#if he ever just dropped me like that I'd kill him though

[dudeshusband]

thinking about rick carrying me again

[oceans-beloved]

Meme dump yayyy🥳✨️

(off to make more now muhahaha >:3)

[tiddykittylikesskittles]

My mom will be taking a nap in the living room with her HEADPHONES ON. and my dad will glare at me if I take a single step into the kitchen.

[xiaq]

I want an AU where Steve is a werewolf and Eddie is a vampire except neither of them know about the other.

Eddie is the frontman of an up and coming band, but he's left his coven and surrounded himself with humans. They perform after sunset anyway so it's easy enough for him to hide his nature.

Steve has similarly left his toxic family pack and built his own pseudo-pack through the kids. He works as a park ranger. Or an ornithologist. Or something else nature-y/nerdy. But no one knows about his furry little secret.

Maybe Steve ends up attending a concert with one of the kids who has VIP passes and Eddie zeros in on Steve immediately at the meet and greet because he's pretty and preppy and delightfully out of place and also he smells good. And Steve is having similar thoughts, but he tries to play it off because there's no way an honest to god rock star would be interested in him and his polo and his boat shoes (also his hearing is temporarily fucked from the concert, so he doesn't register Eddie's lack of heartbeat).

After some light flirting, Eddie invites Steve back to his hotel and Steve is like, you know what? Yes. I am going to have a one night stand with the gorgeous front man of a metal band and I'll probably fall a little in love with him by the end of the night and it will break my heart when he kicks me out in the morning, but it will be an experience. Let me go drop off my kids and I'll be right back.

Except what he doesn't know is Eddie is planning to have a little snack while they're in the throes of passion––not enough to hurt Steve or anything, just enough that he'll have a pleasurable blackout and wake up tired but sated.

The only problem is that neck-biting (that breaks the skin) for wolves is the equivalent of marriage.

So when Eddie bites Steve, instead of a venom-drunk human, peacefully slipping into sleep in his arms, he gets a very horny, very confused, werewolf who is now insisting that they're married.

I can't decide if it would be funnier if Wolves/Vampires didn't know about each other, Ie:

"You're a Werewolf?" Eddie says, "What do you mean you're a werewolf? Werewolves exist? No. Shut up. Prove it."

And:

"Holy shit. A vampire. Vampires are real," Steve reaches for Eddie's face and Eddie is so baffled by the everything of this situation that he lets Steve pinch Eddie's top lip and peel it up off his fangs for a mortifyingly long moment. Eddie draws the line when he starts poking at Eddie's incisors, though.

"Why do I feel funny?" Steve mutters. "Will your venom kill me?"

"How should I know," Eddie hisses, only a little hysterical, "I didn't know wolves existed until two minutes ago, I've never bitten a wolf before."

"And you won't be biting any others, mister. Infidelity is not ok."

The other option is that wolves and vamps DO know about each other but stay so isolated in their covens and packs (and loners are super unusual) that they never interact. So Steve and Eddie are both like, dang, I'd been raised to think all of your kind were smelly/ugly/gross, but you uh, don't fit into that box at all. Weird.

Regardless, Steve (still naked, probably) crosses his arms all huffy, like, "well, we're married now, you're not going to bite me and then cast me aside like some harlot," and Eddie is like "...I'm weirdly ok with this, actually. No arguments here." And eventually they live happily ever after.

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so, crisis averted. Both of them, really. Red Robin had not asked or attempted to get any more of Danny's drink and the World Ending Crisis was less World Ending and more World Threatening. Either way, no one is hyped up in lethal amounts of caffeine and the world is in no more pieces than it had been before.

That brings attention to a new problem, though. It's uniquely Danny's problem and Constantine and Zatanna and Deadman won't stop laughing at him. He's also pretty sure that Raven is laughing at him in the privacy of her mind, so that's making him feel worse.

The problem is that every single hero that had been at the meeting a week ago that was not a part of the JLD has been overly concerned about him.

So what if he half died when he was fourteen and therefore will never look over either fourteen or eighteen? So what if he consumes enough caffeine to kill an elephant within a few minutes? What is he gonna do, die? That's not a real threat as long as he only fights as Phantom.

Ignoring the fact that he can, in fact, get hurt to the point of near death as Phantom. It's not like anyone knows that, though! Besides, ghosts run on god rules. They can't die, only fade when forgotten. People aren't likely to forget about most ghosts, though, even if they can't remember their names.

He's not gonna share that, though. Let Batman keep his contingency that won't work because the only contingency that will work for Phantom is the one he made himself. Tried and tested! He's marked it off of his Bingo Card.

Anyway. Heros and their kids/proteges have been trying to track him down for the entire week. He can't risk even leaving the House of Mysteries because the Supers are all probably listening out for him and they can't hear him through magic. It sucks. He just wants to go get a cup of coffee as Danny. The second he leaves, though, the Supers will be on him like bloodhounds. He'd leave as Danny, but the rest of the JLD don't know what he looks like as Danny and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Being stuck as Phantom was going to start causing issues to his human half if he doesn't get to leave soon.

Should he risk it? Is coffee that won't kill him really worth risking the Supers finding out his civilian identity? Sure, they wouldn't tell anyone, but he didn't like the idea of someone being able to pick him out of a crowd when all he wanted to do was blend in. It's why he avoided Gotham and Bludhaven, actually, but that's both self explanatory and another story for another time.

"You're still here?" Zatanna sat on the couch beside him. "You're normally gone by now. You can't not be tired of us yet."

He sighed and sunk down into the couch slightly. "Believe me, I'm tired of being stuck here, but I can't leave. I can't leave as a human because you guys don't know what I look like and, no offense, but I'd like to keep it that way. I can't leave as I am now because Superman will be on my ass quicker than I can blink!" He whined this time, "I just want a cup of coffee."

"What about your special brew?" Raven asked, coming into the room.

"I want to drink coffee as a human. That stuff will kill me if I drink it as a human."

"At least you know your limits."

"That sounded like a dig at someone, Z."

"It was."

"Why don't you just go out under a protection spell?" Raven offered, "We could cast one over you and you could leave. Superman can't hear through magic, so he won't be able to tell. Neither will Superboy."

Danny thought for a second. "You're a genius, Raven! Has anyone ever told you that?"

"A few times," she blushed.

"Well, it needs to be said more!"

Zatanna laughed. "Alright, kid, let's get you outside before you drive yourself crazy."

Practically vibrating in place, Danny waited for the protection spell to settle over him. The second it did, he was out the door and wandering the streets of whatever city the House of Mysteries decided to drop him as Danny instead of Phantom.

"Who are you," was not the question or voice he wanted to hear the second he stepped into the open as himself.

"Danny," he squeaked out through his absolute panic. He didn't dare turn around.

The sound of fabric moving minutely clues him in to the second person behind him. What the hell were these two doing out? It's the middle of the day and there's no attacks going on anywhere in Gotham!

"Where did you come from?" Robin asked.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! This was really bad! Why did the House drop him *here* of all places? Does it *want* him to die again? It was very painful the first time, thank you very much! "Illinois?"

"Was that a question or an answer?" Why is Red Robin here now?!

"An-an answer?"

"Ah, you guys are scaring the little guy!" That was Nightwing. They're surrounding him! Why is Nightwing here? This is Gotham, not Bludhaven. "Give him some room to breathe."

They did not, in fact, give him room to breathe. Maybe coming outside was a bad idea. If he gets out of this no more dead than he already was, he was going to move to the middle of nowhere and become a hermit. Smallville is a town in the middle of nowhere, right? He'll retire as Phantom and move to Smallville until the people get suspicious and burn him as a witch-!

Maybe moving to a big city would be a better idea. Or locking himself in the basement of the House of Mysteries. Yeah, yeah that's a good idea.

"-even listening?"

Oh shit. They were still talking to him! Now is not the time to panic! "Gottagobye!" And then he was running.

Good job not panicking, Danny.

Part 1 Part 3

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Hey I was wondering would it be possible to do the dorm leaders with an s/o that suffers from Essential tremor.

And Essential Tremors is a nervous system condition, also known as a neurological condition, that causes involuntary and rhythmic shaking. It can affect almost any part of the body, but the trembling occurs most often in the hands, especially when doing simple tasks, such as drinking from a glass or tying shoelaces.

I have it and I was just wondering how they would deal or help with it

Disabled Yuu

I actually know a bit abt this but I did keep it vague as I don't have it myself. I also hope to do more disabled ayuus fr. I made Yuu assertive and exasperated in some parts– like Honestly if ur being an ass or demanding info abt someone's disability you have full right to return the energy.

I avoided the whole fixing thing in this too– though Azul’s part does bring it up. Platonic as I focused more on the hand aspect. Azul is Pre Overblot!! Hence why hes 2x as sleazy. I didn't Malleus cause it came out corny af. Also this is old and I wrote this on no sleep. Sorry this took so long I have like 70 reqs. Enjoy.

***

Riddle 

Since the first Unbirthday party you shared with Heartstabyul he got educated very quickly on the subject. He sees you shakily bring a cup to your lips and guiltily assumes it was because of his overblot. He doesn't blame you, I mean come on, he tried to kill you after all. It was then you explained to him your condition

Since then, he actually read up on it in his own time. He's honestly one of your biggest supporters– though you do need to remind him at times you don't need coddling. Still, you can appreciate it…

“Prefect.” You pause and turn your attention to the housewarden beside you. “Your tie is unkempt today. Will you allow me to fix it?” He asks thoughtfully, not wanting to intrude or risk coming off as rude.

