#maybe the next thing i write can be fluffy

[that-one-girl2020]

Hello there. This is my first time asking someone something, so I’m a little nervous

Firstly, I wanted to say that your works are so phenomenal. I love the way you captured the emotions and actions perfectly

Secondly, I wanted to ask if you could please kindly write about how Hyeon and Derpy would react to the boys trying to puts reader to bed after they fell asleep whilst cuddling on the couch? Maybe reader would be holding onto Derpy with their face buried in their fluff, Hyeon would growl and bite at them, Derpy would try to cover reader whilst they sleep?

Sorry, I’m not sure if this is comfortable for you

Cuddle Time

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for your support! I think this request was really cute and fluffy, I really liked writing it!

Please don’t copy or plagiarize my work. I don’t mind if you take inspiration, just please don’t copy direct lines from it.

Synopsis: After a long few weeks after your debut, you finally get a day off—well, other than that one time—but everyone else is busy. That’s okay though, you have Derpy and Sussie to recharge with.

Word Count: 1.8K

Master List

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

You were tired.

Ever since your debut, you have only had a little bit of free time. There was the one weekend you spent with the Boys… You couldn’t help but blush just thinking about it. But, after two weeks of small performances, photo shoots, interviews, talk shows, rehearsing, classes, and MV shooting, you finally had a free day. But, the girls were stuck in inspiration mode for their next song and the boys were at a photo shoot. So, you were at the Den by yourself—a name the nine of you had come up with for the Saja Boys’ apartment, like a lion’s den.

You were fine though, you had Derpy and Sussie.

You sighed contently, nuzzling your face deeper into the fluffy warmth of Derpy’s stomach, his deep purr reverberating through your body soothingly. Sussie was roosting in the crook of your neck, his feathers fluffed and his eyes closed.

‘So comfy…’

You couldn’t help but think back to the first time you had met Derpy and Sussie.

~~~

Your eyes were tired and you were emotionally exhausted after singing your emotions out for the first time in years. The boys were quiet around you and you knew you should head back to the Tower soon. But, you reasoned to yourself, you were so safe and warm and the girls probably wouldn’t even notice you gone.

You were starting to get hungry though. You didn’t know how long you had been laying there all together.

You opened your eyes to ask the boys if they had anything to eat, but froze when your eyes locked on a blue tiger, sitting at the mouth of the hallway. It’s eyes glowed eerily, unblinking at you and it’s mouth in a wide, toothy smile that showed off all of its fangs. Atop its head was a magpie with three pairs of eyes and a little hat atop its head.

You and the blue tiger just stared at each other for a long moment. ‘Was it… supposed to be here…?’

It was really cute. It looked so fluffy and head empty that you wanted to hug it and give it plenty of belly rubs. You kept staring and it kept staring too.

“Uh… guys?” You eventually spoke up, biting your lip to restrain yourself from launching yourself at the tiger to rub your face in his fur. You really wanted to find out how soft it was. The boys opened their own eyes, sleepy as they were. “Am I seeing things or is there really a blue tiger with a magpie wearing a tiny hat on its head?”

Jinu perked up, “Oh, you haven’t met Derpy and Sussie yet,” He realized. He sat up from his spot leaning back against your leg. You gasped softly as the blue tiger stood, striding over with the same unchanging expression to rub against Jinu’s chest, making Jinu laugh softly. “The tiger is Derpy and the bird is Sussie,” He introduced them to you.

You leaned forward, Chungae and Hyeon falling into each other without your support. “Can I pet them…?”

Jinu blinked, surprised at your quiet, unsure tone. Then he smiled fondly at you, realizing that you probably had rarely ever had the chance to interact with animals unless you were allowed a pet when you were training. “Of course, they’re very friendly.”

You slid down, sitting between Jinu and Kwan. You looked at Derpy and Sussie with wide, curious eyes. The last time you had interacted with an animal was a fawn you and Rumi had helped heal when you were younger. Slowly, you reached out to the tiger, watching it watch your hand get closer. Derpy leaned forward to meet you halfway, nuzzling its face into your hand with a content purr. You gasped in awe, he was so soft… And fluffy…

While you rubbed Derpy’s cheek, you reached a hand out to the uninterested looking Sussie. You paused when the bird narrowed its eyes at your finger. But then you chuckled as it let out a put upon sigh. You slowly stroked its neck with a finger, smiling as it closed its eyes, its feathers fluffing up contently.

The boys watched you with fond smiles, internally gushing at how cute it was to see you pet Derpy and Sussie for the first time.

