#i think it would be funny if they got the food one wrong since i just spent 10 minutes trying to figure out what her favorite food would be

[twstfanblog]

Heya can I get a Housewarden reacting to a male! reader that hides whatever injury he got form them when they overbloted but shrugged it off once they found out " hey worth it!"

Boys React to Injured Reader

Overblot Boys x Reader

A/N: I know the ask said male!reader but nothing really shows it to lean male or female aside from two uses of male pronouns.

Riddle

You got some pretty bad gashes on your arms from rose bushes being thrown at you going mach 4. They are decently heavy and though they didn't look it, had some pretty nasty thorns on them.

After Riddle's overblot, you had your arms wrapped up for a good few weeks afterwards from how deep they were. He wouldn't notice them since the uniform is long sleeved. But if you modify your uniform to be shorter, they'd be easier to notice.

Once he does notice them, he asks what you, Ace, Deuce, and Grim got into that left you so injured. Then he feels AWFUL when you tell him the gashes were from his overblot.

He's babbling out apologies, insisting that he takes you to an actual doctor to get properly healed and checked for infections. You live in an abandoned building and you have open wounds for the sake of the Seven.

Gets so quiet when you manage to tell him you don't mind the gashes. Yeah, they're annoying, doing anything has become a chore because of them. But, they're like a trophy for helping save him.

Becomes so aware of your arms now, manages to get some advanced medical potions to decrease chances of scarring. Also, would you...maybe join him in the garden? For tea? Alone?

Leona

All of that sand whipping around was not good for anyone, and it definitely wasn't good for you. It managed to burst a blood vessel in your eyes, which isn't so bad. What was bad was that your cornea was scratched.

It was pretty easy to notice you were hurt in the aftermath, with everyone being in the infirmary when you woke up. Leona asked what the eyepatch was for, seeing how you've never worn one before.

The sigh he does once you explain that it was from sand whipping around during his overblot. Wants to see the damage even when you tell him it was really minor and set to be healed within the week.

Everyone kinda freaks out seeing your eye. It's very much still a mess even after the first dose of treatments to make sure you don't get an infection. But even with it being such a mess, you're all smiles because it doesn't mean anything to you. Leona is safe and sound and that's all that matters to you in the end.

Plus, if you did go blind or something, wouldn't it be kind of cool? You and Leona can have matching eye injuries!

Leona doesn't think that's funny and tells you as much. But for the next week, he's suddenly always around when you need to put your drops in. He'll do it for you since he claims you're squeamish and doing it wrong.

Azul

Azul is very strong in his mer form, he also has a lot of arms for grabbing people he was planning on maiming. He only had a grasp on you for a few moments, but it was enough focused pressure to crack a rib.

You only took notice once you went back to the Coral Sea Museum. The change in pressure makes your ribs ache even more than they were before. Azul took notice and tried to find the cause of your pain. But in the end he and the group made way to an underwater clinic to get you professionally checked.

The guilt he feels hearing your rib was cracked is enough to make him want to go back into his pot. Once back on land, you go straight to the infirmary until further notice.

He won't come visit for a while, sending the twins in his place to deliver you food from the lounge and to help with your breathing exercises. They're the ones who tease him about how you want to see him, to check up on him.

Jade all coy saying 'He was quite concerned about your well-being.' Floyd chimed in 'Lil Shrimpy says his messed up ribs are a good trade if it means you're ok~.'

Azul starts to show up instead of the twins at the tail end of your healing period. He's made you a study guide and gifted you his past notes to help you catch up on the classes you've missed. He also doesn't want to this to be...something that he owes you for. So maybe, once you're all healed, you can come to the lounge office to have a private meal with him. On the house.

Jamil

Your arm had a hairline fracture once you landed in the sand. Nothing too bad, adrenaline was pumping and you barely even felt it. After Jamil's overblot, it felt more sore than anything so you ignored it again.

But when Ace and Deuce show up, Deuce gives you a too strong of a high-five and suddenly, your arm is completely snapped. The party screeched to a halt while Jamil and Kalim quickly check you over.

Jamil is confused on how your arm is broken. Everyone else is completely fine and he doubts Deuce is that strong to break your bone through a high-five. Then Azul points out that you possibly landed on it wrong in the fall from...being flung across an entire desert.

Congrats, you are now an honorary Scarabia member! Because neither Kalim nor Jamil are letting you just go back to Ramshackle with a broken arm. Jamil's running himself even more ragged tending to the Kalim, the dorm, and now you.

You stop him, reminding him you broke an arm, not a leg. If he thinks this is a debt thing, you're not mad, or expecting him to pay you back for being the reason you broke your arm. You're just happy he's ok.

Jamil stops appearing around you for a while, well after your arm is healed. But you keep getting Tupperwares of dinner from Kalim. He states 'Jamil made too much'. Which we all know is a big fat lie.

Vil

(Gonna just pretend Idia doesn't kidnap them like a day later)

Magical smug had to have some type of ill effect other than the poisoning, and it did. The others were able to deal with the after-effects of Vil's overblot via magic immune systems, you are not so lucky.

What started off as a simple cough slowly progressed into hacking and shortness of breath. You had avoided Vil because you just thought it was a simple illness, and the last thing the starlet needed was getting ill. Only for him to be the one to find you on your knees, coughing and struggling to breathe.

Carried you to the infirmary where you're diagnosed with a form of magic-based pneumonia. Blot-based mucus was wreaking havoc in your lungs and it was only going to get worse without proper treatment.

Vil stayed by your side until you fell asleep that first night, then you didn't see him for a week. There'd be little gifts on your nightstand from him; throat-soothing candies, sinfully soft luxury brand tissues. So he was visiting but only when you were asleep.

You see him again when it's the middle of the night and he wakes you up to take a potion he's spent the past week crafting with Crewel's help. He hasn't been sleeping and it's noticeable. Scolds you when you state you're worried about him. Barely lets you semi-confess and is instead force-feeding you the potion. You can declare your admiration once you're well.

Idia

It shouldn't have happened the way it did. Appendicitis normally takes longer than what it took for you to be curled over in pain. Luckily, you were a top-grade science facility surrounded by geniuses. They put you in a full body scanner and quickly saw you had an infection in your stomach.

Even with everything that just happened, you were prepped for surgery in a matter of minutes. They barely got the confirmation from you that the little organ wasn't a necessary part of your digestion system. So it was coming out before it got any worse.

After the surgery, you're able to tell the doctors that an appendix can become infected and burst, but you were completely fine beforehand, so you're not entirely sure what happened. It was revealed your appendix was already infected before you entered STYX and the mild exposure to the Gates sped it up to the point it was ready to burst.

Idia is about to cringe so hard that he travels dimensions. He wants to fling himself off the edge into the Gates like Vil did. This is his fault because he can't just go to fucking therapy like a normie. No, he had to try to do global genocide.

You calm him down, stating it's not as bad as he's making it out to be. And if anything it kind of helped? your ailment was still bound to happen and instead of it happening on campus with no one really able to help, it happened at a cutting-edge science facility. Plus, he's still there with you, that's what's important.

So Mama Shroud has already added you to the family registry, you get a monthly allowance of 10k, and added to the Shuroud family weekly video calls to check up. Idia can still barely look you in the eyes because what do you MEAN being together is what's important? what kind of fucking friends to lovers ass dialogue choice was that? That was so cringe, you should be embarrassed. He says as he fumbles his words now every time he sees you.

Malleus

All you knew was that something was wrong. Dealing with all of the other's dream shenanigans, you could feel in the back of your mind, your body was trying to alert you to something. You only realize when everything is over and everyone is waking up

You are barely able to open your eyes, your head is pounding and it feels like you have water in your ears. Everyone is concerned, Lilia manages to get them all away so he can look you over himself. Checking behind your head only to feel blood and that your ears are leaking a clear type of fluid. When Malleus put everyone to sleep, you fell and literally bounced your head off of the stone floor of Diasomnia.

He was already embarrassed and ashamed of himself, one for overblotting and now for hurting his dear friend. He pays for you to be taken to a hospital and tended to properly. Visits every day while you sleep and just watches you. Leaves you blessed fruits for a speedy recovery.

Is so relieved once you're on the better side of healed, you look much less corpse-ish and have more pep in your voice again. Apologizes, offers a life debt, swears if you wish it he'll never show his face around you again. His actions nearly got you killed and the longer his overblot lasted the more likely it would have been too late no matter what happened.

Actually starts crying when you tell him the injury doesn't matter to you. That fact your 'dear friend' Tsunotaro is ok is all you need to feel well and at peace. Now there's a dragon in the bed with you, no the doctors can not get him to move. They can work around him.

[serejae]

they dont know about us | c.hansol

pairing : vernon x reader

WHAT ! - being the only person able to read vernon is a strange concept to others, i guess your relationship is unique (in which, your the only person able to read vernons expressions

warnings : kisses, petnames, mentions of the other svt members, mention of dead people, slight skin ship, not proof read, established relationship au

-

WHEN HE HAS A ATTIUDE

seungkwan, vernon, and you were sitting in the middle of seungkwans living room playing uno. things were getting heated since vernon gave you 3 plus 4 uno cards in a row. so in return to help you out, seungkwan gave you a swap card to swap his stack with yours so you could win

“hey, youre suppose to give the stack to me if your gonna place it down” vernon said, to anyone else his tone would be monotone and blank, but to you, you could hear the slight disappointment in his tactic of teaming up on you.

“my house, my rules” seungkwan replied rolled his eyes at vernon protest as he put down a plus 4 card on vernon. vernons mouth slightly opened in shock, after a few seconds of processing he looked over at you.

to the normal eye this wouldve been a man looking over at someone, but to you this was vernons attitude come in. you could read him perfectly, being able to read anything his face shows from visibly to hidden. no matter how he presents his emotions it seems like you could always tell what hes feeling

“dont give me that look just because you wanted me to lose” you yelled slightly, he laughed and shook his head knowing he was caught

“what look?” seungkwan looked up

“you didnt see the reaction on his face after you put down the plus 4?”

“yeah the face of a dead person, he didnt make a face it was just…blank”

“yeah i didnt make a face” vernon teased making you groan

“he did make a face! he was giving me attitude” you defended yourself to a lost seungkwan and a happy vernon

“you both are so weird”

-

WHEN HES SAD

“i dont know where it could be” vernon ran his hand through his hair as he sat down on the couch frustrated, right now, he thinks he has his eyebrows furrowed, a pout and a slight redness to his cheek. but in reality hes just blanked out. like a mannequin, just sitting there with a blank stare

“its fine you could always buy another” dino said sitting on the floor eating off the coffee table in front of vernon.

vernon sighed as he slumped himself into the couch even more. “yn bought it for me, i cant replace it”

“i mean they could always buy you another one”

“but its not the same”

just then you walked in through the door saying hi to dino and vernon. as your eyes drifted to vernon you see him slumped on the couch with a very (in your eyes) big pout on his face. sitting right next to him you caressed his cheek “whats wrong? whats with the look on your face?”

“what look?” dino said as he chewed his food puzzled

“you dont see the big pout on vernons face?” you turned to dino

“no”

“its right there” you pointed at vernons lips where the pout evidently laid

“i think youre seeing things yn”

-

WHEN HES SCARED

vernon had his arm around your shoulder as the movie wrapped up. you could feel the gentle grip he had that tighted at times a jump scare came up.

when the movie finally ended, vernon got up and gave you a hand to help you up, as you held his hand you looked over and saw his scared face, automatically you busted out laughing making dokyeom and joshuw look over at you two

“whats so funny?” dokyeom asked smiling in amusement as he put a piece of popcorn in his mouth

“look at vernons face, hes so scared” you laughed

dokyeom moved his head to look at vernons face and furrowed his eyebrows while looking over at joshua, joshua was just as confused raising his eyebrow.

“yn, vernon does not look scared at all” joshua chuckled observing vernons expression closer

“what do you mean? you dont see his lips quivering?” now it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows

“i think thats your eyes moving really fast…i dont think its his lips” joshua said making dokyeom laugh

-

WHEN HES IN LOVE

all the members sat around the dinner table with their partners at the house party you and vernon were hosting. vernons finger caressed your thigh in a comforting way letting you know he was there. you laid your hand ontop of vernons fingers and whispered to him

“lets go start on the dishes as they talk”

he nods and lets you get up first before following you to the kitchen. the kitchen gave a view of the dining room to you both as well to everyone else. he washed dishes as you dried them, but something about vernon doing dishes in a basic t shirt with his hair down was doing something to you. you stared at him with your pupils dilated as he looked at you with his brown eyes. at this point vernon probably wss scrubbing the same spot 50 times but that was the least of his priorities

“vernon ah, yns looking at you with love and youre looking at her as if she crashed your car” hoshi joked making you and vernon look away

quick to defend him you spoke up

“what do you mean? he was looking at me with love?”

“that isnt love, thats him turning you into stone” scoups laughed

“i swear you guys have to be able to see the expression on his face”

looking around you see no one siding with you

“is vernon gaslighting you?” jeonghan questioned

looking back over at vernon, he was already staring at you just as confused, he shrugged his shoulders and you both continued washing the dishes.

-

WHEN HES VULNERABLE

“i dont get it, why cant they see the emotions on your face like i do?” you complained slightly annoyed as you laid on his chest

vernon hummed as his fingers ran through your hair. “i dunno

but i kinda like it”

“you do?”

“yeah” he replied simply

“it reminds me that youre special to me, that we have a special relationship. youre the only one who can read my emotions, the others cant and dont understand me like you do.

they dont know about us,

i like that its your special superpower

i dont want them to be able to read me like you can

just a me and you thing”

as you listened to his words you looked up at him and could see it in his face that he meant every word. how he cherished each special interaction you both had that no one else understood. because he liked being different, he liked how no one could get him, but he liked it even more how you were the only one who could

so maybe his friends cant read his emotions on his face and maybe they find him weird , but you can and dont

and thats all that matters to him

[marlynnofmany]

Spice in Space

“Of course your food is a biohazard,” Zhee said while the security scanner approved our delivery.

“The label’s just a precaution,” I said. “Pretty sure this is mostly pepper.”

“Right, yes, the food flavoring that gives your meals the flavor of fire.” Zhee tilted his head, bug eyes looking at everything at once while managing to roll sarcastically. “Not a hazard at all.”

“I don’t mean the really spicy kind,” I said as the box slid out of the scanning machine. “Just the regular spices to sprinkle over eggs and whatnot.”

Zhee picked up the box in his pincher arms. “Right, because eating fire-flavored unhatched creatures is a perfectly normal thing to do.”

I laughed and followed him out into the spaceport. “It is where I’m from!”

“Absolute maniacs, all of you,” Zhee declared with a flick of his antennae. “Now where is that food stall? The briefing said it would be tiny.”

“Tiny and close,” I agreed, looking around. Once past the security checkpoint, this place was a riot of booths and pedestrians with an artsy wave pattern on the ceiling that seemed to dampen the sound. It wasn’t as loud as most spaceports I’d been in.

“I see a directory,” Zhee said. “Let’s just check that.”

“Wait, there it is!” I pointed to a little kiosk between full-sized restaurants. It only held enough room for tubs of ingredients, a gigantic hot plate, and the guy currently scraping food around on it with flair. The sign said “Earth Fry.”

“Of course,” Zhee said, moving toward it. “I should have just looked for the fire.”

As we maneuvered through the crowd of Strongarms, Mesmers, and miscellaneous others, the guy tossed the food with his spatula, caught it deftly in a takeout box, and handed it to the customer waiting at the side: another human. No surprise there. By the time we arrived, he was ready to greet us.

“Hello! Can I interest you in some Earth Fry?”

Zhee held up the sealed package. “We have Earth ingredients for you. Apparently they are hazardous.”

“Oh! Yes, thank you! That’ll be the hot sauce and other stuff.” He took the box and found a flat surface to put it on, then accepted the payment tablet I held out for him. “Thanks for being so fast. Somebody got a bit clumsy during the lunch rush and knocked over a few things. Paid for ‘em, but I can’t get all of these local.” He signed for the delivery while I tried to place his accent. Australian?

“Luckily we were just coming from a trade hub,” I said. “This stuff is straight from Earth.”

“Excellent. It’s been a while since I was home, and you can’t beat the real thing for spices.” He handed the tablet back.

“Very true,” I agreed. “Where are you from?”

“Melbourne,” he said while I congratulated myself on guessing right. “Still getting used to how little any of that matters out here. To the average offworlder, Earth is one place with one type of person.”

“And we’re all lunatics who eat poison, right?” I agreed with a sly glance at Zhee.

He spread his pinchers. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Hey now, the garlic is only poisonous to some creatures from Earth,” the guy said, pointing to an airtight tub. “And the onions. If you want the real toxins, the alcohol stores are that way.”

Zhee looked at the ceiling. “It’s like you all have a death wish. Or take pleasure in hurting yourselves.”