“Ah, can you really? I'd appreciate it.” You presented your neck to Riddle, allowing him to reach over and adjust for you. His gaze was focused as he untied it, re-wrapping it with perfection as if it were second nature. Given his upbringing, you don't doubt it is.

“Thank you by the way, today I just didn't have the energy to deal with it.” When he's finished you pull away and nod at him. “Of course. Should you ever need help with anything in the future let me know. I'll be glad to help.”

Leona

Leona doesn't notice and doesn't really care. It's only when you share a room with him where he sees it, watching you tremble from where you lay. You have a blanket and the dorm is warm.  Why are you shaking?

“Look at you trembling in the lion's den. Do I scare you that much?” He quirked an uninterested brow at you as you turned your head to him.

“... It's a neurological condition…” You spoke bluntly, hoping that would be the end of it. “So it causes you to tremble like this?” 

“Yeah pretty much.” Leona merely hummed, and the subject dropped. No invasive questions. No taunts. No pity.

He's not mothering you or bending over backwards in the future and don't expect him to. It's clear you've been able to handle yourself well enough. Still, he takes it into consideration. He'll bite his tongue when you take a bit longer to do things.

You don't need to be babied, but when he sees you struggling to open a wrapper of some sort of a candy he offers his hand “Give it here. I'll help you out” You wordlessly handed over the candy and watched him slice through it with the claw on his thumb.

“Tch. You make me do too much…” It's an insincere remark as he hands off the candy bar and continues on his way.

Azul

“... I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly Azul, can you repeat what You said?”

“Cant believe your ears?” Azul wore a smirk as he put a hand on his chest, speaking once more with his confident tone. “The Mostro Lounge has quite a special deal just for you, dear Prefect! A special cure to your ailmen–”

“That's what I thought you said.” Azul paused for a moment taking in your annoyed tone. Did he miscalculate? “Something the matter Prefect–”

“Azul.” You now looked at him with a cold glare, clearly pissed. Azul swallowed, steeling his anxiety behind his businessman persona though the slight widening of his eyes gave away some of his true emotions. “... Yes, Prefect?”

“Why the fuck do you think saying that is okay?” You couldn't tell right now if your hands were trembling from your condition or rage. “Are you dense?” you ask, voice harsher.

“N-no, Prefect. I'm sorry if anything I said has caused you offense…” The deepened glare silenced him. “Think for a moment the implications of you wanting to cure me, and even if I did accept then what? You'd seriously hold something as sensitive as this over my head? Would you even be able to cure it long term?”

How badly you wanted to tear him a new one and let him have it, insults resting on your tongue. Instead, you sighed, exhausted from this conversation already. It wasn't worth your time.

“I'm not some ‘charity’ case though I doubt you know the meaning of the word. I don't need your ‘cures’. Just… leave me alone from now on. Don't talk to me, don't approach me.” you turned away and sped off, more frustrated than ever.

It would take until after his overblot for an apology.

Kalim 

Oh Kalim… he really does mean well but…

“And this spoon is designed for shaky hands!”

“I don't need…”

“And these are silk ribbons you wrap them with!”

“Thank you but–”

“And these magical devices are to help check blood pressure–”

“Kalim.”

Kalim blinked and tilted his head, still in the middle of putting the excessive amount of gifts into your hands “Ah?” He blinked for a moment. “Ohhh I know that tone, that's the same one Jamil uses when he tells me I go overboard…”

Kalim's brows knit together and he rubs his head through his white hair. “Did I go overboard again?” He's so genuine it's hard to be mad at him.

“... A little. Hey‐” You hold Kalim's face and pat him on the head. “Thank you though. It's very sweet of you to look out for me, but… I don't need all of these things. I'll be alright okay?”

“Oh! Okay! Well if you ever need anything I'm here!” Kalim pumps his fist then turns to the massive pile of boxes behind him. “So um… what should I do with these…?”

"Donate them maybe?”

Vil

Another example of doesn't really care. He inquired about it once, asked some polite questions and left it at that. There's no need for him to bother you.

When the VCD tournament comes around and he spends more time with you, he takes note of how it affects you. Many expect him to make comments or give you products to take care of your hands more, and he does, however he would have done that regardless of your condition.

Your disability doesn't define you and you're capable on your own. You don't need an able-bodied outsider to tell you what to do or how to feel. A really good ally. 

As he collects all the data on how your condition affects you specially, he's able to give you some welcome help. 

“This potion is good at helping with seizures, but it can also help with your Tremors. I will show you how to make it.”

Idia 

“So your hands can't stay still? Oof, bad RNG.” He immediately realizes he used video game terms out loud and dies just a bit. 

Really it's only Ortho that inquires about it. Your body's not any of Idia's business so why should he care? After all, how many times has he seen you irl? Yeah lol, he's cool. He barely knows you aside from a few random encounters on a bad roll. 

However Ortho cares. He cares a lot. And he's always trying to find ways to potentially help or cure you. Idia watches his little brother researching every book he can find on your condition and sighs.

“There's no cure right now Ortho. now even magic. Besides that's Yuu’s choice, isn't it?” He shrugs and looks off to the side apathetically. 

Sad beeps come from the humanoid. “Yeah I know that… I think I upset them but I didn't mean to…” The child's mournful expression suddenly perks up. 

“But! I'm not trying to do that! I'm researching the best way to make a game controller!” 

“A game controller? Isn't that pretty easy?”

“Well yes but…” Ortho pauses, reflecting on his earlier conversation.  “I asked Yuu if they enjoyed any video games and they said that they do. However, it's hard to play certain games because of their hands. So!”

Ortho shows Idia the 3d model he sculpted in his program. “I'm working on one that will work for them.”

“Working on one that works for them…” Idia looked to the side. He couldn't imagine a world without video games… and he doesn't have much to do… and he supposed the Prefect is okay…

“Send the file to me. I'll get to printing it.”

[hminnj]

Unckuna/reader (he's very dear to my heart), mostly uncle nephew banter tbh, i needa get dividers lowkey, very short lil drabble

-

Sukuna thinks he's lost his mind.

He means it figuratively, obviously. But at this point he's sure he should've physically lost it already.

His nephew- of which he is currently babysitting- is currently on his couch, not a care in the world, half empty family sized bag of chips that was unopened not too long ago (fatface), kicking his feet like an adolescent boy in love, greasy fingers on the remote, and scrolling through youtube shorts on the tv???

Oh and worst of all he forgot to mention, the brat is wearing shoes.

The fact that he's even related to this thing makes him want to kill everyone else in the room and then himself.

"Itadori Yuji..." Sukuna seethes, it takes everything in him to not rip the brat's skeleton right out of his skin. He thinks it would be easy, if only a certain three people would let him (a shame, truly).

Yuji spares him a glance (the disrespect).

"Oh whats up unc"

"And what do you think you're doing?" The older of the two walks over and blocks the view of the tv, glaring down with his hands on his hips.

Yuji stares for a moment before opening his stupid food hole (as Sukuna describes it), "Have you ever seen that one meme, no one looks good from below? Well you're the version where they-"

Sukuna promptly picks him up by his foot, shaking him as a few chip bits fall off Yuji's shirt, "I literally just cleaned the house you freeloading fiend. Have you seen what a mess you've made?"

"You clean the house everyday you freak. Now put me down! I swear I was gonna clean up afterwards anyways." Yuji attempts to wiggle his way out of Sukuna's grip, he gets nowhere (predictably).

"Brat. You don't even know where the vacuum is, were you planning on picking them up one by one?"

"Ugh you're such a housewife, if I didn't know any better I'd assume you- MMM"

The sound of the code being put into the front door quickly stops Sukuna who shoves his free hand into Yuji's face, effectively shutting him up as well.

Sukuna grins when he sees you walk in, holding Yuji as if he were a first place catch for the annual bass fishing competition.

The sight makes you pause and contemplate your life decisions.

"Sukuna... put Yuji down, all the blood's rushing to his head."

Yuji is dropped immediately.

"OWWWWWWWW"

Your eyes trail around the living space and then back to the two children, "Does someone want to explain what's happening? And why there are shoe tracks in my house?" You make eye contact with your husband (who practically regresses 15 years in age when your nephew is around), he looks at you then uses his middle finger to point at Yuji.

Said boy, still recovering on the floor, whines, "Mann why can't I have a cool wine aunt and normal uncle?"

"Yuji if I were a wine aunt I wouldn't even be your aunt. Now are you gonna clean up this mess or should I make you?"

"On it! Whatever you say ma'am!" Yuji scrambles away after saluting and then pops back up from the hallway, realizing something crucial.

"Where are the cleaning supplies again?"

You sigh.

.

Yuji's finished with cleaning when he joins (intrudes, in Sukuna's words) you and his uncle on the couch, another episode of criminal minds running in the background.

You've changed from your work clothes into something more comfortable, snuggled into Sukuna's side as you start, "You know, if Spencer existed in real life I'd consider leaving you for him."

The tattooed man can only cringe in disgust at your behavior, "We're literally married, woman. You would leave me for that??"

