#i clutched my head in agony very dramatically

[butchsaint]

i washed my hair with water so cold it gave me a brain freeze outside my head. like it Hurt My Head. crazy business!!

[solxamber]

Making Up After an Argument With: Vice Housewardens + Kalim

part 1 with overblot gang + rollo

more hurt/comfort for the soul!

Trey Clover:

It had been days since your argument with Trey. Days of agonizing silence. Days of avoiding each other in the hallways, sidestepping glances in the cafeteria, and pretending not to exist when you crossed paths in class. It was ridiculous.

You could barely even remember what you had argued about. Something about cake batter consistency? Or was it his relentless calmness in the face of your very valid cake-related frustration? Regardless, this had gone on long enough.

And you? Well, you were dramatic by nature, so if you were going to apologize to Trey, it needed to be big. Monumental. The stuff of legends.

So you did what any normal person would do: you put together an apology that could have come straight out of a Shakespearean tragedy.

The setting: Trey's dorm room.

The plan: Apologize with flair.

The execution? Well… here goes.

You kicked open the door to his room—literally, because who needs normalcy when you’re trying to make a grand entrance?

“TREYYYYY!!!” you wailed, throwing yourself to the floor dramatically as if you had just collapsed under the weight of your own misery. You didn’t even bother getting up—no, you stayed there, prone on the floor, arms stretched out in a cross shape like you were trying to summon a deity.

Trey looked up from his desk, eyes wide in utter disbelief at the absolute spectacle in front of him. His glasses slid down his nose slightly as he blinked, staring at you as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be concerned.

“...what are you doing?” he asked, his voice slow, measured, and cautious. This was so much even for you.

You grabbed a pillow from his bed, clutching it to your chest as you rolled over dramatically, eyes squinted in faux despair. “I have wronged you, dear Trey,” you moaned, as though you were performing an award-winning monologue on stage. “I have been a FOOL, a BRAT, a mere shadow of the decent human I once was. I came here to THROW MYSELF at your FEET and beg for FORGIVENESS!”

Trey blinked again. He was so calm that it almost made you want to scream. This was serious! You were performing your soul out right now!

You pushed yourself up to your knees, crawling a little closer to him, throwing your arms up to the ceiling. “I have spent these past few days in agony,” you continued, voice now filled with the heavy weight of tragic longing. “My life without you has been like a cupcake without frosting! Like tea without sugar! Like—like… a world without your glasses to reflect the sunlight into my soul!”

Trey pressed his lips together, clearly fighting back a smile. You continued, undeterred.

“My heart is broken, shattered, like the eggs we once cracked together to make the finest sponge cake. And now… now, Trey Clover, I come to you, humble and pleading. I ask you to take pity on this poor wretch who was too blind to see the treasure before them. Forgive me, Trey. Please. Don’t let me die from this—this unbearable torment!”

There was a pause. A long one. Trey stared at you with that soft, almost amused expression, and then he sighed, shaking his head as he got up from his desk.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he said, walking over to you. He crouched down beside you, his tone gentle despite the absurdity of the situation.

Still fully committed to your performance, you grabbed his hands and held them to your chest, staring up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Ridiculous for you, Trey. Only for you.”

He finally broke, a chuckle escaping his lips as he looked at you, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Get up. You don’t have to be so over the top.”

You hesitated, playing up the pause before you dramatically threw yourself onto him, burying your face into his stomach like a child seeking forgiveness. “I won’t get up until you forgive me!” you cried, muffled against his shirt.

Trey let out a sigh of fond exasperation, patting the top of your head like you were an unruly puppy. “You’re impossible.”

With a final chuckle, he pulled you up to your feet. “I forgive you. You don’t have to grovel,” he said, his voice warm, but there was something in his eyes that looked a little distant, a little… sad?

That’s when the theatrics faded. You could see it, plain as day, the little dip in his expression, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something wasn’t right.

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “Hey… is something wrong?”

Trey blinked, glancing away for a second before letting out a small sigh. “No, it’s… it’s nothing. Really.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice as you rested a hand on his arm. “Trey, come on. I know you better than that.”

He hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair, glancing out the window before he finally spoke. “It’s just… I didn’t know if you’d come back.” His voice was quieter now, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “I thought… I don’t know, maybe you’d decide that I’m not as interesting or… exciting as some of the other people around here. I’m just the guy who bakes and keeps everything running smoothly.”

You felt your heart twist at his words. Trey, always so calm and collected, always in the background, thinking he wasn’t enough? How wrong he was.

“Trey…” you said softly, stepping even closer now, so close that your forehead was practically brushing his chest. “You’re wrong. You’re everything I want. You’re more than enough.”

He looked down at you, surprised by the sincerity in your voice.

You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands, making him look directly at you. “You don’t have to be flashy or dramatic or anything else. I don’t want that. I just want you. The Trey who cares, who listens, who’s always there when I need him, even when I’m being a total idiot.” You smiled softly. “You’re steady, and that’s what makes you special. Not everyone else.”

Trey’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he was trying to process your words. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you as if he was afraid to let go.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and full of emotion.

You squeezed him back, your earlier theatrics now a distant memory as you felt the warmth of his embrace. “I mean it, Trey. You’re perfect the way you are.”

There was a moment of quiet, just the two of you standing there, holding onto each other. It wasn’t grand or dramatic—it was simple, and honest, and perfect.

And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you whispered, “Plus, your cakes are way better than anyone else’s.”

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You really are something else, you know that?”

You grinned against his chest. “Only for you, Trey. Only for you.”

Ruggie Bucchi

The silent treatment between you and Ruggie had stretched on longer than either of you expected. And it was killing you. The worst part? Neither of you was budging. Stubborn as all get-out. But you weren’t just any regular person—you were extra. If you were going to break the silence, you’d do it in the most dramatic, over-the-top way possible.

And what was Ruggie’s greatest weakness?

Food.

So, here you were, standing at the doorstep of Ruggie’s dorm with a feast in your hands. You had collected everything from the cafeteria—pies, cakes, sandwiches, chips—anything edible that would appeal to his sense of taste, because this wasn’t just about an apology; this was an event.

And like any event, you were about to turn this into the most theatrical, food-based apology in the history of NRC.

You knocked on his door three times. The door creaked open slightly, and Ruggie peeked through the gap, eyes narrowing when he saw you standing there. “What do you want?”

He still sounded salty. But, of course, you had prepared for this.

“I come… bearing gifts,” you said, lifting the massive tray of food with all the grandeur of a royal presenting treasure to the king. “A peace offering! An apology! A banquet for the ages!”

Ruggie’s eyes widened as he took in the sheer amount of food. “What is all this?”

“Our reconciliation,” you declared, dramatically. “I come humbly, with my arms full of all that your stomach desires. For I have wronged you, Ruggie Bucchi, and I must beg for forgiveness in the only way I know how—with food.”

Ruggie stared at you, lips twitching as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or kick you out. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I know,” you wailed, feigning anguish. “I’m a fool, Ruggie! A foolish, foolish person! But a fool who knows that you won’t stay mad when there’s a perfectly good tray of sandwiches right in front of you.”

He arched a brow. “You’re bribing me with food?”

“Absolutely.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at you as if sizing you up. “What if I say no?”

Without missing a beat, you plopped yourself down on the floor, placing the tray on your lap. “Then I’ll just sit here and eat everything in front of your door until you feel so guilty, you’ll have to forgive me.”

There was a beat of silence before Ruggie snorted, unable to keep the smirk off his face. “You’re crazy.”

“And yet… you haven’t closed the door,” you shot back, giving him a sly smile.

Ruggie let out a long-suffering sigh but stepped aside, allowing you into his dorm room with all your extravagant offerings.

Once inside, you laid the food out on the table as if setting up for a feast. Plates and bowls and trays—everything perfectly arranged in the most ridiculous spread you could muster. You turned to him, arms open wide like a game show host revealing the grand prize.

“For you, my dear, a meal to rival kings!” you announced with a flourish. “And also my heartfelt apology.”

Ruggie eyed the spread, trying to keep his expression neutral, but you could see the gears turning. You knew him. He wasn’t one to say no to free food, no matter how petty he was being.

“I’m listening,” he said, finally, leaning against the table as if he wasn’t already plotting which dish to devour first.

You placed a hand on your heart, staring at him with as much sincerity as you could muster. “Ruggie, I’m sorry. I was being a brat. I didn’t mean to snap at you over something so small, and I definitely didn’t mean to let it drag out like this.” You paused, grabbing a sandwich and holding it out to him as if it were a peace token. “Please forgive me?”

He looked at the sandwich, then at you, and then, after a long moment of hesitation, he snatched it out of your hand. “Fine, fine. You’re lucky I can’t stay mad when there’s food involved.”

You grinned, relief washing over you. “You’re easy to bribe.”

“You’re easy to apologize to,” he shot back, taking a huge bite of the sandwich. “But yeah… I forgive you.”

You relaxed, plopping down into a chair across from him as you watched him devour the food with the same efficiency that he handled everything in life. But there was still something in his eyes—something that looked a little off, even though he was joking around now.

And then, almost as if reading your thoughts, Ruggie spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now, less playful. “I… I gotta admit something.”

You blinked, straightening up a little. “Yeah?”

Ruggie leaned back in his chair, staring down at the sandwich in his hands. “I know we fought over something stupid, but... I’ve been thinking. I was scared, y’know?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I thought maybe you were realizing you could do better than someone like me. I mean, look at me—I’m always hustling, always trying to scrape by. Penny-pinching, scheming… I’m not like all those rich, flashy guys you’re surrounded by.”

His words hung in the air, and your heart squeezed at the vulnerability in his voice.

“Ruggie,” you said softly, standing up and walking over to him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, making him look up at you. “What are you talking about? I don’t care about any of that. I care about you.”

He frowned, glancing away. “Yeah, but… it’s hard not to feel like I’m just some background guy, y’know? Like you’d get tired of me eventually.”

You shook your head, feeling a rush of affection for this boy who always acted like he had the world figured out but was still so worried about being left behind.

“You’re wrong,” you said firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re not just ‘some background guy.’ You’re everything to me. I don’t care about money or schemes or any of that. You’re smart, you’re funny, you make me laugh every day, and you’re always looking out for me, even when I don’t deserve it.”

Ruggie’s eyes softened, his lips parting slightly like he didn’t know what to say.

You smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “And besides,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, “if you think I’m gonna find someone better than the guy who can steal a whole feast from the cafeteria without getting caught, you’re seriously underestimating how much I value your skills.”

That finally earned a chuckle from him, his shoulders relaxing as he let out a breath he’d been holding. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you,” you teased, planting another kiss on his cheek, then another on the tip of his nose, and then—just because you could—one more on his lips.

Ruggie, now thoroughly kissed, wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap. “I guess I can’t stay mad at you, huh?” he murmured, his voice soft now, all the tension from earlier melting away.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you rested your forehead against his. “Not when I’m this cute.”

He snorted, nuzzling into you. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make a habit out of fighting with me, or I’m gonna get spoiled from all these fancy apologies.”

You grinned. “Deal. As long as you promise to remember that you’re more than enough for me.”

Ruggie looked up at you, his usual mischievous grin returning, but there was something warmer in his eyes now, something softer. “Yeah. I’ll remember.”

And with that, you pulled him in for another kiss, sealing the apology and the promise with a little extra love.

Jade Leech:

The silent treatment between you and Jade Leech had been going on for far too long now. And, sure, you could be stubborn. You could match his pettiness tit-for-tat. But at some point, even the most ridiculous battles need a ceasefire. And this particular cold war was starting to wear you both down.

The tension had grown so thick it could probably be bottled and sold as premium-grade eelskin moisturizer. You weren't sure what had gotten you both so worked up in the first place—something about a miscommunication over a rare mushroom and your tendency to call out his cryptic grins. It snowballed from there.

But today, you were going to be the bigger person.

Which meant it was time to break the ice. And not with any ordinary apology—oh, no. Jade Leech wasn’t a man swayed by simple words and chocolates. You needed something grander, something that spoke to his peculiar interests and refined tastes.

And that's how you found yourself in the local black market—er, highly exclusive specialty shop—shelling out way too much money for some ultra-rare terrarium material. You didn’t know what it was, exactly. It was glowy, mossy, and something Jade would probably coo over like a proud parent. Perfect.

And you had a plan. Not just any apology plan—oh no, you were going to kill this with a one-two punch of heartfelt apology and a sweet gesture that no petty argument could stand up to.

That evening, you found yourself standing outside Mostro Lounge with your rare terrarium goods tucked under one arm and a small, handmade "I’m Sorry" cake under the other. Because if there’s one thing Jade Leech loves, it's weird, rare plant materials.

The Mostro Lounge was quiet, the perfect setup for your grand gesture. You pushed open the door and slipped inside, only to find Jade sitting at one of the tables, clearly deep in thought.

You cleared your throat loudly, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly. Oh, good, he was still feeling salty.

