#like how do I explain that besides that I find it hilarious

[pastacatprod]

This year I started therapy and medications for the first time ever and it's been wild. My moods are starting to level out. I'm sleeping a little better. My therapist thinks I'm probably low level autistic. This shit's been crazy. I had to explain to him why I like to make Christmas Carol covers of inappropriate songs and he was very not amused.

What a time.

[stuworbutwithchipmunks]

I know ppl couldn't care less about the humans in the cgi movies but Zoe and Dr. Rubin were both hilarious characters and the more i rewatch the movies the more i think about that.

[helaintoloki]

Somethin’ Stupid

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, reader has it bad for bucky like pathetically bad

notes: another bucky piece because i can’t help myself

summary: a drunken confession spoils a perfectly good evening

*part two

A warm and bubbly feeling washes over you as you take another sip of liquor to mask your laughter at Tony and Rhodey’s drunken dance moves. You know by the tingling sensation in your legs and the fits of giggles that plague you that you’ve probably had one too many drinks, something Natasha had also picked up on before disappearing to find you a glass of water. You’re not sure how long she’s been gone, but you don’t mind the solitude. Being an Avenger can be chaotic, so you appreciate moments of stillness like this one.

“There you are,” a voice notes fondly, the couch cushions sinking slightly beneath you as the weight of another person is added. A glass of water suddenly appears in your hands, and Bucky offers you a wink before settling in beside you. “I thought maybe you’d called it a night already.”

“Maybe you and Steve have early bedtimes, but I don’t,” you jest playfully before taking greedy gulps of water from the glass. Your clumsiness prompts droplets of water to escape your mouth and run down your neck and into the crevice of your dress, but Bucky pretends not to notice.

“You’re hilarious,” he retorts with a sarcastic roll of his eyes before returning his gaze to the crowded room before him. “I’ll hand it to Tony, he knows how to throw a party.”

“I’m sure being a billionaire helps,” you note with a thoughtful hum before pulling your legs up and tucking them beneath you on the couch as you shift to face the man. “Natasha send you?”

“Clint was pulling her onto the dance floor,” he explains with a dry chuckle, “but it’s alright, I was looking for you anyway.”

“You were?” You gape meekly, your heart beginning to race at the mere thought of Bucky seeking you out.

It was a secret to no one but James himself that you were hopelessly in love with him. He was kind and thoughtful, and he always had genuine interest in what you had to say no matter how mundane the topic was. Being paired together for missions almost constantly didn’t help your growing feelings either, and how could you not fall for the man who had saved your ass more times than you could count? While a rational person could dismiss his actions as simply being a good teammate, you couldn’t help but to hope that maybe he fought so fiercely for you because a part of him felt something too.

Other than Natasha you spent more time with Bucky than anyone, almost always trailing behind him like a lovesick puppy, and yet he never made you feel unwanted or unimportant. He was more than happy to be a sparring partner, to join you in the entertainment room for a movie night, to talk into the late hours of the night after you’d had a nightmare. He was perfect, and your heart ached to have him as your own.

“Of course I was,” Bucky reiterates with a careful smile, fingers reaching out to push away a strand of hair that had escaped from the rest. “You still owe me a dance.”

A dazed smile forms on your lips as your mind scrambles to process his words and your stomach does backflips at the mere idea of getting to steal a dance with James Barnes. Before you can even comprehend what’s going on, Bucky is carefully helping you up from the couch and gingerly guiding you to a more secluded space on the dance floor. It seems as if the band has read his mind for as soon as he guides your hand to his shoulder and takes the other in his own they begin to play a romantic melody.

The coolness of his metal hand on your hip starkly contrasts the fire that spreads throughout your body. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re mere inches away from his face but the room suddenly feels unbearably hot as he sways back and forth with you.

“You doing alright?” He asks with a careful smile, noting the way you stumble over your feet every once in a while as you drunkenly try to match his sober pace.

“I’ve never been better,” you confess with a nervous giggle. Chancing a glance around the room, you make eye contact with a smug Natasha sitting at the bar. She gives you a nod of approval and mouths words of encouragement, but it only makes you all the more nervous. Should you seize the moment and finally tell him how you feel?

“You know, you’re probably the best dance partner I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” You gape, looking up at him with wide eyes as if he hung the moon and the stars in the sky himself. A glimmer of hope appears in your gaze as you cling to his every word and grip onto his bicep as if you’ll lose him otherwise. Your whole body buzzes with anticipation as you waited for him to say something, anything, that would confirm his feelings for you.

“I mean it,” Bucky reiterates with a charming smile, freehand gently tilting your head upwards so that your lips are merely inches apart. Then, almost abruptly, he moves away and adds, “You’re a natural, kid.”

Everything seems to freeze in place as your heart sinks to your stomach and your body immediately begins to sober up as his words sink in.

Kid.

He called you a kid.

You stumble forward with a gasp, false lashes fluttering as you work on overtime to hold back the tears. Bucky’s hands are quick to grab hold of your arms and steady you, but his touch now feels like a hot branding iron that you desperately wish to pull away from. How could you be so stupid? How could you think he’d ever see you as anything else other than a teammate? Than a kid?

You find yourself rethinking all of your interactions, all of your stolen moments with the man, and with the rose colored glasses removed you’re able to see now that there was never anything there between the two of you. He was acting as a friend and a mentor, and those moments in the field where he’d thrown you behind him or used his arm to shield you from bullets were not him professing his love for you.

It was him babysitting you.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out quietly in disbelief, fighting with everything you have to keep down the bile that creeps its way up your throat. The music suddenly feels too loud, and you feel like all eyes are on you as Bucky holds you up on your feet.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” He prompts again, brows furrowed with worry and tone gentle as he begins to lead you off the dance floor.

“I-I need to go,” you manage to blurt out before prying yourself free of his grasp and hurriedly stumbling towards the elevators back to your room. You feel absolutely humiliated and ashamed, but you also feel guilty for leaving Bucky stranded like that. You know he’s done nothing wrong, and this whole mess is a result of you searching for signs of something that was never truly there, but you can’t bear to face him now.

Hot tears trail down your cheeks as the elevator doors finally open to the residential floor, and Bucky is standing right there in front of them when you arrive.

“Bucky?” You sniffle meekly, too inebriated to wrap your head around his presence.

“I took the stairs,” he quickly explains before carefully reaching towards you only to be rejected as you push past him. “Y/n, what’s going on? Did I do something to upset you? Talk to me.”

“You called me a kid!” You cry defensively, though your current behavior seems to support his previous statement. “I’m not a kid.”

“Hey, I know that,” Bucky quickly insists, hands raised in surrender as he once again reaches for you. When you don’t move away this time he takes it upon himself to carefully cup your face in his hands and brush away your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “You’re not a kid, and I didn’t mean to imply that you were.”

Taking a shuddering breath, you rapidly shake your head and let out a quiet sob. “You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand, doll? Talk to me, I’m right here.”

Another tear makes its way down your cheek as you finally will yourself to look into his comforting gaze. Your stomach churns and your mind pleads with you to keep your mouth shout, but instead you utter in quiet defeat, “I love you.”

The silence that follows your confession is deafening. Bucky only stares at you, processing your words before a look of realization finally washes over his features. His eyes soften, lips pulling into a frown, and though you previously thought it impossible you can feel your heart breaking all over again.

“Oh, y/n…” he utters gently while slowly releasing his hold on you. “I don’t-“

“I’ve got it from here, Barnes,” a voice intrudes sharply, Natasha’s arm coming to wrap around your trembling frame. “Go back to the party.”

“Nat-“ Bucky begins to protest, but her piercing glare has the words dying in his throat.

“Now’s not the time,” she scolds. Her tone and features soften as she returns her attention to you and ushers you up to your room. She’d seen enough to piece together what had transpired in her absence, and she knew that what was best for you now was to get you cleaned up and in bed.

“How could I be so stupid?” You whisper more to yourself than to her, but the comforting rub of your shoulders signals that she heard it anyway.

And so did Bucky, who’s left to do nothing but watch you disappear into your bedroom and grapple with just how quickly the evening had turned sour.

An almost perfect night spoiled all because you’d said something stupid.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[lemonlover1110]

Hi for the request could you do one of Toji presenting Y/N to Megumi as a kid? And being nervous because it's the first time he's presenting a girl to him years after his wife passed away, but then he sees them having a cute interaction? Thank you!!!

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Warnings: Pure Fluff

*It just came to me randomly idk OSJFOSJ

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Should Toji be this worried? It’s the first time he brings a woman over to meet his son after his wife’s death, and he’s scared how the two of you will get along. Toji has come to the realization that he loves you, and he wants something more serious with you. And while Toji does love you, if his six-year-old has a bad opinion of you, he’ll end things.

Toji’s whole world is Megumi, and he won’t hesitate to do anything for him which is why Toji is sweating. It’s cool out yet droplets of sweat drip down his forehead as he waits for your arrival. Megumi is sitting beside him, kicking his feet into the air as his little eyes focus on the television. Toji loses his mind, while Megumi doesn’t give a care in the world.

There’s a knock on the door, and Toji stands up, proceeding to wipe his sweaty hands on his pants. Megumi finally tears his attention away from his show and asks, “Is it her?”

“Yeah…” Toji sounds nervous, something Megumi doesn’t pick up on. Megumi stands up as well, walking beside Toji to open the door. Toji broke it down to Megumi the previous night, and Megumi looked more than okay with the news. Toji fears that Megumi’s changed his mind though.

Toji opens the door to find you holding a bouquet of flowers. There’s a big smile on your face as you see him, leaning in for a kiss. Toji is reluctant but he kisses you back before clearing his throat and asking, “Are the flowers for me?”

“They’re for…” You begin, but a certain movement catches your eye. Your eyes move down to find the person you’ve come here to meet, hiding behind his father and tugging Toji’s pants. You’re grinning when you say his name, “Megumi!”

“Hi…” Megumi is suddenly shy. He was excited to meet you but then his father suddenly opened the door. You crouch down and extend the bouquet of yellow roses to him. 