He gives you and the tv an incredulous look. You can only giggle at his reaction, "You're like a child sometimes." His disapproval worsens, and you consider continuing to tease him but go with your better judgement (before he decides not to cook dinner, even though he always does anyways).

"I'm sorry hubby, forgive me?" Sukuna scoffs but accepts the affection anyways, he always does.

Yuji's voice interrupts the moment, "Ew you guys are so nasty (his parents are way worse), but speaking of children... when am I gonna get a cousin?"

The young boy can only watch as you two glance at each other then back at him, casually dropping an "Oh, Soon" then moving on completely. It takes him a second to process.

"WHAT."

-

unckuna my love

reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated :]

thank you for reading, have a blessed week

not fully proofread or edited

[grapejuice32]

pls pls pls do kook JJ x reader. i love seeing how the money takes his recklessness up a notch

Yet Again

Kook!JJ x Kook!reader

Masterlist

Notes : Kook JJ would be an absolute menace and he would be best friends with Rafe, you can't convince me otherwise

It'd been an unusual amount of time since you'd heard from JJ, usually he would be hassling you to join him at the country club or to join him and Rafe at Tannyhill, or he'd just show up at your house out of the blue. So when it had been about 12 hours since you'd heard from him, you got concerned. But you weren't concerned that something had happened to him, no, you were concerned that he had gotten himself into some trouble by doing something stupid with Rafe. Again. When the time on your phone showed that it was now 2am, you decided to give up on waiting to hear from him and to just go to sleep. But of course, typical as ever, as soon as you began to drift off, your phone's blaring ring tone woke you up. After being with JJ for a year, you'd learnt that it was best not to put your phone on silent, considering he would call you at all sorts of times for all sorts of reasons.

You picked your phone up, your eyes squinting as you read the words, Kildare Sheriffs Department, on the screen and you groaned, "Hello?"

"This is Shoupe, just thought I'd let you know you might want to come get your boy. I've just received some noise complaints about some get together him and Rafe are having," The way he delivered the message sounded very well rehearsed and it didn't surprise you since phone calls like this were incredibly regular for you to receive, "they're somewhere down on the beach."

"Yeah, thanks Shoupe." You sighed, hanging up the phone and pulling on a pair of shorts with one of JJ's t-shirts you'd already been wearing. When complaints about JJ came in, Shoupe tended to just call you to deal with it considering the two times he had detained JJ had resulted in a mass of complaints that he couldn't be bothered to put up with on the regular. You left your house and climbed into your car and made the short drive over to the part of the beach they frequented, when you got there you groaned at the load music playing from the speakers of Rafe's truck.

You got out the car and made you way to where you could see JJ and Rafe sat on a log, sharing a blunt between them, JJ let out a loud holler when he saw you, raising his arms in a cheer, his face dropping when he saw the glare he was receiving from you.

"Oh hey, mama. What's with the face, huh?" He feigned innocence, though the smirk lining his lips told you he knew exactly why.

"Noise complaint. Again. It's two in the fucking morning, J." You raised your brows, snatching the beer from his hand he bought it up to his lips and taking a swig of it, turning your nose up at how warm the beverage was, "I was going to sleep when I got the call."

He mockingly pouted at you, "Oh 'm sorry, baby. C'mere," he tapped his thigh, beckoning you to come sit on his lap causing you to roll your eyes and let him place his hands on. your waist and pull you down onto him, "there, all better now, huh."

You huffed and lay your head on his shoulder, ignoring Rafe's drunken snickering from behind you. You lasted a total of two minutes before you grew tired of the pounding music, "I wanna go home." You mumbled into JJ's ear, also hoping to kill the party by getting JJ to leave.

"Shit, yeah okay. Let's go get you into bed, huh?" He pulled you out of his lap and stood, swinging an arm around your shoulders and finishing off his beer.

"So fuckin' whipped, man." Rafe chuckled from besides you, "Get her back in one piece, can't have us gettin' in trouble without her there to get us out f'it."

JJ laughed and slapped Rafe's shoulder, "See you tomorrow, man."

He pulled you tighter into his side and pressed a kiss to your temple as he walked you both in the direction of your car. The drive back to your place was silent, he rested a hand on your thigh and you could feel his eyes on you as you kept yours on the road while you drove. By the time you got home it was half three, as soon as the both of you were in your bedroom you pulled off your shorts and climbed into bed, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. You could hear the rustling of clothes as JJ got undressed and slipped into bed beside you in just his boxers. His arm slid around your waist and he pressed a few apologetic kisses to your exposed neck, you hummed and rolled over to face him, laying your head on his bare chest, "Thanks for coming home when I asked."

" 'S no problem, mama. But I um-" he cut himself off clearing his throat like he was debating confessing something to you.

A sigh of annoyance escaped you, "What've you done?" You murmured half asleep.

"I uh, I may have gotten into some debt with Barry that I need help with cause I've been cut off for a couple of weeks..." He admitted sheepishly, causing you to let out a disgruntled groan.

You tangled your legs between his and whispered, "Just shut up and go to sleep," not wanting to have to listen to how he'd been cut off yet again for spending his money on stupid things, yet again, you didn't even bother to ask if Rafe could pay if off, knowing that if JJ had been cut off then Rafe probably had too, "I'll deal with it in the morning."

"Love you, baby." He drawled, bringing a hand up from where it had rested on your waist to run through your hair soothingly, you hummed in acknowledgement as you drifted off, mentally preparing yourself for another day being spent getting JJ out of trouble.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[cherry-leclerc]

i hate you. i hate you? ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, love confessions, childhood friends to enemies/rivals to lovers (damn, tongue twister), maybe a bit angsty (don't worry too much about it though, lol), flashbacks that add to a tiny slow-burn

word count: 3.5k

The dwindling friendship that comes crashing down when you get offered the opportunity of a lifetime. Leading to a bumpy road with your best friend.

req!... i swear that when i put angst ITS NOT BAD. anyways, enjoy, anons!

Me encantaría formar parte del equipo, you muse whimsically, pigtails flying against the winter breeze. Sería un sueño hecho realidad. 

Despite being young, you knew you were different— came from a divergent background compared to those around you. Your family definitely didn’t have the resources to fulfill your dream to kart or race professionally. You partially blame your brothers for getting you into the sport. 

Si. Lo sería, a particular Spaniard, agrees. You smile. Your parents share a pitiful glance before sitting you down. It wasn’t going to happen, not because they didn’t want to but simply because they couldn’t afford such an expensive hobby that would probably kick you in the butt. 

That’s where your first guardian angel appeared. Carlos Sainz Sr. Better known as your best friend's father. Without a doubt, he offers to sponsor you, for he grew keen on having you around, enjoying time by the pool with his two girls and shy son. 

Was there a way you could ever thank him? No, not really— nothing would ever cover all he’s ever done for you, but you’d make sure to try your best to find a way. Even if it took you a lifetime. 

-

“You’ve known her for a lifetime! Probably five, for all we know!” Lando yelps, running a hand through his curls. “You can’t just call it quits on your friendship just like…” He snaps his fingers. 

Carlos shrugs. He fills up a styrofoam cup of coffee, silently offering one to his moody friend. The Brit rolls his colorful eyes. You’re making a mistake, he presses. It’s the Spaniards turn to grow serious. 

“Por favor—she should have thought about that before she stole my seat.”

That, you did. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. It could have never been, even if you had been warned. But suddenly you were getting an opportunity, the kind you only ever dreamt of. Carlos would be fine, he was a man who would eventually have a pile of teams interested in keeping him around. You, on the other hand, were surprised that anyone was even intrigued in having you form a part of their F1 team, much less— Ferrari. 

This was it, and you had to grab at the opportunity. You just never imagined losing a friend along the way.

Why would you even consider accepting? You flinch and he’s looking as if he regrets it, so you give him the benefit of the doubt. 

I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but think of it this way. I'd be coming in 2025 and you would already be too busy preparing to join Audi! It’ll work out. You’re still doing that, right? You knew he was, he had been so excited and told you as soon as he found out. Audi was in his blood.

He runs a large hand through his tangled hair, sighing. Still. You have to say no. You can’t do that to me. It’d be embarrassing.

Your shoulders drop an inch. Why? Because you’re being bought out or because a woman is keeping your seat? His silence is enough for your heart to break and for your mind to be made up.

I’m signing. 

-

There is indignation, and then there is you.

“You are such a—argh!” Pounding your fists against the locked door, you reach out to briskly twist the knob, trying your best to get out of the cramped room. The world was spinning, and you could feel a migraine rolling in strongly, but you swore—swore—you would kill him as soon as you got your hands on him. 

The morning had started off fairly simple. Show up, run a few tests on the stimulator, get to know a few of the mechanics you’d be working with, and finally, sign your contract. You had waited longer than intended, due to minor changes you had suggested, so you were extremely ready to get it done. This was supposed to be your day.

That is until the grumpy Spaniard pushed you, locked you in, and ran off before you had a chance to register what was going on. Fred had been adamant—show up on time. The next time he would be available would not be until three weeks, and that was ridiculously long if anyone were to ask. Carlos knew that.

Charles hums slowly, munching on a pack of M&M's when he hears the spine-chilling scream you let out, wood vibrating as you punch angrily. Hurrying over, he unlocks it from the outside, surprised by your appearance. Your hair is tussled, face is blotchy, vein throbbing. It’s definitely a sight to say the least. He mentions something about —he went that way— and —think about what you’re going to do— but you’re off before you settle with any of it.