"Jade," you called out in a dramatic, over-the-top tone, walking toward him like you were making a royal entrance. "I come bearing gifts. The finest of gifts." You carefully set the rare terrarium material on the table before pulling the cake out of the box with a flourish.

Jade raised an eyebrow, his expression carefully neutral. “Ah, how… thoughtful. And what, pray tell, is this?” he asked, eyeing the mossy material as if it were an amusing trinket.

You straightened up, grinning. “A rare moss that only grows under the full moon in the volcanic pits of the Obsidian Islands. I fought off twelve merchants for it. I might have bruised a kidney in the process, but hey, it's worth it for you."

Jade blinked, but his lips twitched. "How charmingly excessive," he said, though his tone was still icy. “And the cake?”

You set the cake down with a proud smile. “Homemade. No eels were harmed in the making of it, I promise. Consider it a peace offering… because, you know… maybe we’ve been a little ridiculous?”

Jade’s eyes slid back to the terrarium material, then back to you, and you could see that familiar glint of amusement cracking through his carefully composed exterior. “A little ridiculous? Hmm, perhaps that’s one way to put it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Jade. We’ve both been petty, and it’s getting us nowhere. You don’t want to be in this weird stalemate forever, do you?”

He tilted his head, regarding you with that infuriatingly polite smile. “I was under the impression that this was a competition to see who could hold out the longest. But perhaps I underestimated your resolve.”

You groaned, but before you could say anything snarky back, Jade’s gaze softened. He looked down at the cake, then at the terrarium material, and sighed—a sound so small and uncharacteristically vulnerable that it made your chest tighten.

"Truth be told,” he murmured, “I was beginning to think that this was the final straw. That I had ruined something good by being… well, myself." His voice dropped in volume, and for once, there wasn’t a hint of teasing or sarcasm in it.

You blinked. Wait—what?

Jade Leech thought you were going to leave him? You? Sure, you'd had fights before, but this one was different, wasn’t it? Still, the way he looked at you now—guard down, that polite mask starting to crumble—it hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Jade…” You set the cake aside and moved toward him, gently tugging him into a hug. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t get rid of me that easily.”

For a moment, he was stiff, still clinging to his composure. But then, ever so slowly, his arms wrapped around you, and he buried his face into your shoulder.

“I didn’t realize how much this argument was bothering you,” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair. “I thought we were both being silly, but… I should have known better. I should’ve just apologized sooner.”

Jade was quiet for a few long moments, his arms tightening around you. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come back. I thought perhaps you’d realized you deserved better than… well, someone like me. Someone so focused on... mischief."

You leaned back just enough to cup his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Jade Leech, do you honestly think I’d walk away because you’re… what, a little mysterious? Please. I love that about you.” You smiled, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “You’re smart, and you make life interesting. You mean the world to me.”

Jade’s eyes widened slightly, and for once, he looked genuinely surprised. Then, slowly, a small smile crept onto his lips—soft, real, and free of his usual smugness.

“You have quite the way with words,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

“I’ve been practicing,” you teased, before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Jade melted into the kiss, and when you finally pulled back, he looked more at ease than he had in days.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

You kissed him again, softer this time, before pulling him into another tight hug. “No more silent treatment, okay? Next time, let’s just talk things out before it gets ridiculous.”

Jade chuckled softly, nodding. “Agreed. Though I must say, your dramatic apology was quite entertaining.”

You grinned. “I aim to please.”

And with that, the two of you spent the rest of the evening laughing, eating cake, and—most importantly—making up. The argument was forgotten, and all that remained was the warmth of knowing that, no matter what, you and Jade would always find your way back to each other.

Kalim Al-Asim

It was completely out of character for you and Kalim to fight. Kalim Al-Asim—the boy with the heart as bright as a thousand suns—wasn’t exactly the type to harbor negativity. Arguments just didn’t happen between the two of you. He’d smile, laugh it off, and find some extravagant way to make peace, usually involving some form of spontaneous celebration or showering you with gifts.

But this time, something had gone awry. The fight had left a sour taste in your mouth, and, even more surprising, you had given him the silent treatment for days.

Days! As if that was even possible. Kalim had tried to make things right, sending you lavish gifts, offering up trips to the oasis, and practically begging with those big, shimmering eyes. But you had stood firm, giving him the cold shoulder. It wasn’t until now, while pacing your room, that you realized just how ridiculous it all was.

Kalim wasn’t a bad guy. He wasn’t even remotely deserving of being treated this way. Life was too short, and giving Kalim the silent treatment was like trying to dim the sun itself. It was painful, unnatural, and only left the world a little darker.

You had to apologize. But you couldn’t just say sorry. Not for Kalim. No, you had to do something that would reach deep into his soul, something that screamed, “I am sorry for being a fool and depriving you of my radiant presence!”—in true Kalim fashion.

The door to Scarabia swung open with a flourish, and you marched in, carrying your “apology” in the most dramatic, over-the-top way possible. In your arms was a golden tray, laden with every dessert known to man.

Sweets from the farthest reaches of the desert, cakes stacked like miniature mountains, and the crown jewel: a massive tower of Baklava, glistening with honey and topped with an edible diamond (you might have gone a little overboard).

Kalim was sitting by the fountain in the common room, looking forlorn. But when he saw you approaching with this ridiculous confectionary masterpiece, his face lit up like a firework display. "Wha—? What’s all this?!" he asked, scrambling to his feet.

You set the tray down with a flourish, sweeping an arm dramatically over the display. “Kalim Al-Asim! I come bearing a humble offering. It may not be enough to express the depths of my regret, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me!”

Kalim’s face softened immediately, the ghost of a grin pulling at his lips. "Aww, you didn’t have to do all this! I was just about to apologize to you, I swear!"

You shook your head dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear. “No, Kalim! I’ve been a fool! Life without your smile is like the desert without water—a barren wasteland of misery! Please, let me make it up to you with this absurdly lavish, entirely unnecessary, but very tasty display of affection.”

He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Okay, okay, you’re forgiven! You didn’t have to go this far!” He gave you a playful nudge, already eyeing the tower of sweets with a twinkle in his eye.

Naturally, Kalim being Kalim, his first instinct was to throw a party. “This calls for a celebration!” he exclaimed. “Let’s invite everyone over, get the music going, and—"

But something was off. His words were as excited as ever, but his smile—his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Normally, Kalim's enthusiasm was infectious, a hurricane of joy sweeping everyone up in its path. But now, there was a dimness to it, like someone had put a filter over the sunshine that was Kalim Al-Asim.

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait a second.” You grabbed him by the arm, dragging him toward his room without explanation.

Kalim, too surprised to resist, blinked as you pulled him inside, shutting the door behind you. “What’s going on?” he asked, still trying to piece together what was happening.

“Sit,” you commanded, pointing to the bed. He sat, confusion still written all over his face, and you kneeled beside him, hands resting on his knees. “Alright, spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“You know what,” you said, voice softening now. “Your smile… it wasn’t right. That’s not your real smile. What’s wrong, Kalim?”

He hesitated, looking down at his hands for a moment before sighing. “It’s just…” He trailed off, fiddling with the fabric of his pants. “I don’t like it when we fight. And I keep thinking... maybe you deserve someone better. Someone who won’t make you mad in the first place. Someone who’s smarter, more… competent. I always mess up, don’t I? And you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

Your heart clenched, and you felt a surge of both love and exasperation well up inside you. How could he think that? Him, of all people? You reached out, grabbing his face in both hands and squishing his cheeks together. “Kalim,” you said sternly, “You listen to me, and you listen good.”

His cheeks were smooshed, making him look utterly ridiculous, but he nodded as best as he could under your grip.

“I don’t want someone else. I don’t want someone more ‘competent’ or ‘smarter.’ I want you, Kalim Al-Asim. You, with your big heart, your endless optimism, and your ability to turn every day into a celebration. You mean everything to me, and no amount of silly arguments is going to change that.”

You released his cheeks, and he blinked at you, wide-eyed. “Really?” His voice was muffled and still slightly smooshed.

“Really,” you said, smiling warmly. “You’re my sunshine, Kalim. Life would be so boring without you.”

Before he could say anything, you leaned in and peppered his face with kisses—on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, anywhere you could reach. He laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within him, and you could finally see that brightness returning to his eyes. The real smile. The one that could light up an entire palace.

“Okay, okay! I believe you!” he managed to say between fits of laughter, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar warmth. “I’m sorry for being petty,” you murmured. “I love you, Kalim.”

His grip tightened around you, and you could feel him smiling against your hair. “I love you too. And hey, no more fighting, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, feeling the weight of the past few days lift off your shoulders. “No more fighting. And no more throwing parties after apologies, okay? Let’s just… enjoy this.”

He chuckled softly. “Deal. But can we still eat the Baklava tower?”

You pulled back, grinning. “Obviously.”

With that, the two of you sat there for a while longer, tangled in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of reconciliation. And for the first time in days, everything felt right again.

Rook Hunt

You had been giving Rook the silent treatment for far too long now. At first, it was easy to ignore his poetic attempts at reconciliation—his dramatic speeches and flowers left in odd places (your shoes, under your pillow, even in your lunch). You had to admit, the guy was persistent, but you were stubborn. Stubborn, and maybe a bit petty.

But you missed him.

Which is why, today, you’d decided it was time to apologize. And not just any apology. No, no, no. This was Rook Hunt, the king of extravagance, drama, and all things flamboyant. If you were going to apologize, it had to be big.

You strutted through the hallways with purpose, a plan in place. Rook wouldn’t know what hit him.

When you finally found him, he was in the courtyard, gazing wistfully into the distance like some sort of Renaissance painting brought to life. Of course. Typical Rook.

You cleared your throat loudly, enough to get his attention. When his head snapped toward you, his eyes widening, you saw the hopeful glimmer in them. But you didn’t let him speak—not yet.

“No need for words, Rook Hunt,” you announced dramatically, extending one arm out wide and placing a hand over your heart as if you were in a Shakespearean tragedy. “For today, I come to seek your forgiveness!”

Rook blinked, clearly confused but intrigued. That was your in.

“I have wronged you, my dearest huntsman,” you continued, falling to your knees in a sweeping motion, as if you were collapsing under the weight of your guilt. “I have ignored you, punished you with silence for far too long, and for this, I am truly repentant.”

By now, Rook was staring at you, utterly captivated by your performance, which only encouraged you to go bigger.

“I have been petty, unreasonable, and blind to your affections,” you said, throwing your hands to the sky as if appealing to the heavens themselves. “But today, I seek redemption! I beg of you, O Rook Hunt, forgive me, for I cannot live another day without hearing your flowery prose, without basking in your eccentric glory!”

Rook’s lips twitched, and he brought a hand to his mouth, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. But you weren’t finished.

“To prove my sincerity, I offer you a token,” you declared, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a single, crumpled daisy. You held it up to him with both hands as if it were a royal gift. “A humble flower, to represent the fragile beauty of our love. Please, accept it.”

Rook stared at the flower, then at you, before finally, he cracked. His laughter spilled out, echoing in the courtyard. He dropped to one knee in front of you, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “Mon trésor, only you could outdo even my own dramatics.”

You gave him a triumphant grin, still holding out the flower. “So… am I forgiven?”

Rook’s eyes softened as he reached out, taking the daisy from your hand as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Forgiven? You were never truly condemned, mon amour.” He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his usual playfulness shining through.

“Good,” you said, relieved. “I was running out of material.”

But just as you were about to stand, Rook moved faster. In a blink, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the tightest hug you’d ever experienced. You were practically squished against him, and while you appreciated the affection, it was getting hard to breathe.

“Rook…?” you managed to mumble into his shoulder. “I can’t… breathe.”

But he didn’t let go. If anything, he hugged you tighter, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “I thought I had lost you,” he whispered, his voice low and shaky in a way that caught you off guard.

You paused, your heart sinking at the tone in his voice. Slowly, you pulled away, struggling a bit against his grip until you were able to meet his eyes. “Rook? What’s wrong?”

He sighed, finally loosening his hold just enough to let you move, but he didn’t let go entirely. His gaze flickered to the ground for a moment before he finally spoke. “I was afraid,” he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically small. “Afraid that my eccentricity… my quirks, my passion for the unusual—had finally driven you away.”

You blinked in surprise. Rook, of all people, thinking you would get tired of him? The man whose energy practically radiated confidence, who seemed unshakable?

“Rook…” You reached up, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “I love your quirks. I love how weird and dramatic and over-the-top you are. It’s what makes you you.” You leaned in, planting a kiss on his cheek. “And I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

His eyes widened, but you didn’t stop there. You kissed the other cheek, then his forehead, peppering his face with kisses until he started laughing softly under the onslaught.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered between kisses. “I was being petty, and I took it too far. I never wanted to hurt you like that.”

