit craft based cock crimes.”

he shrugs “if loving you means turning into a DIY guru, so be it.”

you chuckle. “okay, guru. next time, just… restock.”

he grabs your hand. dramatic. “i’ll buy a whole box. i’ll buy ten. i’ll get a COSTCO MEMBERSHIP”

you: “okay now that’s hot.”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

[mcrdvcks]

borderline

chapter summary: When Emma Frost arrives at the mansion with a friendly land shark in tow and weaponized flirtation, Logan realizes that he has to make a move before it's too late. word count: 2.1k+ pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader notes: here is the request that inspired this! i do have to give credit to @rosenclaws and this post which finally gave me an idea/inspiration of what to write for this request. also, i have the jeff dolphin skin in marvel rivals, and he's now my home page and i giggle and smile every time i see him, he's just so cuteee warnings/tags: reader has the ability to understand animals (both what they say and what they think), fluff, jealously, emma is a flirt, jeff is a menace, title is an ariana grande song lol

“New arrival,” Jubilee called from the hallway, poking her head into the rec room. “Emma Frost. Apparently she’s moving in for a while.”

You looked up from the worn couch, still halfway through your iced coffee. “Thought she hated Charles.”

“She does. But she also hates the Sentinels more, so.” Jubilee shrugged. “Also, she brought a pet. Looks like a mutant pug mated with a pool float.”

You blinked. “A what?”

Before Jubilee could elaborate, there was a distant buzz of the front door opening, followed by a familiar voice—smooth, cool, and vaguely amused—floating down the corridor.

“Miss Frost is here,” Hank muttered as he walked past, carrying a tray of syringes for god-knows-what experiment.

You stood, stretching your arms overhead. “Guess I should go say hi.”

“Be careful,” Jubilee warned, grinning. “She’s already flirting with half the staff. Don’t make eye contact.”

You snorted but waved her off, padding barefoot through the long halls of the Xavier Mansion until the grand staircase came into view.

Emma Frost was already halfway up it, heels clicking against the polished wood. She looked exactly how you'd imagined: immaculate. Platinum hair, crisp white outfit, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. And trailing behind her was—

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Is that a landshark?”

The tiny creature at Emma’s feet made a cheerful little "mrrr!" and wobbled in your direction, tongue lolling and stubby tail wagging.

Emma halted at the landing and tilted her head. “You must be Y/N.”

You crouched to greet the landshark, practically vibrating. “Hi! Oh my god—hi! What’s your name?”

"Mrrrrr!" Finally, someone sane. Can you tell her I want snacks? Something crunchy? Preferably meat? Also, is she single?

You blinked. "Jeff?"

"That’s him," Emma replied, descending the last few steps. “You weren’t here last time I visited.”

You didn’t look up right away, too focused on scratching behind Jeff’s fin. "I would've remembered him. He’s amazing."

"He thinks you're cute," Emma said idly, and you couldn't tell if she was teasing you or translating.

Jeff burbled happily, tail thumping against the floor. I do. Also, she smells like strawberries. I like her better than Emma already.

"I'm flattered, Jeff," you said, grinning. “You’re my new favorite.”

At that moment, a familiar growl echoed from down the hallway. Logan stepped into view, stopping short at the sight of Jeff. His brow furrowed. "...What the fuck is that?"

Emma smirked. “Language, Wolverine. He’s sensitive.”

Jeff turned toward Logan and let out a squawk of disapproval. Who’s this hairy drama queen? Is he glaring at me? I'll bite his leg off. I’ll do it. You think I won’t?

You stood and placed a gentle hand on Jeff’s head. “Be nice. That’s Logan. He lives here. Mostly in the gym.”

Logan’s arms crossed. “That thing bite?”

“Only if you insult his mother,” you replied, fighting a smile. “Which... would be Emma, I guess.”

Emma sauntered forward. “Only technically. I adopted him after a very messy incident involving The Collector and a stolen shipment of sentient kelp.”

Logan just stared at her. “...You’re shittin’ me.”

Jeff waddled over to him, sniffing his boots with aggressive curiosity.

"He’s trying to determine your threat level," you explained. “And also whether you have snacks.”

Logan looked down at the creature. “...It’s starin’ at me.”

You crouched again. “Jeff, don’t be rude.”

He smells like whiskey and unresolved trauma. I like him.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

Emma arched a brow. “So, Y/N. You’re the one who talks to animals.”

You nodded. “It’s my thing.”

“Well,” she said, offering a dazzling smile. “That will make sharing a room with Jeff much easier. Unless you’ve already got company?”

You blinked. “What?”

Emma’s smile deepened slightly. “A roommate. Or a boyfriend. Girlfriend. Partner. Pet possum. Just checking.”

Logan’s jaw twitched. You tried not to let your confusion show. “Uh, no. Just me.”

“Perfect.” She looked over your shoulder. “Logan, are you going to keep glowering like a 1950s gym coach, or are you going to help with my bags?”

“Not my job,” he muttered.

Emma turned back to you. “You, however, are welcome to help me unpack. Jeff likes you.”

Jeff did a happy spin. I do. Come with us. I have a sparkly rock I want to show you.

You smiled, because how could you not.

“I mean… yeah, I could help.”

Emma nodded once, her heels already clicking as she turned. “Excellent. Logan, lovely seeing you again.”

You looked back at him as you followed her and Jeff toward the stairs. His eyes were already on you, brow still furrowed. He didn’t say anything, but there was something in his gaze—confused, irritated, maybe a little betrayed.

You gave him a small wave. “You okay?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.” But he wasn’t. Because he knew Emma.

He liked you. And now she did, too.

---

“Oh my God, is that a shark?” Rogue asked, gawking as Jeff waddled into the rec room where half a dozen students were huddled around the TV.

Jeff’s tail thumped. “Mrrr!” Big glowing box, loud noises—who’s winning? Can I chew the controller?

You hurried after him. “Please don’t chew anything important.”

Rogue knelt. “Sugar, that can’t be sanitary. Does it bite?”

Jeff cocked his head. Only if insulted. Or if someone’s shoes look delicious. Hers do. He nosed Rogue’s boot; she scooted back.

“Not usually,” you said. “Unless you’re a bad guy or a sneaker.”

Across the room, Bobby paused his game. “Yo, is that Emma Frost’s?”

“Technically,” you said, scooping Jeff into your arms. He wriggled like an excited pug. Higher, higher! The peasants must see me!

The door slid open and Logan strode in, gym towel around his neck. He took one look at Jeff in your arms and clamped his jaw shut.

Jeff bared a mouthful of tiny triangular teeth. “Mrrr!” Whiskey man returns. Ask if he’s brought snacks.

“He doesn't have snacks,” you murmured.

Logan’s eyebrow twitched. “You talkin’ to the oversized sardine or me?”

“Both.”

Before Logan could reply, Emma swept in, white fur-lined cape billowing. “Ah, there you are, Y/N. Jeff wandered off. Naughty boy.” She flashed Logan a too-bright smile. “Wolverine. Sweaty as ever.”

Logan grunted. “Frost.”

Emma’s attention slid back to you. “I was hoping you’d help me finish sorting my wardrobe.” She hooked her arm through yours before you could protest. “Jeff misses your… bilingual encouragement.”

Jeff licked your cheek. I also miss the strawberry smell. Can we get salmon later?

You cleared your throat. “Uh, maybe after dinner?”

Logan folded his arms. “She’s got Danger Room duty at seven.”

You blinked. “I do?”

He shrugged. “Figured you could use the practice. Kids love watchin’ you talk squirrels outta their trees.”

Emma’s smile tightened. “How considerate. Still, wardrobe triage shouldn’t take long.” She tugged you toward the hall.

Jeff wriggled smugly. She’s jealous. This is fun.

Logan’s eyes followed, dark and unreadable.