The twists and turns make your head hurt, practically seeing red before you come to a halt. Smiling sophisticatedly, Carlos is sat, legs crossed, fingers pointing to his watch. No. “News for you, my dear friend; Fred just left.” The Spaniard winces playfully, already making his way out the door. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Charles was right. You should have thought about what you would do. Jumping onto his large back, your flimsy hands dig into the forest he calls hair, and pull. He screeches, swaying from side to side as he hurriedly tries to disconnect your legs from around his waist. Let go, he groans harder when you pinch his arm. 

“Why? Why did you do this—any of this?” At this point you’re kicking and screaming, panting, heaving. “Is it really that difficult to accept it? You lost. I’m in, you’re out.”

“At least we know she’s a fighter.”

Coming to a sudden stop, your eyes flicker to the familiar voice, instantly burning up. Fred taps his foot gingerly against the white tiles, an amused Monegasque standing right behind him. Jumping off of the sulky brunette, you begin to shake your head in disbelief, pointing towards the exit. “N-no…you’re supposed to be gone. He…” Then it hits you. This was a fucking set up.

“While I’m evenly impressed by your toughness, I will say, I think we should put a hold on signing.” Your stomach drops. The older man quickly waves his hands in dismissal, grinning apologetically. “We still want you! Nothing has changed, but I think it’s for the best that you fix things with Carlos before doing so. It’ll be good for you two.” With that, he bows his head, and strolls away, heading for the airport.

“I’m out too,” Charles whispered, slowly stepping back. “Fill me in on what happens, though!” 

As soon as your breath evens out—and Carlos creates a safe distance between you two—you let out a deranged chuckle. He almost cringes at the cold sound, but keeps his chin up high. “You did this all on purpose?” It’s a question but comes out more like a confirmation, which in a way, it was. Shutting your eyes, you tilt your head with a ghostly smile. “You knew he hadn’t left and let me make a fool out of myself. Why would you do that?” you grit, orbs laser focused on him as if you could light him up into flames if you really set your mind to it.  

“Why would I not?” he stubbornly spits back.

“You asshole, I’m just trying to make your dad proud.”

A pinch of guilt dives deep into his veins as he watches you stomp down the hallway, mindlessly tugging at his heart.

-

I say we let him burn, Ana pitches the idea, laying flat on her bed as you scoff with a knowing smile. 

Does it make me a bad person if I don’t disagree with you? 

She sits up, eyeing where you calmly paint down on a canvas. She squints her eyes. “What even is that?” Holding your art with pride, you shoot a sheepish smile. Nice, huh? The Spaniard’s youngest sister giggles, nose scrunching up at the dark sight. “I’m confused—is he supposed to look like that?”

You curl an analytical brow, shooting a quick snarl. “I think it’s pretty good. And yes. He’s supposed to be getting run over by my future car. What a sight.” You dramatically swoon.

Ana drops her stare, focusing instead with a teasing curl gripping the corner of her lips. “Remember when instead of plotting his death, you’d be fantasizing about a life with him? God, I could still remember all the hearts—the glitter.” She shudders, faintly recalling the mess in her room, which led to Reyes giving you both a good scolding, but not before winking at a red-faced you. 

Looking away feverishly, you shake your head, picking up the flimsy paint brush once again, never once bothering to make eye contact with her. “I was young. Stupid as shit. I can’t even remember what I loved about him.”

“Liked,” she corrects you.

You cough. “Right. Liked.”

-

If the Spaniard took the time to sit down, roll through a philosophical journey, wonder where things might have changed for him—it would have saved him enduring a puddle of dreadfulness at this very moment.

Ana’s wedding. The first of his sisters who would get married. It was a bittersweet day, and not just because she was finally leaving the family nest. “Who is she…” he can hear himself ask. Almost demand. The brunette smirks, slightly pleased. 

“My best friend. You’re nemesis,” she jokes. 

Carlos growls slowly, lightly pinching her cheek as she yelps. “With. You know what I mean.”

“Lalo. She met him a few weeks ago. Very nice guy.” A beat. “Please don’t ruin my wedding.”

But he’s not even listening. Brown eyes follow to where you stand straight, arms crossed over your body like a shield. He always knew you’d been self-conscious, but never understood why. You were stunning. Lavender dress hugs your curves beautifully. A trace of honey fills any area you fall into. Your hair is nicely pinned up, allowing him to enjoy your silky skin. 

And it seems like Lalo too.

Rubbing a large hand against his smooth jaw—which was only neat since Reyes had hounded him to fix his appearance for his sister’s big day—he smoothly made his way over. Rupert warns the Spanirad with his eyes, but Carlos scoffs. Did everyone think he had something up his sleeve? 

“Enjoying yourselves?”

Mid-sip, your face freezes, doe-eyes flickering between Lalo, then Carlos. Then Carlos, then Lalo. God, when did the room begin to boil? Your voice gets caught in your throat, to make matters worse. Carlos’ personal trainer pity’s you for a split second, deciding to help out. “The drinks are stellar, mate. We’ve been hogging the bar for so long at this point.”

The brown eyed boy studies your so-called date, faking a cold smile. “You don’t say…Carlos, by the way,” he says, extending his arm out. “Remind me of your name again, sorry, she’s just never mentioned you before. At all, really. I apologize.”

“That’s okay, we only just met a few weeks ago. We’re taking it slow.” We’re. The word itself makes the 29 year old fear he might puke right then and there. “Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo. Huge fan.”

“Mines or hers?” Carlos bitterly questions, thick lips forming a straight line. Lalo awkwardly clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, pulling away and leaning in to hold you close. 

“Guess it’s my turn to apologize now. Hers. Always. But you’re pretty cool, too, I suppose.” His voice is light, unbothered. It makes Carlos tick furiously, though he doesn’t dare show it. You can’t pinpoint the moment tension rose up, snapping you out of your trance. Blinking hastily, you aim a sour snarl at the Spaniard. 

“We were sort of having a good time, so…” You shoo him away with a jeweled hand. “I just don’t want to kill the vibes. You understand, right?” Barely giving him a chance to respond, you turn back to your conversation, leaving Lalo and Rupert to appear puzzled, but stupidly playing along.

With a raw click of the tongue, the 29 year old takes a step forward, leveling down to your ear. “Pretend all you want, but you’re still wearing my initials around that pretty wrist of yours.” And walks away.

It was true. Your parents had gifted you a lucky charm bracelet for your fourteenth birthday, and Carlos greedily beat everyone to it. A car, for your love for Formula One. A chili, a shy thank you for his nickname. An ice cream, well, because you just loved ice cream. And a cursive CS. For him. 

Watching him walk away left you with a hole in your heart. You did not need a reminder like that on a day like this. Wearing it was purely out of habit, it had no meaning to it anymore. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. The need to use the restroom was a complete lie as you wordlessly peek for the broad Spaniard. You spot his glossy shoes first, sticking out the photo booth. 

“Scoot,” you say, gently cramming him in deeper. Once you get situated, you slide the silver charm off, handing it over to him. “Here.”

He furrows his dark brows. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want anything tying me back to you anymore. It was kind—sweet—but that was past you. You’re cruel, mean, rude, a fucking jerk now. I don’t like that, so— here.”

“I don’t want it,” he retorts, curling your flat hand into a fist, forcing you to hold it tight. 

“Well I don’t either, so what is there to do? You know what; I’ll just sell it. It’s not even that significant,” you mumble, already making your way out, but not before he hauls you back. Falling straight onto his thigh. You can feel your pulse quicken, your cheeks tingle, and your eyes suddenly burn. “Let me go,” you squeal, trying your best to weasel out of his grip. He groans, placing a large hand on either side of your hips, pushing you down.

“No. Just listen to me first.” Sighing, you nod. You should be climbing off; there’s room for two. He should be pushing you off; there’s room for two. But none of that happens as he clears his throat, rehearsing his words over and over before you raise a neat brow, waiting for him. “Perdón. Por todo.” 

Not what you were expecting and he could tell when you let out a small gasp. Nervously, he licks his lips, admiring your plump ones that don’t lay too far off from his own. “I used to be so proud of you when we were just kids. When you first admitted you wanted to race too. It was adorable, the way your eyes lit up.” Your breath deepens, unknowing of what this was leading to. “But I’ve always been proud. That’s never changed.”

“You’re a terrific liar,” you timidly chuckle, patting his shoulder, making him back off a little. But he only ricochets forward, twice as close. Your insides churn. 

“You don’t know how fucking happy I was when you got a seat. Over the moon. But I won’t lie; I was hurt and said some shitty things that have no excuse tied to them. I know I hurt you—I know that now. But that feeling vanished when worry came creeping in. I don’t want you to sign that contract.”

You flinch, reality crashing down on you once again as you examine the Ferrari driver. “Why apologize if you haven’t changed? My feelings aren’t a joke,” you whimper pathetically, tears sliding down your cheeks, soft brows drawn together. 

He panics, gingerly brushing them away to the best of his ability and you don’t have the power to fight him off anymore. You’re too busy getting your heart broken once again by the same man. 

She’s beautiful. Insanely—it’s insane. Her eyes are a shade of green I’d never thought I’d like.

I once wore a shade of green shorts last summer and you called them ugly. Said it looked like vomit. 