~~~

Hyeon regretted that when he got back from the shoot early. You didn’t stir from your sleep as he quietly shut the door and kicked off his shoes, instead you just nuzzled deeper into Derpy’s fur. He pouted as he got closer to the couch, Sussie opening its eyes to glare at him.

Hyeon huffed, ignoring Sussie—who was in his favorite spot—and laid down behind you, squeezing onto the couch with you to cuddle into you from behind, spooning you and wrapping his arms around you. Derpy’s legs were sprawled over you too, he could feel the deep purr vibrating through the both of you. He sighed contently, pressing his nose to the back of your neck.

‘Mmm, this was good too…’ Hyeon was glad for a moment alone with you, what with all the things you’ve been doing lately and their schedules never matching up.

He fell asleep easily, content to just be holding you.

It was maybe an hour later, the sun setting and shining through the windows as the other boys tiredly entered the Den. Kwan sighed, about to start complaining about the lack of time he had gotten with you lately, when Jinu smacked his arm, shushing him.

Kwan made an affronted face, about to start a friendly argument with him when Jum smacked his arm as well and pointed to the couch.

Their faces were soft as they saw the rich light of the setting sun shining upon the four forms on the couch. You laid on your side, your face pressed into Derpy’s fur. Hyeon and Derpy sandwiched you between them, their arms and legs intertwined with and sprawled over you protectively. And Sussie was roosted in the crook of your neck, its feathers fluffed up and puffy, its eyes cracked open, glaring at them in annoyance as the four boys approached. It settled deeper into your neck, as if daring the boys to try and take it from its place.

The boys looked at each other, Chungae and Jum snapping a few photos of the adorable little cuddle pile they had come back to. “We gotta get them to bed, right?” Kwan whispered to the other three.

“Yeah,” Jinu answered, checking the time on his phone, “It’s getting late and they’ll sleep better in a bed.”

It seemed like Hyeon heard them because his eyes opened, the four of them able to see it with his hair disheveled and parted from the way he was laying. He glowered at his four members, glowering darkly—almost the same way that Sussie was. The four had to muffle snorts and laughs at the twin looks they were receiving from their group member and the magpie.

“Come on, Hyeon, we gotta get her to bed,” Chungae whispered, bending down to look his hyung in the eyes—a rare thing to be able to do.

“No…” Hyeon muttered, snuggling closer to you. Derpy’s purrs faltered, the boys looking over to see the tiger staring at them more eerily than usual.

Jinu, Kwan, Jum, and Chungae looked at them contemplatively for a long moment, crossing their arms. Jinu tilted his head, “Kwan.”

Kwan nodded, “I got it. Jum, come help me.”

”Right.”

The two approached the couch, their hands up in preparation. Hyeon growled and hissed at them. They were not deterred though, Kwan wrapping his thick arms around Hyeon, starting to pull the man away while Jum pried at his interlocked fingers. It was either risk waking you��which none of them would ever dare—or let go.

Hyeon stubbornly held on, all his strength going to his interlocked fingers, starting to pull you with him. He would not let go. He knew that the others didn’t wanna wake you either so it was really a game of chicken—whoever chickened out of potentially waking you would lose.

“Come on, man, let go,” Kwan hissed to the man in his arms.

“You let go,” Hyeon hissed back. Jum groaned, prying at his hyung’s fingers.

“Dude, you’re gonna wake her,” Jum whispered, his face pinking at the effort he was using to try and pull Hyeon’s fingers apart.