---

Pots clattered as you prepped snacks for movie night. Jeff perched on the island, nose twitching at the aroma of popcorn oil.

“Mrrr.” Butter is life. Sacrifice some for me.

“You’ll get a bowl,” you promised, sprinkling kernels.

The swing door creaked; Logan stepped in, hair damp from a shower. “Figured you’d be here.” He grabbed two root beers from the fridge, slid one across.

“Thanks.” You popped the cap. “You okay? You looked… tense earlier.”

“I’m fine.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “Frost always rubs me wrong.”

Jeff hopped down, sniffing Logan’s boot again. “Mrrrk.” He’s lying. He’s jealous. Do you like him? You should like him. He smells like pine and regret.

You cleared your throat. “Jeff says hi.”

Logan crouched, offering a rough hand. “Hey, rug-shark. We good?”

Jeff sniffed, then head-butted his palm. Acceptable. Provide jerky later.

“He approves,” you said, smiling.

Logan rose. “Listen… you free tomorrow? Thought maybe we could take the bike into town, hit that farmer’s market you like.”

Your heart skipped. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Before the warmth could settle, Emma glided in, silk pajama set gleaming. “There you are, Y/N.” She draped herself against the doorway. “Jeff and I missed you.”

Logan bristled. “She’s busy.”

Emma lifted a brow. “Fetching popcorn? Hardly mission-critical.”

You opened your mouth, but Logan beat you. “She already made plans for tomorrow.”

Emma’s smile was sharp. “With you, I assume.”

Jeff’s eyes ping-ponged between them. Fight, fight, fight—winner gives me snacks.

“Yeah, with me,” Logan said.

Something in his tone made your stomach flutter. Emma noticed, lips curving. “How… adorable. Well, don’t keep her up too late. Beauty sleep, darling.” She winked at you, snapped her fingers for Jeff. “Come, baby.”

Jeff planted himself at your feet. “Mrrr!” Nah, staying. The drama’s here.

Emma’s nostril twitched, but she left.

You took a breath. “So, market tomorrow?”

Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “If you still want.”

“Definitely.”

Jeff spun in a circle. Road trip! Call shotgun. Also snacks.

---

Wind whipped through your hair as you clung to Logan’s leather jacket on the back of his bike. Jeff rode in a modified pet carrier strapped to the saddlebag, goggles over his eyes, tongue flapping.

“Mrrr-rr!” Faster! I am speed!

You laughed, the sound lost in the roar.

Downtown, stalls lined the street. Locals greeted Logan with wary nods, he offered grunts in return. You sampled peaches, picked wildflower honey, let Jeff taste-test jerky from a butcher who nearly fainted at the sight of him.

Logan paid for a bag of apple cider donuts, handing you one. Your fingers brushed, heat climbed your cheeks.

“You got sugar on your face,” he said, thumb grazing the corner of your mouth. Sparks skittered down your spine.

Jeff craned from the carrier, watching like a nosy little child. Kiss! Kiss!

You stepped back, flustered. “Thanks.”

Logan cleared his throat. “We should head before students blow somethin’ up.”

“Right.”

Still, neither of you moved.

“Y’know,” you started, but Logan’s phone buzzed. He cursed, glancing at the screen. “Emergency drill. We gotta run.”

Figures.

---

The drill turned out to be a minor lab fire, luckily Hank had it contained. Hours later, you escaped to the roof for quiet, legs dangling over the ledge. Jeff nestled beside you, gnawing a donut.

“Mrrr.” You okay? Broody wolf-man’s looking for you.

As if summoned, the roof hatch creaked open. Logan emerged, moonlight catching silver in his hair.

“Figured you’d be up here,” he said, settling beside you.

Jeff padded to the hatch. “Mrrr.” I’ll give you privacy. Don’t screw it up. He disappeared.

Your pulse ticked. “Everything alright?”

Logan stared out across the lawn. “Wanted to apologize. Been… actin’ weird.”

“You?” You nudged his shoulder. “Never.”

He huffed. “Just—seeing Frost hang off you got under my skin.” He hesitated. “’Cause I—damn.” A low growl of frustration. “I like you, Y/N. More than I probably should. Didn’t wanna screw up what we got, so I kept my mouth shut. Then Frost waltzes in—”

“And you thought you’d lose your window,” you finished, heart thumping.

“Pretty much.”

Silence stretched, filled by cricket chirps—but to you they were arguing about the comfiest spot of grass.

You shifted to face him. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Yeah, well. Not great with feelings.” He met your gaze, vulnerability stark in those eyes. “But I’m tryin’.”

You smiled, warmth blooming. “I like you too, Logan.”

Relief flickered across his face, chased by something softer. Slowly, he reached out, hand settling over yours. His palm was warm, calloused.

Down below, the rec room lights flicked on and Emma’s laughter floated up.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “She’s gonna keep pushin’.”

You squeezed his hand. “Let her try.”

He chuckled, thumb stroking your knuckles. “Gonna have to take you on a proper date. No drills, no landsharks.”

Jeff re-emerged, donut crumbs on his snout. “Mrrr!” Rude. I’m the best chaperone.

You laughed, tipping your head back. Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips.

“May I?” he asked, voice rough.

Heat flooded your cheeks. “Yeah.”

He leaned in, kiss gentle, tasting faintly of cider and stubbornness. Your free hand slid up his chest, steadying both of you. Below, someone wolf-whistled—probably Jubilee. Logan flipped the air a casual claw, never breaking the kiss.

Jeff clapped his fins. “Mrrrr!” Finally. Took you long enough. Now—snacks?

You broke away, breathless laughter spilling. “Deal, Jeff. Snacks for everyone.”

Logan pressed his forehead to yours. “Think we can find a place he can’t follow?”

“Doubt it,” you said, grinning. “He’s persistent.”

Jeff puffed up proudly. Damn right. Also, you still owe me salmon.

Logan groaned. “Gonna be an interesting courtship.”

You squeezed his hand again. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The three of you sat beneath the stars—wolf, landshark, and you—while below, the mansion hummed on, unaware that something quietly perfect had just begun.

definitely needed a little fluff for the awful past few days of politics

[rawme-price]

I don't wanna be that person to ask for another part, but I love the tramatized Shifter au. I really wanna know what happened to them. Does Price find out? If so what happens? I love your work so please feel free to ignore this! You are just darling and really make my day with no matter what you write! :) I'd die for Price to get mad at the other team. For all of 141 to be furious with them.

Hehe glad yall like it:) so last we left off with dog shifter!reader, soap had been called in as the resident dog shifter, right?

Well after he talks you into getting some food for gaz and you (mostly for you, but he knows you wouldnt accept that), soap isnt even out the door when he encounters his first problem. You stop dead in ur tracks before the door, looking at him anxiously. "Can I shift?" You ask, and it breaks his heart that you even want to ask instead of just doing what feels right. "My team might see me..."

Soap takes a breath, mentally shoots your team five times over, then nods. Thus, hes walking through the base in the middle of the night with a wolf at his heel. When he gets to the kitchen, he makes quick work of assembling a sandwich. He purses his lips when you sit next to his feet the whole time, wondering if its because you want his company or if its just what you are used to.

he doesnt know what you prefer, so just makes a second version of kyle's food. back in the hospital room, you dont shift back, ambling over to a corner and laying down. Johnny hands kyle his food, eyes tracking ur every movement. you are a remarkably good actor, hes realizing. usually its so easy to pick out a shifter among normal dogs, but you fall into the animal mindset almost too easily. johnny has to instruct you to shift back into human form, something that makes his stomach churn, but hes acutely aware of the dangers of staying shifted for too long.

the whole time you eat, now human, ur curled into the farthest chair, scarfing the sandwich down like johnny would change his mind and take it back. he takes note of the skin he can see, the various scars from battles, as well as the raised keloids that create your shifter markings. you glance at johnny and kyle as they whisper quietly about getting price involved, about what comes next. johnny knows you can hear them, but you either dont care or ur intentionally ignoring them.

how do you even move on from here? what would the procedure be like, and where would you go? kyle agrees that you cant be left with your team, but then who would take you. a traumatized dog-shifter who's seen war and experienced cruelty, would there even be a place for you?