Rook shook his head slightly, but he didn’t pull away from your affection. “You have no need to apologize, mon cœur. I just… I couldn’t bear the thought of losing your light.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to make your point clear. “You’ll never lose me,” you said firmly, your forehead resting against his. “Not for being who you are. I love you, Rook. Every part of you.”

A soft smile spread across his lips as he leaned into you, his arms wrapping around you once more—though much gentler this time. “Je t’aime,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth. “More than words can express.”

You grinned, pulling back just enough to kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you too, you dramatic dork.”

He chuckled, holding you close, and for a long moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing quiet kisses and soft words.

It was, in its own way, the most perfect apology you could’ve ever given.

Lilia Vanrouge:

It had been days since the argument. Days! And you could practically feel your willpower disintegrating with every second that passed.

It was completely out of character for you and Lilia to fight. Normally, Lilia’s mischievous grin could melt away any tension between the two of you, but this time, something had gone awry. The disagreement wasn’t even over anything important, but you both had dug your heels in out of sheer stubbornness. Now, the silence stretched on like a never-ending opera that had lost its charm halfway through Act 2.

You were on the verge of cracking. If there was one thing you couldn’t handle, it was seeing Lilia go a whole day without teasing you or giving one of his random, nonsensical life lessons. And now? There was just silence. Deafening silence.

Even worse, Malleus had started giving you the look. You knew the one: his trademark “kicked puppy” expression, like you had personally thrown a thunderstorm over his parade. Every time you walked by, his wide, draconic eyes would lock onto yours, as if begging for you to fix things with Lilia.

The final straw came one evening, after Malleus lpoked at you like you had just told him all the gargoyles were being demolished.

That was it. You couldn't take it anymore.

Lilia was sitting in the Diasomnia common room, reading some old tome, looking as composed as ever. But you knew him better than that. His usual mischievous sparkle was missing, replaced by an uncharacteristic somberness.

You needed to apologize, but it couldn’t just be any apology. No, this was Lilia Vanrouge. You had to match his energy with something equally as ridiculous and dramatic.

So, you walked into the room, threw yourself onto the ground, and sprawled out like a dramatic character in an ancient tragedy, arms spread wide, face contorted in over-the-top despair. "LILIA!" you wailed, your voice echoing off the stone walls. "I cannot bear it any longer! The weight of my guilt crushes me like a boulder atop my fragile soul! Forgive me, or I shall wither away into nothingness, a mere shadow of the person I once was!"

Lilia looked up from his book, eyes widening slightly at the sheer spectacle of your apology. You threw an arm over your face, dramatically flopping onto your side, as though consumed by your own sorrow.

"If you cannot find it in your heart to forgive me," you continued, "then I shall simply expire here and now! Right here, in the common room! My ghost will haunt these halls forever, wailing tragically, and Malleus will be even sadder than before!"

Lilia finally broke into a grin, setting his book down and crossing his arms, clearly amused. "Oh, dearest, you really are laying it on thick, aren’t you?"

"I’m serious!" you declared, sitting up with dramatic flair. "Look at me—this is the face of someone who’s very sorry! And if I have to do more, then I will escalate! I will serenade you in the courtyard! Or... or bake you something!" You paused. "Actually, no. I wouldn't subject you to my cooking. But something dramatic will happen!"

Lilia let out a laugh, the tension that had hung between you two finally dissipating with his amusement. "Alright, alright. I believe you." He stood, walking over to where you were still sprawled out on the floor like some sort of tragedy-stricken poet. "You are forgiven."

You blinked up at him, suddenly feeling a rush of relief. You stood, brushing yourself off and giving him a lopsided grin. "Thanks, Lilia. I missed you."

But just as you were about to revert back to normal, Lilia's expression shifted—his amusement fading into something softer, something deeper. His hands, usually light and playful, gently gripped your arms as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache.

“Though,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, “there’s something I need to say.”

You blinked, tilting your head as he continued. "Your recklessness... it scares me sometimes," he admitted, his playful tone gone, replaced with genuine vulnerability. "I’ve seen too much, lost too much over the years. And I worry. I worry that one day, you’ll be the one I lose. And I can’t... I can’t stand the thought of that.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going, his grip tightening slightly. “I’ve lived for so long, but you—you’re the brightness in this endless existence. I never thought I’d find someone like you. And now that I have, the thought of you being the one that got away—” He shook his head, his voice faltering. “It terrifies me. So I’m begging you… stay. Stay with me. Forever.”

Your heart clenched at his words. It was rare for Lilia to be this open, this raw. He always wore his playful mask, but right now, that mask had completely fallen away, leaving only the ancient fae who had seen too much and was so afraid of losing more.

Without thinking, you surged forward and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly. "I’m not going anywhere, Lilia," you whispered into his shoulder, squeezing him as hard as you could. "I promise. As long as you’ll have me, I’m staying."

He clung to you, his small frame surprisingly strong as he hugged you back, as though afraid that if he let go, you might disappear. You could feel his breath hitch, and you pulled back just enough to look at him, your heart breaking at the sight of the unshed tears in his eyes.

Gently, you leaned in and began peppering his face with soft kisses—on his cheeks, his closed eyelids, his lips. “I love you more than words can express, Lilia Vanrouge,” you murmured between kisses. “I’m sorry for being petty, for making you worry. I’m staying. Forever.”

Lilia smiled through his tears, leaning into your affection, his fingers gently brushing your hair as he held you close. “You’re far too good to me,” he whispered, his voice a little shaky. “Thank you.”

You hugged him tightly again, resting your head against his shoulder, and for a long moment, the two of you simply stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms. The fight seemed so far away now, the pettiness and stubbornness replaced with a warmth that filled you both from the inside out.

After a while, Lilia pulled back just enough to look at you, his usual mischievous grin finally returning to his face. “Though, I have to admit, your dramatic apology was rather impressive. I might have to start a new trend of grandiose reconciliations.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in days. “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t think I could top that performance.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lilia teased, pulling you in for another kiss. “I’ll handle the dramatics from now on.”

And with that, you melted into his arms once again, the fight nothing but a distant memory as you basked in the warmth of each other’s love.

Masterlist

[hwonnrinji]

READY, SET, SPIKE! – chapter four

while practicing volleyball on the empty lawn with her friends, sophia accidentally spiked the ball too hard, making it fly over everybody's head just to hit yours. unlucky for her, it just so happened to be the cute and quiet girl in her biochemistry class that she may or may not have an interest in. now she has to do whatever it takes to change your impression of her and her friends.

vb serve GONE WRONG (EMOTIONAL!! TW:BLOOD 😱😱)

YOU BREATHED IN THE FRESH AIR OUTSIDE, thankful the pile of assignments you had finally died down. you raised your arms up high into the air and stretched your limbs. "it's a very nice day outside," yoonchae commented, her head laying on her arms as they rest on the table bench.

"oh my gosh!" you cried out in dramatic agony when the volleyball hit you for the third time in the span of seven minutes. you weren't even sitting close to them so it looked almost impossible to be hit from so far away, but apparently, that was sophia's special talent. "what if i get a concussion one day?" you frown as you rubbed your head, hoping to soothe the burn.

"seems likely," hyein snickers until a flying ball rushes towards her, making her clutch her side with a pained expression. "that's it, i'm not taking photos for manon and lara anymore." you had enough of the tormenting, so before the ball could roll back to sophia and her friends, you picked it up and stared straight ahead at sophia. she blinked in confusion but her friends pushed her over to you, causing her to almost stumble off her feet.

"yn..." she started as she stepped towards you, her hands slowly reaching out to get the ball.

"let me serve."

"what?" now she was even more confused. she thought you didn't know how to. "i mean... sure, yeah." she stepped back just a few feet so she can receive your serve. poor girl doesn't know you used to play volleyball everyday in high school– except, that wasn't what you were trying to prove. maybe you were just trying to give her a taste of her own medicine.

you threw the ball high into the air before jumping and spiking the ball downwards. everybody would've taken their time to be impressed if sophia didn't get take the hard blow with her face. for a moment, you felt sorry, but remembered how she– apparently –didn't apologize to you after hitting you over and over.

sophia held a hand over her nose and tilted her head back when she felt a rush of liquid beginning to run down her nostril. when she pulled her hand back, there was an averagely big spot of blood on her palm. one of her friends, manon, rushed over quickly after seeing the shimmering red trail down to sophia's mouth. "sophia, are you okay?" she asks, slightly panicked.

"yeah i'm fine," sophia nodded, flashing you a quick smile before turning around to frantically wipe her nose.

"maybe that was too far," yoonchae began, getting up from her seat to stand next to you. "it was mad funny but–" you interrupted her by placing a hand on her shoulder, then made your way over to sophia. it was a good thing you always had some tissues somewhere in your pocket.

"sophia," you called out, turning her back around. you were met with an even bloodier sophia compared to a minute ago, stunning you just a little bit. you reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the tissues, opening the pack and held it up to her. when she only stared at you, you huff and started to clean her nose yourself, wiping the blood from her mouth first.

you dabbed at her lips, partially wiping off her lip gloss, the blood coating the tissue almost immediately. you could hear snickers from her friends and low, teasing whistles, but you ignored it as guilt slowly crept in. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to do that," you said, a bit more softly than you wanted to.

"it's fine, it's karma," sophia chuckled. "but i seriously need to go to the bathroom to clean... this." she motioned to her nose with the relentless bleeding. you nodded and gave her the rest of the tissues.

"go for it. don't hold a grudge deep down, okay?"

"i won't... if you forgive me–"

"jump off a building for me, yeah?" you smile and pat her on the shoulder a bit too roughly before moving back to your friends at the table benches.

.masterlist. 🧸 .next.

a/n : perchance NOT !!!

taglist (closed) : @meganskiendielsbtc @gtfoiydlyj @ssamlovr @falling-intoo-deep @lararajjj @vrtualstar @fruityg0rl @jaythegirlkisser @strwwjj @kristalag @fearnotfearmore @jwyproperty @c-yerim @arihiu @aesculapi @meizinisnumberone @linnnsworld @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @sixflame438 @sunshinez4 @hazel-tanthamore22 @1luvkarina @nyssalvr @yeetaberry127 @k31k0w

[stararch4ngelqueen]

cute bath with jason, candles and bubbles and light music playing and he’s sitting behind you and giving you kisses as you just talk about eachothers days

—

Time Written - 10:50 p.m

—

“I saw somewhere that they sell these trays that hang on the tub, like hooking on the edges. You can use it to read your book inside. With a glass of wine or tea, or scotch too.”

Rough fingers along your back rolled any remaining knots in your muscles, calloused hands gently stroking along the junction of our shoulder and neck.

“Scotch?” Jason huffs in amusement. “C’mon, y’know I’m not a scotch guy.”

“Whiskey, bourbon. Whatever,” you giggle, leaning your head forward as you swipe along any stray wet hair, only to feel his fingers completely halt.

“You forgot my tastes??” Jason expressed with complete shock at this horrifying discovery. “Baby, I’m hurt.”

Any further giggling was unavoidable as you see his face; twisted into mock pain, his lips formed into a tragic quiver as he gives his version of puppy dog eyes.

“An’ here I was, so very very proud of myself to drive all across town to that lush store you like so much, All for the bath salts!” Vocally expressing his pain, he clutched his chest in one hand, dramatically swooping his damp curls back to dress his palm over his forehead.

“Oh my god, Jason!”

“And they weren’t even on sale!” Jason continues on, leaning his head back further with feigned agony. “I spent good money on my woman, an’ she forgets that I’m a bourbon man!”

“Jason stop it!” You turn yourself just a little more, both hands coming out of the milky waters to settle along his upper arms.

“I got you that bottle of Four Roses earlier, I know what my man loves.”

Jason smirks whilst withdrawing his hands from their prior positions. He can’t help but laugh a little himself, lowering one of his hands under water to rest along your hip.

“What I love is that pretty look on your face, Doll.” He pinches your chin with feather-like softness before kissing you.

Coming home to this everyday; you, was a gift.

Getting to spend every minute in your intoxicating presence. What drug or alcohol could be possibly infect himself with when his brain provided such ecstasy with one look at you?

The lights were dimmed, the water still clung to its toasty warmth. The milky waters seeping with sweet soap, pearlescent powders, crushed oats and herbal oils.

An exquisite tastes of both lavender and honey soothing elegance, bodies dripping in glittering gold.

In some cases, you didn’t wanna do anything sexual when Jason came home. This bath, for example, both of you were naked yes, but it was possible to not think such thoughts in a precarious state.

Your one and only was home safe and sound, You loved nothing more.

Jason was more than okay with that.

If you weren’t up to it, neither was he. Vice versa.

A perfect, consensual balance.

This was much better than a book, even better than a drink. The sleep he always got after these baths were heavenly, nearly slumbering like a baby each time.

“After the day I’ve had, I prefer this right here instead of a drink.” Jason re-swipes his soaking wet hair back along his head, growing slightly irritated from his dipping curls dripping onto his face.