“Take them, Megumi.” Toji nods his head, and Megumi is hesitant before taking them. Him and the roses are nearly one size, which is a hilarious sight to see. Toji is about to take them from him, put them in a vase and then put them in his bedroom; it’s easier than having Megumi take them around, but Megumi refuses to let them go.

“Your daddy told me that you liked roses, and I didn’t want to come empty handed.” You explain, standing up. Toji welcomes you in, and you walk behind him to the living room. 

You’re not sure where to sit, though you’ve been in Toji’s apartment many times before. The environment is different with his little one here. Megumi puts his flowers down on the coffee table before running away to his bedroom, which makes Toji roll his eyes.

“I don’t know why he’s suddenly so shy.” Toji confesses, keeping his voice low so Megumi doesn’t hear him. You chuckle, watching as Toji takes his usual seat and pats the spot next to him. You sit down next to him, and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I know you’re nervous but I get along with kids.” You tell him, and Toji wonders if you’ve read his mind… Or is it simply that obvious? You lift your head from Toji’s shoulders when you hear the little footsteps coming your way.

“You can have him.” Megumi extends his arms, revealing a chubby cat– Not a plush, but an actual animal. “He’s really soft and friendly.”

Toji’s eyes widen, and he realizes that the neighbor’s adorable little cat, Muttons, wasn’t just missing. Megumi stole him. Little Megumi who fawns over adorable little Muttons, claiming he wants his own cat each and every time. Toji never fulfills the wish so Megumi took matters into his own hands.

Yet, Megumi is giving you the cat. He likes you. He likes you enough to give you the cat that he stole. You swear your heart melts as you take the cat from Megumi and you stick out your bottom lip as you look at Toji. You’re about to cry, how does someone like Toji have a literal angel as a son?

You two are surely going to get along. Toji realizes he was worried for nothing, but now he has another matter to worry about.

“Megumi, what have you been feeding the cat?”

[stuworbutwitheds]

Been thinking on this.

Ed at some point started wondering if Dee and Sarah would be a thing just so he could be his brother-in-law. Dee was terrified.

I like to think that Double D's parents don't like Ed's parents at all

They keep telling their son to 'not get involve with such savage kids' while dee keeps in secret that one of them tried to kiss him and the other one actually has a crush on him

[phoenixblaze1412]

So glad to see a Dottore writer! Can I ask for dottore and the segments with a reader who oversleeps a lot? someone who sleeps like 12-14 hours. sleepiest guy ever.

The first time Dottore realized how much you overslept, he assumed it was a one-time occurrence. A simple exhaustion, nothing more. But as time passed, it became glaringly obvious.

You were, without a doubt, the sleepiest person in all of Snezhnaya.

Twelve to fourteen hours of sleep a day? Completely normal for you.

Nodding off mid-experiment? A weekly event.

Disappearing for "just a quick nap" and waking up the next morning? Routine.

Dottore, of course, found it both fascinating and mildly concerning. As a scientist, he initially considered analyzing your sleep patterns, wondering if some neurological anomaly was at play.

But after repeated tests revealed nothing unusual besides an innate talent for sleeping anywhere, anytime. He resigned himself to the reality that you were simply like this. The segments, however, all had their own ways of dealing with your chronic drowsiness.

Alpha: The Most Responsible (and Slightly Annoyed)

Alpha took it upon himself to try and keep you on schedule. Emphasis on try as Theta would say. He’d knock on your door in the mornings with an exasperated sigh, already expecting no response.

“Wake up. It’s nearly noon.”

Silence.

Alpha knocked again, harder. “I’m not asking.”

Still nothing.

By the third attempt, he simply resorted to dragging your blanket off the bed, knowing it was the only thing that might stir you.

It didn’t.

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose before calling for the others. “We need backup.”

Theta: The Chaos Enabler

Theta found your sleepiness hilarious. Unlike Alpha, he wasn’t interested in fixing your sleep schedule—he was interested in seeing just how deep your slumber truly was.

“How long do you think it’ll take for them to wake up if I draw on their face?” he asked Zeta one morning.

Zeta, ever composed, sighed. “That’s childish.”

Theta grinned. “You’re right. We should stack things on them instead.”

Dottore eventually had to ban “experiments” involving your unconscious body when he walked in to find a precariously balanced tower of books, vials, and a very confused laboratory rat resting on your back while you continued to sleep peacefully.

Zeta: The Quiet Observer

Zeta didn’t interfere much with your sleeping habits, but he did take note of how it affected your well-being. If you had trouble focusing after waking up or if you seemed groggy for too long, he would wordlessly hand you a strong cup of tea and remind you to pace yourself.

“You don’t have to rush,” he’d say whenever you stumbled into the lab, hair still a mess from sleep. “Just be awake enough not to mix volatile chemicals incorrectly.”

That had happened once. Just once. And no one wanted a repeat of it.

Epsilon: The Concerned One

Unlike the others, Epsilon actually worried about your excessive sleeping. “Maybe it’s a deficiency,” he suggested one day. “Or an underlying illness. We should run more tests.”

Dottore hummed in consideration before glancing at you, drooling on your desk in the middle of a meeting. “…Or they could just be lazy.”

Epsilon frowned. “I don’t think laziness explains this level of unconsciousness.”

Dottore chuckled. “No, but watching the others struggle to wake them up is entertaining.”

Dottore: The Only One Who Can Wake You Instantly

Despite all the segments’ attempts, there was only one undeniable fact: when Dottore himself called your name, you woke up immediately.

Whether it was fear, respect, or some kind of Pavlovian response, no one knew.

Theta once tested this theory by mimicking Dottore’s tone and cadence. It failed miserably.

You slept through it.

But the moment the real Dottore leaned over your bed and murmured, “If you don’t wake up in the next ten seconds, I’m increasing your workload,” your eyes snapped open instantly.

Dottore smirked. “Fascinating.”

The others groaned. “That’s not fair.”

[revelboo]

A little more thundercracker? (I'll even take a smidge of Skywarp if you'll allow it)

Sure!

Better Open the Door Pt 2

Thundercracker x Reader, Skywarp x Reader

• Somehow movie night is now an ongoing Friday night thing. And as crazy as it is, you even begin to look forward to it. Waiting impatiently for the credits to roll and the last car to pull out of the drive in has you fidgety. Excited even as you grieve your bank account, you set up the telescoping little, cloth screen and hook the new projector up to your laptop. It’s not that Thundercracker has said a word about having to watch movies on your tiny laptop, but you still feel slightly bad about it. The two of you had run through the Mission Impossible movies and you can admit you like his easy, laidback companionship. The questions he asks as you sit beside each other in the dark like he really wants to know the answers. Cares about your opinion. Your neck cranes as you hear the now familiar scream of a jet engine overhead, your smile wavering when there’s a second jet right behind.

• Venting heavily as he lands in a clearing near the drive in, he rounds on Skywarp as soon as he transforms. “You promised to behave,” Thundercracker growls, worry bright in his processor. Worry that he’s making a mistake and his tiny human will suffer for it. The promise being only a vague ‘I won’t break your little secret pet.’ Smirking, the purple and black mech pushes the servo leveled at him away and looks around.

• You hear their heavy steps before you see them and sure enough, there’s another one stepping out of the woods behind Thundercracker. Your skin prickles as that new robot spots you and grins in a decidedly unsettling way. That is exactly how you imagine a shark looks before biting down on a seal. Seeming to sense your unease, Thundercracker bends and scoops you up into his huge hands and you inhale sharply. Because he’s never grabbed you before and as he straightens you realize you might have a newfound issue with heights.

• “I said I wouldn’t break your toy,” Skywarp laughs as he stalks around, expression sly as he studies the little human clinging to Thundercracker’s servos. “Relax.”

• That interest is dangerous, rasping uncomfortably over Thundercracker as he forces his attention down to you. No matter what Skywarp says, if he decides it might amuse him, he might accidentally hurt you. Toy with you without realizing how fragile you are. “You okay?” He asks, feeling your insubstantial weight and how much softer you feel in his servos than he’d guessed you would be. Looking up at him with the trust that he’ll keep you safe. That small smile you give him spreads warmly through him.

• Nodding, you slowly relax. While you don’t trust this new alien at all, for better or worse, you do trust in Thundercracker. And you feel better about your instincts on his buddy when he shoots him a look that’s pure warning before setting you down near your setup. Shivering as you slide out of his hand, you realize exactly how warm he is and how chilly the night is. “I have something new tonight. It’s still action, but it’s also, um, well, it’s a bit different,” you say, floundering on how to explain a romantic comedy to a giant alien robot. Knight and Day still has enough action you think he might like it, but the romance bits? Maybe you should have chosen Mr. And Mrs. Smith instead.

• Your two huge guests settle themselves and you start the movie, retrieving a blanket to wrap yourself in as you sit on the ground near Thundercracker’s leg. As far from his buddy as you can get and the stranger just smirks like he knows you’re afraid of him and finds it particularly hilarious. A servo touches your shoulder, as the movie starts. “You’re shaking.” Thundercracker murmurs and you offer him a smile. Because he does keep an eye on you. Worries over you. Before you can explain it’s just a bit cold outside, he’s carefully picking you up again and you stiffen as he cradles you in a hand against his chassis. And he’s gloriously warm. Exhaling, you lean into him, giving in.

• It is a different kind of movie and it snares him, the interactions between the main characters fascinating. In his hand, you curl more firmly into him as the story continues. As engrossed in it as he is, he’s still very aware of you against him. Of your little head resting against his canopy and the change in your breathing. Trusting him so completely, you can let your guard down and rest knowing he’s there. That he has you and it’s such a precious thing. On the screen, the humans slowly evolve from at odds to lovers. Slowly. Softly.

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[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- to you reading fanfic about another member

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

SCOUPS: sulky baby mode x 100 when he finds out you're reading fanfic- and it's not even about him, it's about jeonghan??? he's upset because like he's right here?? why do you even need words on paper?? why are you giggling and kicking your feet when he's right here?? grabs your phone and throws it away from you - complains that you're basically cheating on him with jeonghan. shuts up real fast when you tell him he's basically cheating on you with jeonghan too.