[notesofthemountain]

The Favorite

♡ Author’s note: English isn’t my first language, so sorry if something feels a bit off! Thanks a lot for reading, and please remember this is just fiction — nothing personal ♡♡♡

♡ Content: platonic bond (platonic S.Coups x reader), 14th member of Seventeen, reader is S.Coups’ favorite, slice of life, light angst, fluff, a bit of humor

The practice room was quieter than usual. Even though it was early in the morning, most of the members were still asleep. However, the one brimming with energy was S.Coups — and it wasn’t just because he liked to start the day off right. No. It was because three members were late, and irritation was starting to crawl up his spine with every second that passed without them walking through the door.

It took ten minutes before a disheveled and anxious Mingyu finally rushed in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, hyung,” he apologized, bowing to the group leader, who eyed him with suspicion.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again. Got it? You can explain later what excuse you came up with for being this late,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

Mingyu nodded nervously and went over to the rest of the boys, who were still sitting on the floor waiting to begin rehearsal—except for Hoshi, who was already running through the choreography in his head.

“Seriously, where are these kids? I’m gonna have to count how many new gray hairs I’ve grown tonight,” S.Coups muttered sarcastically.

Jeonghan, watching him with an amused look, replied, “Well, that’s what happens when you’re the oldest and the leader, right? Plus, one of the people missing is your favorite, you know.”

At that, Seungcheol crossed his arms and responded with a casual tone, “I know. But I’m sure something actually happened to her. You know traffic’s always awful from her place to here. That’s understandable. Unlike Dino—he’s getting his ears pulled later for showing up late to work.”

Just as he finished speaking, the door opened, and a completely exhausted and sweaty Dino stumbled in, like he’d just run a marathon. Right behind him, you entered—calm and composed—sipping iced coffee through a straw.

Jeonghan let out a laugh and called Joshua over to watch the scene unfold. The two of them positioned themselves like they were at the movies—only the popcorn was missing.

“So?” S.Coups asked, glaring directly at Dino.

“Well, hyung, you won’t believe this, but I was walking and almost got hit by a car. Then some old lady needed help with her groceries, and then, then—”

“Enough. Spare me the excuses. I want the truth. The real truth. Got it?” the leader snapped, cutting him off.

You were still calmly sipping your coffee. Honestly, S.Coups did scare you a little in moments like this—mostly because you didn’t have any excuse. And the truth was... more embarrassing than you'd like to admit. You had stayed up watching a new anime, telling yourself each episode would be the last.

Spoiler: it wasn’t.

You ended up getting only three hours of sleep, and even then, you struggled to get out of bed. Then came the coffee emergency—you needed caffeine to function, and of course, you had forgotten to restock. So you stopped by a café on the way, which only made you later.

It only took a few seconds, but S.Coups gave you one of those leader stares that made you blurt out the truth immediately.

“I needed coffee, and the line at the café was really long. That’s why I’m late,” you said, clutching your cup nervously.

He softened immediately and gave you a small smile.

“It’s okay. Totally understandable. I need coffee to start my day too. Next time, just text me and I’ll bring one for you to rehearsal,” he said with a warm smile, motioning you over to give you a short hug.

Dino sighed, relieved that his hyung had finally calmed down.

“I didn’t get any coffee... you don’t have some to spare, do you, hyung?” he asked, walking over.

“Don’t even think about asking for coffee right now. Go join the others—we’re already starting late,” S.Coups said, scolding the youngest, who stood there, mouth agape at how quickly his leader had switched moods.

“But, I bet she stayed up all night watching something and that’s why she got delayed at the café,” Dino muttered, not wrong in the slightest.

“How do you know that? Do you live with Y/N now? She already said there was a line. Not her fault, okay?” S.Coups shot back, defending you.

Rolling his eyes, Dino turned and walked off toward the group, grumbling that he was only being scolded because you were clearly the leader’s favorite. And he wasn’t wrong about that either.

It was no secret to anyone that you were Seungcheol’s soft spot. He’d always kept you under his wing, like a mama hen protecting her chick from the world.

S.Coups gently ruffled your hair as you finished your coffee. You gave him a smile, and he looked at you with sparkling eyes as he guided you toward the others.

“Let’s go, sleepyhead,” he whispered with a grin that was only ever meant for you.

Jeonghan and Joshua watched with knowing smiles, watching how the oldest member always melted around you. Not that you had to do much to win him over. It must’ve just been part of the perks of being Seungcheol’s favorite.

-

This time, you were filming an episode of Going Seventeen—specifically, the MouseBusters episode. Naturally, you ended up as a mouse. And even though your hiding skills weren’t the greatest (and your running skills were worse), you still wanted to try your best and win.

Honestly though, just spending time and having fun with the boys was enough to get you excited to film this kind of content.

You’d asked the cameraman to let you carry the camera, because if not, it would be obvious a mouse was hiding there. You found a spot under some white tarps that covered sacks of material. It was a tight squeeze, but if you crouched and curled up into a ball, maybe you’d stay hidden. Hopefully. Because really, hiding there was more an act of faith than a solid strategy.

While making funny faces at the camera, you heard someone’s footsteps nearby. You couldn’t tell who it was, but you silently prayed they’d pass by without noticing.

No luck.

The tarp suddenly lifted, revealing your curled-up form.

“Got you!” shouted S.Coups, pointing a toy water gun at you.

But the moment he saw it was you, he laughed and lowered the gun.

You looked up at him, fully caught. Not that you could have escaped anyway—your running wouldn’t have saved you for more than three seconds.

“Since it’s my little mouse, Y/N, I’ll let you get away. But don’t tell anyone, okay? Otherwise, the guys will lock me up as a traitor,” he grinned, helping you to your feet. “Better find a new hiding spot fast—the others won’t take long to get here.”

Once you were out, he pulled you into a quick hug and chuckled at how cute you looked in the mouse costume.

“Why are you such an adorable little mouse?” he babbled, squishing your cheeks like you were a kid.

“S.Coups, come on. I’m not a little girl anymore. Can I go now?” you asked, glancing around to make sure no one saw.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you’ve grown. But I still can’t help wanting to take care of you—”

“Hyung!” a shout cut him off. His eyes widened in surprise.

“What are you doing being nice to a mouse? You’re supposed to catch them, not cuddle them!” Seungkwan yelled, running toward you.

“Alright, Y/N, time to run. Otherwise, all my efforts to protect you will have been for nothing,” S.Coups whispered, giving you a few gentle nudges.

You bolted down the alleyway—just in time to hear Seungkwan’s complaints.

“Hyung! Again?! Stop with the favoritism and help us win. You want to lose or what?!”

“Calm down, Mr. Thomas,” S.Coups replied without shame. “Her cuteness broke all my defenses. I was attacked.”

Seungkwan groaned dramatically.

And yes, being S.Coups’ favorite meant he’d take your side—even when his role was to be your greatest enemy in the game.

-

You had just finished another rehearsal for an upcoming performance. The members were excited but drained—these last few days had been intense. Still, it had all been worth it.

However, during practice, you couldn’t help noticing how Seungcheol flinched slightly every time a move forced his knee. Ever since the ligament injury, he had been pushing himself hard to hide the pain you could still clearly see. Even though he strained his knee several times, he said nothing. And as soon as rehearsal ended, he quietly left after saying goodbye to everyone.

You were worried about his knee. It hadn’t been that long since the injury, and he clearly wasn’t fully healed. But he never stopped—he always wanted to be there, to give his all, even if the pain burned him from the inside.