“What a way with words, handsome.” You smile as you turn your body slightly, letting your upper half settle more comfortably against his. His hand settles along your back, running soothing circles against your glistening skin.

“Jason.”

“Hm?”

“If I did buy you that bath tray, would this mean you’d read to me in here?”

“Probably,” he replies, pondering over which book exactly. Also if he believes he could be comfortable enough with literature in the tub.

“Might as well do some skincare too,” you ponder over the idea, to Jason’s confusion.

“Like, some eye masks or something. Make it a spa day.”

Jason remained… intrigued, adamant. Only eye masks he’s seen you use were those glittery jelly ones you put under your eyes. He’s tried them once, per your request. They weren’t bad, but he didn’t understand the uses to this day.

“You’re just giving Dick more things to talk about.” Jason chuckles, his eyes closing as your hand readjusts his sopping wet, snowy curl out of his face.

“As if he needs to know what we do. This is our time, remember?”

“Mhm.” He leans close, pressing a kiss along your cheek before leaning just a little lower, leaving a softer peck underneath your ear.

“Our time.” He murmurs, feeling your head lean against his touches.

“The day I can dress you in a bright pink robe—“

“Babe no.” Oh boy. “C’mon—“

“-With feather lining and fuzzy slippers. You’d look adorable!” Your purposefully cheery accent had him groaning your name in false irritancy against your neck, rolling his eyes.

“There’s no deal you can make with me for that to happen, Princess.”

“I can be very persuasive, Mister Todd,” your tone drops from its cheerful tease into a more slow, much familiar tune he was well accustomed to.

His chest rumbles with amusement, teal eyes narrowing with interest in your statement. You’re really eager for him to do such? Now you piqued his interest.

“I’d like to see you try, pretty girl.”

[bat-mom-writer]

Theatrical Trio

Reader(Mother) X Bat boys (Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and a little bit of Damian)

(I do not own any DC characters)

"Jason, have you seen our dearly beloved mother?" Dick say with a dramatic flair, to his non biological brother, even as they stood outside the open office where she ignored them.

"No, Dick. I can't seem to locate her anywhere. It's as if she's vanished into thin air," Jason quipped with a smirk, his eyes scanning the corridor as if expecting her to pop out from behind a painting.

Their adaptive mother, from her perch behind the large mahogany desk, couldn't help but overhear the commotion her stepsons had brought into the otherwise serene office. She took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of leather and the lingering aroma of paper and ink. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she paused for a moment, her eyes momentarily closing as she felt the weight of her responsibilities press down on her.

"Surely she hasn't left us," Dick exclaimed with a dramatic flair that was only matched by the theatrical tilt of his head. "

Jason rolled his eyes, his smirk widening into a full-blown smile as he leaned against the wall. "Oh, I'm positive she's around here somewhere, playing the devoted wife to our dear father, Batman."

"What if she has been captured?" Dick gasped, his eyes widening as he clutched at Jason's shirt. "What if our poor weak mother has been taken by a villain?"

Jason also gasps, grabbing Dick by his shirt as well, "The horror! The humanity!" he exclaimed, playing along with the melodrama.

Tim, noticing the attention he's not receiving, decides to one-up his brothers by dramatically collapsing to the floor, writhing in exaggerated pain. "Mother! Oh, where is my mother?" he cries out, his voice echoing through the hallway. The sound is a mix of desperation and the theatrics they've all become too familiar with. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and his body contorts as if in the throes of a terrible agony. The floor beneath him is cold and hard, but he ignores it for the sake of his performance.

Dick, playing the heroic sibling, rushes over to Tim, dropping to his knees in an instant. He cradles Tim's head in his arms, his grip firm but gentle. "Brother!" he exclaims with a mix of concern and irritation at Tim's dramatics. "What's happened?"

Tim, his eyes still squeezed shut, fake coughs, the sound a pitiful and exaggerated rasp that seems to resonate through the very walls of the Wayne Manor. He lets out a dramatic moan, his body shaking as if with fever. "I... I have gone to long without mother's attention."

She can't hold back a chuckle at their antics. But holds her eyes on the papers in front of her, not daring to also her dramatic adaptive sons win.

Dick, his eyes widening. "Don't go into the light, Tim!" he yells, "Mother will return to us, I swear it!" 

Tim's dramatic act reaches its crescendo as he flings an arm dramatically across his face, his body going limp. "Tell her... tell her that I... I..." He pauses for dramatic effect, his chest rising and falling in exaggerated breaths, "that I loved her." With his tongue shot out, he lays limp, and dies.

Dick, not missing a beat, lets out a wail that could wake the dead. "No!" he cries out, his hand flying to his heart. His eyes brim with fake tears that threaten to spill over any second. He looks up to the high ceiling of the manor, as if pleading to the heavens for their mother's return.

Jason, his smirk now replaced with a dramatically furrowed brow, says solemnly, "We are orphans once more!" His arms spread wide, gesturing to the empty space around them. The light from the chandelier above casts shadows that dance along the walls, adding an eerie touch to their over-the-top performance.

Their mother finally looks up from her desk, unable to suppress her laughter any longer. She stands up, her figure poised and elegant even amidst the chaos. "You three really need to get a grip," she says, her voice a blend of amusement and exasperation.

Her sons' heads whip around to face her, their expressions a mix of shock and relief. Dick jumps to his feet, his dramatic wail cutting off abruptly. "Mother!" he says, his voice now genuine.

"Rise, my dear Timothy," she says with a gentle smile, "Your dramatics, while entertaining, are unnecessary. I am right here."

Tim's eyes flutter open, "Mother, is it really you?" he says, the fake strain in his voice more clear then air.

"No, it's Alfried. Who do you think it is?" she teases, her voice light and playful.

In an instant, the three brothers drop their dramatic facades and rush towards her, their arms outstretched. They group hug her with a collective sigh of relief, the tension in the room dissipating like mist in the morning sun. Dick's strong arms wrap around her waist, while Jason's embrace is tight and fierce. Tim, ever the youngest, wraps his arms around her legs, his head nestled into her stomach. "We were so concerned, mother. You mustn't leave us again." Dick's says, with a voice could have fooled Shakespeare.

"I assure you, I had no intention of abandoning my post," she responds with a laugh, her arms circling around their shoulders, her hands patting their backs in a comforting gesture. "Your father had some urgent business to attend to and I had to step in for him."

Damian, the youngest of the trio, strolls into the room, his eyes scanning the scene with a raised eyebrow. He's used to his brothers' dramatics, but the addition of their mother to the mix is a new twist. "Should I ask?" he says, his voice dry and unimpressed.

She shakes her head, "No. Did you need something?" she asks him, her tone warm despite the earlier theatrics.

Damian, with a slight smirk, "Dinners ready. And it smells like Alfred went full Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen."

Dick, breaking the embrace, straightens his posture. "Ah, the sweet scent of roast beef and... is that rosemary?" He inhales deeply, his eyes lighting up. "Lead the way, my esteemed siblings, for we shall make haste to the dining hall!"

Jason nods solemnly, "Indeed, our stomachs cry out for sustenance. On words, brother!" He and Dick, with a sudden burst of energy, each grab one of her arms, lifting her off the ground with surprising ease.

"Put me down, you hooligans!" She exclaims with a laugh, her feet dangling in the air. She feels the strength of her sons, a reminder of the powerful young men they've become under their father's tutelage and her own nurturing care.

Tim, not missing the cue, grabs her legs, his grip firm but playful. "Make way for the queen!" he calls out, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

She laughs, a sound that fills the hallway and dispels any lingering tension. "Fine, fine," she says, allowing them to carry her. "But remember, I expect no less than a royal treatment at the dinner table."

The four of them make their way to the grand dining hall, their laughter echoing through the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor. The walls, lined with portraits of the Wayne ancestors, seem to watch with amusement as the modern-day heirs act out their playful drama. The chandeliers cast a warm glow over the polished floor, which reflects their jovial procession as they move towards the enticing aroma of dinner.

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

End of bloodline

Matt Smith x reader

suggestive

The morning was peaceful, serene even. You were curled up in the armchair, reading a book while sipping your tea. Matt was sprawled out on the couch, his face smushed into a pillow, snoring softly. Billy, as usual, was perched by the window, keeping a vigilant eye on the world outside.

It was calm. Too calm.

And then it happened.

Out of nowhere, Billy’s ears perked up, his tail wagging furiously. Without warning, he launched himself off the windowsill with all the energy of a dog who had just spotted something very important.

"Billy, no—!" you barely managed to get the words out.

It was too late.

Billy landed directly onto Matt's groin with the precision of a military strike.

The sound that came out of Matt was inhuman—a strangled mix of a groan, a gasp, and what might have been a plea for divine intervention. His entire body curled into itself as he rolled off the couch and onto the floor.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” he wheezed, clutching at himself as he writhed on the carpet. “I’m done. Finished. This is it. Call an ambulance.”

You set your book down, trying desperately to suppress the laughter bubbling in your chest as Billy wagged his tail proudly, clearly unaware of the havoc he’d just caused.

“Matt, are you okay?” you asked, though your voice was trembling with barely contained giggles.

He rolled onto his back, still clutching his groin like his very existence depended on it. “Okay? Okay? My soul just left my body. I saw the light.”

You knelt down beside him, biting your lip to keep from laughing outright. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s catastrophic,” he groaned, glaring up at you. “Billy just ended my bloodline. That’s it. No kids for us. Tell my mum I died bravely.”

At this, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You burst into laughter, leaning back on your heels as tears pricked at your eyes.

Matt glared at you through the pain, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “Glad my suffering is so amusing.”

“I’m sorry,” you said between gasps of laughter. “But you’re being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” he echoed, propping himself up on one elbow. “An eleven-kilogram dog just destroyed me. I’m not being dramatic. I’m being honest.”

Billy, entirely unbothered, padded over and licked Matt’s face, his tail wagging like he’d just done the greatest thing in the world.

“Traitor,” Matt muttered, though he reached up to scratch behind Billy’s ears.

You offered Matt a hand, helping him sit up as your laughter finally subsided. “You’ll live.”

He sighed, leaning against the couch and throwing an arm over his eyes. “Barely.”

As you stood, shaking your head with a smile, you heard him add under his breath, “This dog has it out for me. First my shoes, now my future children.”

Billy barked once, as if in agreement, and you couldn’t help but laugh all over again.

You bit back another laugh and leaned forward, your hand gently brushing his hair out of his face. “Alright, alright. Let me help.”

“Oh, what are you gonna do? Call a medic?” he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“No,” you replied with a smirk. “I’m going to kiss it better.”

That got his attention. His eyebrows shot up, and he peeked at you through narrowed eyes. “You’re taking the mick.”

“I’m not!” you said, leaning down with exaggerated care. “Come on, it’s the least I can do after laughing at your misery.”

Matt huffed, but he didn’t move as you shifted closer. “Fine. Go ahead, but don’t think this gets Billy off the hook.”

Gently, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering for a second before pulling back. “Better?”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “My dick is what’s in agony, not my forehead.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned down again, pressing kisses along his cheek, his nose, and finally, his lips. He melted under your touch, his earlier dramatics dissolving into a soft hum as his hands found your waist.

“Mm, getting closer,” he mumbled against your lips, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. “But I think you’re still missing the target.”

You pulled back, arching an eyebrow. “I am not giving you a head in front of Billy,”

“I'll throw him out. The least he can do is give us some privacy.” He grinned, clearly reveling in the moment now. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Matt,” you said, trying to sound exasperated, but your cheeks flushed anyway.

“Fine, fine,” he teased, leaning back against the couch with a sigh of mock defeat. “Just keep kissing me in general. That seems to be working.”

With a laugh, you obliged, cupping his face as you kissed him again, this time deeper and slower. His earlier complaints faded into nothing as he pulled you closer, his hands sliding up your back.

Eventually, you pulled back, resting your forehead against his. “Better now?”

He smiled, the kind of smile that always made your heart skip a beat. “Much better. You’ve saved me, love.”

Billy barked from the other side of the room, as if to remind you who the real villain was, and you both burst out laughing.

[kquil]

SIRIUS BLACK | MUSIC LOVER

request. : Hi love! Could you do one with sirius where, reader and him is in his dorm and reader asks him to put on music on (record player probably cuz they don't have phone) and he gets really insecure, bc what if she doesn't like his music. Buuuut when he sees her tap her foot along to the drums he gets soo happy, and when she mumbles along to his favorite song (i feel like is probably like dancing queen or sum) he just know he's found the person he's going to marry and he's just so happy and cute. If not that's totally fine! Take care 😘😘—@valencia-rou

g. : fluff ; muggleborn reader ; secretly pining sirius ; sirius being dramatic again ; reader isn't having it ; they're besties ; sirius is an ABBA lover ; reader is an ABBA lover too ; record player is the secret matchmacker

length : 0.6k

You sigh heavily and slump back into Sirius’ bed, putting aside your unfinished essay. This attracts the attention of the marauder, who was propped up against the headboard and flicking through a muggle book. 