“Some of the pain tastes good?” I said with a wave toward the hot sauces.

At the same time, the guy said, “There’s a reason they call us space orcs.”

I laughed. “Do they still? I wouldn’t think enough people even know what an orc is.”

To my surprise, Zhee recited, “Mythological creature from your planet, famed for strength, durability, and lack of foresight. Rumors do go around.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” I said.

“Nobody thinks that’s funnier than my family,” said the Australian. “I get no end of jokes about it. Especially from my mom’s side — she’s from the US, and thinks we all say ‘space’ funny.”

“Does she?” I asked. “Interesting word to focus on.”

“Right? She insists that it sounds like ‘spice,’ and I just don’t see what she’s on about. But!” He held up a finger and fiddled with his collar. “That did lead to my favorite shirt.” With a dramatic sweep of his overshirt, he bared a bright red T-shirt that said “Spice Orc.”

I burst out laughing. “That’s fantastic!”

“Mom was pretty proud of herself for this one,” he said. “Gave it to me for my last birthday.”

Zhee declared, “Appropriate. Entirely in character for your species.”

“And we even brought you spice!” I laughed.

“That you did!” he said, resettling his clothes. “Care to try some? The shredded beef dish is particularly tasty.”

I looked at Zhee, then turned back without waiting for a response. “We’ve got a couple minutes. I’d love some. With extra garlic, please!”

“Coming right up!” He spun his tongs like a gunfighter, and began tossing ingredients onto the hot plate where they sizzled madly.

Zhee just grumbled and looked put-upon, but didn’t object. I planned to make a big deal of enjoying the tasty fire-and-poison meal on our walk back to the ship.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[iarchmybaculaa]

Pairing: Ex! Jungkook x reader

Rating: 18+ (Please be mindful of what you consume)

Warnings: Jungkook is subjectively a little toxic, Mentions of an ongoing divorce, possessive! Jungkook, Girl Dad! Jungkook, unprotected sex (don't do that irl), oral sex (f receiving), Slight brat reader, Jeon Jungkook is a menace, reader is implied to be black

Word count: 5.2 k (I think)

🎧: Woo- Rihanna

For: @hobicakess and Paige💗

Jungkook is good at a lot of things

Hes a fantastic singer. He dances very well (even if he likes to fein shyness at parties). Jungkook can cook, he can multitask seamlessly and (almost) effortlessly, and he can put Jinhae to sleep in a matter of minutes… It would be much easier to list the things that Jungkook isn't good at.

Jungkook isn't very good at sharing.

He doesn't like sharing food, clothes or people.

You think it may be his biggest if not only flaw.

Jungkook considers the people in his life his. He doesn't expect them to have the same importance in someone else's life, as they do in his. And he doesn't expect them to think of other people the way they do of him, either.

You don't know if it's because he fears that he'll be replaced, or because he was raised as an only child. But whatever it was, Jungkook let it consume him. Holistically.

You remember how he had reacted when Yoongi- his mentor,had taken on a new intern. Jungkook and Yoongi had attended the same highschool within a few years of each other; and had met again when Yoongi was a TA at SNU. Yoongi had taken Jungkook under his wing, as less of a student, and more like a little brother; and their bond lasted way beyond college. Yoongi was so proud of Jungkook that he was practically All he spoke about. Jungkook had gotten used to things being that way.

Then one day, all of a sudden, Yoongi was no longer “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook”; he was all “Jimin, Jimin, Jimin” much to the Younger's chagrin.

To his credit, Jungkook was nothing but nice to Jimin during the time he worked for Yoongi. He bought him coffee once in a while and even invited him out for drinks whenever the opportunity arose. Jimin was cool. Jungkook would even go as far as to say that Jimin was his friend. Jungkook barely knew the guy! He had nothing against him.

It was Yoongi he was pissed at.

Yoongi was the one who owed Jungkook his loyalty. Yoongi was the one who had nursed Jungkook through his first hangover, and held him when he cried about failing a class. Yoongi was there when Jungkook got his first, off campus apartment. Yoongi was Jungkook 's Yoongi.

At first, Yoongi didn't understand it. It made no sense that Jungkook seemed so fond of Jimin, yet he soured whenever the latter's name was mentioned. It gave him whiplash. It went on for a solid month and a half of Jungkook's scowls and petulant pouts for Yoongi to finally realize that something was deeply wrong, and that he needed to get to the bottom of it.

It took 2 bottles of soju and 3 glasses of whiskey for Jungkook to crack. His reasoning was so funny that Yoongi almost didn't feel bad for laughing at him. All it took to pacify Jungkook was for Yoongi to give him a hug, followed by a quick

“you'll always be hyung's favourite, Kook-ah.” as he ruffled his hair.

Jungkook was only 22 when that had happened. And he'd like to believe he's grown a lot since then.

He's advanced enough in his career that he's not Mr. Bang's payroll anymore, but rather pays him. Jungkook has grown in a literal sense too, having had a growth spurt one random day after he turned 23 (there was no containing him once he realized that he was 6 feet tall) .

Jungkook has (helped) create life; your daughter Jinhae. It's the thing he's proudest of, second only to marrying you.

But Jungkook is only human.

So it's only natural that he feels an itch rise on the back of his neck everytime he picks Jinhae up from your apartment, and all she can talk about is your new boyfriend.

He got so…irritated the more Jinhae babbled on about “Woo- Woo” that he felt a little silly. But who could blame him? He would be holding Jinhae 's hand as they walked through the park for their daddy daughter time, and every other sentence would be about this ‘’Woo Woo”.

Seokjin had once joked that she had switched from being 'Daddy's girl' to 'Woo-Woo’s girl' , and Jungkook 's body took a screenshot. He shot Jin a look so vile, that the older stayed quiet for the rest of the day.

Jungkook really had tried to ignore it as best as possible. And he (thought) he was doing fairly well until that evening, when Jinhae had let it slip that:

‘’Mama kissed Woo-Woo today.”

He had just picked her up from her taekwondo class, and was about to pull out of the parking lot when Jinhae gave him the oh so lovely news.

Jungkook isn't a monster, he thinks he's let this little charade go on for much longer than was respectable. He wasn't going to let that slide.

He took a sharp left and sped down the highway. If he wasn't so caught up in his head, he would've heard Jinhae 's excited scream of:

“YAY! we're going to Uncle Yoonie's house’

You had just finished taking a long, warm bath. Your feet had been aching, and your back felt worse than it did before you had gotten your epidural. You needed a break; desperately.

The silence in the apartment was a welcome change.

You loved Jinhae with all your heart, but children were tiring to deal with alone. Children could be incredibly difficult, just for the fun of it. Especially spoilt, almost-five year olds who are used to their daddy obeying their every beck and call.

God forbid you didn't do “ the voice” right, after reading “The little Prince” five times in a row! suddenly you were public enemy number one.

At least you could bask in the fact that Jinhae never threw (noisy) tantrums or threw things, but you felt that she had quadruple the attitude your hus- ex, accused you of having.

But tonight, the only attitude you have to worry about dealing with, was from Kim when you researched the earliest seasons of Keeping up with the Kardashians. What can you say? There's truly nothing funnier to you than upper class white women trying to be relatable. To this dat, their target audience was a mystery to you. You can't think of a single person whose biggest problem was how many times their name got googled in a day. You find it hard to take anything they ‘’go through' seriously, because if we're being honest, people really are dying Kim!

You walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a soft white robe.

You reach for the the lilac, silk pajama set laid out on your bed. You had bought it from an online lingerie store, after a few glasses of wine a few weeks ago. You had been so…bored that you did the most exciting thing your numb brain could come up with in that moment.

You scoff at your past self. It was more cute than anything, not nearly as scandalous as some of the items you have hidden in the back of your closest. But you're not complaining.

The shorts are a bit shorter than you expected, but the silk is soft a high quality, and the lace that lines the top isn't itchy at all. You untwist your bun, and your braids cascade down your shoulders. You grab the bottle of black castor oil from your dresser, and run the nozzle along the parts. You sigh as you reach up to massage your scalp.

It's in little moments like these that you miss Jungkook the most. You hate to admit, but you used to be just as spoilt as Jinhae. Jungkook used to pamper you in every way possible. He would oil your scalp for you, order your hair products months in advance so that you'd never run out, and give you massages whenever your shoulders stood too rigid.

But you didn't have Jungkook anymore. You suck your teeth in annoyance at yourself for thinking about him so much.

You had just finished applying your vitamin c serum to your face, when you heard an incessant pounding on your door. You pause your music just as Kali Uchis asks if she can get a kiss. You're confused as to why someone is knocking on your door, when you have a very obvious doorbell attached to the frame. It's even stranger given what time it is.

You slip your feet into your cow print night slippers, as you step off the plush rug that lay on the floor in front of your vanity; and unto the floor.

The slippers slap against the floor as you walk towards the living room, and to whoever the hell wouldn't stop pounding on your door at 9pm on a Friday.

You throw the door open, ready to demand an explanation when you stop dead in your tracks.

To say you're surprised at who is standing at your door would be an understatement. You're not sure who you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't Jungkook. You're even more surprised to see him without Jinhae in tow.

You don't think that you've been alone with Jungkook for more than a few minutes at a time since the divorce; and even so, Jinhae has always been just a few feet away.

You feel worry start to settle in your stomach.

“Where's JJ? Is she okay?” You ask, praying that what came out of his mouth next isn't bad news.

He chuckes. It's a sound that comes from deep inside his chest and reverberates across the empty hallway. It's an empty laugh, with no humour behind it. It makes a chill run up and down your spine.

“Jinie is fine. She's with Yoongi; and she's the last of your worries right now” he says.

For once, Jungkook hasn't cracked a single smile the entire time he's been in your presence. It's obvious that he's mad, but you're not sure at what. You're not sure that you vare.

He isn't wearing a suit right now, and you can't recall the last time you'd seen him in anything but.

Jungkook worked extraordinarily long hours. You knew that working late and being burnt out would be a part of his life, especially the more his business grew, but it hadn't phased you at the time. There was nothing to be phased about.

At the time, Jungkook always put you first. And when Jinhae was born, he did the same thing. There was never a time where he had left you to fend for yourself with a newborn. He had been there through it all. From colic, to 3 am feedings to explosive diaper changes. He had never let you feel alone as a parent, or in your marriage.

Until around 8 months ago that is.

8 months ago, you feel like Jungkook had just stopped trying.

You know for a fact that Jungkook is terrified of being poor. It's why he always has another merger to make with one of his three companies, and dips his toes into every industry imaginable. His influence spanned over tech, real estate and even clothing. You think Jungkook's fear is understandable, you don't think it's fair. It was teetering on the edge of paranoia and greed.

He was trying so bad to make sure that he could take care of his family, that he wasnt.

He would get home from work after Jinhae went to bed, and left before she got ready for school. You had spent one too many nights falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home; only to wake up in your bed the next morning with a handwritten note on your bathroom mirror. They were sweet and all..but not much more.

As much as you appreciated the affirmations, his words meant nothing when there was no action behind them. Promises to come home home early the, family outings that never happened… You felt like you were a kid whose love was expected to be bought with money, and placated with empty commitments all over again. You could count on a bouquet of roses being delivered at your door every morning, more than you could count on your own husband being there.

You hated it.

You were starting to hate him.

It had gotten to a point where Jungkook had just given his secretary reign over his personal phone. You almost lost your mind when you had called him to ask what he wanted for dinner once, and she answered and told you that he was busy.

You could hear Jungkook 's laughter in the background, and the noise was not a professional setting. In fact, it sounded a lot more intimate and cozy. Like a restaurant or small bar. You felt sick to your stomach. You couldn't even get the chance to talk to Jungkook about it, because you barely saw him.

The look on his face when you served him the divorce papers in person at his office was borderline comical. His eyes had widened so far out of their sockets, that you thought the expression was causing him physical pain. You had said nothing. You simply handed him the papers and stayed long enough for him to read the heading. He clearly wanted to communicate through words on paper, so who were you to not oblige him with some?

As far as you know, Jungkook had never signed the papers, but he did follow all the other conditions you had outlined in your petition for separation.

He got an apartment for you and Jinhae in a building he didn't own, and was never late for any pickups or dropoffs, save for once when he had the flu.

A part of you had forgotten how young Jungkook was.

The suits he wore aged him plenty. Not in an old, haggard way, but in a way that made him appear more refined and serious than he actually was. His hair was always cut short and clicked away from his face. The collars of his shirts were always ironed to sharpness. Hell, he even wore sensible shoes.

If you hadn't seen every inch of Jungkook 's body before, and gone to college with him…You would have pegged him for an uptight dogooder. You're sure it helped him get taken seriously in the corporate world, but overtime, it was as if Jungkook had forgotten his roots. As if he had morphed into a no nonsense, mormon-esque version of himself.

But the Jungkook standing before you now, is the Jungkook you know and lov- respected. Jungkook who proudly wore his colorful sleeve of tattoos,silver hoops through his lips and a stud in his nose. The Jungkook who liked to wear cargo pants and oversized shirts with stomper boots he could barely walk straight in.

You knew he had showered before he had come over, because his hair was still curly. He hadn't blow-dried it. His hair is much longer than it was when you had last saw him. It fell past his eyes now. He had started growing it out sgain because Jinhae told him she wanted to. At least, that's what he had told you.

What had really happened was that Jinhae had been asking a lot of questions about “ when appa wasn't so old” one Saturday when they had gone out for ice cream.

“Appa, Mommy says your hair used to be w-eally long and pwetty. Can it come back? Mommy misses it.”

Jungkook hadn't cut his hair again since.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?” He asks, one eyebrow raised at you.

You fold your arms across your chest.

“I'm not sure why I should. Besides, I don't think that this is a good time.”

“Oh? Why's that? You lip expecting someone else,princess?’ He takes in your attire from head to toe. His eyes linger for a little too long in your chest. His voice goes deeper as he struggles to finish his last question.

You don't answer, and it makes his eye twitch.

It's so ridiculous, yet so on brand of him to create a hypothetical scenario in his head and get all eaten up about it. He takes a deep breath.

He doesn't want to blow his fuse. Not here, Not yet.

“ I need to talk to you. Inside. Please.” He asks, but it's not really a request.

You roll your eyes and turn your back to him as you walk away.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches your ass jiggle in the tiny shorts. He enters behind you, and the door closes softly with a click.

You walk over to the fridge and grab the unfinished can of Arizona Iced tea, and a glass from the cupboard. You were looking forward to having a glass of wine tonight, but if you were going to talk to Jungkook… you needed to be stone cold sober.

“You want anything?” You ask, as you pour the content into the glass. “ I think I have some b-”

“What I want is answers.” He says simply, leaning in the arched entryway.

You look at him with confusion written all over your face, before your pettiness takes over.

“ Oh yeah? Well I wanted signed divorce papers, and yet here we are.”

You take a swig from your cup and let the sweetness of the drink coat your tongue.

You see Jungkook release a breath so deep that his entire body shakes.

“ Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says with his arms crossed against his chest. “Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”

You're getting irritated now, because for one, what the hell is he talking about, and two…Who was Jungkook to talk to you like that?

“Jungkook. First of all, she's our kid. And secondly, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. And even if I did… I wouldn't tell you jack shit. What or who I do is none of your business.”

Jungkook pushes himself off the threshold and starts walking towards you. His steps are slow and strong. His strides are long,and he has your back pressed into the counter in a matter of seconds.

You haven't been so close to Jungkook in so long, that everything about him overwhelms you in the best way possible. He smells so, so good. He smells like sandalwood and warm vanilla. He smells like home. His proximity to you is dizzying, and you can only pray that you'll keep it together.

He puts his arm on one side of you, leaving your left completely open. If you wanted to get away from him, you could. You stayed in place. It tells him everything he needs to know.

“Have you completely lost your fucking mind Y/N?” He questions. He reaches for your left hand and your heart sinks down to your ass. The diamond of your wedding ring glitters under the lights hanging from the the ceiling. The princess cut stone is practically mocking you.

“What do you think I gave you this ring for huh? Fun? Fucking decoration?” He jests, “You know, for someone who never shuts her big mouth up about divorce, you sure keep this on don't you baby?”

You don't deny it. There's no point in doing so. You know that if you do, he'll lift the ring upwards. And you know that when he does, he'll find the unmistakable circle of a tan line wrapping around your ring finger.

He strokes his thumb against your cheek, and you almost preen at his touch. “Who's ‘Woo- Woo’ baby?”

“None of your business.” You bite out.

“When are you gonna get it through your thick skull, that you are my business?!”

He runs his hand through his long hair, and you can see his face so much better. He's as beautiful as you remember and he's right in front of you.

You don't know who leaned in first, but you do know how soft lips feel as they press against yours. You fell the metal of his lip piercings touch the roof of your mouth as you suck his lip into you mouth.