You knew he’d be in one of the break rooms, checking on things that weren’t even his responsibility. That was just who he was—leader, even in silence.

So, before going in, you grabbed an ice pack to help with the swelling. Without knocking, you entered and found him sitting there, his knee propped on a chair, staring at his laptop in deep focus.

He looked up when he heard you and smiled—though it looked more like a grimace.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you? You looked good in practice,” he greeted you, motioning to the chair next to him.

You walked over and sat beside him with a gentle smile. “I’m good, Cheol. But I could tell you weren’t,” you said, pointing at his knee. He winced. “I saw how much it hurt. You don’t have to push through it if you’re not okay.”

You gently placed the ice on his knee. He let out a relieved sigh.

“Thanks,” he murmured, still staring at his leg.

“It’s nothing. But Cheol, you don’t have to pretend everything’s fine. We know what happened, and we’re all here for you. If you need to rest, do it. We can change the choreography if needed. Just… don’t force yourself,” you whispered, noticing the worry still in his eyes.

“I know I should talk about it. But I’m scared I won’t be the same. This injury, this knee... it’s like a sign I’m not who I used to be.”

S.Coups had always been the one in control. Steady. Reliable. And you could see how this had shaken him—both physically and emotionally.

“Maybe you’re not the same. But you’re still our Cheol. And that’s what matters,” you said with a soft smile. “As long as we’re together, the rest doesn’t matter.”

“Do you think I’m still doing okay as a leader? That this injury hasn’t made me...less?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“You’re the best leader we could ever ask for. I’ll say that forever. You always look after us, make sure we’re okay, that everything’s done right—and none of that has changed,” you replied, resting your forehead on his shoulder as you hugged him sideways. “So please, let us take care of you now. Let me take care of you.”

He stroked your hair gently and hugged you tighter.

“You’re not less for needing rest. You’re human. And we love you all the more for it. To me, you’ll always be the one—the most worthy to lead this group,” you whispered into his arm.

Because yes, S.Coups was the leader who looked after everyone. But sometimes, he needed to be reminded just how amazing and valuable he truly was.

And yes—no one could deny you were a soft spot for Seungcheol. But by now, he had become yours too. Even if he only rarely showed his vulnerability, you’d always be there to hold him.

Because that was also one of the things that only he could have:

you, unconditionally.

-

/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗

[meadowfics]

woof woof

park gyeong-seok x f!reader

synopsis: your step-daughter falls in love a new furry friend

mostly platonic family park na-yeon x f!reader

requested <3

you and your stepdaughter na-yeon, the energetic four-year-old with a cutesy smile that lights up any room, head to a local animal shelter one sunny afternoon.

the girl's tiny hand grips your soft ones tightly as she practically bounces with excitement, her eyes wide at the sight of so many animals.

as you walk into the shelter, the place is full of barks, meows, and wagging tails, but na-yeon’s heart is stolen by the dogs.

she toddles from cage to cage, giggling as floppy-eared puppies lick her fingers through the bars.

one puppy, a fluffy scruffy little guy, keeps her attention the longest. from the paper attached to the cage, the puppy is three months old and it is a poodle and shih tzu mix.

your step-daughter names it “fluffy” on the spot, since it is. also, she declares it her best friend.

na-yeon can’t stop talking about fluffy on the way home, her high-pitched voice filling the car with stories about how soft its fur was and how it “smiled” at her.

she begs you to convince her dad to let her have the puppy. you see the spark in her eyes, a joy that’s been rare since her long battle with cancer that thankfully was won by na-yeon months ago, and you promise to talk to him.

na-yeon claps her hands, already planning where fluffy will sleep (right next to her, obviously).

when you bring up the puppy idea, gyeong-seok crosses his arms, his brow furrowing in that classic dad way.

he launches into a lecture about na-yeon having responsibility. the feeding, walking, training, vet visits, the works.

“she’s only four, y/n,” he says, shaking his head.

“a puppy’s a big commitment. what if she loses interest?”

you listen patiently, knowing he’s just being protective, his love for na-yeon making him cautious. however, you can’t help noticing the worry lines on his face, the ones that were deepened during na-yeon’s sickness.

later that evening, after na-yeon’s tucked into bed, you sit gyeong-seok down with a cup of tea.

you gently remind him how much na-yeon has been through with the hospital stays, treatments, and the fear that clung to her tiny frame. you point out how her face lit up at the shelter, how she laughed in a way you haven’t heard in months.

“a puppy could be good for her,” you say softly, “something to care for, to keep her company when things feel heavy. it might help her heal emotionally from the trauma, even just a little.”

gyeong-seok’s eyes soften, and after a long pause, he nods.

“you’re right,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand.

“let’s do it.”

three days later, you and gyeong-seok plan the perfect surprise.

you pick up the puppy, or 'fluffy', from the shelter, its little tail wagging furiously. at home, you hide the puppy in a cozy blanket-lined box while gyeong-seok distracts na-yeon with a game.

when you call her over and lift the lid, fluffy pops out, and na-yeon’s squeal could probably be heard from the next street over.

your daughter's eyes are huge, sparkling with pure joy, but she’s surprisingly gentle, kneeling down to let the puppy sniff her hand.

“fluffy!” she whispers, giggling as it licks her face.

she hugs you and gyeong-seok, babbling about how fluffy is “her puppy forever.”

na-yeon takes her new role as puppy parent seriously, toddling after fluffy with a tiny leash you bought her.

gyeong-seok, despite his earlier grumbling, melts every time he sees na-yeon and fluffy curled up together, her reading picture books to the puppy like it understands.

you catch him sneaking treats to fluffy when he thinks you’re not looking, proving he’s just as smitten.

gyeong-seok and you are peaceful knowing that this little furball has brought a new kind of warmth to your home, helping na-yeon’s heart heal slowly yet fully.

masterlist

[nightwingbb]

someone on my ao3 left a comment musing about what the first kent/wayne family dinner would be like after jon and damian start dating (as teenagers). and, well, i have to imagine the first dinner is at the kent's, and bruce and damian are the only wayne's in attendance, at damian's insistence (he's terrified of what might unfold if his siblings are allowed to come).

jon and damian act pretty much exactly the way they acted before they started dating, the only noticeable difference being that jon greets damian with a hug when he and bruce arrive. (they're obviously very comfortable with one another. lois figures it might've been a hello kiss if they hadn't had three sets of parent eyes on them).

anyway, it is unnecessarily awkward at first, mostly because of clark and bruce acting as if they're at a formal work dinner. bruce brings a bottle of wine and thanks lois for hosting. he and clark shake hands like they hadn't seen each other on the watchtower earlier that day.

lois sets jon and damian to work setting the table. bruce and clark hover awkwardly, watching jon and damian set the table. lois gently tells them to open the wine and pour themselves a glass.

when they actually sit down to dinner, clark asks damian if he does any extracurriculars. lois nearly face palms. damian and jon look at him oddly. damian is like "uh no. robin kind of takes up most of my time????" clark nods and is like right, right, of course. 10 minutes later, bruce asks jon if he's into sports, and jon is like "you've been to my baseball games before????" 10 minutes after THAT, clark asks damian what his hobbies are, and lois snaps.