JEONGHAN: very very very flabbergasted and betrayed. makes fun of you for even reading fanfic in the first place - ahhh i didn't know you were dElusiOnal like that (¬`‸´¬) mood switches up real fast when he finds out its literally a fanfic about dino. what the fuck man. dino????? his mind malfunctions at the mere thought of it. asks you what you see in him besides dino being the maknae. will read over your shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

JOSHUA: flushes and does not know what to say. gets all shy and giggly thinking its a fanfic about him and is stunned when you tell him- No! it's about mingyu! whines that he's literally your boyfriend and you're still reading about mingyu?? starts threatening to call mingyu up and expose you.

JUN: blinks in confused cat. asks you to explain why there's a fake story online about joshua and why you liked it?? is still very confused when you explain to him the online culture of fanfiction. will not talk to you when he finds out its a romantic story and you're reading as Y/N. joshua?? really?? i'm right here?? can hold a grudge for a loonngg time, jun stans beware.

HOSHI: finds it absolutely hilarious that there's even fanfiction about vernon existing in this world. finds it even more hilarious how invested you are. pesters you until you send him the link so he can forward it to vernon. will sit next to you and begs you to read it out loud like a bedtime story - cackles whenever Story Vernon does something he knows Real Vernon would die before doing.

WONWOO: judges you HARD until he researches more and finds some fanfics that are actually really well written. sends you ones about him as a poor attempt to distract you from reading ones about other members. will side-eye poor writing and acts like a writing critic. gets fed up if you continue to read fanfics about other members and tries reporting every fanfic not about him so you can't find it. (spoiler alert: he fails)

WOOZI: shrugs. understands everyone has their little quirk. he's a little weirded out that its fanfics about people he knows personally but he doesn't mind. looks at you when you start ranting about a "really good story" and asks you point blank if its another piece of fanfiction. finds it cute that you try to hide it from him. just say it's a really good fanfic plot, love. you're not fooling anyone with the "it's an amazing book i read online."

THE8: asks if you need to start meditating again. does not support the amount of delusion (sorry guys but have you guys seen the the8 anti fan service clips) chides you that he's literally right here and you don't need an online version! will tell you to just go find the member you're reading about if you want them so bad. (¬`‸´¬)

DK: giggles as he reads over your shoulder. gags at mentions of kissing. turns bright red if it's smut. looks at you with wide eyes and asks if you're really into kinky shit like that because he did not know. calls up seungcheol to tell him you're reading naughty things about him and dies at how mortified you look.

MINGYU: ego boosted 100% when you tell him its a seventeen fanfic. starts rolling his shoulders about to show off, telling you of course you're reading abt meeee ik im hot jeez im right here ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ ). is offended and perplexed when you tell him you're acc reading about woozi. sighs really loudly everytime he sees you on your phone - even if you're not reading fanfic (╥‸╥) will work extra hard at the gym just to prove to you he's the best one.

SEUNGKWAN: supports your interests 100%. admits to you months later that he acc also sometimes scrolls through their fanfics, just to see what their fans are up to. trades good fanfics with you sometimes - he stays solely with fluff fics though, will throw you the nastiest sideeye if you send him a smutty one.

VERNON: bro does not care! he just kind of nods, telling you that its cool. you can tell he's a little awkward about it though cause he doesn't bring it up ever again. will occasionally ask you for fic updates to see if you found anything funny or weird.

DINO: does not mind the fanfic reading itself but is super super annoyed that you're reading about someone else. WONWOO?? he'll yell, grabbing your phone to take a better look cause he cannot believe his eyes. what does hyung have that i don't?? threatens to expose you to wonwoo if you don't stop and read dino fics instead. tells you to screenshot anything that's remotely embarrassing so he can send it into the svt gc.

BONUS ౨��� ───

MINWON: mingyu sees it first - you kicking your feet and giggling over something on your phone. completely speechless when you turn it around and he sees its a mingyu x wonwoo fanfic and you're thoroughly enjoying it. gives you a disgusted look and calls up wonwoo, who looks equally disgusted. the two avoid each other for the next two weeks because everytime they see each other they're reminded that their fans ship them.

VERNON!COLLEGE: confused af when he sees how many fanfics are about him as a college frat boy. rants to you cause he literally didn't even go to high school?? more confused when you explain he just has frat boy energy. ends up taking it as a compliment.

[pandapetals]

Just Friends

You and Logan's are dating and he seems to get jealous of how close you are with Hank.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan had been hunched over a pile of student essays in his office, scowling as he graded, when he heard it—your laughter drifting up from downstairs, clear and bright. It was the kind of laughter that spilled out uncontrollably and made you gasp for breath. It was a sound he didn’t hear often enough, and damn it if it didn’t get under his skin a little—especially because he had a good idea who was making you laugh like that.

His jaw tightened as he tossed the essay aside, pushing back from the desk. His boots thudded heavily against the hardwood floor as he stalked down the hallway, each step falling harder than the last. He told himself he was just stretching his legs, maybe taking a break from the endless red pen corrections. But the knot forming in his gut said otherwise.

When he reached the kitchen, he stopped short, standing in the threshold. There you were, leaning against the counter, looking effortlessly beautiful as always, your head tilted back as laughter spilled from your lips. Hank stood beside you, close enough that your hand brushed lightly against his forearm, and whatever joke he had just finished telling had you in near tears. The sight of you with your hand on Hank’s arm hit Logan like a punch to the ribs, that familiar twist of irritation flaring up despite himself.

Logan’s voice came out rougher than he intended. "What’s goin’ on in here?" he asked, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t all that amused.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your laughter tapering off into a smile. "Oh, hey, Logan," you said, a hint of breathlessness still in your voice. "Hank was just telling me about that time he tried to explain astrophysics to the kindergartners. It didn’t exactly go as planned." You chuckled again, glancing back at Hank with an easy familiarity that made Logan’s jaw clench tighter.

Hank, completely oblivious to Logan's tension, grinned and gave a casual shrug. "They were bright kids," he said, still laughing. "But it turns out that theoretical cosmology is a bit of a leap from finger painting."

"Yeah, hilarious," Logan muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as they shifted from Hank to you. He took a few steps into the room as if staking a claim on the space—or maybe just reminding Hank that he wasn’t the only one around. "Don’t you have somethin' better to do than stand around tellin' jokes, Hank?" There was an edge to his voice, an underlying gruffness that wasn’t hard to miss.

Hank raised an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by Logan’s sudden intrusion. "Just taking a break," he replied, his tone light. "You should try it sometime, Logan. I’m sure even you could use a laugh every now and then."

Logan grunted, his gaze shifting to you, catching the way your eyes sparkled with amusement. You weren’t entirely oblivious to what was happening; in fact, you seemed to be enjoying it. "You always seem to show up when Hank and I are talking," you remarked, your smile widening as you tilted your head at him. "Starting to think you’ve got a radar for when I’m around other people."

Logan’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker in his eyes—something almost like a challenge. "Just makin' sure nobody’s slackin’ off," he said, his tone rough but carrying that hint of protectiveness that you’d come to recognize. "Don’t want you gettin' distracted, sweetheart."

You shot him a playful look, folding your arms as you leaned back against the counter. "Distracted, huh? I think I can manage a conversation with Hank without losing focus," you teased. "Unless you’re worried he’s going to steal me away with all his science talk."

Logan’s jaw tightened just a fraction, and he let out a low, gruff chuckle. "Not worried," he replied, though the way his gaze flicked to Hank suggested otherwise. "Just don’t see the appeal in listenin' to a bunch of fancy talk about stars and black holes. Figure there’s better ways to spend your time."

You smirked, noting the way his hands flexed slightly at his sides as if he were barely restraining himself from taking a step closer. "You know, Logan," you said, your voice dropping just enough for it to sound almost intimate, "if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous."

He scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Ain’t about jealousy," he shot back, though his tone betrayed him, laced with a subtle edge that made your stomach flutter. "Just don’t like people gettin' the wrong idea."

"Oh? And what idea would that be?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. There was a heat in the room now, a tension that hadn’t been there before, and you could feel it in the way Logan’s gaze settled on you, sharp and unyielding.

Logan took a step closer, finally closing some of the distance between you. "The idea that I’d let anyone come between us," he said, his voice low and rough.

You felt your breath hitch, and for a moment, you were keenly aware of how close he was standing. "Is that what you’re doing?" you whispered, a playful lilt in your voice. "Making sure Hank knows his place?"

Logan didn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking over your face, lingering on your lips for just a beat too long. "Somethin’ like that," he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl. "Just don’t want anyone thinkin' they’ve got a chance when they don’t."

Hank, who had been watching the exchange with quiet amusement, decided to make a tactful exit. "Well," he said, giving you a quick, knowing smile, "I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is." He nodded to Logan. "Good to see you, Logan." And with that, he was gone, leaving the room suddenly quieter, the air thick with the unspoken.

As soon as Hank was out of earshot, you couldn’t resist turning back to Logan, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. "You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to scare him off," you said, stepping closer to him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.

Logan’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark of mischief. "Maybe I was," he admitted. "Did it work?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you reached out to lightly touch his arm. "You’re ridiculous," you whispered, though the fondness in your tone was unmistakable. "But I guess I can’t complain."

Logan’s hand came up to gently cup your jaw, his thumb brushing along your cheek as his gaze softened, just a fraction. "Good," he murmured, leaning in close enough for his breath to mingle with yours. "‘Cause I’m not gonna stop.

[coichii]

LIGHTS ON ✭

—(🎧)—> the first flight went smooth, landing swiftly in Melbourne on a layover to Sydney to visit your wonderful long distance boyfriend. when the cold, wintery weather freezes up, turns out it’ll be a while before you see him again.

pairing - longdistance!bf!felix x fem!reader

genre - fluff & comfort (what a shocker)

word count - 1.8k (yk how I said it was gonna be rlly short..nvm! I was thinking like..barely 1k☠️)

warnings - cursing & that’s it!

series note : hello !! welcome to part six of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “lights on” by Tyler, the creator. enjoy <3

Seeing your long distance boyfriend after what felt like years despite it only being months was blissful.

You always missed him. Missed his warm smile, adorable freckles, kind & loving words, and everything more. Missing him was all you did at this point.

So when you got a text from your boyfriend last month saying he’ll pay for your ticket to come visit him and his family, you couldn’t have been more happy. Ecstatic even.