“You’re gonna wake her,” Hyeon returned childishly.

The five froze when you stirred, sighing deeply as you tried to burrow back into Derpy’s fur. Jum took the chance to finally unlock Hyeon’s fingers, giving Kwan the opportunity to yoink the man from the couch.

“Noooo…!” Hyeon wailed under his breath dramatically. He sagged, pouting in Kwan’s arms.

”There there, you big baby,” Kwan smirked in amusement, jostling Hyeon in his arms. “You can cuddle in bed, we just gotta get her there first.”

Hyeon continued pouting.

“Okay, now for her,” Jinu mused, “Here, hold Sussie,” Jinu told Chungae, scooping up the glowering demon bird without fear. Chungae knew he just wanted to be the one to scoop you up. All five of them loved holding you in any way that they could, often getting in the way of each other in small ways to be the one to hold you.

Now, just to get past Derpy, who was still smiling eerily at him. He usually wasn’t disturbed by Derpy’s smiling stare, but today… He was kind of staring into his soul. “Come on, Derp, she needs an actual bed…”

Derpy just snuggled closer to you, resting his head on top of yours. Jinu reached out slowly, trying to get his arms under your back and legs. He pulled back when Derpy nipped his teeth at him. “Hey, Derpy!” Jinu chided him quietly. He reached again only for Derpy to kick his leg, hitting Jinu with his paw. Jinu deadpanned at his tiger as the boys snickered behind him, “Dude.”

Derpy continued smiling at him.

This continued back and forth, the laughter of the boys steadily growing with each of Jinu’s failed attempts to get you from his tiger. Jinu eventually sighed, “Come on Derp, I just gotta get her to the bed and then you can snuggle with her all you want.”

Derpy just looked at him for a long moment. And then the two of you began sinking into one of his portals. “Wait, Derpy!” Jinu tried to stop the demonic tiger but you two quickly sank away.

Worried that the tiger had taken you away to some random place, the five hurried to check all of the bedrooms, sighing in relief when they found you, still peacefully snuggled in Derpy’s fur as you snoozed away.

The five boys and Sussie swiftly got comfortable and joined the two of you on the bed.

Outtakes:

The Saja Simps: *trying to get closer to you* “Move over, Derpy…”

Derpy: *Smiles eerily*

You: *Sleeps peacefully*

…

You: *fawning over Derpy and Sussie* “Who’s good babies?~ Who?~ You are, yes you are~ Who wants treats?~ You do?~ Oh, here you go!~”

Saja Simps: *watching with badly hidden envy* “Jinu, why’d you let her meet those two?”

Jinu: *Sulking just as hard* “My bad guys.”

…

Hyeon: *staring intensely at Sussie*

Sussie: *perched on the crook of your shoulder, Hyeon’s favorite spot in the whole world*

Hyeon: *glaring* “That’s my spot you little flying rat…”

Sussie: *unconcerned chirp*

…

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[chaotic-evil-ivy]

Charles jealous please, smut!

Author’s Note:

Thanks so much for reading! 💫 This is my very first fic, so I kept it to light smut only—just a little heat, a lot of tension, and all the fluffy feels. Hope you liked jealous Charles as much as I did writing him! 💕

Wrong Match, Right Man

The sun blazed high over Monte Carlo, a salty breeze wafting in from the sea as you slumped on the bench by the courts. Charles was in his element—white t-shirt damp against his back, curls stuck to his forehead, legs flexing as he lunged to meet the ball. Every swing of his padel racket made you smirk. God, he was beautiful.

Unfortunately, he was also distracted. The game was taking forever.

You sighed loudly, crossing your legs, idly scrolling on your phone. No service. Great. Just as you were about to try counting clouds for entertainment, a shadow fell over you.

“Bored already?” You glanced up. Lando.

He had his cap turned backward and a mischievous grin curling his lips. You tilted your head, amused.

“Only slightly,” you teased, tapping your fingers on your thigh. “I was promised a shirtless Charles by now. But this is taking ages.”