He puts his hand under your ass, and your legs wrap around him on instinct. He lifts you and bring you over to the cool marble of the kitchen island.

His hand tugs on the hem of your blouse, and you pull away from him.

“Kook, we can't.” You whine as you pull away.

Jungkook uses his thumb to wipe some of the spit from the corner of your mouth, and fixes your shirt so your boob is no longer at risk of spilling out.

“Okay baby, we'll stop and we can talk over dinner. Do you want me to make something or do you want to get takeout?” He asked as he pulls away from you.

He doesn't get very far, because you wrap your legs around him, and pull you back to him.

“Wait- I didn't really mean that.” You whisper. Jungkook has a sneaking suspicion that you weren't just talking about telling him no.

“You want me baby?”

You nod your head yes, too embarrassed to open your mouth lest your voice shake.

He cradles your face, and tilts it upwards so you have no choice but to look him in the eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You answer affirmatively, reaching forwards to capture his lips again.

Youre not even thinking about the Pandora's box that you might be opening; and quite frankly? You don't care.

You're acutely aware that you wont be able to blame your decision on being drunk or tipsy. The only thing driving you was a burning need to have Jungkook deep inside you (where he belonged).

He litters kisses along your neck as he slides his hand down your shorts. Your hips buck forward on instinct, and you shudder as you feel his fingers ghost your clit.

“Why are you naked under here?” He growls out. grip tightening around you waist. “I'm starting to think that you were expecting someone tonight.” he muses.

He spreads your folds with two fingers, reveling in the way your arousal leaks out of you and unto his fingers.

“ Is that why you're so eager, baby? Hm? Is that why you're so wet? You decided that you were gonna get fucked one way or another? Is that it?”

He asks each question as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. It shallow. He doesn't allow you the pleasure of going further than his first knuckle. You try to grind down on his digits, but he holds your hips down with his free hand.

“Whoever you've been giving my pussy away to, hasn't been doing a very good job... have they?” He groans as you clench around him.

“Jungkook please. I want-”

“Shh baby, I know. I'll give it to you I promise. Just give me one first” he begs as he speeds up his circles on your clit.

He sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot on your neck, and you cum almost instantly. Your body shakes and you wrap your arms around his neck as your pussy convulses around his fingers.

You barely have time to recover before he's pulling your shorts down, and cleaning up the mess you made. He catches the slick of you orgasm on your tongue just as it starts running down your leg.

He goes at your pussy like a man starved. You cry out the moment his tongue enters you. You ride his tongue with vigor, gripping unto the counter for stability.

Jungkook pulls away from you for moment. His mouth is shiny from your juices, and his eyes are already so blown out that you want to fuck him even more.

He guides your hand to his hair, and encourages you to grab the tendrils.

“Use me, baby” he instructs.

His voice is so gravelly and raw, that you can do nothing but oblige him.

You grip the roots of his hair and push his head back between your legs. You both moan when he starts lapping at you again. You hold his head in place, guiding him where you want him; where you need him.

The second time you cum, your legs closed so tight around his head that Jungkook thought he had died and went straight to heaven.

You pull him away from your core by his hair, and bring him up to your face. You clean his face with your own tongue, and lean in to kiss him so you both taste like you. Your chests are still heaving when Jungkook carries you to your room.

He lays you gently on the bed, and takes his shirt off at the same time you toss your blouse over your head. He's about to undo the strings of his sweatpants when he stops cold in his tracks..

“ Shit, baby…I don't have any condoms. I didn't plan on this-”

“ It's okay,” You reassure him “ I'm clean. Are you?”

Jungkook looks a little scandalized. “Of course I'm clean, I haven't - I havent been with anyone except you since before we started dating.” His honesty shines so brightly in his eyes that you almost want to pull him into a hug.

You release a shaky, nervous breath you didn't know you had been holding.

“ Good. I want to feel you, all of you.”

The bed sinks as Jungkook climbs over you, one leg on each side of your body.

You've missed this view. Him on top of you, chain swining in your face, and big doe eyes filled with lust for you and only you.

He takes a hairtye from around his wrists, and pulls his hair into a low manbun. His cock is already painfully hard, red and leaking from the tip.

You spread your legs as Jungkook nestkes in-between them. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, and presses a soft kiss to your calf.

He rubs himself between your folds, mesmerized by how quickly your wetness coats him.

He lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses.

“Are you sure you're ready baby? I don't want to hurt you.”

“ Is that it? Or are you scared that you don't hold a candle to ‘Woo-Woo’ my” you jest. Jungkook doesn't find it very funny.

He pushes himself into you, but as wet as you are, you're still so, so tight. Your pussy is so warm…hot even, that Jungkook almost cums the moment yes fully sheathed in you.

You're just as tight as he remembers, tighter even.

You both moan when he delivers his first thrust. You haven't had dick in so long,that you'd forgot what it felt like. How it felt like to have your walls stretched and your g spot caressed, how delicious and heavy the drag was inside you. How good Jungkook was at this. You feel so good that Jungkook practically forgets that he's supposed to be mad at you.

“You know you belong to me right?” Jungkook demands as he thrusts into you, slow and forceful. You don't answer and turn your face away from him He wraps his hand around your throat as speed up.

“Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you!”

His thrusts become faster, punishing. He practically ploughs you into the mattress as whatever restraint he had before vanishes into thin air. You scream the more intense the pleasure gets.

“ I should fuck another baby into you, you know that? Hm? Should swell your tummy up with another one of my kids, so you have nine months to think about why the fuck you would do something as stupid as try to leave me.”

He finds your gspot as effortlessly as he usually does, and he hits it over and over and over again.

“Jungkook PLEASE” you cry. You reach your hand out to push against the hardness of his abdomen. He takes your hand and kisses it. You're so close. So fucking close, and Jungkook can tell.

“You want to cum, don't you baby?”

You nod frantically. Your pussy is practically raw from overstimulation, and you feel so much pressure building inside you that you don't know whether you want to run away from the pleasure or dive headfirst into it.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I need to please.”

“Then tell me. Fucking tell me you're mine”

“Fuck, I'm yours, Jungkook! Please!” you cry.

“ How many people have you fucked since you left? Answer me!” He commands you, adding a finger to your clit to the mix.

“Nobody, no one, Jungkook Please!”

“ I know baby, I just needed you to admit it.”

He leans down and places a soft kiss to your temple. He gives you two more delicious thrusts that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Your lurches forward as your orgasm rips through you. Your walls convulse around him, squeezing him so tight that Jungkook feels a bit dizzy.

“Baby,” he whines “unwrap your legs so I can pull out.” He gasps when your legs only wrap tighter around him. “Baby, I have to-”

“N-no,” you protest “ I want it inside Jungkook please.”

He cums so forcefully that his orgasm leaves him winded and his arms almost give out. He spils his seed into you, and you feel the warmth of it coat your walls.

He pulls out of you as he begins to soften, and collapse beside you as he tries to catch his breath. You both turn to look at each other, and Jungkook offers you a soft smile.

He notices the sweat starting to bead on your forehead, and turns his head to switch your fan on.

That's when you see it. Your eyes bug out of their sockets.

“Jungkook, what the hell is that on your neck?”

“ What are you talking about?”

“Right there,” you turn his head to the right to get a better look. Your heart starts thumming uncontrollably in your chest. Because there it was, your name in bold black letters for everyone to see.

“Jungkook…When did you get that?”

“Hm…about five months ago?” he chuckles. He had the decency to look sheepish.

“Jungkook!” You say as you slap his chest “ We weren't even together!”

“ Correction, we are together, we just have separate living arrangements.”

You look at him incredulously.

“You're crazy, you know that?’

“About you? Yeah..Real crazy baby” he flirts “Hey, you never told me woo this ‘Woo-Woo’ guy is anyways .”

You roll you eyes at him as you climb of the bed.

“I can't tell you who he's not. He's not the one whose cum is dripping out of me right now. Are you gonna join me on the shower or what?”

Fin.

[livmightlive]

DONT GET ME WRONG- I am a huge advocate on the Wild and Hyrule being bffs front BUT I think it would be so so SO funny if they hated each other at first.

Wild and Hyrule

The similarities between Wild and Hyrule are genuinely poetic, I mean botw is literally a spiritual successor to Zelda 1. Their friendship was written in the stars.

But their differences… I think in the beginning Hyrule would envy the shit out of Wild. Both of their eras are in severe decline but Wild’s is green. Everyone in the chain knows that Wild’s memory is lacking. They know that one day Wild woke up with no memories and answered the call to be a hero, just like that. Everyone thinks it’s highly admirable to choose to be a hero without even knowing what you’re saving, just being innately good. But Hyrule doesn’t think so. If he woke up and saw a world so beautiful… There isn’t even a choice in defending that.

He’s also jealous that Wild can just… fuck off if something gets too dangerous. When they’re in Wild’s era they learn that he can use his slate to teleport anywhere he wants as much as he wants. If Wild accidentally disturbs a Lynel he can literally disappear to a sunny beach, get a drink, and lay out. He even has a map that updates as he moves. If he got lost, even with his slate not working, Hyrule has no doubt Wild would just run into an apple tree, a clean spring, and venison. He can scan an object to tell whether or not it’s poison. It didn’t matter how young, sick, or tired Hyrule was, if he stumbled upon a Lynel it was either him or it. He had to learn the hard way what he could or couldn’t eat. If Hyrule got lost there was no way his maps could save him. His era was mostly one huge bruise of dry grass and dying trees. Food and landmarks were scarce.

Because of that, Wild gets to goof off. He’s impulsive. He’s loud. He’s everything that should’ve gotten him killed years ago.

What he doesn’t know is that Wild is also jealous of Hyrule. Hyrule is just so… competent with so little. Hyrule never needed the master sword. In fact, Hyrule still uses the same sword he’s had since he was 10. Hyrule doesn’t break things. Hyrule doesn’t need people to find him when he’s lost, he doesn’t need maps. Hyrule doesn’t complain when all they have to eat is hard tack and water.

Hyrule could find a needle in a haystack without even burning it down. He’s just… everything that Wild can’t be. The shrine of resurrection healed as much of Wild as it could but the brain is a complicated thing. He wonders if he was always so impulsive, if he used to miss social cues, and if his memory had always been awful. Flora said something about damage to his frontal lobe but unless he looks up the definition in his slate, Wild can’t remember what that means.

Wild feels so embarrassed having had to use so many tools in his quest. Everyone calls Legend the hoarder but Wild quietly knows that it’s really him. Just standing next to Hyrule makes Wild look bad. It’s like the guy glows.

So they both resent each other at first, Hyrule for what Wild has and Wild for what Hyrule has.

I think if they were both teens, 17??, they would take this out on each other by being relentlessly petty. I think aside from Wind, they would be the youngest in the chain. At least in this scenario. Wild holds his breath praying that Hyrule will fuck up at some point. Hyrule “accidentally” keeps sabotaging Wild’s attempts to sneak off. Whenever the other gets lectured they get a sick feeling of accomplishment.

The chain picks up on the fact those two don’t like each other. Most of them don’t get it, two teenage kids, the same age, both heroes with a love for adventure and sneaking off. Why wouldn’t they get along? Wild and Hyrule never do actually fight though, until they do.

It starts with little things, Hyrule being annoyed after being asked to patch Wild up. Wild under or over seasoning Hyrule’s dinner portion just to test how far he can push him. Just little things to push at each other’s buttons.

And then they finally do fight, maybe after months of it brewing. And GOODNESS if it’s not a glorious fight. It doesn’t matter who started it. Hyrule has a fist of Wild’s hair. Wild throws sand into Hyrule’s eyes. The chain doesn’t even know what to do by the time they finally get them split up.

Well, Time does. Time makes the two of them start doing EVERYTHING together. Patrols, skirmishes, chores. The only way they’d be closer is if they were tied together. They hate it.

But it’s because of this they get captured together after a portal splits up the chain. Maybe they’re lost, arguing when cultists, a sick combination of both Yiga and the Eyes of Ganon scoop them up.

I think that while the Eyes are hyper competent they’re not necessarily cruel. This is a means to an end for them, they believe the death of the hero will save their families. For that, the hero doesn’t need to suffer. Slitting his throat will do. The Yiga are cruel but not very competent. They want to string the hero up, humiliate him. Torture him if they can get their hands on him… These two forces combined make something both competent and cruel.

So Wild and Hyrule are united in their shared terror. Hyrule and Wild finally start talking, trying to collaborate when they realize the cult wants to toy with them both before ritualistically sacrificing them. Through this, they finally understand each other.

Hyrule learns how insecure Wild is and why. How Wild’s era failed him and pushed him into something when he literally didn’t even have the mind to do so. That Wild is struggling to cope in a world that he barely understands.

Wild learns that Hyrule never got to cope, that his entire life has been one big chase. That Hyrule also didn’t choose to be a hero but had to be. Hyrule never catches a break. Hyrule never had the chance to get to break something.

Through their impromptu sleepover and some light torture, they grow close in the span of 72 hours before they escape their captors hand in hand.

They reunite with the chain who are shocked to see them arms around each other’s shoulders like brothers. Laughing, and more concerningly bleeding, at new inside jokes.

From then on they become a dangerous force. Time almost wishes they didn’t get along so well bc the new trouble they’re getting into is much more stressful than the old isolated incidents. They learn each others anxieties and weaknesses and do their best to uplift each other. They’re besties 💕💕💕

Hehehe sorry for the long ramble but I think about these two a lot. I think it’s so cool how their games are related but they’re also kind of opposites in some ways? This is probably ooc but I had a lot of fun writing. Lmk any thoughts!!

[pankowcrumbs]

Park Dating X Lewis Hamilton (Requested)

Request: Lewis Hamilton x Reader The Reader finds a lost Roscoe and Lewis instantly likes her.

MasterList

F1 Masterlist

I had just settled onto the bench with my iced coffee and paperback when a blur of fur barrelled into my legs.

“Oh hello there!” I laughed, nearly spilling my drink as the most adorable bulldog flopped down at my feet, panting happily like we were lifelong mates.

He looked up at me with wide, soulful eyes and that charming, squashed face. His little tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, and I was instantly in love.

“You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” I cooed, reaching down to give his head a scratch. He leaned into it like he’d been waiting for me his whole life. There was a tag on his collar: Roscoe.

I glanced around the park, but no one seemed to be in a panic, shouting his name until suddenly, I heard it.

“Roscoe! ROSCOE!”

I looked up just in time to see someone sprinting around the bend, chest heaving, eyes darting wildly until they landed on us. On me. Or, more accurately, on the dog I was now lowkey cuddling on the grass.

The man jogged over and dropped into a crouch beside us, clearly out of breath.

“Oh, thank God,” he gasped, reaching to ruffle Roscoe’s ears. “I turned away for five seconds and he just legged it sorry, so sorry if he jumped on you or anything.”

I blinked. “Wait... you’re Lewis Hamilton.”

He smiled, sheepish but still somehow radiant. “Yeah... and this little traitor is Roscoe.”

I laughed, brushing grass from my leggings. “Well, I’ve got to say, I’m grateful the cutest dog in the park also happens to have the cutest owner.”

His eyebrows shot up, and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Really?”

I shrugged, pretending to be casual even as my cheeks burned. “I mean... it’s just an observation.”

Lewis rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down before meeting my eyes again. “Would you maybe want to get a coffee sometime? Or we could walk Roscoe together I’ll make sure he doesn’t bolt next time.”

My heart did a little somersault. “Yeah, I’d like that. As long as Roscoe gets cuddles.”

“He’s clearly made his choice already,” Lewis said, chuckling as Roscoe curled up next to me like he was home.

As we swapped numbers, I couldn’t help thinking that the universe worked in funny little ways. I came out for coffee and a quiet read and ended up meeting a world champion and his runaway dog.

It had been three days since the Great Roscoe Encounter, and to my surprise or maybe not, because he had seemed genuinely into it Lewis actually texted.

Lewis H: So... Roscoe says it’s time for that walk. You in?

I said yes. Obviously.

Now here I was, walking through Hyde Park, nerves buzzing as I spotted him standing under a tree with Roscoe beside him in a tiny jumper. A jumper. Honestly, I’d fall for the dog if I hadn’t already clocked the way Lewis smiled when he saw me approaching.

“You made it,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. His smile was all warm and genuine and... okay, a little disarming.

“Would’ve been rude to leave Roscoe hanging,” I joked.

He grinned, then offered me one of the two takeaway cups he was holding. “Oat milk latte. I remembered.”

“You remembered?” I blinked, pleasantly surprised.

“Course. Not every day you meet someone who calls you the cutest in the park.”

I laughed, feeling the blush already creeping up my neck. “Still stand by it.”

We walked for a while, chatting about everything and nothing; food, travel, embarrassing stories. I told him about the time I tripped over my own shoelace in front of a street performer. He confessed he once called Beyoncé the wrong name mid-conversation because he panicked.

It was easy. Stupidly easy.