“No progress, huh?” there was a touch of amusement in Sirius’ tone that made you frown deeper and raise a hand to hit his shin. As soon as the resonating slap echoed through the dorm room, Sirius immediately shouts in mock pain and brings his shin up to clutch at ‘painfully’, “Ow! The pain! Ahh!” he hisses dramatically as you roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips shyly from the display, “It hurts soooo much! Why would you do such a thing, Dollface?!”

“Stop playing Sirius…” he ignores your sass and continues his exaggerated but amusing spectacle. 

“I’ve never felt such agony before in my life!” he lifts the back of his hand to rest on his forehead, sweeping some of his hair to the side and swoons as he peaks an eye at you. In that brief moment, he sees your amused, disbelieving face and quickly formulates a plan, “this pain can only be calmed by a kis-”

“Music!” you gasp and stand from the bed as soon as you see the record player sitting atop a set of drawers beside a stack of books. It was a new addition to the room that Sirius had begged Remus to buy for him in the muggle world so it was fair that you were surprised to see it. Rushing to the record player, you see that there was a vinyl already inside and look up at Sirius with excitement. Lost in your elation, you miss the anxious look Sirius gives you, “Is this yours, Siri?”

“Uh, yeah,” 

His mind raced with insecurities as you examined the record player in an attempt to deduce its mechanics. You’re a muggleborn and probably had immaculate taste in muggle music compared to his limited knowledge. He wasn’t sure about how you’d react to his taste in artists and songs. 

“Can I have a listen?” you’re still admiring the record player and almost fail to notice how Sirius doesn’t answer right away. 

Turning to the marauder, you smile and tilt your head curiously, finally prompting him to answer, “go ahead…” he watches you turn to the record player again, “you just have to flip the switch on the right si—” 

ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’ promptly begins to play, which makes Sirius wince. He was new to the group but he was quickly beginning to like them just as much as Queen. The grimace on his face wasn’t for distaste of the music, however, it was, rather, in anticipation for your judgement. 

“Oh my god! I love this song!” you squeal, jumping in place before you begin to sing along, swaying your hips and moving your shoulders to the beat. From your perfect citation of the lyrics, Sirius could very well argue that you love ABBA as much as he does, if not, more. Before he knew it, his worries were wiped away, long forgotten and you were pulling him up from the bed to dance together in the middle of the dorm. 

Sirius had no choice but to admit that you had never looked so lovely or cute. And to think that she couldn’t get any more perfect… he internally praises, grinning widely and happily dances with you

“Je vais l’épouser…” Sirius utters under his breath, still staring at you with an awestruck look on his face. 

“Hm? What was that Siri?” you ask, turning to look at him with an innocent tilt of your head, hips still moving to the music. 

“Nothing, Doll,” Sirius assures and kisses your forehead.

Translation : 

Je vais l’épouser — I’m going to marry her

navi.

a/n : sirius liking ABBA is canon in my book, sorry not sorry! what i am sorry for is the fact that it took me so long to write this adorable request! i'm so sorry, my love! i hope you liked it, it's short and sweet but so adorable!

taglist : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @rosaleenablack @samanddeansannoyingsis @marina468 @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[onmydelulushitasalways]

the marauders with a nurse reader

Characters: James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black

Synopsis: The Marauders have a tendency to get into trouble, and consequently getting hurt. They’re well acquainted with the matron of the hospital wing. What they weren’t acquainted with was you - the matron’s new assistant

James Potter

James had been knocked off his broom by a foul-sport Slytherin during his latest quidditch match. His broken bones were quickly mended, but the severe concussion he faced left him in the hospital wing for a week.

Not that he was complaining with the cute [your Hogwarts house] student working there.

James tried to be sly, like Sirius had taught him. He tried to flirt and wink and make you blush. But the way his heart monitor picked up in pace whenever you were around gave him away.

“You’re burning up, James,” you frowned, sat on his hospital bed, feeling his forehead.

“I feel fine,” the Potter tried to come off smoothly, but his voice was breathy and lovestruck.

“You’re all red, Potter. I think I better call Madam -“

“No!” he cried out all too desperately. “I mean, no. No, you don’t need to do that. I’m alright. Just stay here with me. That’s all I need.”

“Smooth, Potter. And clever too. But your glasses are fogging up,” you smiled as you went to go get him some water.

Once you were safely out of sight, James raced to clean his glasses. He wasn’t nearly as clever as he thought he was.

Remus Lupin

During the last full moon, Remus had gotten a bit scratched up. He considered hiding his injuries, but the risk of an infection caused Remus to head to the matron. Consequently, spending three days in the hospital wing.

His friends kept him company, but when they couldn’t, he had you. A sweet and curious [your Hogwarts house] who would sit on the edge of his bed and talk to him.

“So how did you get these scratches?” you inquired as you rubbed disinfectant on the decently fresh wounds.

“It’s a secret, I’m afraid,” he sighed.

“Trying to avoid a detention? I won’t tell on you, I swear!”

“No, I believe you. I just… I can’t say. I’d rather discuss something else. How about you?”

“Me? Well I work in the hospital wing for extra credit. But I also just like seeing the patients,” you shrugged.

“Do you like seeing me?” The moment the words left his mouth, Remus wanted to take it back. He sounded like Sirius, flirting with you. He hoped he didn’t come off too forward. He hoped he didn’t make you uncomfortable.

“Yes. Yes, I like seeing you.”

Remus warmed up. He suddenly became very aware of the way your hands massaged the disinfectant into his scratches so gently.

“I like seeing you too,” he mumbled.

Sirius Black

“I’m dying over here, darling!” A dramatic Sirius whined from his hospital bed. “I require attention! Assistance! Affection!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t’ve gotten into a duel with a Ravenclaw. She hexed you into next term!”

“I’m skilled in other ways, love. Believe me.”

“Oh, I do, Black. But I’m not your love, or your darling, or your sweetheart, or your baby, honey, princess. If you want attention, go find some groupie. Otherwise, I’ll go find that Ravenclaw.”

“Ouch. What’d I do wrong?” Sirius feigned hurt.

“You’re annoying,” you stated bluntly.

“Egad!” Sirius clutched his heart in mock agony. “If I’m so annoying, why don’t you just heal me already? Then I’ll be out of your hair!”

“It isn’t that simple, Black,” you sighed, as you started ruffling through a nearby drawer.

“Or is it maybe that you just enjoy my company? Maybe even like me?”

“Don’t be delusional. I only hang out with you because it is my job to look after patients.”

“If that’s what you say, love. But things would go by a lot quicker if you just gave me all your attention and got me out of here.”

“You’re messing with me. I either ignore you, and you stay here. Or I get you out of here by giving you all my attention. You win in both cases!”

“Yes, well, that is because even though you might not like me, I like you.”

“I’m sure you say that to plenty of girls. You probably said that to the Ravenclaw who put you here!”

“True. But with you, I mean it.”

[cassieoz]

Sultan's Heir

Sapphire screamed wildly! The birthing pangs brutally raged through her core like a fire storm. She collapsed and clutched the silk quilting in front of her. Sapphire could feel the enormous head spreading her. The torture of birthing a royal heir was completely overwhelming the mother to be. Her eyes were filled with tears as her suffering echoed through the curtains of the birthing tent.

"It started at dawn, Your Highness! She has been taken to the main tent in the encampment. The princess has her birthing assistants. They are very experienced and will help her to bring your royal heir into the world!"

The Sultan looked at the other men in the room. They were all married and had many children. They reassured the Sultan that the princess would deliver a healthy child. He slowly nodded but he secretly longed to be with her.

Sapphire bent forward and yelled out loudly. The head pounded her savagely as the pangs grew more unbearable. She curled her hands in the soft cotton sheets as she rocked back and forward. On her hands and knees, she could feel the full force of the birthing head between her folds. Sapphire shouted in birthing agony as she bore down on the merging dome. She was shaking and sweating profusely from the intense throbbing of each contraction.

The Sultan walked the halls of the Palace. His nerves were raw and his mind was racing. It was not acceptable for him to be with his princess as she gave birth. He was crazy about her! He had passionately impregnated his heir into her womb. He could only hope she could endure the turmoil of releasing the child into the world.

Sapphire frantically panted as she pushed and strained heavily against the crowning tip. Sapphire layed with her legs wide and supported as the need to bear came without mercy. Her echoing sounds filled the entire encampment as the birth slowly progressed. The agonisingly strong contractions bombarded the first time mother. Sapphire shoved down hard whenever a pain exploded at her entrance. The orgasmic intensity erupted with each surge. Sapphire shook wildly as she rode the exhausting journey towards delivery. The mixture of bearing and stretching made her orgasm painfully as the head grew enormous at her opening.

The Sultan ordered for his helicopter to fly him to the desert encampment. It had been one long day and still no news. As the helicopter landed, attendants rushed forward to welcome him to the encampment.

Sapphire howled madly as the next pain detonated like a mega bomb at her entrance. The head thrashed forward as her cries became deafening. She was finally entering the final stages of birthing. Sapphire vibrated wildly with an unstoppable pulsing as the head thrusted her wider and wider. The princess was completely exhausted. She was lost in the final round of contractions. Her torturous birthing ordeal was coming to its dramatic end.

The Sultan could hear her suffering but his attendants held him back from entering the birthing tent. He was white with fear as he listened to the roaring screams of his princess fighting to deliver.

"I can't!......I can feel all of it!......Make it stop!......I have to push!......I need it out!......RIGHT NOW!"

The princess roared at the top of her lungs. The orgasmic birthing explosion split her wide as the head pushed its way to freedom. Moments later, the second eruption brought the rest of the baby out of her exhausted frame.

The Sultan rushed forward and hurried into the bed chamber.

"Darling? Are you alright? I am so sorry that you had to suffer for our child!" Sapphire looked up with tears of joy, holding their child within silken wraps.

"I would do it again, my love. Whenever the pain came, I thought of you and I knew our son would be born safely. I can't wait to do my duty all over again....and soon!"

[soulxsteal]

You know... it's his unlucky day so he gets another. kabedon! - The most gentle hand stop in history but stop nonetheless. He was trapped and Rabbit leaned in, smiling extra cutesy today. She wanted something ... "Would you please help me with clearing the snow, Lord Kzinssie?" leaning in too close now, stars in her eyes once more, "Please, my favorite brave hero?"

:: KABEDON :: accepting from @cat-n-rabbit

He had tried to slip away as discreetly as possible the moment he realized just how deeply the snow had buried everything. Rabbit and her trusty shovel seemed to have things handled, after all… Sooo, Kzinssie reasoned, he'd only be in the way!

Unfortunately, in his haste to retreat, he'd completely forgotten one very important detail: snow left footprints.

And now, there she was, standing before him, shovel exchanged for pinning him between her arms against the wall. Fixing him there with those big sparkling doe eyes. She was too close, he was trapped. He was trapped.

"Uhh… Well, you know I totally would, Bunny, but--"

Desperation overtook him. He clutched his side suddenly, doubling over with an exaggerated cringe, and slid dramatically down the wall like a marionette with its strings cut. "I-I think I broke my liver in the impact," he groaned, voice quavering with 'agony'. "Ow, augh. And-- and I've lost a lot of blood. Aughhhh." His head lolled to the side, overplayed suffering.

"I need to-- ah-- go sit down in a really warm lodge. Right away. Life or death situation, you understand…"

[reblog4myficsnotesonly]

• Baby dresses as Deadpool •

Wade Wilson was having one of *those* days. The kind of day where the bad guys were exceptionally dumb, his ammo kept running out, and his suit now had more holes than Swiss cheese. By the time he dragged himself back to the house, he was ready to collapse into Vanessa's arms and pretend he didn’t just spend the last six hours dodging bullets and making sarcastic quips.

But when he opened the door, his exhaustion evaporated, replaced by utter confusion.

There, smack in the middle of the hallway, stood his toddler.

Dressed. As. Him.

The tiny Deadpool suit was a perfect replica, complete with little pouches, tiny plastic swords strapped to her back, and a miniature mask that was slightly askew. She stood with her arms crossed, her foot tapping impatiently, clearly mimicking her dad’s signature pose.

“Uh…” Wade blinked, genuinely at a loss for words. “What... in the name of chimichangas is this?”

Vanessa appeared from the kitchen, casually leaning against the doorway with a smirk. “Surprise!”

His daughter raised a tiny hand and pointed at him dramatically. “I’m Daddy-poo!” she declared proudly.

“Okay, first off,” Wade started, holding up a finger, “it’s *Deadpool*, not Daddy-poo. Big difference. Second—” He paused, his face splitting into a grin so wide it probably cracked the universe. “This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

He crouched down to her level, inspecting the suit. “Who made this? Did Vanessa do this? Did she get elves from Toyland to whip this up? Because it’s perfection.”