"HE LIKES TO DRAW. HE LIKES VIDEO GAMES. HE LIKES ANIMALS. WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE DAMIAN HASN'T BEEN COMING OVER TO OUR HOUSE SINCE JON WAS IN THIRD GRADE. PLEASE STOP MAKING SMALL TALK LIKE YOU HAVEN'T KNOWN BRUCE FOR ALMOST TWO DECADES."

she then turns on bruce "AND YOU. STOP ACTING SO FORMAL. YOU'VE EATEN APPLE PIE AT MY KITCHEN TABLE AND DRANK BEERS ON MY PORCH AND JOINED MY FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS DINNER. JUST BECAUSE OUR SONS ARE DATING NOW AND YOU AND CLARK CLEARLY DON'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH IT DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOU NEED TO PRETEND WE'RE STRANGERS."

there's a beat of silence, and then bruce says, "you're right, lois." and looks at clark. "i'm still waiting on your mission report about the thangarian peace treaty endeavours."

clark sighs. "lois is right that we don't have to act like we don't know one another, but do we have to talk shop?"

bruce replies, "fine." he takes a sip of wine. "gotham knights obliterated the metropolis meteors in last night's game."

both clark and jon begin passionately, emphatically defending their favorite team while damian watches and rolls his eyes, and lois relaxes into her chair. finally, order is restored.

[fandomregression]

Regressor Rumi Headcanons!

rumi didn't really get much of a childhood because of how celine raised her, yeah? everything in her life was about becoming a hunter, getting rid of her patterns, and being perfect. obviously, this affects rumi in a very bad way

she doesn't exactly discover what age regressing is until after she's been doing it for a while. instead, she finds that she sleeps better when she has a pacifier. she doesn't exactly know *why* it helps, but it makes her feel safe and somehow younger

mira and zoey find out, and at first rumi is humiliated because she still feels like she needs to be the leader. when zoey tells her about regression and how she thinks thats what she's doing, rumi isn't happy

she's mostly unhappy because it sounds nice, getting a redo on her childhood

mira and zoey take care of her, though, and they help rumi slowly get more comfortable with regressing

one of the first things that helps is stuffed animals. as rumi starts letting herself regress and be small, she starts accumulating a small collection of teddy bears that she keeps on her bed

rumi also finds a series of blind box plushies that she falls in love with, and she collects them. the plushies are little teddy bears with jobs like "chef!" or "teacher!" or rumi's personal favorite: "train conductor!"

she keeps the train conductor on her bag wherever she goes and accidentally pulls a lisa with labubus on her fans, so now these little job-having bears are insanely popular. and rumi is insanely grumpy that she can't get her hands on them anymore

zoey and mira spoil her like crazy. whenever rumi lets them, they dress her up in cute outfits, they play tea party with her, they build train sets with her

rumi has an utter fascination with trains, and she has several toy sets of very pretty trains. she likes watching thomas and friends, too, and sometimes mira and zoey take her down to the train station just to watch the trains go by

the girls do eventually tell bobby about rumi's regression just so he can keep any rumors down (especially after the blind box teddy bear problem) (bobby also gets rumi full cases of each new series so she can collect them all. bobby is her favorite person for about two weeks after that and its the happiest moment of his life)

(then zoey buys her a really big cookie and she becomes the favorite)

mira does her hair a lot when she's small. rumi doesn't really like having her big braid when she feels small because its heavy and reminds her of celine, so mira comes up with all sorts of cute styles. twin braids, space buns, bubble braids, sometimes she even puts ribbon in her hair and rumi gets so excited

derpy and sussie are endlessly fascinating for her whenever rumi's small. she loves playing with them, and they love playing with her. derpy is so fluffy and cuddly, but usually mira and zoey will supervise whenever rumi wants to play with him because he will sit on her and accidentally hurt her if they dont watch. meanwhile sussie thinks of himself as a third caregiver even though he is a bird with a hat that isn't even his

they get a ton of baby snacks for rumi to try when she's small, especially those puree pouches. her favorite is peach mango, and she will just lay on the sofa watching tv with a pouch. sometimes she lays upside down, though, and zoey fusses at her when she chokes or has puree come out her nose. rumi never learns her lesson

she doesn't use any sort of nickname for mira or zoey, but they dote on her with every little pet name under the sun. it starts out pretty normal with 'sweetie' or 'honey' then turns into 'little bear' or 'mango baby' and eventually the most common thing for mira and zoey to call rumi when she's small becomes 'choo choo'

also, rumi makes friendship bracelets for mira, zoey, and bobby. all three of them cry

[400badrequest]

CHAPT NINE: You callin' me a liar? | Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

SUMMARY: One morning - early early, pre-sunrise, pre-Richie yelling, pre-anyone - he actually gets in. Doors still cold. Lights still humming their way on. And you’re there. At his stove. Cooking. He stops dead, just inside the kitchen door.

CW: age gap. Mildly horny language, anxiety

WORD COUNT: 1668

TAGLIST: @allinourprivate-traps @far-beyond-infinity

A/N: i have an idea for a Mikey's!daughter AU; it's gonna be Depressing. Y'all want a snippet before i post?

Mikey starts noticing the inventory’s off.

Not by a lot - just here and there. A couple of eggs. A head of garlic. A knob of butter that was definitely accounted for yesterday and not today. It’s not the end of the world. This place bleeds waste half the time anyway, and he’s trying to be good, goddammit. One of his billion problems is gone. The big one. That should mean he’s fine.

It’s fine.

Except it’s not.

He catches himself watching the walk-in door too often, re-checking stock he already signed off. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t want to. It’s barely a whisper of a problem. And maybe, maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s just the ghost of old paranoia licking the back of his neck, whispering about bad habits, worse days.

But then one morning - early early, pre-sunrise, pre-Richie yelling, pre-anyone - he actually gets in. Doors still cold. Lights still humming their way on.

And you’re there.

At his stove.

Cooking.

He stops dead, just inside the kitchen door.

It’s not eggs and toast or a granola bar or some sad fuckin’ yogurt. No, no - this is cooking. There’s a pan just off the heat, a glass bowl tucked on a damp towel with a real hollandaise sauce in it, the lemon cutting clean through the air like it owns the morning. The smell of smoked fish - good smoked fish, not the oily shit Richie buys when he’s stoned - hangs like perfume. The lox is in a glass container, clearly homemade, with capers and dill and pink peppercorn like it’s nothing.

You’ve got sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hair tied back tight, your wrist flicking like muscle memory while you clean as you go. Efficient. Precise. Your cuts are perfect - he clocks the chives instantly, so neatly minced they look like confetti.

He feels it like a punch to the chest.

You’ve been hiding this.

Why the fuck are you hiding?

And more importantly - how the fuck do you have knife skills like that?

Then, midway through turning, you spot him.

And shriek.

Actually shriek-shrieks, drops the spoon in your hand, spins around too fast and knock your plate sideways - he lurches forward without thinking and catches it just in time, food mostly intact, heart fucking racing.

Your whole face goes pale, eyes huge, chest rising too fast. He can see the panic boiling up under your skin and his stomach drops.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, soft, low. “Hey. Breathe, alright? You’re not in trouble. I just- shit, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

You don’t answer. Just stare at him like you’ve been caught doing something worse than murder.

He glances down at the plate in his hand. Store-bought English muffin. Baby spinach. Two gently poached eggs, still glistening. A delicate mound of lox - your lox. And a puddle of the most perfect-looking hollandaise he’s ever seen, citrus sharp, just thick enough to coat the spoon.

He swears his dick twitches.

“Did you-” he clears his throat. “Did you make all this?”

You’re still silent.

He turns, carefully puts the plate down, like he’s trying not to startle a wild animal. He says your name, quiet. Firm, but just enough to get your focus. “You’ve been cooking here?”

Your jaw tightens. “I- only early. Or late. I didn’t wanna-” Your voice cracks. You  straighten your spine like it’s a fight, not an answer. “I didn’t wanna be weird about it.”

Mikey runs a hand through his hair. The kitchen’s warm and quiet, golden with that soft pre-dawn light that makes everything look cinematic. You’re backlit, lips parted, eyes wild, fingers still clenched.

And fuck - he’s hard.

He’s hard looking at this woman he can’t touch, standing over food you made with your own two hands like it’s some secret gift. Like you’re letting him see you naked without ever taking off a thing.

“You made this for yourself?” he asks. His voice comes out rough.