At one point, Roscoe sat down in the middle of the path and refused to move until Lewis picked him up. He cradled the dog like a baby, looking at me with this shy little smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” I laughed.

“I’m soft. What can I say?”

“Don’t let the internet hear you say that. They think you’re cool and mysterious.”

He shrugged. “Let them. I’d rather be soft with the right person.”

I looked away for a second because wow that landed right in the chest.

Later, we found a quiet bench, and he set Roscoe down between us like a chaperone. His knee brushed mine. Just lightly. But it stayed there.

“I’ve been on a lot of first dates,” Lewis said suddenly, fingers absently scratching behind Roscoe’s ear. “But this... I dunno, this feels like the first one I’ve wanted to slow down.”

I turned to face him. “That’s either really cheesy or really sweet.”

“Can’t it be both?” he asked, eyes hopeful.

I smiled. “I guess it can.”

He paused, a little breath catching in his throat. “Can I see you again? Like, properly. A date that doesn’t involve my dog being the main character?”

“You mean a second date ditching him?” I asked with fake shock

Lewis laughed. “We’ll play it by ear. But either way... I’d really like another chance to impress you.”

“You already did,” I said softly. “Turns out you’re even better than your dog.”

He looked at me like I’d just handed him a trophy.

And somehow, I had a feeling this was just the beginning.

[violetarks]

third year! bakugou katsuki thinks it's pathetic how everyone tries to ask you to be their valentine while you stand absolutely awkwardly and oblivious to their advances.

he rolls his eyes, scoffing at how you tilt your head and ask 'what do you mean?' when a new second-year tries to confess through a heartfelt letter a week before valentines day. he's sitting in the cafeteria, a few tables away from you where you stand with your tray. his friends catch his line of sight and begin to watch too as you awkwardly take the letter and mention how it's your favourite colour, what a coincidence.

"man, poor y/n." kaminari sighs, "been getting bombarded with valentine's day proposals."

"acting like you werent one last year." sero snickers, elbowing the blonde, who replies with 'shut up!'.

"y/n, todoroki and momo have to be the most popular third years. i saw todoroki carrying a fruit arrangement yesterday with 'be my valentine' on some flags." mina states, drinking her orange juice.

jirou retorts, poking her food, "did you see y/n's shoe locker when they opened it? they were basically drowning in all those letters. and their desk was full of teddy bears and hearts and flowers."

"yaoyorozu told me that she felt so bad because she rejected someone who choreographed a flash mob for her." kirishima inputs, "but seriously, so many people have tried getting with y/n, it's insane."

katsuki only rolls his eyes again as you thank the person, who runs away giddily. you're so uninterested in the person that you just pocket it in your blazer for later. katsuki chuckles at the action before returning to his food.

he thinks it's so funny that everyone is fawning over you. he understood todoroki and yaoyorozu, they've been popular since day one. but you? what did anyone see in you?

"hey, bakugou, are you alright?" you ask, standing in front of him on the porch of the dormitory. it's now five days later and he blinks himself back to reality and swallows the lump in his throat. "you were kinda' just staring at me and that girl just then..."

it's true, he was. a first year, some lovesick teen girl, came to confess to you just then. you hold some chocolates in your hand and a bouquet of roses in another. your third this week, he tallies.

"i—i wasn't." he stammers, looking away. he was leaning against the pillar, watching you as he took in some fresh air. it was pure coincidence, he says. "what... did you tell 'em?"

"i felt a bit sorry, she cried a little when i said i'm not a fan of this kind of chocolate." you express, showing him the box. katsuki smirks. you were so blunt. "i still accepted it though, to make her feel better. i don't even know her, though."

"strange." he responds, staring at you, "so what now then?"

"do you want it?"

"i don't want your fucking confession candy." he scoffs, furrowed brows. he's irritated at the offer and you just tuck the chocolates underneath your arm. "why'd you say 'no'?"

"i... don't know her." you state as if it was obvious. he blinks and looks away. "i dunno', i've been getting asked a lot recently."

"that so?" it's so pathetic, how anyone would trip and fall at your feet at the slight chance to share valentine's day with you. he could think of a thousand things better to do tomorrow than spend it with you—

"how come you haven't asked me yet?" you inquire, pursing your lips, "to be your valentine?"

"hah?" he huffs out, making the most outraged expression on his face, "what the hell did you just say to me?"

you sigh, opening the entrance door with your new gifts, "nevermind."

he stares at you as you leave him alone on the porch. questions swirl in his mind, making him think about you even more. is this how you made so many admirers? you just... made them think about you? you were absolutely crazy.

that's got to me the most pathetic thing about valentine's day, right?

wrong.

katsuki annoyedly drops the chocolates that he knows for sure you love. and as he passes the flower section, oh god, the amount of time he spent trying to figure out which ones were the perfect ones. the cashier looks at him knowingly, wishing him 'goof luck' on his endeavour. katsuki scoffs and tells them to shut his mouth.

what's pathetic is that katsuki readies himself for asking you. now that he's got confirmation that you were expecting him to, he would do it. he is standing in front of your dorm door, holding the flowers and chocolates and teddy bear in his arms. he knows you have hundreds in your room right now, but... he's pathetic.

when his hand goes up to knock on your door, the elevator reaches the floor and opens to reveal you in the sports uniform.

you walk up, typing on your phone when you look up to your dorm to see him. "oh, hey."

"hey." he mumbles, trying his best to hide the presents behind his back, "went on a run?"

"no, quirk training, actually." you respond, unlockong your dorm. you walk in and turn your head. "did you need to talk to me?"

"well... i—"

"are those for valentine's day?" you point to the flowers that are badly hiden behind him.

katsuki grunts, finally revealing them, "y—yeah... i don't know how to do this."

"come in." you say, inviting him into your dorm. he nervously enters and closes the door behind him. you sit at our desk, leg over your knee, almost like you're inspecting him thoroughly. "so, who is it for?"

he stops. "huh?"

"i mean, who are you asking?" you mumble out. he doesn't know what to say. do you not remember asking him to ask you yesterday? "you're looking for advice, aren't you?"

suddenly, he's on the fire. he's in the position that he made fun of those other people for being in. and it fucking sucks.

it takes all his courage to sigh out, "no... no, you idiot. i'm asking you."

"wha—? me?" you point at yourself.

"yes! here!" he practically shoves them into your hands and steps away away. "i... want you to be my valentine tomorrow. please."

his harsh tone makes you rethink his statement. but katsuki sees a smile dawn on your face regardless, something the others who have asked you haven't seen.

"thank you, bakugou. i love them."

he knows damn well you do.

"i'd be happy to be your valentine." you confirm, standing up and placing the flowers on your desk. you put the chocolates and teddy on your bed, smiling the whole time. he gulps in anticipation, despite you already saying 'yes'. "thank you, truly. it's perfect."

katsuki clears his throat, hands in his pockets and he looks away, "'s nothin'."

you chuckle and step towards him, hand on his shoulder as you give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"whatever you say. where did you wann' go tomorrow?"

he thinks it's pathetic how on valentine's day, you drag him to all the couple stalls and events, and even do a hand-reading (katsuki lets out a sigh of relief when they said that you two are quite the perfect match), but when it's with you, it's a lot less embarrassing to do it. in fact, he'd relive this whole day again if he could.

what's pathetic is how all those people thought they could have this time with you, when all you ever wanted was bakugou katsuki himself.

[rafsmusicalnotes]

Small Boobs with Rafayel

Tags: hurt/comfort, light fluff, light smut. 

Premise: Reader is insecure about their small boobs, questioning their womanhood. Rafayel is there to reassure you that you are indeed every bit of a complete woman. 

Author's Note: This is a fem!MC, a large part of the reader’s insecurity is that she doesn’t feel like a woman because of her breast size. Also, despite the light smut, there's no mention of the reader's sex.

~3.2k words

MDNI 🔞

Your hands graze down your chest, meeting no real resistance or curve to go over. “Flat as a board” some might say. Something you might say to pop a joke, but the thought always clings afterwards like a leech from a murky swamp of insecurities. The worst of it is that this swamp wasn’t built in a day. Since you were young, you saw it in the media all the time, pretty women with beautifully endowed breasts getting the attention of all. They always got what they wanted. Not to mention the common trope of women seducing others, mostly with their chest and cleavage. In a more real world application, you see your friends look lovely in low cut shirts, and strangers that are able to fill in their shirts. Their bodies are beautifully curvy and full while you’re not. Thus, you feel incomplete. Like something went wrong when you were made. Reasonably, you know it’s just how your genetics played out, but you still can’t help but feel like some sort of inadequate woman. 

You wish you would grow just a cup or two more, but you’re way past puberty, so you know it won’t ever get any bigger than this. Sometimes you wonder what Rafayel sees in you. How he perceives you. He says he loves you, but does he see you as the woman you are? Has he ever looked at you and felt awkward about your shape? 

You sigh, hands still over your chest, thoughts circling over those questions repeatedly. Then, your phone pings. You pick it up and see Rafayel has texted you– he’s outside, waiting. You text back that you’re almost done. 

You just needed to put on a shirt. You had been excited for this date for a while and bought a new shirt in advance. It’s just in your style. But before you can wear it, you put on a push up bra. One that’s a size down since you heard sizing down helps push them up more, somehow. You put your shirt on and turn to the side, hands over chest. There is some lift and more curve, so you’re satisfied, and head out to see Rafayel. 

“Hey Cutie.” 

“Hi Fishie.” 

You greet each other with endearing nicknames as you enter his car. Today, you guys planned a date to stroll down a certain street that’s well known for its abundant food trucks. It’s just a simple day to relax, you think. It’s just a nice stroll, talking, eating, and if you guys get too tired, the longest walk will just be the trek back to the car. 

“When did you get a new shirt? It’s really flattering on you.” 

You blush, internally joyed that he noticed, “Recently. Thank you. You look good too!” 

“Of course I do.” He smiles smugly, hand reaching to hold yours as he drives. 

When you guys get to the location, it’s a bustling street. Trucks full of various global snacks and meals. Your eyes go wide in awe, and his are too, but his attention is on you, not the trucks. He watches you closely when your eyes linger a second longer on a singular truck more than the others. “Want to go to this one?” He gently pulls on your hand that he’s been holding and stops by the line in front of the truck. “Yes! I was actually most excited for this one.”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

You turn your body to face him, “How?”

“It’s not hard when your eyes start sparkling like that. You don’t even look at me like that.” He pouts, “How come you don’t look at me like that?” You roll out a laugh that Rafayel feigned offense to. His free hand on his hip, brows furrowed in fake annoyance. “What’s so funny?” 

You hug his arm, chest pressing against him. “Well, you aren’t food Rafayel. Of course I wouldn’t eat you, so I don’t look at you like that.” Suddenly, you feel shame grab the forefront of your mind and quickly pull away. You almost forgot just how imperfectly a woman you are. What was the point of hugging his arm? You can’t be cute or sexy hugging his arm. You’re just an embarrassment. There’s nothing there to feel. Not much anyways. And half of it is just push up padding. 

Meanwhile, Rafayel feels warm. The nerves of the arm you hugged feel prickled. Like a thousand kisses were placed, and he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He already felt proud of himself for making you laugh, but you hugging his arm was just an unexpected score. You don’t notice it, being so preoccupied as you are with your own shame, but the tips of his ears are blushing. 

A few minutes pass before you guys make it to the front and order. Most of the day is spent like this: eating, walking, buying more food, repeat. It’s a good time, but the bra is starting to cut into your shoulders, and you’re growing more self conscious of it. You try to alleviate some of the irritation by readjusting your bra straps every once in a while. However, not much can be done about how it’s chafing your skin. 

Suddenly, as you guys are walking around, desserts in hand, you hear children playing, and it's getting louder. They’re running, slithering between the taller adults, and unfortunately bumping others along the way. And with greater misfortune, they bump into the person walking the opposite direction to you and Rafayel.The person trips over themselves, spilling the colorful mess of drinks they had in hand. The mix of blues, greens and reds blended to dirty green greys– mostly on you and your new shirt.

You’re frozen, cold, and everyone is staring, whispering hot. 

A heavy heat stemming from the center of your chest is bubbling, but before you could boil over, Rafayel has already taken off his cardigan sweater, putting it around you like a weak shield against the stabbing stares of the public. You can vaguely hear the person profusely apologizing, Rafayel taking it on your behalf. He feels that you’ve reached your limit with the way you’re quivering ever so slightly under his hand that’s rested upon your upper back.

Your head is completely down as Rafayel leads you to the car. You already woke up insecure, even while getting ready for this date, then you were dumb enough to hug his arm, next your bra is cutting into you, and lastly, the nice shirt you just bought gets ruined with a terrible tacky mess. Rafayel opens the car door for you, letting you inside. He gently puts the keys on your lap, kissing your forehead. “I’ll be right back. I’ll see if I can buy a towel nearby or get a bunch of free napkins.” 

While he’s gone, you take the silence in the car to breakdown. It’s almost cinematic. The way you look at him walking away. The sun is well into the afternoon, but not quite sunset. The crowd is still lively, and he gets swallowed into the ocean of people. Your higher mind knows he’s not actually leaving you, but you’re beyond frustrated with how the day has gone, and reason is boiling away. 

You’re looking at your chest, tugging the straps down to the side for relief. You keep rethinking how you dared to hug his arm. Could he feel your pathetic excuse of a woman’s chest against him? Was it disappointing? You’re sniffling and trying to not cry too much over it, hands profusely wiping at your cheeks and eyes, but it’s futile. You wish so desperately you just had a bit more. Just a bit more. Anything more. Just to feel whole. To feel complete.

Rafayel eventually makes it back, gently tapping at the window to catch your attention. You unlock the doors, head kept straight down to stare at your lap and the keys in your hand. He sits in the driver’s seat and turns to you, “Hey Princess. I got a small towel and a couple napkins.” 

He grabs the keys, setting them aside in some cup holder and almost goes to pat your chest with the towel but halts, “Is it okay? If it’s uncomfortable, you can do it yourself.” 

“Sure whatever.” You’re curt with him. You don’t mean to be, but you’re just so over it all, and you want to go back home and cry more. Rafayel nods, “okay…” He’s giving hard presses of the towel against your chest. After a few, “Actually, could you maybe do it?” Rafayel puts the towel in your hands and starts the car. “It’s better if we just hurry to your house so you can change into something.” You nod, tears swelling. Did your small boobs weird him out? You try to focus and regulate your breathing instead of pondering too much on such a painful question. 

As you focus on breathing, you move your hands to stuff your shirt with napkins and dab more liquid out of your shirt with the towel. To further distract yourself from the question, you looked outside in a further attempt to alleviate some shame and guilt.

Rafayel’s fingers tapped along the steering wheel. Eyes focused on the road ahead, mind trying to reverse engineer how to get back to Linkon City. Once he gets to a familiar point, he’s able to relax his mind and think over how the date went. If he was honest, the ending was disappointing, but it was fun while it lasted. You were so happy, hugging his arm for a second, but you were also fidgeting a lot. At least that’s what he thinks was happening. He noticed after about half an hour how you would constantly tug and move around your bra straps. He glances at you, seeing your head turned away. He almost wants to chuckle at how silly your shirt looks, all stuffed unevenly with napkins and the towel he gave you, but he knows this is definitely not the time to pop a joke. It was heartbreaking to see you cry so much, and he knows you’re probably embarrassed with the mess that happened at the block, so he offers some comfort by putting his hand on your lap, palm up. When you either don’t take notice or reciprocate, he turns his hand palm down and rests it on your thigh. Even when you ignore him, he’s still doting on you. 

When you guys get to your home, he walks you to your front door, and just as you’re about to close the door on him, you notice how his slacks and button up shirt were stained. You lift your arms to see stains on the cardigan he gave you. “Oh! I’m so sorry Rafayel! I didn’t even notice you were in the splash zone too!” Rafayel looks down at his outfit, “It’s okay. You had the worst of it.” Great, now you feel like a bad girlfriend too. You open the door wide and tell him to come inside so you can hand him a towel. 

After handing him a towel, you go to your room to throw out the napkins, put away the dirty hand towel, and finally take off your shirt and that biting bra. You change into your most comfortable home outfit. When you walk out, you see Rafayel still lightly dabbing himself. “I think that’s enough.” He mumbles, walking toward you and extending his hand to return the borrowed towel. As you take the towel back, he takes notice of the light chafing and slight indentation on one of your shoulders. “Hey cutie…” You look up at him, hands folding the towel. “Yes?”

“When did you get hurt?” He motions to his shoulders; you tap both your own to copy him. When you realize what he means, your lips purse. “Oh that just happens sometimes.” Rafayel tilts his head to the side, “Sometimes? Do you know when?” He slowly hovers his hand over your shoulder, scared to touch in case it makes it worse. “Yeah…” You sigh and gently push his hand away, putting your own over the indentation. Rafayel drops his hand but waits expectantly for a deeper explanation. 