The toddler, still very much in character, tilted her head and mimicked his voice as best as she could. “Dey don’t tell me where dey get da stuff, Wade.”

Vanessa burst out laughing as Wade fell back onto the floor, clutching his stomach. “Oh my God, she even does the sass! I love it!”

The toddler ran up to him and plopped herself onto his chest, looking him square in the eyes. “Daddy-poo, I fight bad guys too now.”

Wade gasped, pretending to be horrified. “You what? Kid, you can’t fight bad guys! You’re too small! You’re not even old enough to hold a taco properly yet!”

She pouted, crossing her arms again. “But I’m Daddy-poo!”

Vanessa walked over and ruffled her daughter’s masked head. “She’s been practicing her one-liners all afternoon. You should’ve heard her. She said, ‘Eat my tiny fists of justice!’ to her stuffed bear.”

Wade groaned in mock agony. “That’s it. My heart can’t take it. I’m retiring. The kid’s taking over the business. She’s already cooler than me.”

“Duh,” the toddler said, tapping his nose through her mask.

Wade sat up, cradling her in his arms. “Okay, kid. Here’s the deal. You can be Deadpool Jr. *on one condition.*”

“What?” she asked, tilting her head.

“You gotta promise me you’ll always use your powers for good—or at least for snacks. And you gotta let me teach you how to do a proper superhero landing. Deal?”

She nodded solemnly. “Deal.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Great. Now we have *two* Deadpools to deal with.”

Wade grinned, pulling them both into a hug. “Admit it, babe. You love it.”

Vanessa smirked, shaking her head. “Fine. But I’m not cleaning up after *both* of you.”

[kodaiki]

꒰ PLAYING DEAD IN FRONT OF THEIR KID ꒱

↳ note ⨾ repost! ↳ genre ⨾ dad!au, fluff! ↳ feat ⨾ bokuto, atsumu & suna

ʚ BOKUTO ɞ

"ah," your husband wails, clutching his chest in mock agony. the small child in front of his bursts into a fit of giggles at their father’s grunts and groans of pain. "tell mama i love her," bokuto then says hoarsely, taking a dramatic breath before collapsing onto the living room floor.

your child howls with laughter, waddling over to their father lying peacefully on the floor.

"what's going on here?" you ask, stepping into the the room scattered with toys when the only voice you hear is your child's.

"i beat papa," your toddler grins, pointing a chubby finger at your husband.

"did you now?" you smirk, raising an eyebrow. "you beat the love of my life?"

the child nods blankly, looking over their shoulder, awaiting for bokuto's big reappearance of 'I'M ALIVE!' to thus restart the game they were playing. only, it doesn't come as soon as they expect.

"papa?" your child furrows their brows, crouching down to gently pat his shoulder.

"how hard 'ya hit him?" you stifle the smile on your face at your kid's ministrations.

"not that hawd," they sniffle as their gentle pats turn to more forceful hits on their father's shoulder.

before you know it, your child snaps their head to you and their eyes brim with tears. "papa," they croak, outstretching their arms, reaching for your comfort.

bokuto's fatherly instincts kick in at the sound of your child's cries and he's quick to sit up, engulfing them in his arms. "hey, hey, i'm here! don't worry!"

"ko," you scold, watching as your child's sniffles look over at bokuto in recognition. "we decided it was a five second dead time!"

"'m sorry, mama," bokuto pouts at you as the child clings to the fabric of his shirt, burrowing his head against his chest. "i went too far."

"don't apologize to me. apologize them for the trauma."

"you okay bud?" bokuto looks down at his chest. "papa didn't mean to make y'cry."

the toddler nods, chewing on their lip. "mhm. 'want ice-cweam."

ʚ ATSUMU ɞ

"how do you even own so many nerf guns," osamu mutters, hanging the plastic toy over his shoulder as he glances around the empty hall.

"sh," atsumu hushes his twin, looking around the vicinity. "the kid's gonna hear 'ya."

"i can't believe you do this everyday."

"it's fun for the both of us."

"what, to feed your equal levels of competitiveness? yeah, i can see that."

your toddler hides in the corner of the play room, stifling their giggles at the sound of their father and uncle speaking in hushed voices not very far away. there's a small nerf gun tucked in their stomach, at a perfect angle towards the entrance of the room.

your husband and brother in law were done for in this game.

just as the kid suspected, atsumu presses against the outside wall of the room, carefully peaking around it, to give the room a one over. "the kid's too small, i can't even tell if they're in here."

"i think i heard something in the kitchen. they're probably in there." osamu nudges his head in the direction of ahead of them.

atsumu nods at his brother, moving to walk across the entrance of the play room. your child shrieks as he appears from their hiding spot, firing the foam bullets at their father. osamu stands of the side in slight amusement as atsumu jerks his body back and forth at the impact from the bullets.

when the child's bullets run out, atsumu collapses to the ground. your child jumps up and down in glee, giggling to themselves. "did 'ya see that uncle 'samu?"

"sure did. he's done for." osamu smiles easily at the toddler.

the kid waddles over to your atsumu and pokes his shoulder. "dada, i won."

at no response, the toddler scrunches their nose up. "daaa-daaa, get up."

"maybe, it was one too many bullets," osamu murmurs, crossing his arms.

"huh?"

osamu sucks in his lips to keep from snorting at the blank expression on your child's face.

"i can take his pulse, yeah?"

"what's a purse?"

"pulse, not purse," osamu corrects as he kneels down, holding two fingers to atsumu's neck. "'m sorry, little one."

"wha-?" eyes widen to saucers and he looks down at the face down volleyball setter.

then it all hits like a storm.

"dadaaa!!" your child wails, punching little fists at his back.

"hey, kid. it's alright, let's just-" when osamu's hand motions toward atsumu, the child quickly slaps it away.

"don't touch him!" the child cries, hitting their head against their father's back, gripping at his t-shirt.

"'tsum, stop being a prick. you're kid's scared."

"you started it!" atsumu's head quickly perks up in panic and he spins his body around to hold the child against his chest. "dada's here, kid." atsumu scowls at his twin. "you're the one who checked my pulse!"

after your child's sniffles die down, they stare seriously at their father.

"don't tell mama, ok?" atsumu mumbles in worry, knowing how you'd bite his ear if you found out.

"pwick." is all your toddler responds with a frown.

atsumu groans. now he's got two things to worry about. whether or not your kid tells you about what happened or the new vocabulary word they learned.

ʚ SUNA ɞ

"so, you just let them hit you with a pillow and they're happy?" atsumu raises an eyebrow as his friend's child giggles in happiness.

"basically." suna shrugs.

atsumu watches in slight confusion as suna and your child lay on the long sofa. the child lifts a plush pillow in their arms, throwing it at their father's head and when suna pretends to knock out, begins laughing maniacally.

"watching them must be easy."

"they're pretty fussy when it comes to food but yeah, it's a breeze. y/n deals with all the hard work of the morning."

"like what?"

"waking them up, getting them dressed. if y/n weren't around, this kid would sleep three days straight probably."

"wonder where they get that from."

"speaking of, i'm getting pretty tired." suna yawns, looking over at the toddler. "you? is it nap time?"

the child shakes their head, continuing their repetitive ministrations.

it goes on a few more times until suna pretends to knock out and just...doesn't lift his head again.

"pa," the child whines impatiently.

"darn, your own dad got tired of 'ya." atsumu snickers, looking at his passed out friend on the couch.

with a huff, the toddler climbs into their father's lap, leaning against his chest.

"whatcha gonna do? punch him? start a tantrum? i know my monster does that- oh, you're asleep."

atsumu sits awkwardly as he watches the sleeping pair. he snorts at the sight.

"what am i supposed to do, see myself out? some hosts y'all're."

[hotwings0203]

Idk what this is but the thought of you being scared of Bakugos quirk is so hot to me

Tw:noncon, predatory behavior

“I swear he’s getting to be more and more like a villain every time I see him,” you giggle with Mina as you two walk out of the class. Bakugo had yet again exploded at one of your shared teachers for correcting him in his pronunciation of a word, and as usual it was quite a scene to behold. Chairs were almost thrown, his friends had to hold him back from leaping up while others egged him on, itching for amusement in their mind-numbingly dull class.

“Maybe Shigaraki was right,” your pink-haired friend snorts and you both collapse in wheezes, clawing and slapping at each other’s shoulders as the ludicrous image of Shigaraki being unable to reign in Bakugo comes to mind.

“Hey ladies, what’re you two laughing about?” A lilting and charming voice comes right at your ear, and you turn to see Denki, Kirishima and…Bakugo walking next to you.

Just because of his proximity and how you were literally just talking about him two seconds ago, you jump away from Bakugo’s glowering face and not so subtly hide behind Mina in a half playful jest.

“Huh? Whatcha ya jumpin’ around for?” Kirishima laughs and you exchange an embarrassed look with Mina.

“Oh nothing, we were just talking about how Bakugo’s quirk is totally villainous. We’re lucky he’s on our side,” Mina singsongs, but you slap her arm in alarm.

And well placed alarm at that, because Bakugo’s scowl deepens as he turns his head to you in a death-glare. You swallow hard seeing his expression and try to nervously laugh.

“But, uh, we were just joking. Right Mina?” You give her a pointed look and she deflects it happily.

“Nope! At least you weren’t, you’re half scared to death of him, isn’t that right Y/N?”

Denki interrupts before you can sputter in horror.

“Honestly, who isn’t scared of this dude?” He claps the other blond on his back and yelps when Bakugo’s hands start curling with smoke.

“Watch it dumbass.” He cranes his head to meet your eyes, but when he finds that you’re still avoiding eye contact with him he starts moving around his friends to better talk to you.

“My quirk isn’t that scary you idiot. It’s not like I care enough about any of you to blow you up-“

But with the smoke still curling form his hands and with the permanently intimidating scowl on his face reading closer and close to your, you can’t help but squeal and scrabble around him to sink your nails into Kirishima’s shoulders for protection.

“Okay, I get it! You don’t have to come any closer, I can see fine from here.” Your voice comes out too high and strained to be deemed as joking, but nonetheless everyone laughs at your dramatic show.

Everyone but Katsuki. Because he can see you’re actually scared, he’s seen it a hundred times on civilians who try to pretend they’re fine but still have that panicked glint in their eye.

“Jesus Y/N, with a reaction like that maybe he really is a villain. Bakubro, want us to send you back to Shigaraki’s place? Maybe you should reconsider his offer.”

And finally at Denki’s quip everyone including you this time laughs again in playful agreement, but yet again Bakugo’s blood starts simmering further.

Why the fuck were you being so obnoxious? He didn’t do anything to you before, right? So why the hell were you embarrassing him in front of all his friends and making him out to be this bloodthirsty monster?

Well, whatever. If a monster is what you want, then a monster is what you’ll get.

And so he waits for you after school, trailing behind you a couple hundred feet yet still keeping you in sight. He curses when you giggle with your friends, no doubt in his mind that you’re still throwing dirt on his name and he swears under his breath when you talk to Deku and his dweeb friends.

Of course when you hang around ditzy dorks like Deku he’s gonna look like a psycho in comparison.

But at one point you’re by the vending machine alone in a deserted hallway, fumbling with your coins and trying to quickly get a soda before your friends up ahead leave.

Too bad for you, because when he’s done with you they’ll never want to be seen with you again for their own safety.

You’re shoving money in the slot when he silently walks up a couple feet behind you.

“No friends around to gossip about me?”

You shriek and jump a good foot in the air at the sudden voice behind you. Clutching your heaving chest, you whirl around to see who it is.

Your blood runs cold. It’s Katsuki Bakugo, the absolute last person you want to be alone with in a deserted hallway.

Your feet move a step back.

Wrong move.

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen at your insulting retreat. You know he doesn’t take kindly to it, but with an expression like that how could you not?

“Uh, w-what do you mean?” You chuckle nervously.

He doesn’t laugh. In fact, he does something worse.

He matches your steps and moves forward a little bit.

At this you fully take a stride backwards and clash with the vending machine behind you.

He keeps advancing, slowly getting closer and checking you out, his head tilted as his eyes roam up and down your vulnerable body.

“Don’t move back. Why the fuck did you move away from me? That’s rude, we were just having a normal conversation.”

You surprise yourself by sounding level-headed in retaliation. “‘Kinda hard not to be a little uncomfortable when your conversation sounds so accusing.”

He lunges forward and you actually scream this time, throwing your hands up above your head in instinct to protect yourself from his proximity.

Bakugo doesn’t touch you but you can still feel his breath puffing on your head, can still feel the heat from his hands on either side of your body.

“You got a smart mouth don’t you? Is that why you embarrassed me earlier in front of everyone?”

“Embarrassed you-?” You squeak but immediately cut off when he thrusts his face right in front of yours, a manic look on his face as all his facial features stretch into a irate leer.

“I guess we’ll have to fix that tongue of yours. Put it to better use than to talk shit about me, right?”