You’re not surprised when you find yourself smiling at nothing on the flight to Melbourne, looking out the window at the beautiful, vast ocean of waves.

The excitement bubbled in your stomach. It’s always so nice to visit him and his family. His mother is always so caring, his father is funny and kind, and his sisters are entertaining and hilarious.

You loved seeing him most of all though. His warm kisses that you missed resonated on your cheek as you thought about him, warmth rising on rosy red cheeks.

You always visited him around this time, when the rain froze into snow. You remembered how he would always wrap his warm scarf around your neck, pulling you into his warm side.

“Plane is now descending into Melbourne. Please at this time, fasten your seatbelts and put up your food trays.” A voice over the intercom sounded, filling your heart with even more excitement.

It would be only a matter of time before you see him again.

◂—♥︎—▸

“What! What do you mean our flight is delayed!” A voice, angry bellowed from beside you. Delayed? What do you mean the flights delayed?

“Sir, calm down. As soon as the blizzard passes, we will board and take off for Sydney.” An attendee ushered, going back to talk with other worried staff.

Now that you think about it, you haven’t picked up your head from your phone much since you arrived, nor have you taken in your surroundings really.

You spare a glance to the side with a huge window and your eyes widen in shock.

The sky, runway, honestly everything, is completely white. All you see is snow absolutely overrunning the airport.

Yeah, there’s no flying in this.

Beep beep! Your phone sounds as you process everything. Looking down at it, you see an incoming call from felix and pick it up.

“Hey baby! How’s everything going!” You hear his voice on the other end of the phone. “You’re about to start boarding, right?”

“Ha.” You dryly chuckle. “It just got delayed. There’s a horrible blizzard...” You explain, voice trickling off at the end.

You play with your hands nervously as the people besides you get nervous, calling their families and telling them they won’t be able to make it intime for Christmas.

It’s hard to not let it get to you, causing you your own form of anxiety. If you can’t see him this holiday, you’re not sure what you’re going to do.

“Oh, that sucks, baby. I hope it clears up soon.” He pouts. You can’t see it of course, but you can hear it in his voice.

“Yeah I know. Sorry about it though.” You mumble, guilt sinking in. It’s been forever since you’ve seen him and he’s the one who payed for your ticket. This is the worst case scenario at this point.

“Hey, no no. Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” His voice was soft and reassuring, comforting you from your mind, which was slowly drowning you in guilt.

“Okay, ba-“ you were cut off by the sound of a speaker. You look around to find an atendee standing with a mic in her hand, an uneasy look on her face.

“Unfortunately, it is loooking like this plane won’t be taking off until tomorrow.” A collective groaning was heard. “Please come check in and we will offer our complimentary rooms to stay in.”

You were in complete shock, and so was everyone else. Until tomorrow? Could the weather actually be that bad?

“Hey, love? What’s going on?” He asked, weirded out by the sudden cut off of your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Uhm, no.” You replied, voice quivering slightly. “We have to stay overnight, I’m going to be so late.”

He notices the shiver in your voice, heart breaking at the sound of a slight sniffle. He knows you hate disappointing him, and he wants you to know that you’re not.

“Hey, angel. Don’t you worry about it, it can’t be helped. We’ll still be waiting for you, okay?” His warm voice felt like a comforting blanket being placed over your shoulders, comforting you in a secure and safe hold.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, baby. I’m sorry, I love you.” You respond as your cheeks turn red. You try to convince yourself it’s the bitter cold rushing in from the outside, but you know better.

“Don’t apologize, y/n. I love you too, good night, sweet girl.”

You hang up and make your way to your room, slamming your luggage that you had received onto the wall before plopping down on the bed.

Man, you can’t wait until this plane can take off.

◂—♥︎—▸

Turns out, you’re going to have to suck up those wishes.

You woke up this morning to absolute pandemonium. Angry people shouting at any staff member they saw, spewing their anger for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“How are we supposed to go home if the flight is cancelled?” A young woman’s voice screamed, and your heart dropped to your stomach.

Cancelled?? Wait wait wait… that can’t be?

“We apologize for the inconvenience.” A robotic voice started over the speakers. “All flights departing have been cancelled until further notice. Please prepare to leave within the next twelve hours.”

You can’t believe it. You need to leave within twelve hours. Not only are you not going to be able to visit, but your stranded in a foreign country for who knows long just because of some stupid snow.

You can feel the tears swelling up in your eyes, them beginning to slowly tip over your bottom eyelid.

You go to the only sense of comfort you have left; Felix.

“Hey, baby!” He chirps, the phone only having to ring twice. “On your way?”

“I wish I could say that.” You dryly chuckle, and he can immediately tell that it holds no humor behind it.

“Baby? What wrong, is everything okay?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“It’s cancelled. I don’t know what to do or where to go, Lix.” You voice cracked, tears rolling down harder as your breathing unevened.

“Hey, listen. Everything is going to be okay. You can get a hotel and get the closest flight out of there, but don’t cry please. It’s all going to be okay.” He tried to comfort, but it mostly ricocheted off of you and fell on deaf ears.

“I’ll try the hotel, but the first flight to Melbourne is sold out, I heard about it before I called you. I’m stuck here.” Your voice trembles, the feeling of hopelessness creeping its way up your spine.

It feels like being in a forest at dark, owning a compass but it not spinning around the way it does. It feels like nothing is going to save you.

“My love, I need you to listen to me.”

Your ears lock on to his voice, paying the upmost attention to the soft yet firm tone of his words.

“Everything is going to be okay. You’re going to get yourself a hotel, and I’m going to figure something out for you soon, okay? You’ll be fine, I promise you.”

You can feel his words warming up your stomach like a pot of hot soup; comforting and home like.

And that’s what he always felt like to you.

◂—♥︎—▸

Knock knock knock! The loud sound echos off the hollow wooden door of the room.

You had booked a room at a nearby hotel, noticing multiple familiar faces from the airport staying there as well. It was a little tricky, but you eventually got settled at a room on the 3rd floor and hoisted all your luggage up there.

You must have fallen asleep there, because the time all of a sudden jumped from 11am to 5pm from when you had layed your head down.

Cautious, you make your way to the door, not forgetting to peer through the peephole first.

And then, you saw him.

“Felix!! Is that really fucking you?!” You shouted, heart blasting with joy and love after you opened the door. You practically shoved your body into him, laughing at a slight ‘oof’ sound he made when he hit the back wall.

“Yes it’s me, darling.” He coos at your incoming tears before quickly moving to wipe them away.

“H-how’d you come here so fast?” You whimpered, checking and touching his face as if to check if he was real and not a made up figment of imagination.

“I came just as soon as you hung up, i told you I’d figure something out, didn’t I?” He explained. You observed the love sick look in his eyes, wondering how somebody could be such an angel.

Wondering how you got so lucky with him.

“I’m so happy baby, I seriously love you so fucking much.” You said, finally letting go of him and ushering him into your cramped room.

“I love you too, princess. It was no problem.”

“No problem? The drive is eight hours!” You chucked, cuddling into him from where he had taken a seat on the small couch.

“Well, yeah. But it’s worth it for you.” He whispered, stating this as if was just some small thing he had did hold the door open for you.

But it was so much more. No one had ever shown you that they cared for you like this.

Ever.

“Let’s take a rest here for the night then we can go back to Sydney, yeah.” He suggested, and you jumped.

“Wait wait, you’re still taking me to Sydney? You don’t think that’s too much for you, babe?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern.

“No, silly. You came here to see me and my family and that’s what you will do.” He giggled, pressing kisses over your cheeks and smiling at your reddening face.

All you could do was look at him, the most fond, loving look in your eyes.

Wow, this is definitely the man you’re going to marry.

[peachhcs]

STOPPP I LOVED THAT SM I NEED MORE MUNDANE MOMENTS BETWEEN SAMY AND WILL

could be read as a part 2 to this fic or a stand alone! i love the mundane moments so some more as requested :))

au masterlist

hannah was out for the night spending the most recent win with her teammates, so samy and will had the apartment all to themselves. the couple went out to the nearest grocery store and stocked up with all the ingredients they needed to make dinner and desert.

not that either of them were great cooks, it was something the two loved doing over the summer where they’d just make something, have casual conversation, maybe makeout in between, and watch whatever hockey game was on from the tv.

samy dumped the things they bought onto the counter while will searched the channels for a game. they were both really craving lasagna, so samy was going to try and copy her mom’s recipe that they both really loved.

“we can watch quinn’s game?” will called from the living room.

“that’s fine,” samy agreed while finding all of the dishes they would need. the sounds of the hockey game started filling her ears while will trailed back to the kitchen to help.

“where do you want me to start?” he asked since samy was taking charge and had the recipe.

“why don’t you start getting the meat sauce together,” the brunette suggested, mostly because she hated dealing with raw meat and will knew better than she did with that. he chuckled.

“fine by me,” he washed his hands.

“so what are your plans next week? aren’t you and mack going to arizona?” samy wondered while she started boiling the water for the noodles.

“yeah, we’re gonna go golfing i think. should be fun,” will grinned and the girl chuckled. she had no idea what it was with boys and their love of golf as their side sport/off season sport.

“sounds fun. tell mack i said hi. i wish i got to see him more besides in boston a few days ago.”

“i will. him and blaire have been hanging out for a few days i think since he flew back,” the blonde explained and samy nodded.

“aww, i miss blaire too. we need to get together again. this summer definitely. i hope they know they’re invited to the lake house,” the soccer player beamed thinking about summer in just a few months. warm days, no homework to worry about, she could lay in bed the whole day if she wanted to. it was all so perfect.

“oh, they know. don’t worry. mack’s been yapping my ear off about it and it being his first official summer with everyone,” the two shared a laugh.

“i’m really glad you have someone like him in san jose with you. you guys are like two peas in a pod,” samy smiled at that thought and so did will.

“yeah, i know. all i’ve seen is people calling us willmack as our “ship” name.”

“those are hilarious. i get a good giggle out of it every time,” it was all over her feed about how close will and mack were and honestly, the brunette found it super endearing. it was always a true friendship when the friends had dating allegations as jokes from their friends/fans.