You shrug, one shouldered, small. “I didn’t think you’d be in.”

He doesn’t sit. Just leans against the counter, palms flat, trying to calm the riot inside his chest.

“I should’ve known it was you,” he murmurs. “The eggs going missing. The butter. The lemon. The... Jesus, the knife work. Sweetheart, those chives are so clean I almost came.”

Your face burns. You don't even hide it. You mutter something under yourr breath and turn to busy yourself with wiping the counter, and he hates himself for making YOU flinch like that. But God - he can’t look away.

“You’ve been hiding this,” he says. “Why?”

You swallow. “I didn’t want to- to cross lines. Be presumptuous.”

“You paid off the fucking debt. You earned the right to poach a goddamn egg.”

You still don't look at him.

So he does the only thing he can think of. He splits the plate. Grabs two forks. Pushes half toward you, still standing.

And when they sit down together on overturned milk crates, eating off a single plate between them like two idiots with something sacred in their hands, he watches you take the first bite - how your lips part, how your lashes flutter closed, how your shoulders relax just slightly-

He groans.

It’s quiet. Half a laugh. But it sounds like sex. Feels like sin.

“This hollandaise,” he mutters. “Jesus Christ. What’s the acid- lemon and…?”

“Rice vinegar,” you say, instantly. Then freezes.

He hums. “Goddamn. You tryna kill me?”

You huff a laugh. Doesn’t answer.

They eat in silence after that. Forks scraping. Sauce gone. Not a scrap left.

It’s the best fucking breakfast he’s had in years.

And when you get up to clean, careful and fast and still avoiding his gaze, Mikey just sits there with his half-hard cock and his warm stomach and the taste of your food on his tongue like a confession.

He’s never been more full.

Never been more fucked.

---

Mikey lets you cook.

Not during service, obviously. Not when Richie’s screaming and the line’s hot and the air’s thick with grease and stress and bullshit. But in the in-between hours - when it’s so early the sky still looks bruised, or late enough that the city’s finally quiet again - he unlocks the doors and lets you walk into his kitchen like you belongs there.

And you do. Not just as admin or number-wrangler or back office sorceress. But as someone with a knife in your hand and purpose in your eyes. It’s still new, still clumsy in places, but you’re not scared. Not of the space. Not of the weight of it. And that - that - makes something in his chest tighten.

It’s been almost eight months.

Eight fucking months since you walked in with your tight, perfect CV and your chubby thighs and your firm little mouth and turned his world sideways.

You’re still the same girl.

Still all sharp edges and compartmentalised glances. Still better than him in every way that counts. Still so fucking closed. But now, finally, you’re in his domain. The place he understands. The only place he’s ever been something more than a fuck-up.

And it’s a kitchen to you now. Not just a workplace. Not just a paycheque. Not just debt spreadsheets and supplier contracts and trying to save the Bear from collapsing in on itself.

You move different, when you’re cooking. Looser. Like your spine stops trying so hard. Like your brain quiets for five minutes and lets you just be.

He learns things.

Like how your dad taught you. Not some fancy school, not a YouTube channel, not even a book. Just him. Standing behind you at a stove when you were too small to reach it, probably. You tell Mikey that in a rare quiet morning while you peel garlic. Doesn’t offer more than that. Doesn’t have to.

You know technique - how flavors layer, how to balance fat with acid, how to properly sear and not steam. Your knife skills are untrained, but not sloppy. You know what to do, just not always how to get there fast.

And yeah, compared to him - Mikey, who’s bled into kitchens since before you were even a fucking idea - you kinda suck. At least at first.

You overthink.

Stare at the pan too long.

Burns the shallots once and spends five minutes swearing at them like they personally betrayed you.

You cut yourself, too. Small nicks. Tip of the blade. Side of your thumb. Always the same places - little slips from not trusting your hand enough. He keeps a box of plasters under your mise en place now. Doesn't say anything. Just hands them over when you need one.

But Christ - you’re a good student.

Not just quick. Hungry. Not for praise, not for power, not even to impress. Just... to learn. Your intuition is fucking scary. Like you already know the answer and just needs a second to feel it out.

Sometimes he watches you add something - just a splash of vinegar, a pinch of citrus zest, one more flick of chili oil - and he wants to grab your face and kiss you so hard you forget your own name.

He doesn't.

He doesn’t try to find out what you’d do if he leaned in behind you while you whisked, murmured something soft and filthy into your hair. Doesn’t test whether you’d lean back into him if he laid a hand on your hip, the other cupping one of your heavy breasts with the same reverence he handles good dough.

Doesn’t whisper good girl when you nail a pan sauce.

Doesn’t ruin it.

Because this - this - is the most sacred thing he’s got. Letting you be in the kitchen. Letting you have it. Letting you belong in it without being claimed, without being touched, without being taken.

So instead he offers you quiet guidance.

Keeps his voice low and his hands to himself.

Watches you fuck up a vinaigrette and watches you fix it.

Watches you learn.

And tells himself that’s enough.

[lumosflairr]

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 - 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

summary: your father - Tony Stark, catches you and peter in a heated moment

warnings: making out, suggestive comments and jokes.

word count: 1.4k

The kitchen was filled with late morning sunlight and the smell of espresso pods you forgot to toss out. You were barefoot, hair still damp from your shower, wearing a tank top and some pajama shorts as you stacked clean dishes into upper cabinets.

“Okay, okay, but hear me out,” Peter said, leaning against the counter behind you, voice animated and a little breathless from excitement, “you know that scene in Return of the Jedi, when Luke walks into Jabba’s palace all calm and mysterious, like—totally owning the place?”

You smirked as you shoved another mug into its place and turned to glance over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

Peter nodded so fast his curls bounced. “Okay, so during the mission yesterday—remember the guys we were tracking near the docks? I did that exact walk. I’m serious. Hoodie blowing in the wind, full hero entrance. I even had my hood up like a cape. I felt so cool.”

You stifled a laugh. “And what happened?”

“I tripped over a box,” he muttered quickly, then went right back to grinning. “But before that? I was just like Luke. Big time.”

You closed the cabinet door and turned to face him fully now, drying your hands on a dish towel as you leaned against the kitchen island. Peter was wearing one of your dad’s oversized hoodies that you’d technically claimed a few months ago, but somehow Peter always ended up in it when he slept over. It was baggy on him, sleeves swallowed his hands, and the neckline hung just a little too wide on his collarbone.

Adorable.

He continued rambling, hopping slightly from foot to foot, like his brain couldn’t keep still. “Anyway, then it reminded me of that Clone Wars episode where Anakin and Obi-Wan—well, mostly Anakin—did this thing where they were totally outnumbered but somehow used, like, a cargo crate as a distraction. Which—fun fact—I used yesterday. I webbed a shipping crate, swung it into the alleyway—took out two guys. No lightsabers needed.”

You stepped forward slowly, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much.

Peter didn’t even notice at first, still caught up in his own whirlwind. “And then there was this part where I was hanging from the side of the scaffolding, and it was so Empire Strikes Back. Like, the whole dangling vibe. I was even humming the theme—”

You reached him in three slow steps and gently cupped his jaw.

He paused mid-thought, lips parting slightly in surprise. “Oh.”

You tilted your head, staring at him with a soft look, your thumbs brushing along his cheekbones.

“You’re so adorable, y’know that?”

Peter blinked, then let out a short, sheepish laugh. “Little ole me?” He joked, his smile plastered wide across his face

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

His hands hovered for a moment before they found your waist, fingers curling slightly, grounding himself in the moment. He kissed you back, deepening it a little with a quiet hum, noses bumping slightly before he smiled against your lips.

Peter was almost breathless, whispering “I think my brain just short-circuited.”