You sigh another time and look down, “It’s because I wore a bra that’s too small, so it was tight, and it started digging into my skin.” You massage the skin under your hand. “It happens. Don’t worry. Besides, I think you should get home and change too, right?” Rafayel almost looks offended that you’re trying to push him out figuratively and literally– he won’t let you. 

“Yeah, I will Princess, but why are you wearing ill-fitting bras?” He pats your head, leaning down to meet your eye level. “Shouldn’t you wear proper fitting ones, so it doesn’t hurt?” You nod, staring at the towel. “Yes but…”

“But?”

You let out a frustrated groan and smack his hand away, crossing your arms over your chest, towel put on a nearby surface. “But what else am I supposed to do? I wear them that way so there’s something there. So I can at least pretend to look like a grown woman. Right now, without one, I look like a small boy. I know that, so just go home already.” You’re turned away from him, sniffling. You didn’t mean to throw your frustrations at him, but again, after everything you have been through today, his insistent manner was just the cherry on top. 

Rafayel raises his eyebrows. “Small boy-? What are you talking about?” He sounds confused. “You don’t look like a small boy, Princess.” He’s resting his hands at his hips, “Where’d you get that idea?” You turn back around to face him, uncrossing your arms and opening them wide, chest bared. “Hello? Are you blind?” Rafayel’s eyes take a quick scan of your body. “No, I’m not. Cutie, you’re confusing me. What are you talking about?” 

You put your hands spread on your chest, bashfully looking away. “I’m talking about my…boobs.” Rafayel gets quiet, blush creeping to his ears. “What about them?” 

“They’re small.” 

“That’s natural for some women, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don't feel complete because of them, and that's the issue.” Your expression is full of hurt, and you relax your arms, resting them by your side. “You're not a woman. You wouldn't understand.” You sigh, feeling dejecting. What's the point of telling him these things anyways? To point it out and then what? Words of praise? Like ‘no, no it's cute’. But it's not about that. It's not about how cute or whatever they are. It's just about –

“But isn't being a woman about your experience and expression?” You feel light pressure on your shoulders, his thumbs gently massaging the indentations and chaffed skin on your shoulders. “Your boobs don't define your womanhood.” 

You look up at him and frown. “But it feels like a big physically defining part. I hate it so much. I just wish they were bigger, so I could see in the mirror what I feel. Like a full grown woman and not some teen boy. You know?”

You list your complaints and as you do so, he envelops you in his embrace, kissing your head. “Princess, you don't look like a boy. You act and look like a woman. I promise. Anyone who says otherwise is blind and very dumb.” He smiles, pulling away. He lifts your hand, kissing your palm. 

You nod, “Yeah. So what are you trying to say? That I’m blind and very dumb?”

Rafayel chuckles, kissing your wrist, “It’s okay if you are. I have a method to help open your eyes and make you very smart.” You notice a sudden change in his expression, his eyes sharpen and his lips curl to a smirk. Then, the next second, it disappears and goes back to his regular softness, eyes relaxed and smirk dropped. “Only if you want to of course.” You gulp, hand starting to twitch to his touch.

“Yes, I do.” 

“Smart girl.” 

He leans forward, his fingers gently curling around your wrist. He carefully guides your hand to his own chest. “You know, back then when you hugged my arm, I was so happy. And when I was cleaning your shirt, I felt really good being so close to you.” His voice is quieter, and his face is flushed. You can feel the thumps of his heart under your hand. “The things you do to me. The things only you could do to me.” His gaze flickers down to your lips. “It burns me, but I want more.” 

Then, he kisses you. His lips are soft and gentle, tentative. You slip the hand on his chest away to tug at the belt of his pants, hinting at him to come closer. “You're… much bolder than I expected, but I like that.” He gives a soft giggle, kissing you again, more passionately. His hands are now gently cupping your breasts, fingers caressing your chest, dancing over your nipples, letting the soft fabric’s friction tease you. 

“Princess, can we go to your bedroom?” Rafayel stares into your eyes, fingers rubbing firmer circles over your shirt, stimulating the bare nipples underneath. “Yes.” Rafayel lifts you up, emitting a gasp out of you.

“You are a woman. The woman for me.” He carefully pushes open the door to your room and lays you on the bed, suckling a hickey on the side of your throat. His hands creep under your shirt, slightly trembling once his hands settle on your breasts. “Here, right? This is what you’re worried about?” You nod your head. “Yeah they’re–”

“Perfect. Don’t be mean to yourself.” He smiles against your shoulder, kissing the sore skin. His hands massage in circular motions. A breathy moan breaks past your lips. “Feel good?” He pinches your nipples and rolls them between his fingers. “I hope so, Princess,” he whispers as he lifts up your shirt completely, baring your chest. “My pretty canvas.” He latches onto one of your breasts, suckling gently. Rafayel’s tongue rolls over the bud of your nipple before carefully biting down, “My gorgeous muse. My inspiration. My woman.” He mumbles these nicknames under his breath as he puts his focus on your chest. He ignores how you squirm and whimper– it’s not like you’re not pushing him away. In fact, you’re trying to draw him closer. Your hands steady on his head, keeping him down to keep stimulating your breasts. Minutes go by, soft whimpers and moans from both you and Rafayel. Your chest is all bruised and wet with saliva as a result of his relentless licking and sucking. When he finally pulls away, he kisses upward to your lips. “My woman, right?” He gives one final pinch to your puffy nipples. 

You whimper, “Your woman.”

His cheeky smirk returns, “Yes. And I’m yours, right?” 

“Mine.” 

He lays on your bare chest, fingers circling around one nipple and gently massaging the bruises he marked on your chest. He mumbles something in Lemurian under his breath before giving one final kiss to your chest. 

“Let’s go shopping sometime soon. For a new shirt and better fitting bras.”

Author's Note: Sorry this one took so long to finish! If you want more, go looked at my pinned post on my page! Next work is gonna be First Kisses with Rafayel. I hope you guys love this one. I'm a little less confident in this work because this isn't a topic I'm well versed in, but I hope it's still enjoyable for you guys! This idea actually came from a request someone dropped in the Fic Idea Drop Box on my page.

See, I'm pretty open, so don't be afraid to give me ideas! Love you guys. I adore every note given on my works. Well, until next time!

[thewritersaddictions]

Drabbles: (COD) 141 It's Just A prank

I keep seeing this prank on my tiktok, and I'm finally up to write something, so here we go. Hope you enjoy my edition of "Telling mom no" Prank

WC- 3.5k

Ghost ( Simon Riley)

The telly in front of Simon plays the most recents rugby game. Dinner was almost ready. He could smell the sweet fragrant smell of the food that his sweetheart had been cooking. Their son and daughter watching you from the table.

Simon could hear you rambling on to your young daughter. Her babbles and groans can be heard through the house. You're also talking to your five year son. Last he knew his son was sitting on a chair watching you chop veggies. When Simon had been told by you "Go sit down Si watch the game, and zone out." With a peck to his cheek and a shove to push him out of the kitchen.

He could just barely you over the volume of the TV. Though he would pick your voice over the sound of the tv any day. Simon grabs the remote and turns the volume down just in time to hear you ask your five year old son "Could you please set the table for dinner bubba?"

There's silence for a minute, and then a harsh and strong "NO" It doesn't really register at first. Since the birth of his son, Simon had taught his son to not only respect every single person he met but especially his momma. "Bubba, please don't make me ask again." Your voice is level. Simon knows that your son didn't take his afternoon nap, so he's okay with letting it slide that he's got an attitude with his momma.

Except his feet are carrying him towards the kitchen when he hears his son shout yet again "No momma you can't make me." He really does try to curb his anger when he set foot in the kitchen.

"Why do I hear you not doin' what your momma asked of you?" Simons starts off almost immediately. He sees his sons wide with fear. He's never heard the fury of his fathers voice.

When he looks over at you though your hand is covering your mouth, brows arched. He knows that face. His sons voice cuts through the silence. "Momma said that it was gonna be funny, she said so." Your hand drops from your face and you give your son a look. "Bubba, you said you could keep a secret." You says to your son. "But Daddy" he points at Simon. "He says always be respectful to you."

You look back to your husband. A simple prank that you had seen on social media. His brow arched as he looks between you and your son. "What kinda prank is that?" Simon asks you. "It was supposed to be a funny one. Not one that makes our son turn on me right away." Your grovel. Returning to your cooking. "You can't prank me, with our own kids bird. I've taught him far to well for that to work." Simons says standing behind you. A quick peck to your cheek before looking over at your son. "You are gonna set the table though buddy." Your son is nodding his head and grabbing his daddys hand to get help with the plates and silverware.

Gaz (Kyle Garrick)

Your daughter was the apple of Kyles eye. She could do no wrong. No matter what she did, your husband was always there to help her through it, but now she's at that age where she's throwing more and more attitude. Saying things that are catching you off guard.

With Kyle being away he has yet to notice the shift. You knock on your daughters bedroom. She's in her early teens and she sensitive about everything. "What mum?" She shrieks from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?" She huffs but opens the door.

Theres an akward silence between the two of you for the first few seconds. I was thinking with your dad coming home soon, that maybe we could prank him." An olive branch, a way to mend the teenage bridge between you and your daughter.

She looks at you sideways. Cora looks me up and down, before nodding. You smile. Sitting down on the edge of her bed. Telling her your idea. One that you had gotten from tiktok. Whether it is the ability to be able to yell, and shout you or the just that she can trick her dad Cora agrees nonetheless.

Kyle comes back in just a few days. So you and cora end up setting the whole thing up. "When ever we are all together when I ask you to do something I want to just either ignore me, or… you can say one bad word. Any word you want to." Her light up. "Any bad word, and I wont get in trouble?" Cora doesn't really trust that she won't get in trouble, but with a simple nod of your head she agrees to the terms.

Two long days pass. Waking up to the cold bed is okay, but you know that Kyle will be back tonight. You grab your clothes getting ready for the day while your daughter gets ready for school. You remind her before she slips from the car that her father will be home tonight, and wave her goodbye as walks to her friends.

Kyle comes home later that night to the smell of a fresh cooked meal and you and your daughter both setting the table. The bag gets dropped by the door, toeing off his combat boots. It all happens so fast how he's got the both of you in his arms, pressing kisses to your cheeks. Breathing in a must need breathe of fresh air.

"How have my lovies been?" He asks when he finally lets go of the both of you. "Good daddy." Cora says sweetly as she sits down in front of her plate. "We've been good, just been missing you is all." You say reaching out to grab his hand. He squeezing your hand and goes to eating.

Dinner is smooth. A calmness that covers the house is warm and inviting. It's nice to have Kyle back, bring that bright smile back him even if the dark circles under his eyes show just how little sleep he managed to get will out on his mission with the 141.

You get up grabbing everyones plate, and bring them to the sink. Loading the sink to the brim with dirty dishes. You'll help her after the two of you play this prank on Kyle.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen Kyle has already left the room. His heavy footsteps can be heard in the laundry room. He always does his wash when he first gets home then switches into his sweats and an old army t-shirt that Kyle has had since Coras birth.

You nod at your daughter as you hear him walk towards your shared bedroom. "Honey can you do the dishes for me while I put away leftovers." You're shouting, louder then needed but you wanna make sure that Kyle hears this entire conversation. "I'm not doing the fucking dishes you bitch."

You aren't shocked one bit, by her choice of curse words. You know that aren't really mean, hell she's smiling right at you. But the man that is currently stomping towards the kitchen doesn't know just how hard the two of you are trying to keep your laughs from escaping your chests.

Loud, and thundering footsteps finally stop when you spot Kyle. You've never seen his face flushed with so much anger. The calm demeanor he had before was gone. Jaw set and fist flexing in his hand. "I know I didn't just hear you call your mum a bitch and say the word fuck." He's fuming, "I thought we taught you better Cora, but I guess not. Have you been treating your mother like this the entire time I've been gone? I hope to god that you haven't because if I hear that you have been…" Theres a chill in the air. You may have let this go on for a bit longer then needed, because yes her attitude has been shit but a part of you knows she just misses her father just as much as you miss your husband.

You step in finally after a look over at Coras glosses eyes. "Honey it was just a prank. She didn't mean it. Did you Cora?" You ask looking over at your daughter. She shakes her head quickly. Kyle has never once raised his voice, so maybe she's a bit scared.

"Huh?" Kyles brows arch as he looks between the two of you. His chest is heaving as he tries to gain some sort of control back over his anger. "I…Why would you… that was just plain mean." He says stumbling over his words. "We just wanted to prank you." Coras words are quiet, trembling out of her mouth.

Your husband takes a deep breath before walking over towards your daughter. "I'm sorry baby." He says sweetly and much more calmly. Her nose twitches and you know she wants to cry, Kyle must see it to cause he's wrapping her in a huge hug and squeezing her tightly in his grip.

That night your daughter crawls between you and your husband as the movies starts. "I'm sorry mum." She whispers. "Never mind that baby, just watch the movie." You mutter quietly back to her as you press a kiss to her forehead.

Price (John Price)

The middle child always is either forgotten or holds the most responsibility there is simple no in between (yes that's a pun) Regardless of that though. With John you have three children. Your oldest Jack is just about to start his university years. Your middle son Oliver who's in the half way point of secondary school, and your youngest Ivy who's just done with primary school.

John retired when you brought your only baby-girl into the world. John has been there for every single basketball game, every soccer game, and every single ballet practice, and performance. Never missing a single day of his children lifes. One night as you lay in bed Oliver comes to you with a confession. "Mum I need to tell you something." He says. His father is probably asleep watching the some sports game again. "Yeah honey what's going on?" You asks setting down your kindle. Patting the side of the bed for him to come over and sit with you.

He swallows and comes over, and for a minute its silent. "I feel like I have more chores then the Jack and Ivy." You go to start talking, but he shakes his head. "I looked at the chore chart mum, it's not fair. I have to do the dishes, clean up after them after dinner, do the laundry, my homework, and make sure that I'm getting good enough grades to continue playing sports." He's stressed you can see the signs that his father passed down to him. You think for a moment. Right now your two other kids are probably talking to friends or playing some sort of games, and you had asked poor Oli to do all the cleaning after you had put away the leftovers from dinner.

It's a few days later and many hours on TikTok later when you see a video. A mother and her kid pranking their father by saying 'no'. You thought for a moment, and went searching for more. You had yet to tell John about the stress that you both had been placing on your middle child. Later when you picked up Oli, you set out a plan. A plan that could be a prank for John, but also maybe a teaching moment for Jack, and Ivy. A plan that Oli doesn't really understand, but he understand that this will hopefully help everyone see where things might have fallen off the track.

So a week later after dinner with John, Jack, and Ivy sitting in the living room watching some tv you nod at Oli. "Oliver, clear off the table and do the dishes." Not a questions a demand. Unlike usual where Oli jumps out of his chair grabbing plates, cups, and silverware he doesn't. He looks over to the living room, and then back at you wanting reassurance. "No." A moment of silence and then "What?" Playing into this as much as possible. "I didn't make this whole mess. So I shouldn't have to do all this cleaning by myself either." His points are valid, but to get John to come into the room you have to get louder. "Why can't Jack, and Ivy do it?" He asks louder, "because Oliver Price, I asked you to do it!" You practically shout back. "And I said NO." He stomps off towards his room.

It takes John a minute but he's in the room before Oliver can make his way towards his bedroom out even out of the dining room. "what is going on right now?" He asks, brows furrowed down on his face. "I asked Oliver to do something and he keeps giving me backtalk, saying that Jack and Ivy should be helping." You say faux anger.

"Oliver." John says sternly. He may not be in the service anymore but that stern commanding voice hasn't left his body, and probably never will. "I won't do them dad. Jack and Ivy don't do anything around here. I clean all the dishes, I do all the laundry, I do everything and i still have to make sure that I have good grades so i can play sports. It's unfair especially when they get to do whatever they want to do all the time. I barely get to hang out with my friends because I don't have the time." You son says, releasing a bit of anger, and sadness more then he had when he talked to weeks ago.

John has always been an understanding man, always listened to his men in 141. Never did things that were not rational. Always wanted the truth, so the silence that surrounds the room is not something you weren't excepting. He watching his son, and listening to his two other kids chatter away in the other room.

"JACK! IVY" John yells, in a short moment the both of them are standing there staring at their father and brother and you. "What's up dad?" Jack asks. "What chores do you have?" He asks straightforward. "I um… I've got my… Some times I vacuum" "So I'm hearing a lot of nothing." John says, looking over at Ivy, he repeats his questions. "I help mum sometimes with making dinner." She says proudly. She might be in primary school, but she has no chores either. Leaving everything that doesn't get done by John or you on Oli's tiny shoulders.

"That's not a chore, since I know for a fact that you don't help your mother every day make dinner for the lot of us." John says. Looking back over at you, and then at Oli. He speaks again this time to the entire family.