Carlos sighs dreamily, dominantly shaking his head. 

Well crap. I must’ve changed my mind.

Present him, was taking in your frantic sobs and he doesn’t know how else to calm you if it's not by rubbing your back gently. It takes a while, but you eventually ease up, occasionally letting out a shaky breath. “First of all, let me tell you why I did everything within me for you not to sign. It’s no good.”

You tilt your head in confusion, nose runny as he hands you his handkerchief. “I-I’m confused.”

Carlos chuckles. “What was the one thing I would always complain to you about when I was away racing?” Lack of privacy? “Okay, second thing I raved about…” When you don’t answer, he sheepishly wiggles his brows. “How tired I was with my team. It’s exhausting because like it or not—we’re not at our prime. I don’t think we will be for a couple of years. But for my benefit, I’ll be gone, and then it’s only going to fall on-”

“Me,” you finish, glossy eyes dancing through his painful expression.

 He nods. “Listen, Charles will be fine. Mentally not, but he’ll do just okay. It’s you I’m worried about. Not only will you dive in, nose first into a world of ruthless men, but you’ll always be the entire blame. In their eyes, it'll be you. What did you do wrong? How could you fuck up? And sure, you might sometimes—it's inevitable— but other times you won’t. But you’re a girl, and that’s enough for the fingers to be pointed at you.”

Shaking your head profusely, you instantly reach up to catch your hair from falling from its tiring up-do. He helps you out, combing his fingers nicely, though this time it doesn’t get rid of the queasy feeling. He was right. God, why did he have to be right? 

“I’m well aware of what I’m about to get myself into. But I think I can handle it. I can’t not do it—imagine how many girls it would help pave the way for? I’m sure as fuck it won’t be easy, and it might threaten my sanity, but I need to do this. And I’m sorry.”

An unfamiliar wave crashes against his warm eyes, a low breath being expanded into the air. You can feel it, taste it. Mint mojito. Your body told you, you liked it, with the way you wanted to lean in and kiss him—just to confirm. Pursing your lips, you continue. “You have your future decided and I have mine.”

With a hesitant bow, and a tide of curls flying forward, he clears his throat. “You’ve always been this way. Dedicated. And I could never decipher why. Until now.” He can’t help but brush his nose against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, allowing him to appreciate your pretty features. “If you’re sure, then I’m right behind you.”

You almost want to laugh, but are too scared to ruin the moment, so instead count his freckles. “I am…” A sharp inhale. “But what’s the second thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘first of all’. I would assume there’s more…” You know there is, but you just want to hear him say it aloud. You’d seen the way he glared viciously at Lalo, chest firming. You’d seen the way things had shifted between you two, months prior, after his break up.

If this racing thing doesn’t work out, you would make a killer artist. He whistles.

Down boy, you joke. It’s just a swan. I resonate with them. 

He sits up straighter. Then consider me a swan, too.

You laugh loudly, tossing your head back as he smiles. Why all of a sudden?

Just.

“It took me a while to get here, but I’m here.” He cradles your delicate face. “I think I love you. I-I mean I know I love you. Your stubbornness, your compliance. Your level-headedness, your intrusive actions. Your need to persevere and be better—even if others make it hard on you.” You giggle, poking his chest. “But above all, I love the way you made me work for it. I’m glad you did because how else could I have realized if you didn’t drag that dead-beat?”

“Hey! He’s nice!”

The 29 year old tsks. “Nice isn’t enough and you know it.” His pink lips graze over yours as you lean in too. “You’ve always been a smart girl…” He’s about to kiss you when you slide back, leaving him hanging. He clenches his jaw, seeming teased. 

“I love swans because I know I can love as deep as one.” 

“I can too.”

“And I know, you know, that I love you too.”

“I do know that.”

“And I lit you up on fire, but only on paper!”

His brows furrow. “Yeah, we can circle back to that. But I don’t care. I love all that about you. And I want you to know my father has always been proud of you.” He winks. “But never as much as me.”

“We’re doing this then?” you ask nervously. “Y-you’re still going to have to grovel. I don’t give up that easily. Especially after all you’ve put me through.”

Carlos gently nods, eyes adoring you. “I’ve waited more than a decade for this moment. What’s one more?”

And he kisses you.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

[mebemilena]

 I take it and I eat it with a cherry on top

pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x fem Reader

summary:  you're the new cook of Queen Daenerys

A/N: i'm just exercising my writing skills. Sometimes my drafts and wips become comic books if i can convice the clients. Tittle from the song "Take a Bite", by Beabadoobee

PROMPT: "If your food is not good, i'll feed you to my dragons."

---

You and your big mouth. Some nasty comment about the Queen's personal cooks had brought you to this situation. "If your food is not good, i'll feed you to my dragons.", Daenerys had said, playfully and mischievous, which brought you to this moment.

You entered the throne room with a few maids, each of them carrying a tray with covered plates. As the Queen's new cook, you had tried to impress everyone with a few recipes of your own though you were confident in your talents, having cooked for your family and friends since you were a teen.

The Queen sat on her throne as the maids brought her the trays with the fresh cooked meals she'd try.  "Are you saying this is not real meat?", Daenerys looked confused, the taste still vivid on her tongue.

"Yes, your majesty.", you confirmed with a smile, proud of your work and satisfied with the glint of amusement in your Queen's eyes. Daenerys frowned for a moment.

"I know it's not usual. But these are healthy and will bring you strength. They hold the daily proteins you'll need in a good diet.", you offered her one more bite.

Daenerys looked at you in awe, a small smile slowly growing. "I like meat.", she said simply, but took the piece in your hand. "But i'm open to new experiences.", she ate it, savoring your new recipe. 

She invited Missandei and Sor Jorad to taste the goods you had prepared, but the man refused and made no effort to do it gently.

"Sir Jorah doesn't trust me, your grace. And i have no desire to change his mind.", you shrugged. "He might think i'd try to poison him.", you chuckled, not carying that the man could hear you.

Daenerys tried to sound a little more serious as she sat on her throne, this was a sensitive topic after all. "And what about poisoning me? A few had tried before.", she asked, defiant.

"I have no desire to poison you, my Queen.", you started, waving your hand like it was the most stupid thing one could do. "If i did, it wouldn't be through the food i happen to try before serving you, and in front of you.", you explained, taking small bites of the food on the table. 

It took you a minute to realize your own words. You and your big mouth.

Your answer got the Queen's attention, she was almost amused. Missandei watched your dialogue in deep curiosity while Sor Jorah seemed uneasy. "And how would you do it?", Daenerys asked, not a drop of fear in her voice.

You walked to her, approaching her seat and the small table by her side. With practiced manners, you prepared another plate of food. A slice of bread, a few fruits and a small globe of soup.

"I'd do it slowly.", you told her, holding the bottle with wine and filling her glass. "Both killing and loving demands patience, your majesty. If you give it all at once, it makes a mess.", you chuckled.

"So if I wished to poison you, mylady, I'd give you a few droplets everyday.", you handed her the glass, and Sir Jorah put his hand on the shaft of his sword.

Daenerys looked at you as she drank the wine slowly, hooked by the way you spoke, enchanted.

"You'd drink it in your wine, in our water. Eventually, you'd fall sick and I'd offer to take care of you only to keep poisoning you. You'd die slowly. It'd look like something natural, like some sad trick of destiny.  And nobody would ever be suspicious of me, the person who took such good care of you on your final days.", you finished, not exactly proud of your wisdom on the subject. 

Daenerys laughed, drinking more from her glass. "You shall live one more day."

Missandei let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and Sor Jorah frowned even more to you, cursing under his breath.

Daenerys trusted you, but what kept you alive for so long was that she liked you. You and your big mouth.

[archangeldyke-all]

Omg fucking stupid thing I thought of but like Sevika with a reader who is literally her number one apologist

Oh she got into deep shit? “I saw nothing actually” <— (quite literally was there)

Oh she murdered a man? “I mean.. did we ever take time to consider why she killed them? I mean, they could have looked at her wrong! I mean, I would if I were her too—“

Oh Sevika was being an asshole? “So? And I was backing her up 😇🫶🏼”

this is so me, she'd chop finn's head clean off in front of me and i'd be like 'babe ur so silly! omg u have blood on ur arm!! lemme clean it for u...'

men and minors dni

sevika knows you're loyal to her.

in the five years you've been together, sevika's never once worried about your eyes wandering or you sneaking around on her.

but it's more than that.

you ride or die for sevika.

she realizes this the first time she's home to watch you talk to an enforcer.

sevika and silco's deal with marcus means they get away with most their dealings in the undercity-- but from time to time, to avoid questions, marcus will have to send a rookie down to the undercity to 'investigate.'

usually, the kid will snoop around for half a day, before high-tailing it right back up to piltover.

sometimes-- they actually try to investigate some of the evidence.

and, once or twice a year, one of the rookies will even have big enough balls to try to question sevika herself.

she's on the couch reading when someone knocks on your door. she's on high alert as she watches you open the door, her hackles rising when she sees the uniform standing on your front stoop.

"sorry to bother you so late at night, miss, is this the residence of a 'sevika'?" the enforcer asks.

sevika huffs, rolling her eyes and biting back her annoyed groan. she's in no fucking mood to deal with this. she's about to haul herself off the couch and take over for you, when you speak again.