You grinned at him. “You know you love it.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

He kissed you again, longer this time—sliding his hands down to your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The pace quickened, not heated but steady, full of that dizzy sort of affection that comes with knowing each other inside out.

Peter’s tongue traced your bottom lip, and you let him in, your fingers tangling in the ends of his hair. He chuckled into the kiss, clearly enjoying the way your hands tugged just a little.

You gasped slightly when he flipped you around and your lower back hit the counter edge. “Peter—”

“Shhh,” he teased, already kissing along your jaw as his hands gripped under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly onto the marble. You settled there with a breathy laugh, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

He leaned forward, pressing himself between your legs, his hands rubbing up and down them like second nature. Your hands were in his hair again, tugging, pulling, deepening the kiss.

He kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

“Hey kiddo, have you seen my—”

“What. The. FUCK.”

Your head snapped to the doorway to be met with none other than your father - Tony Stark. His eyes were shot wide, his jaw slightly slacked with his eyebrows halfway up to his hairline. Peter shot up with his eyes full of terror. You didn’t breathe. You both didn’t move a single muscle.

“Peter.” Tony spoke, his eyes remained wide before bringing a finger up as he shut his eyes, his hand shaking as he tried to remain semi-calm. “Get your hands off of my daughter this very instant or so help me-“

Peter’s voice cracked as he scrambled back. “Mr. Stark! I—I wasn’t—It’s not what it looked like—well, actually it was, but not—not in a bad way! We were just…kissing..” Peter finished his sentence with his head hanging low, eyes peaking up at your father who your sure would’ve lit on fire if he could.

Tony stepped inside the room slowly, hand already pinching the bridge of his nose. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Is this…is this real? Is this my life? On the counter we eat on? Seriously? That’s where I butter my English muffins, Parker!”

“Dadddd,” you groaned, sliding off the counter in shame, even though Peter’s hands had long left your legs.

Tony held up a hand. “No. Nope. I don’t want to hear the defense. I’m invoking my right as a traumatized parent to not know what the hell was about to happen in my kitchen.”

“We were just kissing! We weren’t gonna have se—” you started.

“NOPE,” Tony barked, hands flying into the air. “Nope! That’s it. I need to pour bleach into my ears and gorge my eyeballs out now.”

Peter looked like he was two seconds from crying. “Sir, I wasn’t trying to disrespect your—your kitchen, or your muffins, or your daughter, or—”

Tony’s eyes narrowed like lasers. “Kid. You were halfway to second base on a marble slab I eat toast off of. In MY tower. With MY daughter.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter squeaked. “It’s just—she kissed me! And then the Force kind of took over and—”

“Are you seriously referencing Star Wars?” Tony was about to blow while he pointed his finger at Peter once again, which your boyfriend reacted with lowering his head like a lost puppy.

You covered your face with your hands. “This is literally the worst day of my life.”

Tony turned to you, eyes wide. “Worst day? I just caught Spider-boy sucking face with my daughter while she was on the damn kitchen counter! I win. I win that one.”

You dropped your hands with an exasperated sigh. “We weren’t doing anything bad, Dad! It was just kissing.”

Tony raised both hands and began pacing like he was about to deliver a TED Talk. “Oh, just kissing, she says. Just a casual little makeout session on my food-prep surface. What’s next? Foreplay in the suit garage? A quickie by the arc reactor? Where does it end?!”

Peter turned bright red. “I swear I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t planning to—”

“Planning,” Tony echoed, stopping dead in his tracks snapping his head directly at him. “There was planning involved?”

Peter looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “No! I mean, not like—not planning planning, I just meant—”

Tony waved him off. “Kid, I’m two seconds from installing a laser turret in this kitchen that auto-targets your face.”

“Okay, that seems extreme,” you muttered.

Tony pointed at you, all dad fury and caffeine deprivation. “You don’t get to talk right now, Starklette. You looked like you were seconds away from giving me grandkids on a marble countertop.”

You blinked. “Did you just nickname me Starklette?”

Peter coughed into his hand to hide a laugh.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Was that a laugh? Are you laughing? Is this funny to you?”

Peter shook his head furiously. “No. No, sir. I am so stressed I might throw up.”

“Good,” Tony muttered. “Let that guilt marinate.”

He walked back toward the counter, stared at it for a moment, then grabbed his untouched mug, only to realize the coffee inside had gone cold. He sighed deeply, like the universe personally betrayed him, and headed to the fridge.

“I need a drink. And it’s only 11AM,” he mumbled, opening the fridge door like it had wronged him. “Where’s the mimosa stuff—FRIDAY, make me something that tastes like forgetting.”

Peter looked at you, wide-eyed and whispering. “Should I leave before he starts building a Peter-proof panic room?”

You smirked, nudging him. “You’re fine. He’s just dramatic.”

Tony yelled from across the room, “I heard that, Starklette.”

Peter turned to him, trying one last time. “Mr. Stark, sir, I—I really do love your daughter. I’m not trying to hurt her. I’d never do that.”

Tony paused, standing still for a beat longer than necessary.

He took a sip of his orange juice and stared straight ahead and said dryly: “Cool. Love her from six feet away. Preferably from another borough.”

Peter gave a tight smile. “Copy that.”

You shook your head, grabbed Peter’s hand, and started pulling him toward the door. “Come on, Spider-Boy. Let’s get out of blast radius.”

“Bye, Mr. Stark,” Peter called, voice high and nervous.

Tony didn’t look up. “FRIDAY, make a new house rule: No boyfriends in the kitchen. Ever again.”

FRIDAY’s voice chimed politely: “Understood, boss.”

[solardrop]

super specific tag game

tagged by @hotchology♥♥

one piece of jewelry you can't go anywhere without: I'm very forgetful so i don't really do jewelry unless it is permanently stuck on my person. I do have a pair of favorite earrings that I do love to wear when I remember though! Gold bamboo door knockers with a cursive M in the middle of the hoop. They're plated and staring to strip though so 💔

most worn shoes: yellow crocs my beloved <3 everyone hates them but they have no spice in their life. Guess who's never gotten hit by a car wearing them at night though? Exactly.

new book/fic that has you in its grip: My most recent book was A Lot Like Adios by Alexis Daria! Very simple and cutesy, would read again.

As for fanfic I'll try to be normal and only mention one from each fandom i've posted a lot about recently.

the echos of us by romantashas something only you can have by aureatelys the come up by indolic

one drink you can't go without: ginger ale, ice cold! must be canada dry.

latest kitchen fail: i already talked about my xxxl cookies and weird bread yesterday so Ill aside from those, I keep making pasta lately that is so salty... And it's always the pasta for some reason I usually always make shit bland and add shit later. But pasta has been hellish lately I fear david rossi is gonna come smack the taste out of my mouth for these crimes.

a piece of media you have been wanting to watch for ages but never got the time to: a lot of classic animes. naruto and bleach mostly. Im sorry i feel like I missed the wave I can't do it now it's too late.

latest character to enter brainrot mode: okokok SO there's a lot.

The MOST recent is richie from the bear. But it's not that strong yet, I havent locked him up in the palace of my brain yet. He's more so just pushing me towards violence every time he's on my screen.

then Tim Bradford from the rookie. sickening man. hate him. he torments me at night. He's in my brain. I can't go to sleep without thinking of some dumbass shit he's said and laughing to myself. He's lodged in there I don't like him.

Samira Mohan. Should be obvious. I have like 5 different wips started revolving around her. I would like a pitt spin off called the Samira Mohan show. Im already in contact with Noah Wyle about it.

tags (sorry if you already did this)

@hotchfiles @ssa-dado @mizzfizz @divadepreshawn @bruceewayne

[dollie-disaster-darling]

Fanart of bsd ladies based on the latest (i think) official art from Harukawa

Ada!

For Yosano, I picked a simple wrap top and sarashi wrap. I didn't really have much of an idea with what I was thinking other than 'i think she'd like wrapping a lot, and she'd probably use a katana for injuring people' and I just really wanted to draw her with a short side ponytail.