“i’m glad you think it’s funny. sometimes i worry they’re being too much and will start being mean to you or something,” will said semi-seriously. the couple exchanged a glance and the youngest hughes shook her head.

“i know it’s all jokes and even if they do start being mean, you know that stuff never bothers me. i have thick skin,” she kissed her boyfriend’s cheek.

“i know you do, but i still worry. you know me,” will flushed but samy found it cute.

“you’re cute. if it does ever bother me, i will tell you, so don’t worry,” she ruffled his curls earning a small shove back.

the couple worked in silence for a few minutes as will finalized all of the ingredients for the meat sauce and samy got started on the cheese mixture after she put the noodles in. they listened to the hockey game in the background—the announcers giving everyone watching a run down on the plays and who was scoring.

“hughes is running down the ice with the puck, he could make a goal!” the announcer grabbed samy’s attention and she ran to the tv to see what was happening.

will was at her side a moment later as they watched the oldest brother weave between toronto’s players towards the goal. samy held her breath, her eyes quickly following the puck and quinn’s stick.

“come on, quinn,” she mumbled.

the older boy slid around the goalie to plant the puck right into the back of the net. samy jumped up in excitement as the score turned to 3-2.

“hell yeah,” will cheered.

they went back to check on the food after watching the replay.

“sometimes i imagine what life would’ve been like had our parents not been best friends before us,” samy hummed as she turned the water down and fishies the cheese mix.

“you love wondering the what ifs about life, don’t you?” will teased the girl a little making her roll her eyes at him.

“i’m just saying.”

“you definitely would’ve thirsted over me. i would’ve done the same to you,” the blonde chuckled and that earned a slap on the arm.

“will.”

“come on, i’m not wrong am i? if everything in our lives were the same except us not being childhood friends, we would’ve still known about one another. i definitely would’ve sought you out still,” will cheesed and he did have a small point. the two would’ve definitely probably had crushes on each other still.

“what if i went after gabe instead?” samy snickered. will gave her a look and the girl just shrugged.

“would you have for real?”

“i mean i don’t know because we never lived that timeline, but i love you and i couldn’t imagine myself with anyone but you,” she reassured, kissing his cheek.

they finished up the pasta, sauce, and cheese mix. now it was time to put it all together in the big dish to bake for about 45 minutes. a lot of giggles left their lips as samy and will went back and forth laying each layer down. will did the sauce while samy laid the noodles and spread the cheese.

“you’re doing it wrong,” the girl mumbled as she watched will spread the sauce around.

“i am not, stop,” he rolled his eyes.

“yes, you are! you’re doing globs instead of spreading it out. look!” she pointed to big piles of meet and just grabbed the spoon from him to do it herself.

“whatever,” he mumbled.

samy was a perfectionist when it came to this stuff. will should’ve just let her have at it in the first place instead of doing part of it for her. “there. see? it looks better,” she handed him the spoon back.

“i guess so,” will was also a guy and he didn’t really see the value in making it look nice sometimes. it was times like these that his hockey player showed.

they finished the last two layers by the time the oven beeped meaning it was ready to go in. samy slid the dish towards the middle and then turned up the timer.

“okay, we did it. perfect,” the girl grinned and the hockey player copied her smile.

“see? that wasn’t so hard. wanna start on the desert so we can just put it in when the food is done?” will asked and samy nodded.

they cleaned up some of the dirty dishes knowing they were about to dirty more making the brownies.

“i need to get my nails done again,” the brunette observed how chipped her nail polish looked and she just really wanted to get her nails done professionally.

“what color do you think?” will wondered as he scrubbed up the bowls and measuring cups.

“probably some sort of pink? something springy.”

“that would look pretty. are you allowed to have nails during the season?”

“like yeah. as long as it doesn’t get in the way of my performance it’s fine,” samy started measuring the mix for the brownies as will finished the rest of the dishes.

“okay, if you were to get traded, where would you wanna get traded to?” the youngest hughes came up with another random question for them to talk about.

“well, first of all, i hope i don’t get traded, but if it doesn’t happen..i don’t know. being back on the east coast would be nice,” will shrugged.

“well, obviously i hope you don’t. i know jack and luke would love to have you on their team. i could see you in red,” the boy flushed at her words.

“if i went to detroit, i’d be closer to you,” he flirted a bit, coming up behind her with damp hands still. she squirmed at the feeling of his wet hands against her dry skin.

“that would just be icing on the cake. it would still be kind of long distance though when you go on roadies.”

“yeah, but at least i’d still get to come back home to you,” will was so sappy when it came to her still. samy blushed.

“it’s gonna happen one day, don’t worry,” she pecked his cheek.

“not fast enough. my offer still stands about you moving out to california with me once you’re done here. you don’t even have to pay a dime,” the blonde hummed as he trailed into the living room to check on the game.

“tempting, but i still have to decline. i’m not living in your place for free,” the girl giggled, eyeing her boyfriend glancing at the tv.

“but would it even be like that because if it’s my apartment i’m already paying for…you just wouldn’t pay anything?..” will cheesed and samy just shook her head. he’d been on this for almost a year now.

“quinn’s up 4-2 now. i think they’re gonna win,” will informed.

“oh good. i’m glad. i know he’s been stressing lately about how the team’s been playing,” samy hummed.

once the soccer player finished mixing up the brownie mix, she began pouring it into a smaller pan so it was ready to go into the oven when the lasagna was done. will came back over to help with the last dishes and now they were finally ready to eat once it was all ready. samy collapsed onto the couch for now to take a much needed rest.

will was at her side a moment later to watch the last period of the game. the couple exchanged a glance with one another, smiling and thinking about how these kinds of nights could be their forever in the future and neither of them wanted it any other way.

[pricetagofficial]

Day 23: Movie Night

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Language, Dick is a menace

A/N: Welcome to day 23! We are in the final days until Christmas! I hope you all have a good week! Header by me, Divider by @cafekitsune

Masterlist

It was the final few days until Christmas, and you and Jason were sitting on the couch together enjoying the night.

Or you would be, if you could decide on a movie.

What was originally supposed to be a movie night, turned into you finding out just how many movies were banned in Wayne Manor growing up.

Some of the most iconic Christmas movies ever made, Jason has only seen a few times to not at all.

"So, explain to me why Elf is banned again?

Jason had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you tightly into his side as the movie of topic played on the television.

"This one wasn't actually anyone's fault. Bruce just hates Will Ferrel and never let us watch it."

You were about to argue, but looking at the movie you were watching, maybe it was a good idea. You didn't want to know what Jason's siblings would do when they were kids with this movie.

"Polar Express?"

"Dick tried to the hot chocolate thing with Tim and Stephanie. You remember the rug that used to be in the lounge?"

You looked confused. "What rug?"

"Exactly."

That sounded like a lame reason, but you didn't exactly blame Bruce either.

"Grinch?" You tried.

"Tim and Duke tried to make the sleigh, and rally poor Titus into it. Bruce banned it because Damian almost killed them for that." he chuckled. "Hilariously, it was Dick's idea but Damian would never do anything to him."

You laughed, you could see the scenario playing out in your head. Damian running around with his sword, after a frantic Tim and Duke with Titus barking after them with a single antler on his head.

"The Santa Clause?"

Jason snorted. "Bruce woke up one night with Dick on the roof trying to scare Santa."

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head. "What in the world?"

"Is a much nicer sentence than what Bruce said when he found him. At least, that's what I've heard."

At this point you were running out of Christmas movies.

"Home Alone?"

"Dick."

White Christmas?"

Jason nodded. "That's allowed."

"A Christmas Carol?"

"Muppet version only,"

"Why?"

"Dick."

You didn't know what else to say. "Just how many of these are Dick's fault?"

Jason didn't even hesitate. "Just about every single one of them."

A meeting needed to be scheduled to speak with Dick and why he must ruin every Christmas movie.

"What about Die Hard?"

You watched as Jason shifted beside you. "That's actually my fault," he admitted.

"What did you do?"

Jason chuckled as he looked at you. "I may or may not have hidden in the vents one Christmas after coming back, with an airsoft gun and may or may not have shot everyone, except Aflred obviously."

Your jaw dropped. "You did not, as a grown-ass adult?"

He nodded. "I even quoted the movie every time I shot them."

"You are unbelievable."

Jason seemed to take offense to that. "Hey! Dick literally recreated the traps from Home Alone and made them more effective. If he wasn't stopped, someone was going to die."

You crossed your arms looking at him. "And how old was he?"

"He was like 12."

"He was a child!

"He acts like one."

You let out a groan and leaned back on the couch. "Well good news. He isn't here to ruin them so we are watching every movie you missed out on."

Jason looked at you once more with a smile. "Sounds like a plan, princess."

[daytaker]

Hiiii! I’m the anon that asked for the MC’s family request and it was hilarious, 10/10 if you don’t mind May i possibly ask for a part 2 with the dateables? Thanks for reading!

(Part 1: The Brothers)

"Mom, Dad, these are my other four boyfriends and my son."

...is what you almost do say when there's a knock at the door a few weeks later while you're entertaining your parents, your sister, and teenage cousin who's stuck with your folks while your aunt is on a cruise. Your parents stare at you with faces that all but beg you to ignore the damn door. Is it that cult again?

"Open the door! Is it that cult again?" your sister asks with shining eyes. She's been discussing going backpacking across the country ever since she met those seven hot guys who apparently adore you now. Your parents are devastated.

"Cult?" asks your cousin, looking up from his Switch with dead eyes. Your sister starts explaining to him as you go to the door and look through the peephole.

Oh, Christ. Oh, fuck. Oh, son of Gardonus---it's the son of Gardonus.

Opening the door just partway, you see that it's not just Diavolo. No, he brought the whole crew with him. Barbatos, naturally, but also Solomon, Simeon, and even little Luke. Diavolo holds a bouquet of flowers and Luke has a covered platter that almost certainly contains some kind of cake.

"Hiiiii, guys..."

"MC! It's been too long!" laughs Diavolo in his booming voice.

"It's been...a month..." you concede. Why, just...why...do all these handsome men find you so alluring? This is just your cross to bear, apparently. "It isn't a great time though, so---"

"Is that them?" Your cousin is standing behind you, peering out the door.