"The chore chart is getting a massive overhaul. No more of this shit where Oliver is the only one doing all the chores. I don't wanna lip from any of you about this change. I'll have a new chore chart written by the weekend. From now on though Jack and Ivy you're on dish duty tonight." Theres a pause, but then with a stern and finally look Jack and Ivy are walking towards the dining room grabbing everything up to be washed in the kitchen.

"Oliver I really would have rather you told me or your mother what was going on instead of disrespecting your mother like that.""Now hold on John. He did come to me." His head turns so quickly. "I thought… well I say something on that social media app TikTok and thought that the two of us could get a laugh out of pranking you, but I always wanted to show you something that I fear might have been going on for a little to long John." You say. "So then you didn't mean to be nasty to your mum Oliver?" John asks, Oliver shakes his head "No I just was just tired of being the only one doing chores when Jack and Ivy get to have all the fun." Oliver says sweetly.

A deep sigh leaves Johns lips. He reaches out and grabs Olivers hand, "How about you come with me, and we can watch TV for the rest of the night." he offers, "but it's a school night?" Oliver counters, "How about we don't worry about that right now, how about tomorrow we take you somewhere were you can have some fun?" He asks Oliver. There's a light that beams from behind Olivers blues eyes and nods his head following his father into the living room.

Soap (Johnny McTavish)

Lucy your three year old daughter has the sass of you and the stubbornness of her father Johnny. Is supposed to be getting ready for bed, or be in bed by now. The clock reads 8pm at least good thirty minutes past her normal bed. But her pj's are on she's been read her nightly bedtime story by Johnny. Her night light lighting up the room with an ambient glow.

The tv is at a low volume, just enough that you can hear the words but not enough that if something loud happens it will wake Lucy. Except Lucy is currently standing at the edge of the couch her blanket and stuffed animal in her arms. "I can't go to sleep dada." She prays at her fathers heartstrings.

Giving him large glossy eyes. "Okay baby, lets go back to your bed." That was attempt one, Johnny had tucked her in so tightly that she must be able to fall asleep now. That was attempt one, the second time she came out of her room her hair was a bit more messed up. As if she had been tossing and turning. The netflix show that played on tv got paused for the second time. Some murder tv show that you had been waiting all day to watch with Johnny. "Mummy, back spider?" She asks.

She loves your long nails that Johnny pays to get re-done every single two weeks. Likes when you whisper to her and drag your longs nails up her back. You follow her to her room her hand interlock in yours. You sit on the edge of the bed, while Lucy falls straight on her face, her back exposed to you.

"X marks the spot. Dot, dash, dot, dash, question mark. spiders crawling up your back, spiders crawling down your back. Cool breeze, tight squeeze now you've got the chills." You says as your fingers move along her back. Her breathing as gone steady. You wait a few more minutes drawing a few extra circles and hearts into her back before returning to your husband in the living room.

But apparently third times is the charm. When she comes waddling back out only a few minutes later. "Lucy you need to go to bed now sweetie." Johnny says staring at his sleepy daughter. "I don't wanna!" She shrieks. The clock reads almost 830pm. And this yelling and shouting will only last so long before she ends up tiring herself out. "Hey don't go shoutin' now." Johnny mutters as he gets up to take her back to her room.

The grippy bottoms of her onesies allows her to grip the floor and run out of her reach of your husband long arms. "Lucy, you need to go to bed we have special things we are doing tomorrow baby girl." Your husband tries. But Lucy shakes her head not agreeing with anything. "Baby you gotta go to bed." "I DON'T WANNA." She says turning her head with every word. Johnny can't help but look over at you. "She's got all your sass lovie." You shake your head, "But all of your stubbornness." You throw back. He groans as he picks up Lucy. "How about we just stay here on the couch." He offers. Lucy hums in Johnnys arms and snuggles into her chest. Her snores fill the room and the tv show turns back on at least until you look over at Johnny and say. "I hope you know she was out when I gave her those back scratches, but she wanted to play a prank on you, so this was it." Sleep invades your words, but Johnny doesn't really seem to care about his daughters silly little outburst, or how it relates to her and you wanting to prank him.

"That's okay lovie, just watch your tv show." He says combing his fingers through Lucys hair. The next time he looks over at the end of another episode, not only is Lucy asleep, but so are you. Cuddled into his other arm. Blanket thrown over your legs. He'll stay right there until he either get's kicked in the face by his daughter moving in her sleep so much, or when he wakes up to pain in the bottom on his neck.

[kingthunder]

I saw a few of those "bg3 characters driving a car" headcanons and decided to do one myself for fun.

Lae'zel: She learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road from everyone else and her instincts are all wrong for her current location, but back home she's an excellent driver with a spotless driving record. She actually follows the service schedule in the car manual. She gets incensed at people who don't maintain their vehicle properly or who disobey road rules. Her car is immaculately clean. She would love to speed a motorcycle down one of those desert highways with no speed limit, but she's never gotten the opportunity and knows it's too reckless besides. But she wants to.

Karlach: She's had a motorcycle for ages and is a skilled if aggressive driver. However, she only recently learned how to drive a car. She is very enthusiastic about it and always volunteers to drive even though she's not very good yet. She's one of those people that do driving "pranks" like swerving back and forth to make people shriek/laugh, or doing "3, 2, 1 BLASTOFF" and gunning it. Could easily be provoked into an impromptu street race. Drives way too far on empty or with the check engine light on.

Shadowheart: Drives stick so that no one else can drive her car. It's a beat up old station wagon with a busted tail light and looks like shit on the outside, but inside she turned it into a goth mobile with like black velvet seat covers and stuff. She named the car but she won't tell you what. She has an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that smells like night orchids. She's a perfectly good boring driver with nothing to note about it UNTIL one day a cop tries to pull her over for her busted tail light and she hits the gas and pulls out all these street racing moves that you had no idea she was capable of and shakes the cop. She'll let you pick the music but if she doesn't like it her silent disapproval is so withering that you voluntarily change it to something she does like.

Astarion: Never got a driver's license and isn't about to get one now. Passenger princess who likes to control the radio but his taste in music sucks. He makes funny mean comments about other drivers and pedestrians. He'll complain if you ask him to fill the gas tank but he'll do it; you're paying for it, though. Actually pretty fun to go on a road trip with because he doesn't care about stuff like "making good time" and he's up for stopping anywhere that looks like it might be entertaining.

Gale: Never got a driver's license because he was always too busy with his studies to care and his mom drove him around and/or did all his errands for him anyway. He's real good at maps though and likes to be helpful by being the navigator. He's the smartest man in the world but he's completely stymied by a gas pump; you're better off pumping the gas yourself and sending him into the gas station for snacks. He always manages to conjure a full meal out of convenience food, somehow, and he's really good at feeding you while you drive.

Wyll: He saved up and bought his own fixer-upper car after getting kicked out of the house as a teenager. Good driver in general. People always think he would make a good designated driver, but actually he likes drinking socially and will politely decline requests to be the DD unless there's no one else available. Sometimes when he's having a bad day he blasts music really loud and finds a deserted area to just fuckin tear ass down as fast as he can go (he'll only do this alone and doesn't tell anyone about it). Never lets you pay for gas even if you offer. Will pick up hitchhikers.

Halsin: Has been driving the same car since 1973. Drives that specific car really well. If you gave him a modern car he would have no idea what anything on the dashboard does. Honestly, he prefers to walk or bike anyway.

Jaheira: Has a fuck-off huge SUV full of empty cans and wrappers from her kids. Absolute maniac of a driver who tailgates and speeds with no regard for road signs or lane markings. She is going to GET where she is GOING and gods help you if you get in the way.

Minsc: Failed the driving test three times and just gets rides from Jaheira. This does not bother him in the slightest. He tells you that Boo can drive vehicles you've never even heard of.

Minthara: Has run someone over on purpose.

[sheepispink]

୨✧୧˚ ACTING DIFFERENT ˚୨✧୧

✧ resident evil masterlist

✧ tags: fluff, reassurance, hurt/comfort, leon kennedy x afab! escort!reader

✧ Summary: You’re an escort for Leon, and you’re pretty confident in your own abilities. Although, it’s pretty funny to see you two together, especially since he looks pretty brooding on an actual job. Despite that, some jealous interns make it their mission to put you down for the way you act with him, calling you selfish and the like. You shift, trying to be ‘better’ but Leon is determined to get the bottom of this.

✧ a/n : technically this is a part of my series ‘the escort protocol’ found here, however it is a standalone too.

————————————————————————

It would’ve been a normal day in the office, that is if you hadn't just walked straight past him whilst he drank the largest coffee cup known to man. He grumbles as you ignore him for the third time that day; he saw you glance at him and then the cup and then still decide to carry on. He lets out a huff as he tosses the cup behind him into the bin before resting his head in his hands; the cup was empty, of course—he just wanted to see you react. That is the exact problem actually, because you haven't reacted to anything he’s done for a whole week now. The first day was already crossing the line, but he figured you were in a bad mood. Then the second day you continued and by the third he started questioning if this was a new symptom of your menstrual cycle. He felt a bit bad if it was (and also for blaming your mood swings on that) so he gave you a chocolate bar randomly. It was your turn to be confused that day because it turned out he just gave you chocolate for nothing and you were in fact not on your period.

All of this started last Friday. He hadn't been at the office on Thursday because quite literally he couldn't be bothered and would rather continue work at home— plus he was feeling a little more tired than usual. Of course you text him, asking if he was okay and offering to drop off food if he was sick, that was before you scolded him upon realising he had been slacking off. When he came in on Friday, he expected a huff of frustration before you made him buy you a coffee but there was nothing except an “Are you feeling better?” and then you were disappearing into your small box desk again. He raised an eyebrow but didn't think much until you walked past him downing a soda and barely said anything. The next day was the same, and then the next and the next until he was fed up. If there was a guiness world record for the most crap ingested in a day, he’d take the gold medal home. He had eaten a burger every lunchtime, had way too many cups of coffee each morning and even munched sweets instead of cereal and you still didn't say anything. The worst part was that you always just stopped, stared before eventually deciding to walk away again.

So today he tried for the last time before he finally gave up. He’s just going to have to ask you head on; there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook this time. He finds you in your usual spot at lunch, munching your sandwich on the park bench near the office. It’s quiet and no one really comes to the park here and whilst he’s never actually joined you before, he knows you come here often.

“Hey.”

You lift your head to meet his, suddenly caught off guard by his presence in the quiet park. “What are you doing here?”

“Y'know—just thought I'd ask if you wanna grab a drink with me?”

“What kind of drink?”

“Uhh… a slushie.”

You pause and then raise an eyebrow at him, confused. He’s sure he’s got you now; there's no way you can turn a blind eye to a slushie at break time. But you do. “Oh um, i’m okay, but if you want to-“

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You blink at him in confusion, shocked as he huffs loudly, breaking the tranquility of your spot, and stands right before you.

“Um, nothing?”

“It’s not nothing! You’ve barely commented on anything I've done all week. I drank soda for a week straight and you barely breathed wrong about it!”

“Shouldn’t you be happy about that? They all said that you would-“ This time he crosses his arms and stares you down and for a moment you’re actually kind of scared of him. You haven't seen him this annoyed since his superior in the DSO joked about blackmailing him with Sherry again.

“I’m sorry— who said what?”

“It’s not a big deal, I was just talking to some people..” But he’s already cutting you off and you know you can't escape the truth when he speaks again.

“If it's not a big deal, then you can tell me right? Go on.”

You let out a long sigh, attempting to make it seem like it's not that serious. His eyes are locked onto you and you have to avert your gaze to stop yourself messing up when you speak. “It was just a passing conversation between me and some interns last Thursday.” You shrug, taking a bite out of your sandwich as you look at the scenery, attempting to act nonchalant about it.

“And? That's not all, I know it isn't.” You groan and shift uncomfortably, letting out another huffed breath. “They just said I keep you in check a lot; I stop you from doing a lot of stuff.”

He’s not buying a second of it though and you don't even have to wait for him to urge you on to know he wants the full story.

“Fine, okay, they said that I was really bossy towards you and that I should let you do what you want.”

“What else? I know you wouldn’t care if a mere intern said that, so what's with the sudden change?” He rolls his eyes, sitting beside you on the bench as you groan and fiddle with the food wrapper in your hand. “They said I'm just an idiot who took the first job she could get and now I'm acting all high and mighty when I have the status of a mere assistant. Apparently you always look annoyed when I “scream at you” for doing anything i dont like and I'm also just an attention seeker or something. I left soon after..” The words are mumbled and he hates the way he can tell you’re ashamed of yourself when you avert your eyes like that and take the last bite of your sandwich.

“You’re such an idiot, yknow? Why on earth would you ever be bossy?” He scoffs, letting his arms settle in his side and he leans back into the bench. You dont reply, and he can't help but feel a gut full of worry for you. “You believe it, don't you?”

“I mean- it’s true a bit, is it not? You’re a higher status than me and I just.. decide what you can and can't do.”

“You do realise if i really had a problem with it, i just wouldn’t listen to you, right?”

“Yeah but- either way, surely I'm still annoying with my constant remarks.”

Your gaze shies away from him again and it causes a pang of guilt knowing you really did take some of their words to heart. He lets out a small sigh and shuffles up beside you, resting an arm on the back of the bench.

“Sometimes I forget that this is technically your first job out of university. You haven't done anything wrong in the slightest, alright? They’re just putting you down because they’re jealous. Just interns, that's all they are. But you’ve got authority and a position here. Hasn't every other staff here been nice to you and respectful? Hey, even the reception lady encouraged you to scold me the other day, didn't she?”

“..I mean yeah, she did and everyone else laughs about it too..” His hand slips down from the bench, patting your shoulder lightly before rubbing at it.

“Exactly, and you don't do it to annoy me do you?” He loves the way your lips curl into a frown at the accusation, horrified he would ever assume that.

“What? No, I only do it because you drink way too much coffee and you end up not sleeping well. Plus you always tend to eat fast food like every lunch, it’s not good for you.”

“So what's the harm done, hm? You’re not trying to be mean, I clearly don't mind it at all either. So stop beating yourself up about it.”

He gives you another quick squeeze as you mumble “okay”, and then finally retracts his arm, Though not before poking your forehead with his finger, intent on cheering you up. “I can't believe you’re actually three years younger than me. You’re so little, you know? I can’t believe you’ve only had one job your entire life.” The way you roll your eyes and stand up has him chuckling at your exasperated expression.

“I know what you’re going to do, don't even try ruffling my hair.”

“Would you prefer I carried you over my shoulder like a kid instead?” He wont forget the glare you gave him, crossing your arms at him and staring him down until he chuckles and stands himself.

“You know you’re not very intimidating, maybe you should try dressing up as a bioweapon— might even scare yourself. Anyway, cmon,” He remarks, picking up your work bag and slinging it on his shoulder before throwing your sandwich wrapper into the nearby bin.

“I think I have to go move some interns to a new state.” He smirks at you when he says it but deep down he’s dead serious; he won't let anyone put that ashamed expression on your face again.

Bonus:

“Hey, you know all those days i saw you eating that junk food, did you actually want to eat all of that?” You tilt your head up at him, almost about to scrunch your face up in disgust. He can't exactly blame you, after all, a burger for lunch every day isn’t appealing in the slightest.

“Well, the coffee was fake.”

“What about the food?”

“…” He’s already anticipating the punch you plant on his arm, huffing in annoyance.

“Leon!”

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

heyyy!! HEAR ME OUT 🆘🆘 yk how kids spell santa wrong sometimes and they write satan. since christmas is coming wouldnt it be funny if satan got letters from human children??

Hiii. I'm absolutely obsessed over your request and I guess we're starting off the Christmas season in November? Anyway. I hope you enjoy this one.

Summary: Satan receiving letters addressed to him instead of Santa and dealing with them.

There isn't an MC in this story. (Forgot to add them) So we'll pretend this was before the exchange program

Masterlist

Santa-Satan?

Satan was having a peaceful afternoon in the living room, a rare moment of tranquility in the House of Lamentation. He sipped his tea and flipped a page of his latest novel when suddenly, with a poof, a small mountain of envelopes materialized on the coffee table.

Satan stared at the pile. "What is this? Who dares disrupt my reading?" He picked up one of the letters and squinted at the messy handwriting on the front:

"Dear Satan..."

His brow twitched. "Oh, no. Not again."

Lucifer strolled into the room, holding a cup of coffee. He took one look at the stack of letters and smirked. "Ah, the annual Santa-Satan debacle. Always a highlight of the season."

Satan slammed the letter on the desk. "This isn't funny, Lucifer! Why are human children incapable of spelling? Or using spell-check!" He held up an envelope. "This one just says, 'Dear Satan, I want a pony. Love, Jessica.' Do I look like someone who hands out ponies?!"