Vermilion irises move from your face down your body, lingering on your chest and at the apex in between your legs.

Bile rises to your throat as he licks his lips and lets his lips ghost over yours, oh so close yet not touching.

And in the second before he descends, you shove him off with nothing but pure adrenaline feeling your fear and race past him, blindly running down the halls as fast as you can.

Surprisingly, you don’t hear anyone behind you. That doesn’t mean you don’t stop running though.

The real reason you don’t hear anyone behind you is because Katsuki Bakugo has an eerie smile on his face at your bolt. He languidly stretches his arms above his head and relishes in the popping of his joints, and in succession the popping of sparks in his hand. He kicks one leg out, then the other just to ensure you get a fair head start.

You’ve just made this so much more interesting.

He sets off at a light jog, and even in his carefree pace his strides are enough to eventually catch up with you, instinct like an animal’s guiding him through the winding halls and ending up catching a glimpse of your feet as you turn into another lane.

You’re panting, sweat pouring down your eyes as panic makes it hard to breathe or think rationally. The adrenaline that was pushing you is now dying down but at the worst time.

You take a quick glance back and your rapidly beating heart falters as you see him with a grin on his face as he practically jogs leisurely behind you. You’ve seen this same face on him when he’s in the battlefield, blasting through enemy hearts and blowing up heads as if they were fireworks.

He’s bloodthirsty. He wants you.

“Running away again? That’s not very heroic of you babe,” he calls out, and it’s terrifyingly infuriating how he’s not out of breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you half scream and sob, trying to run faster but failing miserably.

You see a bathroom sign out of the corner of your eye and frantically stumble towards it.

Katsuki knows you know he’s even you take a turn and he laughs to himself at how boringly easy this is.

Maybe he was scary.

He shakes it off and continues his hunt after you, coming forth until he faces the bathroom door in which you were cowering behind.

There’s a small window, and no other door. Just a couple of stalls, a terrified girl, and a psycho with the taste of revenge practically palpable on his lustful tongue.

He knock with faux politeness. “You wanna come out and do this the easy way or you want me to barge in and take you myself?”

You sob and wheeze in response, desperately pushing against the flimsy door in a pathetic attempt to keep him out. Bakugo merely crosses his arms and leans against the door, staring intently at it with a smile still on his face.

Judging by the weight pushing more at the bottom of the door, he can tell you’re probably sitting down in an effort to catch your breath.

You both know he can come in at any time he so well pleases, but he decides he’ll play by your rules for a bit longer, indulge you a little before your inevitable downfall.

He hums loudly and slides down to join your parallel position on the floor.

“I’m tryina be nice here, y’know. You acted so scared of me when I never even bothered you before. Aren’t I being nice right now by letting you choose for yourself?”

He sounds so conversational, as if he were talking to one of his buddies. You stay silent but your silence speaks volumes.

It serves as nothing but a means to piss him off further.

The two of you sit in silence for seemingly hours, even though it’s only around 20 minutes. Every second you feel like he’s going to break down the door any second and blast your face off, but miraculously he doesn’t.

You don’t know what you’d rather prefer: for him to prolong your strained agony by letting you be so close yet so far from him, or to end your suffering and get it done with.

But you needn’t sit in silence stewing in your own fear any further, for at the exact moment you begin to doze off with the dying of the light the weight on the other side of the door lifts and you startle awake at the scuffling on the other side.

You blink a couple of times and blanch when you see through the window the purple light indicating that you really have been here longer than you thought.

Bakugo cracks his knuckles and rolls his head, popping a few more kinks in his neck before breathing out and bracing for impact.

“Ready or not little bitch, here I come.”

“Bakugo, wait-!”

But your plea doesn’t last for more than two words. The door bangs open with such a sound that you actually think he’s blasted it straight off his hinges. You gasp and shield yourself, jumping backwards and covering your face.

“‘Thought I made it clear by now that you can’t run. So why’d you try to leave? Huh? Think you’re smarter than me? You think you’re stronger than me?”

He’s stalking forward again, and you’re left tripping back over your feet and whimpering at his salacious intent as he backs you up and corners you into a stall.

He already knows the answers to his rhetorical questions but he wants to hear you say it. He wants to hear that scornful conviction in your voice about how big and bad he was that you used earlier.

With you tripping backwards into the cramped stall, his approach quickens in hunger at feeling you, feeling the fear radiating off your body.

Bakugo presses up against you against the wall and takes up the space around you, invading your personal bubble. He’s everywhere, growling in your ear, hands gripping your waist so tight you’re sure bruises sprout from his touch, his erect penis grinding on the inside of your thigh.

Your trepidation and terror rises to an insurmountable height as he smothers you.

When he suddenly grips your chin and forces your head to face him you gasp. His touch is even more callous than you thought.

“You lookin’ here bitch? Good.”

His palm is raised towards you and before you can even widen your eyes in realization his appendage starts sparking madly. You shriek and try to throw him loose as little bits of embers fly out and made your face, his voice rough as always yet dangerously low and soft.

“S’not so scary after all is it? You’re reacting better to it than I thought.” Bakugo Blanca you mocks your writhing figure as you desperately try to evade the mini explosions.

“Okay, I get it, please stop I don’t like it!” You shrilly cry out but his hand moves from your jaw down to your neck, and squeezes the last remnants of opposition out of you.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad you get it. But honestly, I don’t care if you don’t like it.

Because I like it. I fucking love this quirk, ‘specially when you cower so prettily under it like you did earlier.”

You choke and try to scrabble at his hands but it’s like a butterfly’s touch to him, barely producing any fruition.

“I kept wondering to myself: why do I care if she’s scared of it? And then I realized,” he leans in and lets his lips brush over your ear, lets his hand lessen ever so slightly so that your main focus is his words.

“You just looked good enough to eat when you know you’re beneath me. When you know how dangerous I am.”

He pulls back and assesses the look on your face. “Makes you look good enough to eat.”

And without further ado he lowers his hand and starts rubbing his alit palm on your clothed pussy, his erection getting harder as your screams wilt into whines.

Your legs flail uselessly as he burns a hole through your pants and his fingers hook aside the band of your panties.

Bakugo thrusts his hips forwards and grinds his straining cock on your moist lips, taking in your blubbers and teary eyes.

You can’t even speak, you can only cry out like a child as he thrusts harder and harder, so hard that your back hits the wall painful and the stall walls rattle behind you.

“You-pant-fucking scared-pant-now slut?” He rasps, his head bobbing on rhythm with yours as he practically lifts you off your toes to match his pace.

Your clit is caught between the fabric and rolled cruelly pleasurable as his tip leaks precum, staining your own panties in the process.

With your attention rapt on his now-uncovered dick sliding in and out of your folds, he takes this opportunity to take his other hand off your neck and blast the wall next to your face.

The second you open your mouth in shock as bits of tile rain down on your face he slams his steaming palm over your lips, burning the soft flesh as you weep openly.

He sets off two more near your sides and another above your head, his own face aligned right in front of yours so you can see the mean smile on his face all the while he sets your heart racing at an alarming speed.

When the smoke clears and you can start feeling glass and tile imprint on your once-smooth face, he positions his dick up so that it prods at your hole and yanks your hair back.

His eyes practically glow with the mini fires preserved in the walls with his blasts, the impact of the air rushing around him makes his hair even spikier, his body is taunt and even more imposing than before.

His teeth gleam with the orange and red light next to you. His chest doesn’t heave, because he’s at ease with your terror.

“You think you know fear?”

With one swift movement he shoves up into you, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth.

“You haven’t met me truly yet.”

[pulpman2]

The Gun

“All right, Red, take it nice and easy,” a male voice snarled in Dani DuPont’s ear as she wandered out from her kitchen and into the hall. She heard unmistakable sound of a safety catch being released and a rough hand grasped her round her waist, ruffling the purple material of her expensive silk dress. “Now you are going to do what I say, honey!” the desperate voice came again. “Hello, Carl,” Dani replied matter of factly, seemingly unafraid, “and what precisely will that be, “honey”?”

Carl snorted with frustrated anger at the woman’s refusal to be intimidated. “You know darn well, you supercilious witch!” he retorted. “Now give me the key or will I be forced to splatter your brains all over the walls of this dump and look for it on your cold white corpse?” Dani sniggered slightly. “Very dramatic, Carl” she rejoined and turned her head over her shoulder to look at the him, a sardonic smile on her face, “you been reading Hard Case Crime books in your spare time?” The redhead could feel the impotent fury of the dark haired man. “Why you- “ he began. “Take it easy, Carl,” the woman laughed, “you won’t have to commit the first crime in your life. Do you really think I’d leave a loaded gun out in plain view?” Carl’s face turned pale in disbelief and he glanced at the weapon clutched in his hand. Dani suddenly brought her high heel down hard onto the man’s foot in one swift movement. Carl cried out in pain and dropped the gun and Dani quickly scooped it up. “Well done on getting loose, sweetheart,” she told the cursing man, his face still creased in agony, “but this is as far as you go!”

Later, with Carl, now sobbing in frustration and broken hopes, safely retied, gagged and bound once again by his arms and ankles to a chair, but a lot more tightly, Dani rang her clients. “When are you sending someone to come fetch this schmuck?” the female kidnapper demanded down the phone. “He is getting harder to handle. Besides I want my money!” She listened intently and put down the receiver. She walked into the front room, very deliberately and visibly loading her gun. “Come on, sweet cheeks,” she told the bound man as he raised his tear streaked and cleave gagged head to face her, “we need to go downstairs and I need to get you comfy in the trunk of my car. We got a long drive.”

My interpretation of the story behind the cover to Gun Work by David J Schow, Hard Case Crime Books (November 2008)

[sweetsbfreex]

a father’s duty

Summary: brought to u by the wholesome picture of Cevans sewing up dodger’s stuffed lion 🤧

Warnings: Talk of trauma (nothing too in depth) and talk of sex

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Ransom x reader

-

You and Ransom were cuddled up together on the couch, some random movie he had chosen that you weren’t paying attention to. You wanted to cuddle, but he insisted on watching this movie so a compromise had to be made. And the feeling of his hand going up and down, inside your shirt, against your arm; Could only make you purr in contentment.

And you were meant to doze off if it wasn’t for the dramatic, high pitched scream of pure agony. You both shot up from your seats, looking at each other wide eyed before dashing up the stairs (Ransom ahead). 

Until you were in the doorway of an overly purple room.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Ransom let a small, stunned gasp at the feel of a teary eyed four year old, Celeste bolting to his legs. Her small arms had tried to wrap around his legs as she sobbed into his jeans, fists tight as she clutching the denim. 

Confused you had leant down adjacent to her, Ransom peering down from his stance, lifting her arms to softly run circles over her back. 

“What’s wrong baby?” a fake pout on your lips.

“She’s dead!” she had sobbed, her puffy cheek making contact with his expensive jeans to make eye contact with you. 

“What? Who’s dead babe?” Ransom asked, tilting his head downward, eye brows stitched together. 

She propped her chin up against his leg, “Daffy” she blubbered, extending her arm behind her to point at the limp stuffed bunny a few feet away.

“Fucking––” He couldn’t finish his sentence a hearty laugh emitted into the otherwise somber air, still laughing (some tears streaking his face) he had picked up the once blubbering girl so she saddled on his hip. 

“Ransom! It’s not funny and language, god”

“C'mon” he dragged the n, “You gotta admit this is hilarious, she’s so dramatic...I wonder who she gets it from” he smirked, looking at you knowingly. 

“You” you appointed, holding back your smile. 

“As if” he scoffs rolling his eyes. 

“Daffy!” Celeste exclaimed, snapping the two from their loving trance. 

“Right!” you snapped yourself back into mom mode, making way to Daffy and your way back to the two, watching Ransom wipe the tears from Celeste’s face, calming her down in a hushed voice.

You sidle up next to Ransom lifting the stuffed animal, so the both of you could evaluate the state of her favorite buddy. You looked up to him, watching his face scrunch up, almost like disgust, but you knew he was just very confused.

“Jeez leste, what’d you do?” 

The light yellow bunny up front was perfectly fine, but once you had turned it around a tear in the fabric of the it’s “spine” was parted, the thread poking out along the hem. 

“I–– I was just spinning her around”

“Is that really what you did” you prompted.

“No..” she set forward shyly, resting her temple against her father’s shoulder. “There was a string and then I pulled it by accident”

“By accident?” Ransom asked, eyebrows raised. 

“On purpose” she mumbled, eyes tearing up slowly.

Celeste is probably the biggest liar the two of you know. You both have been working on that habit, reassuring her that it was fine and being honest is better most times (minus surprises, safety, etc). You both had even resorted to acting out examples for her. She was getting better, but ever the fibber she still found a way to slip into the habit. And when you had asked her why exactly she loved lying, she only replied with a quib “It’s fun!” giggling to herself. 