"who?" you ask.

sevika blinks-- unsure if she heard you correctly.

"s-sevika?" the man tries again.

"sevika? i've never heard of a 'sevika' living in this neighborhood..." you say. sevika realizes what you're up to, and a smile breaks across her face. "do you mean savannah? there's a savannah a few blocks south, she owns a barbershop off third..." you suggest.

the rookie studies you for a second, and you just blink up at him innocently.

sevika has to smack a hand over her mouth when the idiot buys your act, sighing and slumping before turning around to leave your front stoop. "thank you for your time ma'am. sorry again for bothering you so late."

"put your gas mask on, young man, you'll hurt your lungs down here!" you call after him, waving sweetly as you watch him wander down the street.

you grunt and roll your eyes, your sweet smile dropping the moment he turns the corner, before you turn around and walk back inside your home, slamming and locking the door behind you.

sevika tackles you to the ground, kissing you fiercely. you burst into giggles. "what's this for?" you ask.

sevika can't stop laughing against your lips. "you're so amazing." she giggles. you just huff and roll your eyes.

"thought i'd turn you in?" you ask. sevika shakes her head.

"no-- didn't think you'd lie to a cop for me though."

you blink up at her, suddenly serious, and sevika's heart swells. "sevika. i'd do anything for you."

sevika has to hide her flustered face against your shoulder at this.

over the years, she realizes how much you meant the words.

you come home one night and find her panicking, a dead body in your living room blood soaked into her skin and clothes. you just blink, take a deep breath, and snap into action.

sevika watches in a daze as you gently guide her to sit on the couch, kissing her and calming her down as you strip her of her bloody clothes and toss them ontop of the dead man in the middle of your home.

you don't even ask her questions. you just gently guide her to the bathroom, and treat her like she's just got a cold, or something.

"you're so pretty." you whisper as you wash her clean.

you dress her in her jammies and put her to bed.

sevika stays awake, listening to you call ran and silco over, and then listening to the three of you clean up the mess for the rest of the night.

when you crawl into bed beside her at the end of the night, smelling vaguely of fire and gasoline and bleach-- sevika turns onto her side and grabs your hand.

"you okay, my love?" you whisper.

"will you marry me?" sevika asks.

you burst into giggles and agree, kissing sevika sweetly before dragging her onto your chest and scratching her scalp as she falls asleep.

it's not even the serious shit that you back her up on either. it's the dumb, petty shit too.

you can be sitting on her lap during a game of cards; muffling your giggles against her shoulder when sevika cheats by hiding a few of her cards one second, and the next you're swearing on your grandmother's life that sevika's never cheated during a game when one of her opponent's accuses her of hiding cards.

you hear her voice rise a bit when she gets in an argument with a goon, and you're by her side at lightspeed, glaring at whoever dared to question her authority, cracking your knuckles to back up her threats. when the goon stumbles away, nearly crying in fear, sevika turns to you with a guilty look.

"what?" you ask.

"i realized halfway through that i was yelling at the wrong kid... they all wear the same grungy eyeliner-- i can't tell these fuckers apart." she admits.

you burst into giggles and pull her in for a hug, and sevika finds out years later that you ended up tracking down the kid you'd both threatened and buying him dinner to apologize.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty @claude999

[dreamermonica]

jersey no. 10s + would love me if i was a worm ?

—gender neutral reader, established relationships, fluff, some crack, just silly banters with them, lots of teasing from reader, and kaiser ig on his part🪰

RIN side-eyes you. it's in the middle of a horror movie marathon when you ask him that question, effectively pulling him out of his focus on the show as he attempts to process your strange inquiry.

it's obvious from the way that he doesn't immediately call your question dumb or stupid that he's already used to these type of conversations. a perk of being surrounded by weirdos perhaps? anyway, it still doesn't refrain him from raising a brow at the abruptness of your out-of-the-blue query.

within a short moment of contemplation, he blinks away from your expectant expression back to the screen. you visibly deflate at his nonchalance.

“no.” bluntly does he say. you blink.

“so you don't love me for me?”

“i simply don't see myself loving a worm. it doesn't matter if it's you or not.”

he deliberately ignores the piercing and offended stare on the side of his face.

“so unfair! i would love you if you were a worm!” you whine as you shake his arm.

“doubt it.” he leans back further onto the couch to eye you again from his periphery, momentarily pausing the movie to apprehend your whining. “if i were ever to become a worm, I'd kill myself. i can't become the world's best striker with no limbs.”

“still thinking about football 'till now? jackass.” you playfully pout before turning back to the screen again. he quietly resumes the movie with a thoughtful nod. as a jumpscare comes up and you huddle to his side in surprise, you think the discussion is dropped entirely until he speaks up once more.

“there's that and,”

he suddenly leans close to your ear, arm skillfully placed on the backrest of the couch to wrap you in, your eyes widening when you feel his breath fanning on the side of your face.

it's barely above a whisper when he says it,

“—the fact i wouldn't be able to spend nights like these with you.”

...huh?

oh my. you must've been hearing things—because the next thing you know is that a pillow is roughly thrown onto your face.

SAE resolves the weird question with a playful pinch to your cheeks. he deals with enough dumbassery (shidou) already to even think of entertaining your question, but god, your squished face and cheeks look really adorable right now, so he'll humor you for a bit.

“ow, ow, ow...”

“maybe. maybe not.” his stare remains blank and bored as your face scrunches in pain with the faint stinging on your cheek. upon seeing your discomfort, he immediately drops his hands, stuffing them in his pockets, “depends if we're both worms or not.”

humming as you soothingly rub your cheeks mindlessly, you stick out a tongue at him. “how about only me as a worm with my face on it?”

he glowers at the thought, “creepy. don't push it.”

“then me as a normal worm...?”

“i'd feed you to shidou. he'd treat you well.”

you sigh depressingly at the thought of swimming in that soccer demon's stomach acid. “no getting through you, huh. would it kill you to be sappy for once...?”

“if we were both worms, then yes, i'd love you. happy now?”

“hooray!”

he deliberately pushes your face away from his line of sight, scowling as you try to kiss him with your lips exaggeratedly puckered much to his dismay, “who the hell cheers like that? weirdo.”

“your weirdo.”

you send him a wink, a half-assed attempt at rizzing him up and yet he thought he’d explode right then and there. his expression stays indifferent though. no way he’s exposing himself like that.

“yeah. only mine.” the taste of victory is sweet on his tongue as he watches you turn red at his words.

KAISER...oh, kaiser.

in his case, it's the other way around.

you are the one getting pestered to answer his strange question instead. courtesy of his greed for your attention. gotta thank the heavens above when you decide to entertain his antics instead of strangling him.

“what brought this question forth?” you stare at him in boredom, sinking into the comfy confines of the couch he's leaning over at to smile at you dopily. you resist the urge to kiss his face right then and there.

“nothing~ just trying to see if you're only after my body or not.”

“...but i'm not into worms—”

“it's me! as a worm! the handsome and prodigal michael kaiser!” he pushes, feigning hurt as he dramatically places a hand to his chest. “why are you doubting me? i can't believe my darling out of all people would do this to me.”

you hum for a while as your gaze moves up to the ceiling, paying no mind whatsoever to the sob story he's fabricating to garner your sympathy as well. you press a finger to your lips curiously, “would the worm version of you keep your toned body and beautiful golden hair?”

“uh...good question—wait, you are after my body!”

“yes. is that a problem?” you can't help the smug look that crosses your face upon seeing kaiser's offended reaction, to which immediately turns into a scowl as he leans closer towards your face.

“what,” your hand raises to graze against his cheek, trailing down to his neck as you caress his iconic blue rose tattoo. “can't take a little joke, mihya?”

he stiffens at your touch, eyes widening for a moment, before he ultimately resigns himself to a heavy sigh of defeat, maneuvering his hand to grasp your wandering fingers over his collarbone, stopping your advances as he pouts playfully.

“this is why i like my side chicks better.”

“hah? repeat that again you little—”

“can't take a little joke, mein liebling?”

taken aback, you glare at him. he winks back.

forcibly given a taste of your own medicine, you huff outwardly and opt to push his stupidly handsome face away from your sight before it angers you any further. a sense of clarity already being gained when he is no longer is in your peripherals.

“go talk to them if they're so much better than me then.”

“oh, cmon.”

this was collecting dust for months in my drafts take it as u may , i might be more active soon✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

[soubeomies]

୨୧ "PARIS IN THE RAIN"

⤷ PAIRING﹕ idol!leehan x idol!fem!reader

⤷ WARNINGS ﹕smooching >3<

⤷ GENRE﹕angst + fluff

⤷ WC﹕741

⤷ AUTHOR'S NOTE﹕im so inlove with him i'd KILL to be a fish in his fishtank ngl like yes king look at me all day <3__<3

⤷ SYNOPSIS ﹕leehan had been paying less attention to you, and more to his new fishtank.