Lucifer arched a brow. "Well, you do have a soft spot for cats. Ponies aren’t much of a stretch."

Mammon burst in, munching on a cookie. "Oi, what's all the yellin' about? Ohhh, are those Christmas letters?!" He grabbed a random letter and read it aloud:

"Dear Satan, I've been VERY good this year. Can you please bring me a PS5 and a puppy? Thank you!"

Mammon snorted. "Heh, maybe you should deliver a PS5, Satan. It’d make you less cranky."

Satan glared. "Oh sure, Mammon. Let me just conjure a PlayStation out of thin air and hand-deliver it to this... Timmy." He sighed dramatically. "As if my reputation isn't tarnished enough, now children think I'm a knock-off Santa."

Leviathan poked his head into the room. "Wait, is this about the time you accidentally sent a hellhound to a kid instead of a golden retriever? That was classic!"

Satan groaned. "How was I supposed to know the summoning circle would work on a child’s drawing?!"

---

The letters soon became a family affair. Asmodeus had gathered a few to read, giggling over the cute handwriting. "Aw, this one says, 'Dear Satan, I want my big brother to stop being mean to me.' Isn’t that just precious?"

Mammon: "I think pretty much all of us want that don't we?"

Lucifer, giving Mammon the death stare while sipping from his cup: "What did you say, Mammon?"

Mammon mumbling: "Nothin"

Beelzebub, halfway through a pie, mumbled, "If they ask for food, I can help."

Belphegor yawned. "Why don’t you just ignore them? They’ll figure it out eventually."

Satan stormed in, clutching another letter. "This one asked me to make it snow on Christmas! Do they think I’m some sort of weather deity?! AND WHY IS THERE GLITTER IN THESE ENVELOPES?" He shook his hand, scattering sparkles everywhere.

---

Eventually, the brothers decided to "help" Satan deal with the letters.

Mammon: "I’ll handle the gifts. These kids want money, right? I can chuck some Grimm at them."

Satan: "They’re human children. They don’t use Grimm!"

Leviathan: "What if we send them anime merch? Everyone loves anime!"

Asmodeus: "Or beauty kits! They’ll thank you later."

Satan pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is a disaster."

Lucifer finally intervened, adjusting his gloves with a sigh. "Enough. Clearly, Satan can’t handle this alone. I’ll take care of the mix-up, like always."

Satan glared. "Excuse me, I can handle it. I just don’t want to."

Lucifer smirked. "Of course you don’t."

---

By the end of the week, Satan managed to write curt but polite replies:

"Dear Jessica, I don’t do ponies. Try spelling ‘Santa’ correctly next time. Best, Satan."

Meanwhile, Lucifer, dressed in a suspiciously festive red coat, handled the logistics of redirecting the letters.

As the chaos died down, Satan finally returned to his book—only for another poof of letters to appear.

Satan: "...I’m moving to the Celestial Realm."

[stickyspeckledlight]

Dan Heng, kind of a funny story. See, I happened to come across an entire detailed folder based on me in the data bank. So….thoughts??????

Cool as water flows.

(Speckled's End of Year Interaction Prompts, 12/2/24 ~ 1/1/25)

"That explains why you've come here with that apprehensive look on your face," Dan Heng notes, from your pinched expression.

"Sorry," you instinctively school your face---you don't want to come off as too aggressive, because although you DO need answers...you'd prefer them to come without too much conflict and contention, you know? "I'm just...a bit spooked, y'know? I mean, as far as I can tell, no one else has got a folder as detailed as mine."

Dan Heng folds his arms. "That would be because there's simply more information about you out there than there is for any one of us.."

You laugh nervously. "Well, I get March and the Trailblazer---oh, and Mr. Yang, since well...we don't know much about his planet to begin with---but um..." you start fidgeting---realizing that it's a bit awkward to evaluate the informational status of your companions, but um, well, it's also um, not great that there's still so much about you??? "...Himeko, wouldn't there be a lot of info on her?"

Dan Heng raises an eyebrow, "Because...?"

You huff, "You know what? This doesn't matter. I'm just..." you take a deep breath; if you start acting out now, you won't be taken seriously, and that won't help you accomplish anything, "why are things like my favorite foods, clothes, and erm...preferences in there, Dan Heng?"

He regards you blankly. "The sorts of things you posted to your socials?"

"Erm---" you fluster. "Well. Wait. Why do you stalk my socials???" Dan Heng, unlike you, takes it in stride. "I need to keep all info on each member updated. Don't worry, for the most part, all that is contained in the database is entirely public information."

While Dan Heng's explanations are...reasonable enough, you presume, you still can't quite shake off your unease. Dan Heng seems to pick up on this, and adopts an apologetic expression.

"...My apologies if this has caused you discomfort," he bows his head, "Even if I'm not in the wrong, that doesn't mean the emotions you're feeling are invalid either. I'll treat you to a meal."

You jump. Because he really doesn't need to, but also...you don't think you want to be in the same room as him, to be honest...! But...with how he's looking at you, and well----you don't really wanna disappoint him. You want to get along with everyone on board, and if this is just standard database protocol and whatnot, this is something you'll have to live with, right? It'd be undue of you to rock the boat over nothing, and if you DID do that, then you can only imagine how everyone will look at you like you're---

You smile, nervous and embarassed, "Um, you r-really don't have to!" You try.

"I insist." He does not relent.

You feel that Dan Heng is immovable on this matter. So, you simply nod, and follow him out of the database. Even though dinner ends up being nice enough, you never quite get that folder out of the back of your mind.

Meanwhile, Dan Heng wonders when you'll be ready to see the folder where he's amassed every single detail about your life.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

hey king i’ve got another one for u. edit and adjust as you please 😌

word count: 2400

heavy on the daddy issue fauxcest. we have fun here. and 100% credit to you for the idea, by the way. not my concept.

—

ANOTHER CERTIFIED BANGER FROM @gymnopedien69 MY FUCKING GOAT I LOVE YOU OOMFIE MWAH MWAH 💖😍💖😍

—

“Wilson, the patient you diagnosed yesterday didn’t have leukemia. You’re an idiot.”

Wilson froze in the doorway to the kitchen. It took him three steps to process House’s speaking to him.

Step 1. House was naked. So were you.

Step 2. Your top half was sprawled across the kitchen island while House rutted his hips into your ass. 

Step 3. House was nonchalantly giving Wilson medical advice while railing his partner in the kitchen. 

It was 9 in the morning. Wilson just wanted a cup of coffee. 

He sighed heavily, rubbing his face. This sort of behavior didn’t even phase him anymore. He’d gotten used to it after about four months. Sure, it was a different brand of jumpscare, but you never seemed…displeased or in pain, so Wilson figured it was probably okay. That it was just another phase House was going through to feel…something. He cleared his throat and entertained House’s words. “Right and how would you know. You’re also an oncologist?”

“No, but I could be. I’m a-” House groaned and tugged your hair, “woah there bud did I say you could touch yourself? No? It’s okay, I forgive you. The meds haven’t kicked in yet. You’ll be better at listening in a few minutes…Well duh! What do you think was in your coffee?” he told you, tone incredibly condescending. He turned his attention back to Wilson.

“I’m a diagnostician. Basically top of the doctor food chain.”

“Did you drug him?” Wilson asked, his face growing concerned.

“Only a little.”

Wilson turned his attention to you immediately. “Do I need to call someone?”

“No. No this feels really- really fucking good.” you moaned, totally blissed out being cored by House. Wilson rubbed his face again. Insane people. He was surrounded by insane people.

“House- that patient I diagnosed yesterday is dying. Don’t tell me how to do my job. Wh-why are you like this?”

“I don’t know. Boy moans are prettier than girl moans.”

“No not your boyfriend-”

“Oh, sorry. I thought being seen with anyone as fucked up as him made it clear that there’s something wrong with me too.”

“Good lord. Can you- kid, I’m really sorry,” Wilson pinched his brow and looked back at House. “Can you stop having sex with him, for a minute. We need to talk.”

“Nooo.” you whined automatically, like a father taking away a toy, which he kinda was.

“See Wilson? Even my whore doesn’t want you to. Hear him whimpering like a little bitch?”

“Oh, give it a rest. He needs a break. You’ve been at it since, like, 6AM. I could hear you. He’s probably dehydrated.”

House laughed at that. “This one? Dehydrated? Yeah right. You’re funny.”

Nevertheless, House eased out of your ass, giving it a little slap after he pulled out, eliciting a yelp from your mouth.

“Hear that? Hear what you’re missing?” he said, looking at Wilson who just huffed and thew a pair of pants at House.

“I don’t want to have sex with your boyfriend.

“If it’s a monogamy thing, I wouldn’t want you to worry about that.”

“House- do not sell your partner to me. This isn’t the 1800’s and we’re not the Thenardiers.”

“He’s not lying,” you said, finally catching your breath. You were still leaning against the island, not quite ready to walk just yet. “If you wanted to, we’ve both agreed we’d be fine with it.”

Wilson became flustered, rubbing his face again to cover the blushing.

House, holding the sweat pants Wilson had tossed him, smirked as he walked by, only pausing to say, “I think the only thing holding you back are your own morals.”

-

It took a month or two for Wilson to really come around to the idea. He was hesitant. Was this really the sort of thing he did? Share his roommate’s boyfriend? Eventually, though, he decided that maybe it wouldn’t be completely reprehensible to try. It might be nice. Stress relief? Was that weird? Wilson shook the thought out of his brain. 

A few days later, after work, you came into the kitchen, setting your bag down on the counter. Wilson was doing the dishes. 

“Long day?” he asked. You snorted. His simplicity could be endearing. 

“I guess.” you shrugged.

“Listen, that offer House made a month ago…”

“Oh yeah? You want me to tell House? I’m sure we can-”

“No- I mean…maybe. But I was wondering if you’d be willing to spend the night with just me first. I’ve never done anything with a trans person…dude…” Wilson stammered. You slowed, grinning slightly at Wilson’s lack of vocabulary. Still, the prospect of sleeping with him interested you. You and House made countless jokes about Wilson’s looks. If you’d both been a few pegs lower on the morals and ethics ladder, almost akin to a more likely series of events in an early 2000’s medical drama, you may have even placed a bet on who could pull Wilson first. You, apparently.

“Sure.” you said, shrugging. Wilson blinked.

“That’s it?” he asked.  

“Yeah. If you want. When?”

“Tomorrow?” he blurted out. Was it really this simple? He’d never met anyone who so willingly went to bed with him. 

“Okay.” you agreed, leaving the kitchen. “Hey House! Guess what Wilson just asked me.“ 

-

Of course the pansy rented a hotel. He was nervous all day, almost as though he felt shy about looking at you. He awkwardly helped you into the car when you left for the night.

"Are you okay?” you asked him carefully.

“Yeah. Fine. Why?”

“I just…if you don’t want to do any of this, you don’t have to.” you reminded him. 

“I do!” Wilson replied defensively. “I do- I’m just nervous because you and House do…a lot.”

“Nobody said you had to lead.” you pointed out. Wilson felt taken aback.

“What?” he asked, genuinely surprised. You frowned. Did he not know this?

“Nobody said you had to lead.” you repeated slower. “I can help you if you want. And you can help me.”

Wilson was flustered all the way into the room. His ears wouldn’t stop burning pink. This was so dumb. He felt like a college student trying to sleep with someone at homecoming. He didn’t hide it very well. You locked the door and shut the curtains, blocking out the intense late-afternoon sunlight and came to sit next to him on the bed.

“We don’t have to do it right now.” you assured him quietly. 

“What do you feel like doing?” he asked. 

“I mean I’d hate to waste time." 

A small smile flickered across Wilson’s face. He traced his arm up your arm, holding your shoulder. You stood and stood in front of him, still holding his hands. You guided them under your shirt and over your jeans. You nodded when he asked if he could take off your pants, and then swiftly guided his hand into your underwear. 

His hands brushed over your body like a sculptor admiring a piece of his own work. You liked the urgency and aggression with House. It was rough and immediate and intense. It was cathartic to be able to bang it out for a while and then crash out in a wave of indeterminable bliss while House kept striking his hand on your thighs, or your ass, or your cunt. Letting Wilson run his hands over you also felt good. It was slower and careful, and a little bit afraid. Like a hesitant dog who wasn’t sure if he was allowed to run over and grab a ball. 

His fingers brushed over your cunt and you shivered, reaching your hand down to encourage him more.  "Right there.” you said quietly, pressing his fingers against your dick. Wilson swallowed, glancing up and then back down to where his hand was, tracing his pointer and middle fingers in slow circles around your clit.  “Oh kiddo…” he whispered.

It all escalated from there. It was a pleasant shock to you when Wilson asked if he could suck you off, and it was an even better shock when you learned he was pretty damn good at it. Your body tingled pleasantly at the sensations, and you whined accordingly. 

Wilson came back up for air, though he was sure to not leave you unattended, letting his fingers replace his tongue. 

“How are you doing buddy?” he asked, his free hand caressing your body. You let out a shaking groan that caused Wilson to slow down. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed promptly, voice shuddering a bit. “You’re really good at this.”

Wilson laughed softly, relieved to be feeling more comfortable about the whole ordeal. 

“Can we keep going?” you asked, cunt leaking, aching, and begging for attention. Wilson pressed a half kiss to your forehead. 

“Yes. Can you lay down on the bed?”

It was your turn to get to know Wilson. You weren’t terribly into the whole playing Michelangelo thing yourself, but you did admire his body for a second, grateful for the opportunity to be absolutely railed to tears by not one, but two aged-like-fine-wine men who were old enough to be your father.

It wasn’t House’s favorite thing to have you suck him off. It wasn’t that you were bad, it was just that he didn’t like the feeling as much as he did absolutely fucking you stupid. Bonus points if it was up the ass.  Wilson, on the other hand, leapt at the opportunity to let you absolutely choke on it. 

“Oh god sweetheart. Baby- kiddo, c'mere. You’re gonna make me dissolve.” Wilson groaned, easing you off his dick and letting you catch your breath. He was painfully hard now, and you rubbed it for a little bit before Wilson carefully took your hand off. It was gentle and caring, but Wilson had seen how House treated you. He knew what you could take. 

“I uh…I want you to open your legs now. And you’re going to take me. And I don’t want to hear any whining.” he decided. It was a different sort of ordering around. One that really did remind you of a dad. If this hadn’t visibly been a sexual situation, and Wilson had told you that out of the blue, you might have wondered if you’d done something wrong. 

Wilson must have noticed because he paused, rubbing his cock against your sopping cunt. 

“Are you okay? Colour? People actually use that system, right?”

“I’m okay. I’m green. I like being told what to do.” you assured him, smiling coyly. Wilson twitched against you at that.

“Good. Good…good boys use boundaries.” he told you right before sliding in and the combination action scratched a deep, deep part of your brain. Your hands flew to his back and you groaned out loud. The pressure felt incredible and Wilson mumbling reassurances in your ear soaked you in a warm feeling of comfort and safety. Your whole body relaxed and Wilson slid in and out, whimpering close to you. 

“Use me.” you whined, and it flipped a switch on in Wilson’s head. He pulled back, still rutting into you and pushed your chest down and your leg up, readjusting himself.

“I plan to.” he grunted, keeping his pace. 

It didn’t take long before you started whining about getting close. 

“Please pleasepleaseplease…” you moaned, bouncing up and down, sweaty and incredibly happy.

“Please what.” Wilson asked patiently, still grinding his hips into yours. His casual tone made him appear more collected compared to your desperate squealing, but Wilson’s body was on fire, completely obsessed with the body in his hands. He craved to take care of it. To do what you wanted, to make you feel good. 

“Please can I come.”

“Yes.” he answered immediately, slowing and leaning you down so you were laying side by side. He slipped out and replaced his cock with his fingers, giving you the space to let go. You rutted into his fingers, gasping and crying, but you didn’t last more than thirty seconds before you started to hear the ringing in your ears take over and your lower half flood with something wet and warm. 

“Stay down.” you heard Wilson say as you came back down to reality.

“what?” you mumbled, sweaty and confused. You almost screamed when you felt Wilson push himself back into your raw and sore pussy. Fuck yes, someone who finally gave you what you needed.

- 

The big one came about forty-five minutes later. You’d slowed down a little, sitting on Wilson’s hips, lazily rocking back and forth on his dick while he rubbed your clit up and down. 

“We never got dinner.” he remarked.

“That’s fine. We can get it after, right? I mean we’ve got all night.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said you didn’t want to waste time.” Wilson reminded you. 

“Okay so then what are we doing now?” you asked, teasing. Wilson took it as his next opportunity to switch on a dime. He gave your cunt a swift, well-aimed slap. You tightened around him.

“Don’t be mean.” he said.

“I wasn’t being- ow!” you yelped. 

“What did I say about whining?”

“Not to.”

“Smart kid.” Wilson said, gripping your thighs and your hips, locking you down on his waist. “You know what else smart kids do?”