For Naomi, I couldn't really think of much at first because I can't really discern much of her. But then I just decided that I can't just ignore the little I do know of her just because I don't think it's that deep. I thought that she was a vapid and shallow schoolgirl character.

But then I remembered that anime schoolgirls are genuinely so awesome and probably the backbone of anime and manga. Why should I look for other traits to give Naomi when she already has the legendary status of being an anime girl in highschool?

Remember a few years back, there was this whole trope of schoolgirl exorcists/Miko? I remember seeing a decent number of them. I mostly remember Kagome from Inuyasha even though she's not really called an exorcist, but I know there was definitely more. Like...twin star exorcists and blue exorcists and more.

Considering that in the official art, Atsushi has tails, Dazai's looking like a kitsune, Akutagawa has a dragon on his clothes, and Chuuya has snakes on him, I think-- Naomi's gonna solo them all. Ranpo has a panda so he'll be spared.

So yeah. That's why Naomi's wearing Kagome from the anime Inuyasha cosplay.

Pm!

For Higuchi, I tried to translate her simple suit and modern guns to something more traditional. I'm not sure why, but I associate light blue with Higuchi. I think she'd wear clothes traditionally meant for men when working but wear more traditionally feminine clothes out of work. She'd probably have a legend made of her for being able to put her hair in a bun despite it being so short.

As for Kouyou, yes I used my beloathed Exhibit E as the heavy inspiration

The dis-knees...the chest window... The weird position...the air making her bangs like that... Looking at it still makes me :|| but I still used it for reference because I think the coat looks cool.

The Kunikida tag talk interlude!

I saw this one person make a really lovely fanart of Kunikida in the same style as the official art because he wasn't a part of the line-up and I remembered feeling bummed none of the ladies were in the line-up too so I thought 'oh right, I can try doing that too' so I drew what I drew. The artist is @/benetnvsch here on Tumblr but I'm not going to tag them because I realised that if you tag someone, they'll feel inclined to look at what you're tagging them. This is probably how I'll give credit from now on.

The official art rant!

This one official art that looks to me based on mythology from and/or fantasy based on East Asia, but most people focused on for buff Chuuya and the pretty boys looking neat. I honestly think this is one of my favorite official arts from her.

The tassels that are used a lot in traditional fits, the design on Dazai's shirt looking like how water/air was depicted in old Japanese paintings, the designs looking like designs likely to be used in traditional clothes, Akutagawa wearing a changsam and Ranpo wearing a tattsuke bakama--

I saw some people talk about whether or not she used ai. I guarantee that if ai was used for this, this whole picture would just be so vague and just a hodgepodge of uninspired 'asian-looking' elements served as too mindless and heartless to pay respect to any culture.

But no, there are 'asian elements here' that you can actually see and go 'oh that's actually a thing!!!' And unlike the other people that so easily fall in the pitfall of thinking that the epitome of mixing modern and traditional is just putting a chest window in a cheongsam, the modern touches she added here actually help give the traditional clothes a new spin!

The boots, the inside of clothes having a different color inside, the tassels being integrated in ways they usually aren't, and the modern accessories.

If you ask me who here did it best, it'd be Akutagawa because I see him and I immediately get that he's supposed to be a mix of both. Since Kitsune is a more widespread concept now, it'd be easy to just think Dazai's just dressing up as kitsune anime character. Chuuya looks like a model doing a photoshoot based on. Ranpo mostly has traditional elements with the only modem thing on him being his sunglasses. Atsushi looks like a sweet kid performing at a school event celebrating a cultural festival.

Not that they don't look any less wonderful, I just want to hammer down that even without the context, you could tell Akutagawa's wearing the mix. He's on top, but literally everyone here looks gorgeous and has a great fit.

Anyways. It'd be nice if we got official art of the ladies and girls from Harukawa, but bad self fanart is all I can do for now. That's all. Whew.

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: a gravity falls comic set in darklordofawesomeness's shapeshifter Stan AU.

Panel 1: Stan, who has shapeshifted to look like Emma-May (Tate's mother), stealing Tate. Shifty is running beside him in the shape of an opossum. Emma-May shouts "TATE!" from offscreen after them.

Panel 2: Stan, now shaped like a dog, runs in the opposite direction and carries both Tate and Shifty (who now looks like Tate) on his back. Emma May, still offscreen, says "...Tate?"

Panel 3: Emma May has caught up to Stan, who now looks like himself and has a hold of both Tates. Emma May looks furious; Stan says "Uh... heh..." while the real Tate says "Hi mom!"

Panel 4: Later, Emma May and Tate walk alongside Stan and Shifty, who look like Emma May and Tate respectively. Emma May says " So, I've been thinking of changing my look. Y'know, represent my crisis following my divorce." Stan replies "Oh that's a good idea. I always do that." Emma May says "Could you show me what I look like with blue hair?" End ID.]

based on @dark-lord-of-awesomeness' fic Doppleganger, the au in which stan is a shapeshifter. They have assured us that Stan will steal Tate, which i am all for. Will Emma-May forgive him enough for shapeshifter and divorce banter? Who knows! But it would be funny 😌

[feathermouth]

dude i just wrote the longest thing about him. and i pressed reblog. and it took like 5 minutes to load and then just DIDNT UPLOAD. i have to do it all over again. fuck me.

but hehe okayyy :::3

basically, i said that gideon was a failure of a child who ended up in a drug ring to pay for his own heart surgery. urbanshade experimented on him and assigned him to deep underwater maintenance.

gideon wooledge, born october 9th of 1989, is a u.s. citizen with greek heritage (hes highly americanized, far removed). he lived with his father and grandmother in a small wooded part of town

gideon was diagnosed with a heart condition in his early teens, his heart being slower than it should. it didnt become a real issue until he was in college and the stress fucked him up. he was studying STEM stuff, mostly robotics and physics, but he dropped out after three whole years.

gideon was kicked off his dads insurance and eventually needed a pacemaker for his heart, but he couldnt afford the procedure. he resorted to distributing hard drugs as a means of making extra money. he got arrested and was supposed to be sent to rehab and then witness protection.

urbanshade saw this fucker and went "mmmm, exploitable." gideon consented to experiments because he was under the impression that he was getting treatment for his heart. urbanshade experimented on him quickly and kinda rushed it, so his mutations are more noticeably animalistic. hes mixed with a female leopard seal and a male sea otter.

gideon was tasked with deep underwater maintenance after his experiments concluded. his blubber makes the depths more tolerable because parasites and frigid temperatures cant hurt him as easily. he was also given a secondary task of killing any "unwelcome" entities, like parasites or just normal sea creatures that were fucking up equipment.

gideon hopes that "doing good enough" will convince urbanshade to let him retire early. he never leaves his designated area, and the isolation has turned him pretty awkward. hes antisocial and jumpy, but hes generally polite and tries to stay out of peoples way.

unless youre on his turf, bitch !!@ (he will mistake you for another unwelcome animal and will attempt to eat you, hq tells you to avoid dark waters lacking parasites for this reason)

gideon took a day or so to realize the lockdown happened. in short, he doesnt believe he can get out, but hes rooting for the others. he purposefully leaves equipment damaged so that the expendables will have to take dangerous detours.

okay thats it for now. i havent come up with a Z-??? thing yet, but he is classified as an entity.

summary, i made a traumatized furry

I FIXED MY DRAWINGS. HES BETTER NOW.

not perfect. something still irks me about his design, but i cant pinpoint what. i think i need to give him clothes of some kind

gideon wooledge, 35 years old, spliced with a leopard seal and a sea otter

is anyone interested in learning more about him. please. i jsut dont wanna make this post too long ...

[b4kuch1n]

polymer broadcast signal hijack