NOW PLAYING..

paris in the rain ♡ lauv

you arrived back home after a long day of dance practice for your new comeback– you loved your job. you loved performing for people on stage, and just giving it all your best. though, you couldn't help but admit that it was tiring. days of staying up late figuring out how to hit the perfect note for the song, late nights of just worrying if the comeback will go well. but, you were always oh-so-excited to come home to your beloved boyfriend, leehan.

lately he had started a new fish tank with a new species of fish he’s never had before, ocellaris clownfish. the name of the fish had been basically tattooed into your brain since was talking non stop about the new fish and fish tank. he spent countless hours sitting in front of the set up, making sure everything was going okay.

you were somewhat upset, he had started to become more and more distant ever since he started to work on this new stupid tank. it felt.. stupid. being upset over your boyfriend and his obsession with fish, you always tried to talk to him but you were worried that you’d disturb him. he looked too concentrated and serious about making the fish tank perfect, and you didn't want to make him upset.

“leehan, i’m home..” you said as you were greeted with complete silence. he was again, sitting infront of his fish tank. quiet as ever, in his own little world. you walked up to him as you took off your jacket, “hello? earth to leehan!” you said as you waved your hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“.. y/n. can you not? i'm trying to see if the water will clear up.. if not i'll have to restart this whole tank.” he muttered as he quite literally shoved your hand away from his line of sight. his voice was low and serious, seriously? you thought to yourself. he's becoming all cold and serious just because of a stupid little fish tank.. 

you sighed as you stood next to him, “please? you’ve been so busy working on it. can you take a break? for us?” you were pleading at this point, you needed him to pay attention to you now, all you needed was to cuddle up into his arms while the both of you doze off to sleep peacefully. but you guess not, since.. well.. he’d rather fall asleep in front of his fish tank.

“y/n, i don't have time for that. i need to go to dance practice tomorrow so i have to use my free time to get this done.” he said sternly, he sighed as he muttered to himself again. “i think i have to restart this entire tank.. ugh.” 

your heart dropped at his words, does that mean he’ll spend less time with you? you thought to yourself. he got up to grab stuff for the tank as you stopped him in his tracks, instinctively wrapping your arms around his body as you held him tight. he paused as he finally looked at you, your tired eyes and your sluggish body language.

he hadn't realized how much you needed him right now, and yet he was simply just shrugging you off over some stupid fish.. he felt his shirt get soaked with your tears as you pressed your face against his shirt. his heart basically got caught up in his throat as he realized how much it hurt you, whilst mentally beating himself up about it.. he naturally wrapped his strong hands around you as he held you tighter, “bub i'm sorry..” he said as he brought up one of his hands to your head, gently running his soft fingers through your hair. offering some sort of comfort.

“can we spend some time together, please?” you say in between sobs, looking up at him, teary-eyed. he brought his thumb to your cheek as he wiped away your tears lovingly. “yes baby, yes. i'm sorry for being so cold, i swear i didn't mean it. i–i got so caught up..” he says, a tinge of guilt evident in his voice. his fingers gently caressing your cheek tracing soft and delicate movements. he tilted your head upwards to face him, he pressed his plush lips against yours, savouring the taste of your sweet lips with his cherry flavoured lips 

“i might not deserve you, but there's nothing better.”

[peppermintquartz]

The views in Sydney would be great if it would just stop fucking raining.

Seriously annoyed, Rocker strides back to the lobby. He nods at a handful of Aussie cops from the Tactical Operations Unit (TOU) that led the seminar today and spies Deacon scrolling through his phone.

"Deac, hey. It's still pissing out there and I'm already starving," Rocker tells him.

Deacon sighs. "Room service?"

"Can we charge it to LAPD?"

"They already cut costs with us sharing a hotel room," Deacon says, smiling, "so they better cough up the money for a proper meal."

There are other officers from the States, but Rocker isn't all that into socializing at the moment. He is still jetlagged to hell after four days of workshops, presentations and demonstrations. Tomorrow is the last day, full of speeches and thank yous, and Rocker is bored just thinking about it.

At least it's Deacon out here with him. Hondo can be preachy and that gets on Rocker's nerves, while Luca is a horrible person to share a room with. Tan, Rocker's first choice, is currently preparing to take the sergeant's exam.

And back home, what does Rocker have to look forward to outside of work? His apartment, his painting, and his Russian literature. God, life as a divorced man is depressing.

Deacon is someone Rocker wants to become: steady, calming, assured. Sure he has his flaws, but Deacon doesn't try to talk down to Rocker even if he has every right to do so.

Besides, Rocker knows that he's 50-David only because Deacon dropped out of consideration, and ever since then, Rocker has actively sought out Deacon's advice whenever he can. It's created a strong bond between them, the two former 2ICs to a couple of SWAT legends. He doesn't like having to follow Hondo's orders sometimes, but Deacon? He'll follow Deacon right into hell if Deacon asks him to.

Rocker doesn't want to think about what that says about him.

---

They had dinner at the tiny table in the room, and then they open up the bottle of wine they were given by one of the sergeants here as a welcome gift.

"I'm just saying, if they make me ride that horse again..." Rocker says, about three-quarters through the bottle, while Deacon laughs at the memory of the Mounted Police picking Rocker to try a couple of horseback riding maneuvers. Despite Rocker's best attempts, the horse just did not have any respect for him.

"Oh, you didn't have any dreams of being a cowboy?" Deacon teases.

Rocker scrunches his nose. "I'm a city boy through and through. Sure, kid me wanted to ride a bucking bronco, but I'm not four years old anymore."

The image of Rocker riding one of those mechanical bulls flashes into Deacon's mind. And he keeps his mind there for a moment.

"You'll look good doing it," he says at last.

"That's because I make everything look pretty," Rocker says, grinning, his cheeks pink from the wine. Deacon can't disagree; Rocker is stupidly attractive with his dark brown curls and strong features and that buff body. Unaware of Deacon's train of thought, Rocker sighs. "I like getting out of LA for these sort of trips, but the jetlag sucks."

Deacon agrees. "I'd like it more if we could go around the city or maybe venture out further. Seems such a waste being stuck indoors." He thinks about it. "No, I take that back. Running around the city means I'm actually on a case."

"Ha, I heard about Thailand. You guys have the worst luck."

"It's all Hondo, I swear."

Rocker raises an eyebrow. "But you're loyal to him."

"I'm loyal to my team," Deacon corrects. "No matter who leads it."

"Even if it's me?"

Deacon narrows his eyes. "Are you trying to poach me over to 50-squad?"

"Stevens would kill me if I swapped him out for you," Rocker says, and then he sighs. "I like working with you though. You're so... graceful. Contained."

"You're not too bad yourself," says Deacon. He reaches over and squeezes Rocker's biceps. "I mean, all that beef on you. And you're very easy on the eyes. Plus, don't tell anyone I said so, but I like when you smile so wide your whole face scrunches up."

"Really?" Rocker asks, smiling in that exact way now, as if he's been given a gift he wanted all year.

Deacon doesn't remove his hand. He likes the way his tanned skin contrasts against Rocker's paler complexion. As if looking through a screen, he sees his thumb rubbing over the patch of skin, and Rocker's muscle jumps under the caress.

"Deac?"

"Sorry," he murmurs, about to draw back his hand when he looks at Rocker again. And he stops moving. Stops breathing.

The downpour outside becomes louder. The heavens seem to want to drown out everything other than this room, render the passage of time meaningless.

Rocker swallows and licks his lips. Deacon's gaze snaps to the tip of the pink tongue peeking out, and everything in him screams for him to taste it.

The next thing he knows, he's got one hand in the back of Rocker's head, his fingers digging into short hair, and his mouth is locked over the other man's lips.

Rocker doesn't even resist, tilting his head as his thick arms go around Deacon's waist and back. He actually whines when Deacon pulls away briefly, but Deacon doesn't leave him for long; he straddles the younger man and resumes the kiss, one hand tangled into the short, damp curls of Rocker's hair and the other cradling his lightly-stubbled jaw. When he settles his weight on Rocker's lap, he encounters a heated hardness.

Gasping, Deacon pulls back from the kiss. What am I doing?

Below him, Rocker's blue eyes are blown dark, his fair cheeks pink and rosy, and his lips swollen and wet. He blinks up at Deacon, a soft, inquiring sound emerging from his throat. His hands - massive hands, always so sure and confident - tremble where they're placed on Deacon's body. He licks his lips again.

Deacon's pulse races in his chest while his own cock thickens with desire. He's done this. He's done this to Rocker, who's always, always confident. As if to test his theory, Deacon rocks his hips a little, and Rocker moans, lips parting, his broad chest heaving.

"Please," Rocker whispers, his voice so quiet and broken that Deacon can't tell if Rocker meant to say it at all.

He pulls off his own shirt and then removes Rocker's. A dull pink flush spreads over Rocker's chest. Deacon rubs his thumbs over the erect nipples, making Rocker whimper and rock up. The sensation causes every single nerve in Deacon's body to feel like he's been shocked with electricity.

He wants more of it.

"Just this once," he finds himself saying. "Just once."

"Okay," Rocker agrees too readily, and pulls Deacon close.

[demelzathemer]

I'm watching the Doom Patrol episode for the first time ever and LOSING MY MIND, why didn't anyone tell me this is GOOD??? It's written by Steve Yockey and it SHOWS because the dialogue is absolutely the same as in the netflix series

Crystal is so catty and Edwin is fed up with people while Charles mediates, they're the same characters just played by different people?? I'm gonna add some shitty screensnaps here to yell about it

Obviously spoilers if you care about that;

Crystal <3 She looks closer to her comicbook self but has the same amount of sass as her netflix self

I swear I'm so normal about this bit of dialogue. Crystal telling Edwin Charles will protect him (with a baseball bat, mind you, they're in the States!) and their responses, I wish I could see Jayden and George act this part.