"No, this is... Who the hell...? MC, don't tell me there are more of them?!" Your sister is clearly astounded, and also quite delighted. "Invite them in! Invite them in!"

So, soon you're standing in the middle of your tiny apartment again, surrounded by friends and family, holding flowers and a cake, and feeling like you'd love it if a chasm in the earth opened up and swallowed you.

"There were more?" Your mom sounds hurt, like you'd been intentionally hiding things from her. "How many more besides these?!"

"Arguably three, but I don't know them well enough for them to visit," you say, winking reassuringly to the nervous author.

"Oh my god, there's a kid?!" Your sister has noticed Luke now. "Holy shit! Whose is he?"

You point mutely to Simeon, who smiles uncomfortably and waves.

"I'm not a kid!" Luke protests. "I'm--"

"You're a pre-teen. We know, Luke. We know." Solomon laughs dangerously, and Luke doesn't put up any more arguments.

You clear your throat. God, this is even more uncomfortable than the last go-round.

"Um, so. Everyone, I'd like you to meet---"

(Individuals are below the cut!)

Diavolo

Diavolo, who was never good at standing by quietly while other people talked, steps forward before you have a time to do any introductions. He extends a hand to your father, who has been eyeing him resentfully all this time.

"You all must be MC's relatives. What a delightful person you've brought into this world! I am Diavolo. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"'Diavolo'?" your cousin mutters, looking at his Switch screen again. "Like from JoJo?"

Dia looks very confused, and as your father hasn't shaken his hand, he smiles awkwardly at you. "Perhaps I'm approaching this the wrong way? Are the customs here very different from...ahem. Where we are from?"

"You mean Italy?" your cousin says.

"Ah-- Yeah. Dia's Italian. People here are a lot less friendly," you tell him.

Your sister asks him how someone like him ended up in a cult.

You remind everyone that you were not in a cult.

"But you met my baby while they were away from home," Mom says accusingly, glaring at Diavolo. "When they were vulnerable and confused."

Diavolo has no idea what to say to that. Your dad is still glaring at him.

Solomon

"This is Solomon. He's---"

"I'm their mentor and closest companion," Solomon says helpfully, taking your hand. "We have a very special relationship."

You really wish that chasm would stop taking its sweet time and open up already.

"Mentor? Special relationship?" Dad finally speaks up, and his arms are crossed over his chest, his expression deadly serious.

"This must be your father," Solomon observes, still smiling. "Sir, it's an honor to finally meet you. I hope I have an opportunity to speak with you privately later. We have a lot to discuss."

Your mom is ready to throw hands with this guy. Your sister is enchanted. Your cousin is cursing under his breath at his Switch.

Solomon wraps an arm around your shoulders and you elbow him in the gut. He smiles through the pain but lets you go.

Simeon

"...Simeon. Simeon, these are my parents. This is my sister, and this is---"

"Is there some sort of attractiveness requirement to join this cult?" your sister asks, beaming at Simeon.

You remind her that there is no cult.

Surprisingly, your parents don't seem nearly as hostile to Simeon. Maybe it's that angelic charm at work. They both shake his hand, which is significantly more than they were willing to do with anyone else.

"Simeon, that's a good, decent name. What do you do for a living?"

"I own and operate a cafe."

Nice one, Simeon. Very smooth. And your parents look even more impressed.

"A business owner, eh? And at such a young age..."

No one points out to them that Simeon has probably been alive longer than humans have existed.

Luke

"...Luke!" He has a completely normal human name! High fives all around!

"And that's his father?" Mom points at Simeon. "He looks awfully young..."

"Oh, Luke's an orphan. Simeon's just his guardian. It's really sad actually. His parents died when their car careened off a cliff."

How did he end up living with a cult though, they want to know. That Simeon guy can't be a very responsible caregiver if he's living on the road.

You explain to your family (again) that they aren't in a cult, that Luke is a totally normal orphan child with a stable and loving home, and yes, Mom, he goes to school. Yes, Mom, he eats vegetables. No, Mom, you don't need to call DCFS.

"He's so cute," your sister coos.

"I am not!" Luke yaps.

"And he's shaking and everything! You know what he reminds me of?"

You rub your temples.

"A Chihuahua."

Barbatos

"This is, uh... This is..."

Barbatos smiles at you and offers not an iota of assistance. He finds this entire thing pretty funny.

"This is Barb... Barbados..."

"What, like the island?" your sister asks.

Yes.... Just like the island....

And yeah, he talks. Sometimes he talks a lot. I don't know why he isn't talking. Barbs, say something.

"It is an honor to finally meet your family, MC. What a charming collection of people."

"I like your hair," your cousin says, actually looking up for once. "And those are pretty sick beads."

You agree that Barbatos's human clothes are pretty sick.

Did you say human clothes? That was weird of you.

Your mother asks why everyone in the cult paints their nails besides Simeon and Luke. You tell her that there is no cult, but, uh, it's just a fashion thing. They just like it. Don't be judgmental.

Your cousin agrees. Don't be judgmental, Auntie. He paints his nails black. So, like, what, is he in a cult now?

You remind everyone that there is not and never was a cult.

Your cousin tries to give Barbatos his Tiktok and tumblr accounts, and Barbatos smiles very graciously but refuses on the grounds that he does not have a Tiktok or tumblr.

After you manage to get the group out of your apartment, shoving Solomon out as he farewells you as his adorable apprentice, you slam the door shut and lock it.

Your parents smile at each other, agreeing that you could do much worse than that nice Simeon boy. Your sister insists that she is going to backpack across the country with at least ten or eleven hot men, even if they do have a kid with them, and nobody is going to stop her. And your cousin has put down his Switch and is now designing a vampire OC that looks suspiciously like Barbatos.

[tragedry]

What do you think Ashlyn and Tyler would get each other if they had each other for Secret Santa? And how do you think they’d react to their gifts? I love your ashler posts sm!!!

hi anon, glad to know you enjoy reading my ashler rambling!

as for your question, it's actually hilarious how quick i was able to come up with a gift for ty (in comparison, it took me longer to figure out what ty would get ash but i eventually figured out what it's gonna be, and i'll explain that in a bit)

ok so ash's present for ty is gonna be a chef's knife, and it's perfect! it's classy, it's practical (though ty would definitely argue that something this expensive isn't, but that's besides the point) and it's something ash knows he'll like. it took her forever to decide on a brand and model (mainly cause she doesn't really know much about the intricacies of well crafted kitchen wear, but she does her research and manages to snag one that fits both tyler's style and needs just before it got sold out) and she's been excited to give it to him since, though she'd never admit it lmao

as for tyler's reaction to the present, he'd be shocked. definitely would try to argue that he can't accept something that expensive and would even try to bargain with ash about it, but ash manages to convince him that he actually deserves good things and that she was fine with spending a little extra since the knife is worth it. plus, if ty still feels guilty for it, then he can just make it up to her by cooking her favorite meals for her. ty eventually agrees, and the knife is used daily and handled with far too much care and it makes ash happy to see she picked the right gift.

tyler on the other hand could not think of anything to get ashlyn, not when all the stuff he wants to get her costs an arm and a leg. he thinks about working part time, but he doubts the pay would be enough, so he spends more time thinking until he finally decides on a present. he's on his phone searching for handmade gift ideas and finds an old reddit post talking about how good a weighted blankets is for helping them sleep, and he immediately falls down the rabbit hole of crochet tips and where to get the best yarn and hook. one extensive tutorial video and many failed attempts later, and he manages to finish crocheting the biggest blanket he's ever held in his hands. it looks decent enough from afar, but he knows it isn't perfect. it'll have to do.

he spends the rest of the day nervous about handing it over, unsure if he did the right thing or if he fucked it up by making something rather than just getting her what she'd want. when he gets his present from ash, he's even more self deprecating and a little bit guarded about giving her the gift, unable to stop himself from comparing such an expensive and thoughtful gift to the imperfect blanket he's got wrapped up in a paper bag. he contemplates lying and telling her he forgot, but ashlyn already spots the paper bag and gestures for him to hand it over.

bracing himself for ash's eventual disappointment, he hands over the gift and waits for her reaction. "i know it ain't much, not even half as much as your fancy ass present, but i did some research and a lot of people said this helps with sleeping and stress, so i took a shot and-"

"you made this?" ash cuts him off, but not unkindly. her expression is unreadable when her gaze shift back to him, but the look in her eyes is focused, intense in a way that has tyler's heartbeat racing against his ribcage.

"yeah." he finds himself answering after a few seconds too long.

her gaze turns to the blanket once more, her fingers gripping the uneven edge tighter as she looked it over with critical eyes.

mistaking her silence as rejection, tyler masks his own disappointment with a sigh. he'll let himself wallow in shame once he's able to figure out a way to make it up to her.

"look, i know it's not perfect and some of the pattern looks crooked, so if you want i can just–"

his next word dies out as soon as he felt ash's hand on his own, squeezing reassuringly in the same way he always does when he's trying to get her to calm down.

"i was actually planning to get one soon, but i don't need to anymore." she tells him, meeting his gaze and meaning every word.

relief washes over him in waves, but a part of him feels even more flustered now that he sees the way she's been holding onto the blanket so protectively.

it's not worth it, he thinks. he barely did a decent job.

"are you sure?" he asks, just because he can't seem to shut up and take the win. not at all used to things going his way or being this easy.

maybe it should.

ash nods her head in answer, making a show of putting the blanket over her shoulders and sighing contently as she snuggles deeper, nearly burying herself underneath the thing.

she looks adorable ridiculous.

he snorts, partly at the way he's underestimated how big the blanket was in comparison to her, and partly to hide the swell of happiness inside of his chest.

she actually loved his gift, imperfections and all.

maybe he could make her a better one in the future.

but for now, the two of them are content sitting together, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.

----------

whoops! that got out of hand, i wasn't even planning on writing a drabble for this ask, but hey that's what happens when you've got ashler on the brain 24/7... i hope you liked it anon, and thanks for the ask!!

(my inbox is always open for more prompts and hcs!)