“what?” you whined.

“They take their dad’s cock and they don’t say anything about it.” he said, grunting softly as he readjusted. 

“House says that too.” you said, voice shaking.

“Wow. I thought House was lying, but I guess you really are a whore then." 

A few minutes later Wilson had pinned you down onto the bed again and was railing you with your face shoved into the mattress. 

"I know it hurts,” he groaned when you started crying. “But it’s gonna feel a lot better in a few minutes.”

Your entire body was jerking as he thrust into you, gripping your hair. He felt a surge of confidence. He felt like House. 

“Dad- Dad- please.” you gasped, starting to shake. “Please- I wanna- can-”

“Yeah baby, we can finish. Good boys use boundaries right?” he said, speeding up. Your cries increased as the pressure started to build. Your ‘yes’ was practically just a string of babbled syllables and Wilson couldn’t help but finish over your waist while you finished all over his thighs. 

You were both a mess. Wet, and sweaty, and hot and shaking. Both sore. Both high off of oxytocin.

Wilson, in his shuddering frenzy, could only ease himself by running his hands up and down your arm and shoulder, like he did earlier, sort of shaking against your body. He let satisfaction wash over him, finding solace in how relaxed your felt under his touch. 

“So good…” Wilson mumbling into the crook of your neck. 

“We’ll just get dinner later. Okay?”

[solar-wing]

⚣ Sassy Man Jason 👏🏻

⚣👏🏻 A/N → This is not a repost, this is a new original. Once again, another idea that came to me while I was in the middle of writing out one of my Conner fics and finishing my revisions to the third installment of Primal. I saw this on TikTok about the sassy men apocalypse and the first thing that came to mind was our favorite needy soft boi anti-hero.

⚣👏🏻 Summary → You didn't know why, but Jason had been giving you an attitude all day. Rolling his eyes, giving, you stank looks, and treating you like a cold piece of pie. What did you even do? And when did he get this freaking sassy?

⚣👏🏻 Words → 1.7k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👏🏻

“Jason, what is wrong with you?”

For what reason you couldn’t figure out, your boyfriend Jason Todd had an attitude since he walked through your apartment door. All day you kept receiving side-eyes, stank looks, and silent treatments anytime you tried to talk to or touch him.

Which, for your boyfriend, meant something had to seriously be wrong.

Even if he was weary of physical contact, he always sought out your comforting touch no matter what. Outside of his family (who were basically only one step above random strangers), you were the only one Jason allowed free reign to hug, hold, caress, and more.

Of course, he also preferred you being the same way and not allowing other people to touch you except for him, but that was a different story for another day.

But, today seemed to be different as Jason was almost treating you like his brothers. Not in the exact same way as he didn’t want to be bothered with you or avoided you. Moreso like he’d snuff your appearance or roll his eyes when you said something.

You were both currently on your bed in your room snuggled under one of your many blankets. You had a show you and Jason were currently binging on while snacking on some popcorn.

Usually, whenever you two would sit down to watch TV, read, play games, or even just enjoy each other’s presence, he’d pull you into his large embrace, secretly enjoying how you warmed his body up. And the stronger man would keep that hold on you the entire time, even if you tried to get up to go to the bathroom or grab some more food.

None of that happened. Jason sat his entire body on the other side of your queen-sized mattress, with the blanket wrapped around him.

It was actually a little funny seeing his large body laid down on your bed, as he had to make sure he didn’t tip himself over too far with his body weight and fall off the edge.

He even kept snatching the blanket from you every time you tried to snuggle under a little more. You had to buy all bigger-sized blankets to be able to cover both you and him since the ones you had before definitely were not up to the job. They sometimes barely managed to cover you.

So, imagine your annoyance when every time you move to adjust the blanket, it got snatched out of your hand. And the culprit behind it was lying next to you while giving you the world’s worst stank-eye like you did something to him before tucking more of the soft material under his neck, looking like a furry soft plushy with only his head sticking out the opening.

When you tried to get him to give you some of the blanket, he turned away from you, while still giving you more side-eye. That’s when you had asked what was wrong with you, while he just looked back at you, before turning his head back around and opening up his phone if the sound of him opening social media was any indicator.

It was official, your boyfriend was acting like the world’s biggest freaking toddler. And you still had no idea what brought on this treatment.

You looked over at the man, his blanket-covered broad back greeting you in return. Scooching over, you tried to hug him from behind, thinking maybe that would help but he only shook your body off before scooting himself closer to the edge.

“Are you kidding me?” You asked the vigilante, who only continued to ignore you while scrolling on his phone.

Now, it was your turn to roll your eyes as you basically sat in the middle of the bed with a boyfriend who apparently wanted nothing to do with you.

“Why are you acting mad at me? What did I do?” You continue to ask, starting to feel upset at how he was treating you.

When you were still met with silence, you huffed out a breath before going to move off the bed, “Whatever bro,” You muttered before grabbing your phone and stomping out to your living room.

Plopping yourself down on the couch, you unlocked your phone and opened your Messages app, deciding if your boyfriend wouldn’t tell you what was wrong, maybe someone else could help give you an idea.

The sounds of tapping on your phone filled the quiet space outside of the muffle from your TV in the bedroom as you typed a message to Dick, figuring he could help you figure out why Jason was so upset with you.

You: hey Dick?

Dick: hey Y/N! What’s up?

You: did something happen last night? is everything okay?

Dick: um no, at least not that I know of. Why, what’s wrong?

You: idk. Jason has just been acting weird all day since he got to my place. he barely looks at me without rolling his eyes, he won’t let me touch him or even near him for that matter, and he keeps giving me this childish attitude whenever I try to talk to him.

Dick: lol

You: lol?! why are you loling me? you think this is funny?!

Dick: quite actually. I think I know what’s wrong though. Last night when we were out on patrol, Jason was acting the same way. Apparently, he kept trying to call you since according to him, he’d rather listen to your snoring than our annoying voices over the comms but you weren’t answering.

You: OMG I was studying for a final and I told him I was leaving my phone on Do Not Disturb so I could concentrate.

Dick: you didn’t put him as an exception?

You: … you can do that?

Dick: yes. you can. how did you not know that?

You: IDK! shut up!

Dick: lol

While you were typing out another response to the annoying Nightwing vigilante, you heard the sounds of heavy footsteps making their way from your bedroom to the living room.

You looked up to see your mammoth-sized boyfriend still wrapped in your blanket to where you could only see his face and hair sticking out from the top and his feet poking from under. The stank look on his face was still there even as he walked forward to stand in front of you.

There was a creeping urge to laugh that you tried to resist while staring at your big, scary, and sometimes morally questionable vigilante boyfriend wrapped in a large fluffy red and white blanket with his bed-head curls lying over his forehead while staring at you like an angry child who was told no to getting a cookie from the jar before dinner.

“Are you finally ready to talk to me?”

He didn’t say anything before he just leaned down, opening the blanket so he could pick you up in his arms before walking back to your room and jumping on the bed with his body on top of you. Your breath had been knocked out of you from your impact on the mattress along with Jason’s heavy weight on top of you.

“Ugh, seriously Jay. You’ve got too much muscle on you to be jumping on top of me like that.” You groaned.

You heard an indignant huff from him as he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “Are you calling me fat?” He finally spoke with his gruff voice.

It was once again your turn to roll your eyes, “Oh, don’t you start with me,” You replied before using your fingers to flick his forehead, his eyes narrowing at you in response.

“Are you seriously mad at me because I didn’t answer your calls last night? I told you I was studying for a final.” You said while now using the same hand to rub your hand through his hair.

“Why is my number not on the exception list on your Do Not Disturb in your phone?” He countered, completely ignoring your question.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even know you could do that. My parents aren’t even on that list.”

“Ok, and?” He said, shaking his head at you like that was supposed to mean something.

“When did you get so freaking sassy?”

“Give me your phone,” Jason ordered, not even waiting for you to move before he grabbed your phone out of your other hand. It was hard for you to move with his body still on top of you, plus his weight and body heat added with the warmth from the blanket tired you faster the more you wiggle around.

He placed the phone in front of your face to unlock it before going to your settings, “Why were you texting Dickface?” He asked.

“Because you wouldn’t tell me what was wrong with you so I asked him.” He just let out a gruff hum before opening the Do Not Disturb section in your settings, going to the panel you’d never seen before where you could add contacts in the phone’s feature so they could still call you or text you without being sent to voicemail or silence.

You watched as Jason added his contact in there, before also adding your parents.

“Seriously, you added my dads?”

“Yep. It’ll score me more brownie points at the next family dinner at your place.” He said with a sneaky smile, before putting your phone down and placing his chin on your chest to stare at you.

“Are you happy now?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not yet. Promise me you’ll always answer my calls and texts. I don’t care if you’re studying, in the shower, or sleeping. It helps me feel better knowing you’re okay.” Jason said, holding his pinky out for a promise.

“Who died and made you boss?” You joked before yelping out in pain when Jason pinched the side of your butt.

“Ow! Fine, I promise.” You agreed, closing your pinky around his to which he smiled before patting the stinging area of your skin he just pinched.

“Good boy.”

“Alright. Are you done having an attitude now?” You inquired, wanting to go back to cuddling and watching your show.

“Almost. Gimme food and I’ll think about it.” He ordered, before laying his head down on your chest.

Your lips pulled up into an annoyed, but playful smile as you grabbed your phone to call your and Jason’s favorite pizza place, “When did you get so freaking sassy?”

“Always have been, babe.”

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[sapphicantics]

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter Two

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Word count: 1.5k

Contents: mentions of violence, reader might be coming off a bit toxic but she’s meant to be cocky, angry!Regina, sexual tension???, explicit language, a little stalking, more shitty comebacks, think that’s all let me know if I missed any

Note: Well, this chapter took a different turn than I was expecting but honestly I think this is better than what was originally planned. Certain parts of this chapter made me cackle while writing and I hope it makes you cackle too so enjoy my shitty sense of humor

Intro - Chapter One

— — — —

Assuming it’d be a hell of a day might have been a little dramatic.

It’s been a day so far, sure, but nothing different than what you’re used to.

You’ve got a busted lip and your knuckles are sore from, for lack of a better term, bashing Christian Wiggins face in this morning and sending him to the nurse’s office. Perhaps, you’d feel guilty if it wasn’t for the fact that he busted your lip open first.

As often as you have been getting into fights, you thought someone would have noticed by now that you don’t ever throw the first punch - thus granting you the excuse of self-defense.

Though, even if they did know the jocks have far less self control than you and would never be able to refrain from reacting to the things you say.

Speaking of refraining from reacting, Regina has been watching you all day. She still is, right now. Well, technically Gretchen is watching you, but you know she’s doing it because Regina told her to and you know she’s gonna report back to Regina immediately because Regina told her to.

Seems a little obsessive of her, really.

Which is funny considering.

Whatever, you don’t have anything to do with that. If Regina wants to have her little minions following you around then that’s her business.

Also you’re pretty sure Regina intended for Gretchen to be discreet and not make it obvious that she’s watching you, but maybe you’re wrong. Maybe Regina wants you to know she’s watching.

That sounds like something she’d do as an act of intimidation, or even just for fun so you wouldn’t put it past her.

Either way, you know Gretchen is there.

You wouldn’t find this weird because you two do share this class. Normally, you guys sit on opposite sides of the room from each other, but Gretchen is now sitting three seats behind you - not too far away where she can’t see you clearly, but not close enough to where it’s obvious.

( Or maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious if you showed up to class on time, but since you didn’t it was immediately apparent that she switched seats. )

You ignore it because one: you don’t care, and two: what exactly are you gonna do about it? Gretchen’s already anxious enough having to deal with Regina’s bitchiness daily, you’re not about to worsen it by confronting her over something so trivial.

You catch her taking pictures of you and typing rapidly on her phone moments after you have this thought, and now you just have to confront her.

You catch her after the bell before she can escape the classroom, throwing your arm over her shoulder and steering her away from the door. She squeaks as you do so, tightening her grip on her belongings. “So Gretchen, mind telling me why you were taking photos of me when you thought I wasn’t looking?”

She stammers, her eyes widening. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t taking pictures of you.”

“Right. So if I took your phone and went to your messages with Regina I wouldn’t find pictures with live updates you’ve been sending her during class?”

Gretchen’s hand tightens even more on her phone if that’s possible, her knuckles turning white with how hard her grip is.

That’s answer enough for you.

“Yeah that’s what I thought. Do me a favor,” you hum, leaning closer to Gretchen. “Tell Regina, and I want you to tell her word for word what I’m about to say, to stop acting like a little bitch and sending her minions to spy on me instead of coming to see me face-to-face.”

Gretchen’s mouth drops open. “I can’t say that to her! She’ll kill me!”

“You’ll be fine as long as you mention my name immediately,” you wave off her concerns which is kind of a rude thing to do, but the whole school already thinks you’re a rude person so may as well uphold the reputation. “Word for word, Gretchen. I’ll know if you don’t.”

That sounds vaguely like a threat that implies you’re gonna come after her if she doesn’t say it word for word. You’re not, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Go on, Gretchen, you’ve only got a minute and a half before the next class starts, and I’m sure you know how Regina feels about being kept waiting.”

You take your arm off her shoulders and after a moment, she peels out of the classroom, rushing off to Regina.

You sigh and shake your head, you feel bad for that because Gretchen did not deserve your threats and she doesn’t deserve the ire she’s about to get from Regina.

You’d apologize, but you’re sure you’ll never be able to get close to Gretchen again after this.

It’s too late to take it back now so you exit the room and head off to your next class on the opposite side of the school.

— — — —

North shore doesn’t allow students to leave the school early without prior consent from a parent or guardian, or under special circumstances, which you have neither of right now. They don’t really have a way to stop you from leaving, but they will call home and Principal Duvall will pull you into his office in the morning for a lecture, and those are headaches waiting to happen that you’d rather avoid. So even though you’d rather be anywhere else, you’re spending your free period — your last class of the day — lounging around in the cafeteria.

You’re sitting criss-cross atop a table, elbow resting bent upon your knee while your chin rests in the palm of your hand. You’re staring out the window, a single earbud in while Hayley Kiyoko plays in your ear.

You hum along under your breath, a faint clicking noise drawing your eyes to the cafeteria entrance. The doors burst open and in walks Regina, her eyes honing in on you like a target. Her fury is palpable even from here and it makes you smirk knowing you’re able to get under her skin — knowing you’re the only one able to get under her skin like this.

Does this say a lot about you? That you find joy in making Regina angry?

Yes, probably, but why shouldn’t you find joy in calling a bully out on their shit.

Regina slams her hands on the table in front of you interrupting your thoughts. Her glare is intense, and if you were anyone else you’d be cowering under her gaze. Instead, you cock an eyebrow, completely un-phased by the blonde in front of you.

“Something I can do for you, George?”

“You think you’re such hot shit, don’t you? You think you can call me a bitch and get away with it; with no consequences?”

“Oh, no, does the big bad Queen Bee not like being called what she knows she is?” You pout mockingly at her. “Is that all it takes for you to lose your cool, being called a bitch?”

You laugh loudly at that.

It stokes the flames of Regina’s anger and she yanks you up by your collar, your shoes scraping the edge of the table before landing harshly on the floor as Regina slams you against the wall.

Huh, look at that. Prissy pink princess Regina George has the muscles to throw you around.

This is quite the development.

“Congratulations George, you’ve made it about two steps further than anyone else ever has. Think carefully about your next move, lest I let my instincts take over and I fuck up that pretty little face of yours.”

“You have no idea who you’re messing with. I will ruin your life.” She growls at you, ignoring your words.

“Threatening to ruin my life,” you tilt your head in amusement, leaning your face closer to hers. “Seems rather obsessive of you, George. Perhaps you wanna kiss me first. That’s quite on brand for you.”

Regina’s jaw clenches and her grip on you tightens. She goes to speak, but the bell ringing to signal the end of the day cuts her off and you smirk. “You might wanna let me go. If anyone walks by they’ll think you’re making out with me and then everyone will be calling you Sissy Liz, and we can’t have that, now can we?”

Wow, threatening to fight Regina and bringing up her old friendship with Janis — twice, in two different ways — all in a span of like forty-five seconds is absolutely insane.

Regina scowls at you, her eyes practically alight with malice. She doesn’t want to let you go because if she does that means you win, that means you get away with disrespecting her for the third time with no consequences, and no one wins against her, no one is supposed to win against her ever, but you’ve done it twice now and you’re about to do it again.

She shoves you harshly against the wall one last time at the realization and, wow, you’re really priding yourself at the moment because the fact that she’s still standing when anyone else would be on the ground right now speaks volumes to your self-control, but then anyone else would’ve hit you by now so maybe it speaks more to Regina’s intelligence that she’s not.

“This is not over.” With that she turns on her heel and storms away, leaving you with a smirk as you watch her retreating figure.