(I can hear "I'd do it anyway, won't I?" in Jayden's voice... weeps)

Edwin sassing out little girls again??? I lost it with the pose and voice

WEAK FOR THOSE BIG BROWN EYES

(Jayden's voice again. I know you hear it)

He should've been allowed to drape himself over Edwin like this too. Why would Netflix do this to me

"Love this." EDWIN??? He's way too happy that they're gonna smack their client with a shovel.

And CHARLES (pulls it out without anyone asking, he knows what's going to happen next) HANDS IT TO CRYSTAL so she can be the one doing the smacking???

And she's way too eager as well. What is happening here. Though I love how seamlessly they work as a trio now. Even if it's for the purpose of knocking out their unsuspecting client

"The price to open the door to afterlife is pain, and I'm the only one who can do it."

With the door handle being a BABYDOLL HEAD. With HELL FLAHBACKS. What the actual fuck?

I thought the doll spider was netflix original character??

And Charles immediately being "you don't have to do it, we can find another way in" I might be crying

Charles is afraid of water??? That's CANON?? It has to be, nothing has been changed about the characters so far!

Charles (with red-rimmed eyes): "I'm not scared! Just so you know."

Edwin (lying to make Charles feel better): "We know."

They're so in love. But what do you mean with "I'll make sure he's fine"? What are you gonna do, Edwin? Hold his hand on the boat ride? (They didn't show that part, so that's probably what happened.)

They had ONE episode and they still had to make sure that we know Edwin's gay.

I'm OBSESSED with this line and this repressed version of Edwin, I don't have the words right now but I read someone's brilliant analysis about it. (Pls link if you find it)

"I used to think that, too. But it's not 1916 anymore, you know?"

"Well, I'm not like you. But thanks for the concern."

Edwin, oh my god that is so sad. What makes you think you don't deserve happiness? I need to study him under a microscope

...Then STRAIGHT INTO death flashbacks??? They didn't leave anything out, watching this one episode spoils 7 out of 8 episodes of the netflix series?!

"She's good." Edwin appreciates Crystal! I love that they genuinely are a trio here and the boys know about her quirks like they know each other

Also David lore is unchanged too and Crystal bonding with Dorothy was so sweet

...THE NIGHT NURSE IS HERE TOO?? I thought she was a netflix original character too (Cat King, Tragic Mick and Jenny are, at least?)

AND SHE'S RUTH CONNEL??? ALSO WTF JUST HAPPENED

Her character is pretty different alright, and played very differently by the same actress??? And Charles just WENT FOR IT unprovoked?! Do they know about her in this universe, is she like a monster that's actively hunting them down and can be alerted by killing(?) I literally don't know anymore this is crazy

(Edwin was so cute jumping up and cheering lol. A bit jarring how much more he curses here though)

This is actually an insane episode, the trio with their huge amount of lore just drop in in the middle of already established group of characters and their lore and then, they're never seen again after this??

And they had flashbacks to both of their deaths without explaining ANYTHING about what the hell was that. Just five seconds of "being chased and covered in blood", teasing something about their relationship, Crystal dropping her goal of beating her missing memories out of a demon, no conclusion of wtf was "spider-face lady" aka the Night Nurse, etc etc. They needed their own show really badly huh

So netflix hurry up and give us a second season! After seeing this I'm blown away by the execution of Dead Boy Detectives and how Jayden and George really brought the characters to life. I'm so thankful we have that. Their chemistry really is what makes the show.

[luveline]

Hi lovie! A fic request: Eddie or Steve with a reader whose insecure about her stretch marks and just like major fluff

thank you for requesting!! ♡ 1.2k

Steve puts a cupcake in front of you with gold foil and orchid pink frosting, kissing you soundly on the temple. "Something sweet for my honey." 

You laugh at his tone, delight hooked into the corners of your smile. "When did you get this?" you ask, lifting your head from your book to follow his movements. 

Steve rounds the couch to sit next to you. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest mock demure.

"Does it matter?" he asks. "Just eat it." 

"Doesn't matter, but I don't get how you hid it from me, we've been together all day… Did you really manage to grab this while I was in the changing rooms in Seaver's?" You'd never have guessed he went anywhere —he looked the exact same when you emerged as when you left him, mildly distracted but not bored. He's a sweetheart like that. 

"I'm good, right?" he asks, grinning. 

You peel back the paper and shuffle closer to his side, holding the cake toward him, "You better have the first bite. I'm not sharing." 

Steve takes the cake carefully. His bite is little but adorable, a smear of frosting left lingering on his top lip. You point to it on your own face with a pinky finger, and he licks it away as he passes the cupcake back to you.

"You're, like, the quickest girl ever when it comes to fitting rooms. I had to sprint." Steve smiles as you take your own first bite. 

"I buy the same things every time," you say through frosting, hand held over your mouth. 

"Why is that?" he asks. "You could stand to be a little more adventurous. I'd love to see you in little shirts and skirts and stuff." 

"You don't like how I dress?"

"I love how you dress. But I love your arms and legs too and I never get to see them." 

An odd thing to say but not for him. He slides down the couch and puts his feet on the coffee table, a hand straying on automatic to your thigh, where he gives you a good squeeze. You think about what he's saying through chews. You believe him, you really do, when he says he likes how you dress, that his motivation for what he's saying is simply a desire to see you branch out of a self imposed box, but there's a reason you dress how you dress. He must know it himself. 

Even now you're wearing an oversized shirt, the short sleeves big enough to hide the stretch marks on your upper arms. Steve knows they're there undoubtedly. He's pressed enough kisses over every inch of your arms sitting exactly as you are now, hip to hip in front of the TV. He gets distracted at night, pulling your arm into his chest, chin dipped down to nose at your skin. 

"You don't think it would be, like… brave? To wear stuff like that?"  

"Brave?" 

You take a bite of cupcake so you don't have to talk. Steve's interest is piqued, a shark to blood in the water, though the blood is your embarrassment, and the shark your tender boyfriend. He gets softer the longer you're together, and when he speaks it's emphasised. "What does that mean, brave? You think you couldn't pull that off? Babe, you'd kill in a skirt, you'd kill me." He presses his cheek to your shoulder quickly. "I'd die if you had that mini skirt like Madonna–" 

"Madonna doesn't have a gazillion stretch marks." 

Steve sits up. 

You've dropped him in an awkward position, and you rush to pull him off of your hook, "And she's Madonna, so. I can't be expected to live up to that." 

"Obviously you'd live up to that. And Madonna has stretch marks." 

"You've met Madonna?" 

Steve laughs, pulling his socked feet down off of the coffee table to angle himself upward, taller than you once again. "Yeah, I met her– No. No, but I don't need to meet her to know she has them, everybody has them." 

"Not everyone." 

"I got a wall of 'em on my back, doesn't stop me from wearing that cropped sweatshirt." 

Steve looks fucking good in his cropped sweatshirt, admittedly, confident and gently muscled. Never once have you thought about his stretch marks when you aren't touching them, even when they're on display. But… "It's not really the same, Steve. I have them everywhere. I have them on my arms, I mean," —you shake your head slowly, though you've kept your smile in an attempt to be less obviously pathetic— "who has them on their arms?" 

Steve moves the half of your cupcake you have left and puts it on the armrest before taking both of your hands into his. Yours are a little smaller, a little softer, and cool to his warm. 

"You do," he says, suddenly serious, "and they're fine. They're perfect, because they're on you. I don't know if I'm gonna say the wrong thing so don't wring me out if this isn't the right one, but they're just skin." 

"They're ugly." 

"No, listen. I've never looked at you and thought you should hide them, they're not ugly–" 

"Steve," you say again, startled by his passion, "you don't have to. I shouldn't have said it. It's not like you could tell me they're gross." 

"They're not gross," he says severely. "And I'm not just telling you what you want to hear." Steve drops your hands in favour of your waist. "Come here." 

It shouldn't surprise you to be treated so sweetly; Steve's always sweet, even when he's moody, he'll be frowning and choking the breath out of your chest or rubbing his face roughly against the back of one of your hands. He's a tactile creature, and when he doesn't know what to say he falls back on touch instead. 

"I just thought you were a bit shy about showing skin," he murmurs, pushing his cheek into yours, his lips by your ear, "how can you think they're ugly?" 

"They're bumpy." 

"Jesus, babe. Are you supposed to be like a china doll?" 

You laugh softly, and under the comedy of his question is the reality of what he's really saying. Steve isn't expecting anything but what you have, marks and moles and scars alike. He never thought for a second that they were a reason to hide away in long sleeves. 

"Some of them are bad," you mumble. 

"I like them. I really like them." He pulls away ever so slightly as a warm hand starts to move, your view of his face unobstructed as he teases the hem of your shirt with his fingertips. 

"Weirdo." 

Steve can likely hear the love in your voice as his thumb traces the seam of a stretch mark under your shirt. His touching slows to match, and when he leans down for a kiss, it's twice as reverent as usual, and it tastes faintly of cupcake frosting. Your breath catches at the sound he makes, a contented sigh.

He pulls away again. "You believe me, right?" he asks, the exhale of his words fanning over your lips. 

You nod and tilt your head to one side, wading in for another kiss. He gave a convincing argument, as does his searching palm.