“Hey it’s okay, you were curious” he cooed, “Mommy will fix it don’t worry” 

You looked up at him mesmerized, not so surprised at the father he was becoming. Remembering all those nights he had kept the two of you up, even the day you were in labor, he had been worried. How was he ever supposed to love a kid properly–– let alone his–– when he never had that benefit. All these what ifs running through his head in a cycle.

He had even taken it upon himself to sign you both up for those parenting classes. The ones with the fake dolls. Dolls that he held gently as if they were alive.

“I will. You’ve had a long day, love, you wanna go to bed now?” you asked her, smiling. 

She nods silently, reaching her hands out to you. Ready for the familiar night routine to begin.

––––

After Celeste had been put to bed, it was not you and Ransom being the only two up. You were both in your shared bathroom, getting ready for bed. 

You groaned, catching the attention of Ransom. “Sewing that thing is gonna be some work” watching yourself in the mirror as you rub in your lotion. 

“You’re tying that thing together, how hard can that be?”

“I’m sewing it together” 

“Tomato, Tomahto” he responded. 

“Fine, since you think it’s so easy why don’t you fix it for her?” 

“Deal. I’ll take another night of anal as my end” he says this confindently, not expecting another word for you, as he saunters past you briskly but not before placing a kiss to your check and a rough smack to the ass. 

Ransom.

–––––

And god did he take this seriously. Making sure you were up this entire time as he achieved his new level of domesticity. 

And you did, sitting up against the headboard as you watched him sit shirtless across the sized room. 

He sits in the barrel chair. the stuffed animal in his lap, a spool of light pink thread to match the bunny in between his legs, and a packet of needles in his hand. 

“Babe you have to––”

He holds up a hand, stopping you from saying whatever you were about to say.

“I got this babe” he tells you, looking at you wearily as he pulls up a video (‘how to sew stuffed bunny animal together’) on his phone. 

You watch him watch the video,switching the show you were watching to make it seem as if you weren’t watching him too carefully. 

He squints, focused as he listens to the lady in the video.

“You look so cute”

“Thanks” he grumbles, placing a thimble on his pointer finger. 

He was like a cute grandmother. His eyebrows brought together and tongue poking through his cheek, which you teased him endlessly about. There was just something about watching a brawly, grumpy man like him knit. So you pulled your phone out wanting to take a quick picture. 

“Put. it. down.” he tells you, not even looking away from his task.

“Wha–– You’re really creepy, you know that. Smile” you demand of him. “It’d be so cute for the album”

He of course doesn’t smile instead raising the stuffed animal to cover his face from the camera, but you were quick enough to get something before that. Smiling fondly at the adorable photo of his concentrated face. Once you had your fill of serotonin, you closed the device and reached over to set it on your nightstand. 

“You gonna give me a kiss goodnight before you go?” he asks you stoically, head still looking down at his task. 

“Yes Ransom. Just give me a minute’ you respond, shimmying yourself from the soft sheets. You make your way besides Ransom–– naturally he wraps one arm around your waist to bring you–– leaning down and placing a kiss to his cheek (which he smiles at) then his lips. He pulls back first only to return again for a deeper one. Sending you off, finally, with a pinch to your ass. 

“Goodnight, Baby” you tell him over your shoulder on your way back to the bed. 

“Night y/n/n.”

–––––

“y/n” is whispered in your ear and the shaking of your shoulder is what causes you to wake up. You turn your head over your shoulder to see Ransom standing over you gleefully. 

“Ransom?” you rasp, turning your whole body over to face him, looking at the clock on your night stand. “It’s two in the morning!”

“Thanks captain obvious” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Yet, he lifts up the stuffed animal. Both hands on either paws, holding it up to show you. “I finished!”

You instantly noticed the band-aid wrapped around his thumb and the brightest smile on his face. Through it you could see how proud of himself he really was. He really was getting a hand of this dad thing he was still figuring it out. 

Ransom, however, could only think about how tired he was and how strained his eyes felt––probably rimmed red. With the amount of times he had to rewatch the video because he missed or didn’t understand a step. But, for his little girl it was definitely worth it. 

“Well, look at you. You did so good bub” you extend your arm up lazily to then loop it around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss. 

If only his conceited friends could see him now. Thinking about how Danver, one of the many friends he had dropped, would berate him passively. Calling it a women’s role most likely. 

“Thank you” he settles one more kiss, “Let’s go”

“Go where?” you chuckle

“Leste’s room...where else? She’ll need him to sleep the rest of the night comfortably” he explains, removing your arm from his neck. To gently tug your hand.

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Hundred percent, let’s go”

––––

You open the door slowly, the creaking sound it emitted making you cringe. And when you’re hushed by Ransom, you twist around instantly sending him a stink eye.

And you both stand against the side of her bed, you crouch down. Raising your hand to her shoulder. 

“Lesty” you whisper, your thumb running circles over her shoulder. 

She wakes up slowly, as always. The clear indication that she is awake being when she raises her hand to rub at her eyes.

“Mommy? She stops and gasps, “Are we going to Disney?” asking the question with glee, she sits up, her hands placed over her book patterned pajama pants.

You and Ransom share a short laugh. Remembering how you surprised her just like this months ago. The frown that overtakes her face makes you both want to laugh. 

“I’m going back to sleep” she tells you both, already reaching for her blanket. 

“Wait” you laugh, holding her hand. “There's a surprise for you” 

At your announcement, Ransom steps up holding out the sewed up stuffy. Her tiny hands covered the gasp she let out, muffling it.

“She’s fixed!” she’s astonished, running her fingers  along the stitches. 

Celeste felt like a jumping bean with all this happiness filling her body and she wasn’t sure how to express how happy she felt. So, she jumped onto her mother, arms latched onto her neck. Kissing her cheek incessantly.

“Thank you thank you thank you-”

“Actually––” you start.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” ever the dramatic, “Momma didn’t do this. I did babe” he tells her, a gobsmacked, playful expression on his face. 

Ransom’s replica quickly unlatched herself from y/n, rocketing herself into his arms. He held onto her tightly. Falling in love with the toothy smile–– albeit it was missing a front one–– she gave him. He was rolling around in her appreciation towards his gesture. This was all he wanted. To be a better man for you to marry and be a better father for his daughter.

He brought her into him a little bit, placing a kiss to her forehead. 

“Anything for you Leste” he tells her in a hush. 

You rise slowly from your crouch, knees a bit sore from how long you were down there. Just in awe of the love they both exerted towards each other. Ransom’s hand lightly flying over the back of her head and Her tiny palm coddling his cheek.

“Time for bed?” you ask the two of them, your hand naturally going to Ransom and Celeste’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m tired” she tells you, dragging out the h. Setting her cheek to her dad’s muscled shoulder. Nuzzling her cheek against it lazily. 

“Yeah? Well let’s put you in bed first” Ransom responds. 

You walk behind the two, as Ransom sets her down gently on her bed.

He sets a kiss to her cheek then he pulls back, watching the way her arms tighten around the stuffed animal. 

“You love it?” he asks, a proud smile etched on his face. 

“Yes” she whispers, “Thank you, daddy” her palm caressing the top of it’s head. 

“Anything for you Leste” he reaffirmed. He needed her to know that he’d do anything. Anything. To keep a smile that bright on her precious face. He didn’t want her to doubt if he ever loved her or if she could ever come to him about anything. He especially didn’t want her to think that she’d be second to his work. 

He loved her too much and decided, right when you told him the news, he’d learn from his parents’ mistakes and trauma he had to deal with. 

“Goodnight, honey”

He gets up from his spot watching you lean over placing a kiss to her cheek, tugging the crocheted blanket to Celeste’s chin. 

“Night baby” you tell her sweetly.  

“Night” she replies to the both of you before snuggling into the duck more. 

––––

RIght when you shut the door, you expect to face Ransom’s back walking towards your bedroom. But try not to scream, startled, when your head meets with his chest.

You look up, probably not the smartest thing to do. “You ready for bed?” you ask nervously, each hand landing on his broad shoulders. 

With the way he was looking at you, you would assume you were the last stash of biscoff cookies he always keeps fully stored in the house. Especially, with the other Drysdale in the house, the cookies went by faster when they used to.

“Don’t think so..We made a bet. Remember?” he smiles

“RIght now?!” you hiss lowly. He must have lost his mind. “You woke me up at like three in the morning”

“It was actually two” you whack his arm at his smart mouth, of course he doesn’t react.  “Anyway. A bets a bet. Let’s go baby” he crouches down, lifting you up swiftly into a bride-groom like position.

“Ransom!” you whisper, taken by surprise. 

“A quickie and then we’ll drop her off at your parents tomorrow to get to the real stuff tomorrow” he asserts.

With that, he picks up his speed. Taking you both down the hallway. Once he’s arrived at his destination–– the bedroom–– he throws you on the bed. Laughing to himself with how stricken you look. You should be used to this by now, he tells himself. 

“Ransom!” is the last of his name he hears with a tone of scolding mixed with shock, before he gets to work. When he climbs on top of you quickly––like a lion to prey––biting your neck. 

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[stormbreaker101]

I am feeling cruel and bored so. Ranking my companions’ death animations

In the order my companions are in on the companion tab.

I have 20 companions so it’ll all be under the cut :)

1) El Toro: He just sorta. Collapses. He does a weird spin that looks like it’d break his ankles if he does it too much. Not quite dramatic enough for my tastes. You could do way better, Toro. 3/10

2) Fan Flanders: She drops her blades, grasps at her heart, coughs/chokes, and falls over. It’s like she’s having a heart attack. Simple, but quite dramatic, especially given the little spin as she falls. 8/10

3) Bonnie Anne: She stumbles. She tries to stand up using her gun. She falls to her hands and knees. She tries one last time before falling unconscious. I admire the determination! It makes the end all the more tragic. 10/10

4) Subodai: His hand goes to his chest. He stares at his hand as though it were bloodied. There is a pause. He falls flat. 9/10, loses a point because every other Horse Bucc in Mooshu has the same dying animation.

5) Sarah Steele: She falls to one knee then onto her side. A bit plain IMO. 3/10

6) Old Scratch: His head spins around on his neck before his entire body falls limp. Kinda humorous, but not my kind of funny. 8/10

7) Gracie Conrad: She falls onto her knees. Her neck and back hang limp before she falls. She makes a particularly pathetic sound that plucks at the heartstrings. Big sadge. 7/10

8) Ratbeard: Old man has a dramatic heart attack, shouts in old man agony, and flops onto the floor dead. So fucking extra. So fucking funny. 12/10

9) Milo Graytail: He grasps at his stomach and curls up like he’s got himself a debilitating stomach bug. Or like he’s been stabbed in his gut. Extra points for how pathetic he looks. 9/10

10) Catbeard: Ratbeard’s death but make it gayer. His sword flies in the air and he twirls in the air before falling from his own heart attack. 13/10

11) Contessa Argento: She drops her swords, and holds one hand up to her throat. Her eyes have already shut before she hits the ground. Quite elegant, strangely. 7/10

12) Buffalo Bill: His rifle goes first. He brings his hat to his chest, but as he falls his hat-holding hand falls to his side. 6/10

13) Froggo Villa: He grasps at his bleeding torso before quickly falling limp on his stomach. Quick and to the point, just like his personality. 7/10

14) Lt Springer: His sword falls from his hand. He slumps, turning away from the enemy that killed him, but doesn’t fall on the floor. How the hell do you die without falling on the floor. 1/10

15) Monquistador Veteran: He leans on his oversized halberd for support as he coughs the life outta him. One point docked for being used by all Monquistan Bucc enemies and all Monquistan enemies in Wizard101. 6/10

16) Crazy Monquistador: The enemy’s killing blow hits him so hard that he doesn’t just fall, he FLOPS onto his back. His head hits the ground first. If the enemy’s killing blow didn’t kill him, his head striking the ground will. 10/10 for being thorough.

17) Chicken Miner: He ragdolls to the side, clutching his pickaxe to the very end. Bonus points for sad chicken noises. 7/10

18) Monkey King: He places his quarterstaff down. He stands up straight, one hand in a fist and the other cupping it. He gives the enemy a respectful bow as he walks away. He doesn’t even fucking die. Bitch. I know the lore makes sense but I want him to DIE. 0/10

19) Hawkules: His club falls from his grip. he holds his beak as though it were the part wounded most. He flops over, dead. Basic, but with his own special quirks like not grasping at his torso instead. 5/10

20) Mustang Sally: She grasps at her bleeding side, then makes the mistake of letting go. She stumbles, the blood loss waning her strength, before she falls onto her side. Not bad for a character I disagree with on a fundamental level. 7/10

21) the Pirate themself bc why the fuck not: You stand there and your head rolls. A relic from Wizard101 that makes no sense in the context of Pirate101. In W101 all the combat is magical. It isn’t real wounds with real weapons and real blood. Makes sense that once your HP goes to 0, you’re stunned loopy. In Pirate101, there’s real weaponry. Real gore. The Pirate should at least collapse. 0/10