[ladylaviniya]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 4 || Masterlist || Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: After defending your housekeeper, Sherlock takes a rough hand to your backside....

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Spanking, Domestic Abuse, rough kissing.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: I am sorry this took forever to post but I'm lucky and glad to say I should be moving to a new rental home in a month. Yayyy!!!

Inspiring Song: Partita for violin n°2 by Bach.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England

With baited breath you hurriedly rushed to push your husband out of the line of the door way. You shoved Sherlock and with some surprise, he moved. He rolled his eyes and pressed his back to the wall beside the door.

You feared an inevitable future. Mrs Hudson would enter your dwellings. And see your husband...how ironic for you to be scared of something meant to be.

Mrs Hudson knocked again and you heard the handle of your door twist.

A strike of horror whipped you into action. You fluttered to the cracking door as the old woman announced in a hushed whisper.

“Y/N dear, are you awake? Your mongrel of a groom is gone if you would like to come out now!”

Your fingers clenched into fists behind you and the offended snicker from Sherlock from next to you beside the opening door didn’t help your embarrassment. He knew you didn’t approve of his past behaviours but to be made apparent how much you deplored him was humiliating.

You forced a tight smile for your landlady as she took a step closer into the doorway. How you wished you could’ve asked her to leave, but how could you, it would seem rude after all her kind hospitality and assistance.

She greeted you with a happy wink while still under the belief her original tenant was no longer in the house. But her eyes did flutter after she glanced you up and down, surprised by your prepared dressed state.

It was a unspoken question, ‘Who helped dress you?’

You gently interpreted aloud, “Oh...he is still here...and...” your lips became dry. Why did Mrs Hudson have to be so invasive as landlady even if under pure intentions?

The old woman grew pale with her wide grey gaze. Her lips smacked open. You looked over your shoulder and gasped with a jump at the ridiculous state of your husband standing directly behind you, with a naked torso.

“Mrs Hudson,” he smirked, “Good Morning,” he said rather proudly with his hands settle on his finely shaped hips. His tongue lazily licked his bottom tongue with his eyebrows raised.

He found the lewdness incredibly hilarious. ‘Great, my husband is not only arrogant, rude and mean- he is also childish one would gather.’

“Quite...” she said as colour grew quick to her face in the shade of a wet red rose. Her wrinkled throat tightened. Her fingers gripped at her apron while her lips pursed disapprovingly.

Your husband briskly moved you aside by holding your hips and directing you out of his path before he strutted out from your door frame entrance.

You and the elder woman did perhaps inspect the curve of his bottom in his trousers for too long as he swaggered back to his bedroom. A plump arse in a husband has never been known as a requirement, but for the advice of a future generation you were sure to note it.

Mrs Hudson somewhat breathless and at a disadvantage twisted her head back and leant to your ear inquisitively, “What happened?” her eyes darted back and forth.

It was then as you saw her forehead shrink, you realised, she was concerned for your safety, for your health and wellbeing.

You could only imagine the distress the dear Mrs Hudson experienced when she found you in a puddle of blood on your bed only two days prior.

Your own lips parted and you raced to find the words. You struggled and stuttered to explain how on earth you came to lay in your bed with your own husband. It felt challenging and at half your conscience considered lying for the sake of modesty and privacy. It shouldn’t have been so difficult to say; you and Sherlock were bloody husband and wife. A small laugh in the back of your head jingled.

“Well...ugh...as husband and wife we...came to an agreement.”

Your fingers came up to touch your lips. A small smile was upon them. How else could you say your husband showed you terror and bliss all in one night. You knew it was not custom for a groom to tie up his bride and ravage her to a mindless state of ecstasy.

It had been so terrifying and exciting. The debate crossed your mind, ‘should I fear him, or submit with praise?’

He had treated you so awfully until this morning. You raced to wonder what had changed his mood so speedily in your favour...’Was it the deal? The debasing?’ In which you relinquished your pride and dignity to him that you already had so little of.

Her eyes narrowed at your wording, “An agreement?”

Those shrivelled pink lips settled in the shape of a pondering ‘o’ for sometime until Sherlock stuck his head back out from his rooms while buttoning a white shirt.

“We fucked Mrs Hudson,” he bluntly muttered startling you both in the midst of shock. It was uncouth to swear as he did, especially as a gentleman, especially in front of women. He was so unlike his high browed brother.

The older woman clicked her heels together and sputtered, “Sherlock!”

“-now if you aren’t too busy gossiping with my wife,” he sneered, cutting Mrs Hudson off, “I would very much like a cup of tea!”

“Well I never-!” the elder woman crossly huffed with her blushed face still blooming.

Your girlish grin disappeared. There he was. The rude and demeaning man.

Your fingers clenched to fists. The disrespect to Mrs Hudson was an insult to you. After all these hours in this new home, this woman sacrificed her time to help you. She did not deserve foul treatment from your husband even if he had always behaved that way to her in the past. You were now living here and wouldn’t stand for it.

You couldn’t allow this treatment to continue, “Sherlock!” both of their heads snapped at your raised tone, “Do not address Mrs Hudson in such a manner again!”

The man deemed London’s greatest detective looked bewildered, as if you slapped the man himself in the face. That masculine confidence fleeted from his face. Your landlady fluttered her eyes at your outburst. Perhaps you appeared aggressive, your knuckle pressed to your lips.

Your chest felt tight. You were panting. Yes, you had yelled so loudly it would be no question if those on the sidewalk below in Baker Street heard your bellowing.

You were angry. Resentful. The spell of his magical touch and charm had worn quickly off. Back you were to being a forthright wife.

His tongue stabbed the inside of his cheek. His eyes narrowed. Whatever was he thinking?

“Very well,” he said and he nodded once, “Mrs Holmes.”

He began fiddling with the buttons of his trousers, tucking his shirt in.

You lowered your hand and placed them on your exaggerated hips.

You gave a little huff to add on, “And say please to Mrs Hudson when asking for tea.”

Mrs Hudson glanced between you both before scurrying back to the dining table where breakfast had been so generously laid out. She clearly was smart enough to know not to intervene in this rising argument.

The smell of cinnamon and porridge filled your nose. Mrs Hudson quietly poured you a cup of tea. From the corner of your eye you watched the steam rise.

“For god sake woman,” Sherlock grumbled with exasperation and waved his hand in front of himself, “She is merely the housekeeper.” 

You stood between them and wagged a finger at him, “And landlady.”

He sighed with annoyance and rolled his eyes. His lips pinched. Accepting his defeat in his stubbornness he spun on his heels and re-entered your room. He left his door open.

You took a step forward and remembered yesterday how cross he had been when you entered his space without permission...’permission be damned.’

You swallowed down that cold prickling fear and followed him in and took note on how he sat on the trunk with deviant tools within. He hiked up his trouser legs up. He sighed at your presence- not fully annoyed but not fully relieved either. 

You knew where he kept his shoes and what type after your savage pilfering clean the day before. You selected for him a dark navy cravat to match his chosen blazer he pointed out to you. You selected a golden pin and black dress boots for him.

He cleared his throat and muttered a soft “Thankyou,” as you handed him the cravat and pin while you silently knelt to the floor and began slipping on his garters, socks and shoes onto his feet.

He looked like stone. His face unreadable. You could not tell if he was annoyed, amused or just plain bored by his lack of emotion.

Maybe you had shut him up and taken him down a peg. Indeed, perhaps you had really humiliated him in front of Mrs Hudson to the point of expressionless silence.

6:40am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England

He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or if he was to be frightened by it.  Your quick submission, your gentleness after such a loud scolding. You had such a voice. You had a fearsome outburst that you used said voice with.

So seeing you play demure wife with the snap of second put him on a strange edge...what game were you playing at?

He sat back on his hands and stared at you struggling to button up his buttons he did the only thing he knew how in regards to people. He analysed you.

Your hands were clammy...sweaty and warm indicating either your heighten blood from your outburst or the after affects of your embarrassment when Mrs Hudson discovered his existence in your bedroom.

Your breath was slightly ragged. You were nervous he decided.

He glanced at how every few moments you wriggled your hips. Very faintly. Disguised as an attempt to readjust your sitting position, whereas in fact...you appeared to make soft rocking motions...

Oh, he smiled internally...you were aroused and embarrassed. You were helpless and desperate. Poor little lamb.

He looked around his room and back to you on the floor. You both were in rather a similar pose last night before he blackmailed you into sucking his cock. He twitched his head to the side and wondered how scandalous and quick he could pull out his cock and shove it past your teeth; all the while Mrs Hudson stood only a few feet away past the door with her back turned to you both.

How naughty...

And your sweet eyes looked up from his shoes...if only you weren’t sitting on your skirts. He mourned for all he waited more than ever was sneak it  beneath your shift and between your thighs.

‘How charming,’ he larked in his mind, ‘Polishing my shoe with her pussy.’ Your hairless pussy in fact.

Sherlock didn’t not hate body hair. But rather he liked the satisfaction of making pain in doing something as torturous as ripping hair from a sobbing woman. And the softness was something that never ceased amazement.

He did once mention to John before his comrade met Mary how on occasion, cunnilingus on a hairy woman was comparable to kissing a man on the face. John, he recalled, laughed at Sherlock and announced he had never eaten a cunt, so why bother eating one covered in hair... now it was all the man could ever speak of when it came to his wife that he worshipped.

When you finished folding his trouser paints so that mud would not soak the hem, he leant forward and place a finger under your chin.

Your pupils flickered. Oh yes. You were definitely aroused, he concluded.

And he felt somewhat generous. He cupped your cheek and lifted you higher to your feet.

“Come here,” he whispered.

He almost burst out laughing watching how your eyes fluttered. His thumb scraped over your lip. He pinched your cheeks and pulled you into his face before he slowly stood off his bed.

He pushed his tongue inside and moaned. With how you tried to return the movement he smirked. You were desperate and he knew you wanted to please him. He flicked around and sucked your bottom lip.

Pulling back you were panting loud and your eyes wide.

He gave you passion, so what were you to do with that?

“Now Mrs Holmes, go sit down for breakfast,” he purred, “I will be out shortly.”

His cock was getting hard and he needed to give himself a moment or else he felt compelled to fuck you right there, Mrs Hudson could rightfully fuck off down stairs if she didn’t want to see the show....

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:46am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England

On weak, shaky legs you turned away from him. Your hand stumbled along his door frame. You could feel the hot buzz still on your lips. You felt hot all over. Behind you, he softly shut his door. You needed to sit down and so you reached out to your side of the dining room. You hobbled into your chair and reached for your warm tea.

“Well you must’ve done something right,” the landlady chuckled under her breath, wiping her hands lazily on her apron, “I haven’t seen him so caught off guard since his mother last visited. Put him in his please, she did.”

You nodded slowly. Sherlock Holmes would always be a true enigma. You sipped carefully. He kissed you with great heat, after you had scolded him? It made no sense.

“Is it within the best interest that I remain rather than leave you alone with him?” Mrs Hudson whispered as she saw your gaze staring off at the nothingness of the room.

Your eyes fluttered to focus and you smiled up at the kind woman. You squeezed her hand and shook your head.

“No, I am sure I can manage my husband Mrs Hudson,” you rose and carefully took the tea pot from her hands, “I think I shall pour his tea.”

Your land lady peered at you suspiciously as she relinquished the china. She smiled grimly and nodded before walking off and departing the apartment.

Sherlock wasn’t so scary now that you knew he wasn’t cross. And surely...if anything occurred, Mrs Hudson might intervene? Yes?

So where the hell was she last night? The thought wasn’t really your own, it just came up in the back of your mind watching as she left the apartment.

Your husband didn’t take long to come out, fully dressed. He sat down and searched over the table.

Mrs Hudson had brought up warm croissants, fresh butter and a scrumptious jam to lay on top.

You stood over him and poured tea into his cup. You felt his eyes rolling up and down your body. When you stood away, he poured in his own cream.

You placed the pot down gently and returned to your seat.

In those few seconds there was peace and power, submission and dominance. And you didnt even know it...

You folded the napkin over your lap and spread a fine line of jam over the bread like treat.

Sherlock? He sipped his tea and wouldn’t stop staring, to the point where it made you feel intimidated. What was he looking at? Was there jam on your face?

He clear his throat again and shook his head. He tore a piece of a croissants with his fingers and stuffed it into his mouth. It was something you disapproved of. But you didn’t have the patience to teach a man almost twice your age on the art of table manner etiquette.

And after an eternity of silent air filled with chewing and sipping...

“Finished your breakfast?” Sherlock smiled, rising from his chair, you nodded and patted your lips. You needed to return to your room and find some hair pins along with a hat if he expected you to join him.

“Good...” Sherlock said coming around to your side and helping you out of your chair with a single lending hand...and he led you to the main sitting room.

You tried to turn around go back to your room, maybe he forget the negative propriety of a woman wearing her hair unfixed in public.

He caught your wrist and tugged you to the side of the chaise.

“Bend over,” he purred into your ear.  You blinked.

“What ever for?” you audibly pondered before hearing him sigh frustrated.

You looked between him and the lounge.

His voice was coated in a acidic hiss, “Bend over or I’ll make you.”

You didn’t understand. Naively you bent over the arm. Had he lost something between the soft mattressing? Your fingers reached for the small cushion to look under when you felt him start to lift your skirts. Your eyes widened. What the hell was he doing!?

You went to stand up straight before he pushed his hand on your upper back and pushed you down again. You grunted and grizzled.

He tossed your skirts up over your backside to your waist. His hand softly rubbed across your drawers. The weight of his palm made you jump in surprise. His finger traced the splitting fabric. He pushed the pieces aside.

You held your breath. Your fingers clenched the chaise as you tried looking over your shoulder.

He couldn’t have been suggesting that he would mount you like this...here.. out in the open of your home...surely not...

He smirked at the alarm written all over your face. He bent his head down to you...he kissed your cheek and peppered small pecks to your ear.

“I’m going to strike you ten times,” his hot breath came.

Your eyes widened and your nose curdled.

“What ever for!?” you repeated with a sneer while you tried rising up again. This time, he shoved you down harder.

Sherlock smiled mockingly, his voice was sweet and high but beneath it was hate and sadism, “For speaking against my authority in front of Mrs Hudson.”

He cupped your backside and you swallowed hard.

It wasn’t right! He didn’t need to be so rude to the house keeper. You felt the coming punishment to be unwarranted.

“Such a pretty bum...” he sighed pawing at each unmarred cheek, “Such a disobedient wife...” He awed slightly...you were trembling. You shut your eyes and prayed to turn back time.

The first slap took you entirely by surprise, a sob tore itself from your lips instantly as his hand made contact with your backside.

You stomped your foot and tried twisting around to stop him but he flung you back over the chaise. And then the woosh of a flying hand swatted you. The burning crack of his palm left you feeling choked and brought to tears faster than ever before.

You cried immediately. And do you know what your torturous husband did? He let you cry...he let you catch your breath. He waited until you quieted...and then he hit you again. The third time hurt as well yet, felt stronger. It was the force of the hit that was more like a punch then a slap to your rear end bringing you into a shocked gasp.

You stomped your foot and whimpered, “Unhand me! You brute!”

He chuckled and smacked his palm fast against your bottom, the rising flame of nerves made you whine pitifully.

“Stop!” you pleaded, “Sherlock please!”

The soft touch on your abused arse cheek did little to soothe the stinging pain and the third slap made it far worse. Your skin was turning a shade and felt indescribably hot.

“We are almost finished Mrs Holmes, take a deep breath for me,” he asked.

You sniffled terribly trying to clean your sobs. Your eyes were watering while Sherlock’s pale hand rubbed up and down your sensitive thighs. Your belly jumped and butterflies fluttered. You felt tingly and in need of a cold cloth. You attempted to wriggle away once more but that only made Sherlock grasp on you tighter.

By the sixth slap your whimpers evolved into breathy pants. You felt his run his fingers soft and slow on your hot skin. They were cold and like a balm to the suffering he inflicted. You felt the swirls and managed to feel him draw an S and a H.

It became a vile pattern where he allowed you to compose your crying and fall quiet before delivering hell by his palm.

You could only recall the last spanking you received was from a school teacher when you were nine years old because you spilled ink down the dress of a girl bullying you.

The next whip made you gasp and continued to lessen the soreness you tried breathing through your lips shaped in a ‘o’ which made a most heinous noise...a moan.

“You are taking this very well my pretty Baker Street whore.”

You knew it had to be Sherlock’s voice but it felt so far away now. Your lower body felt incredibly warm and light.

“Never again will you humiliate me In the presence of our housekeeper, do I make myself clear?” his voice became a lifeline.

You were trembling beneath him. You felt him step closer and the side of your neck.

You didn’t agree with him, you didn’t humiliate him, he humiliated himself with his lack of manners. You were tired, relaxed, starting to accept the burning heat of his hand. You heard him chuckling in your ear. Your mind was falling to pieces.

“Yes s-sir,” Your voice shook which fell into a voice a new moan as the next strike connected to your bottom.

“Very good little lamb,” he said pleasingly. He slowly released his grip on your back and ran his hand lightly over your displayed flesh.

He rubbed his thumb into your muscle and took glee in your snarling hiss. He tapped your exposed hip softly.

“There,” he said slowly lifting you from the lounge and letting your skirts fall back to your ankles. He wiped away the tears with his thumbs, kissing each cheek as he went.

When reality crashes hard like a stormy wave, you flinched and moved away from him. You cupped your mouth and tried not to cry but the tears fluttered fast.

You felt him stand behind you and you wished you could’ve run away. You felt so embarrassed and ashamed you made such lusty tones. He wrapped his hands around your waist and towered above you.

He asked quietly, “Are you sure you want my fidelity now?”

It felt like a open wound that he was digging inside further. It was cruel, his smugness.

And this was a really trap. You could swear it. He wanted a reason to be allowed to return to Mayfair Row.

He wanted you to waver, to give in, to let him betray the wedding bed. It was like a candle filling the room with light. He didn’t spank you because he was embarrassed that you scolded him in front of the housekeeper, oh no, no, ‘twas a beneath the layers. Sherlock was trying to break you into letting him do as he desired, to continue his habits before your marriage.

You gulped and squeezed his hands; the tools he just beat you with. You felt sick. You felt angry. You felt like you had successfully figured out the solution to an ancient problem...

You could’ve caved in...you could’ve let him ruin the marriage entirely...the shame...you were fragile and almost let him.

You almost, but you didn’t.

You swallowed hard and fluttered your eyes and stated tightly, “It will take more than a whipping by your hands to make me let you go back to whoring, Mr Holmes.”

You turned your neck to glare at him. And instead of a snarl or a frown or disapproving look, he was smirking. His brows were raised in pleasant surprise.

“Marvellous,” he whispered, “an utter spectacle, you are.”

You scoffed and wiped your eyes again of a burning tear and shoved to move past him to go retrieve your hair pins and hat.

He followed on your tail and cackled, “Oh don’t be so prudish...I too heard that little moan.”

Your throat tightened as you tried ignoring his relaying fact.

You came to your room and saw him through your mirror leaning on the door frame, watching you. You perfected your usual modest style while you snapped, “If you honestly believe I under any circumstances enjoyed that, you are truly-  terribly mistaken.”

He was chewing his bottom lip and racing his eyes over your entire body. He was comically a wolf starved for his lamb.

You couldn’t even sit down at your vanity with the heat radiating on your backside under all your skirts. You didn’t even want to come out with him today, you almost dared state you would stay home after his assault.

However, lord only knows where Sherlock would really gallivant off to if you didn’t chaperone him today. Any man can break a promise.

He came into your room slowly and went to your hat box. He handed you the straw brim and cleared his throat, “Get your gloves, we must make haste.”

You rolled your eyes at him and snatched your hat from his hands, “If we were in such a hurry it might’ve deterred you from your unnecessary beating.”

He was fast as lightning and holding your jaw tearing out a gasp from you as he huffed, “Indeed, If we weren’t in such a hurry, I would have my cock down your throat for that comment Mrs Holmes.” His eyes turned a shade darker that dragged a bolt of fear back down your spine.

His smile was not as cheery, it had transformed into a sneer in lilt, “Gloves. Now.”

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