Lando chuckled, plopping down next to you without asking. His knee bumped yours. “Well, you’ve got options. I’m available, and I look great shirtless too.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “Do you now?” He leaned in, just a little too close, his voice a low whisper. “Want a preview?”

You laughed, just loud enough to catch Charles’ attention. His head whipped over, eyes narrowing. Missed the ball. His partner groaned.

Oops.

You gave Charles a sweet wave and turned back to Lando, who was clearly enjoying himself. “He’s looking,” he whispered in a singsong voice.

“Good,” you smirked. “Let him.”

Across the court, Charles's jaw tightened. He muttered something to his partner, then jogged over to the bench mid-game. Sweat dripping. Eyes blazing.

“Can I help you two?” he asked, voice smooth but dangerously low.

“Lando was just keeping me company,” you replied, a little too innocent.

Charles ignored you, looking straight at Lando. “Game’s over. I’m done.”

Lando blinked. “You forfeiting?”

“No.” He tossed his racket aside. “I’ve got more important things to do.”

You opened your mouth to say something clever, but Charles already had your wrist. His hand was warm, firm, and when he pulled you up, it sent a delicious flutter through your stomach.

“Charles, where are we—”

“Home.”

Lando whistled behind you. “Someone’s jealous.”

Charles didn’t look back. But his grip tightened. Back in the apartment, it was quiet. Too quiet.

Charles locked the door behind you and turned, arms crossed. You leaned against the wall, heartbeat loud in your ears. He looked... mad. Or turned on. Or both.

“What was that?” he asked, eyes dark.

You shrugged, pretending not to be thrilled by the fire in him. “I was bored. Lando’s funny.”

His eyes dragged over you slowly. “You were flirting.”

“Maybe a little.”

He stalked forward, until you were caged between his arms. “Did it make you feel good? Making me watch him lean into you like that?”

You tilted your chin defiantly. “Did you like watching?”

A dangerous smile tugged at his lips. “Not one bit.”

Then his mouth was on yours—hungry, demanding, jealous.

You gasped as he lifted you, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His hands roamed, one sliding up your thigh under your skirt. “No flirting with anyone but me,” he growled against your lips.

You bit back a moan. “Make me forget I ever did.”

He carried you to the couch, laying you down gently but with that unmistakable urgency. His shirt was gone in seconds, and you finally got what you came for: glistening abs, flushed cheeks, those hazel eyes that made you melt.

When his lips trailed down your neck, hands firm on your waist, you arched into him. “Charles…”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathed. “Always.”

His kisses slowed, softened, grounding you even as your heart pounded. Fingertips traced your skin like a promise.

“Good,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “Because I plan to keep you.”

Later, tangled in sheets and his arms, you trailed your fingers through his curls.

“You know I only flirted to get your attention, right?” you murmured.

Charles rolled his eyes playfully, nuzzling your shoulder. “You could’ve just asked for a kiss.”

You smiled, lazily. “This was more fun.” He groaned. “You’re evil.” You kissed him again, soft and slow. “And you love it.”

[jaxs-girl]

Honestly I would adore something like a cute date night at the carnival or something! Maybe fishing in the Digital lake? A picnic to go with it? Idk

Notes: Okay, this was cute. I actually had a lot of fun writing this! I actually tried to use all your ideas. Hope it turned out well and you like it, Anon!

Author’s Ramblings: Hey, so if you guys haven’t gotten the chance to read my latest pinned post, I suggest you do. I have a schedule posted as well as a few disclaimers for requests. As always, keep requesting works and I’ll do my best to write them!

~Jax’s Girl

DATE NIGHT

Tags: Established relationship, sweet/fluffy, romance, censored cursing, she/her reader but can be read as any gender

Word Count: 1295

It was a boring day in the digital circus. Caine hasn’t popped in yet with the daily random adventure yet and everyone else was off doing their own thing. Gangle was drawing in her usual corner with Zooble nearby, Kinger was doing whatever he did in his pillow fort, Pomni and Ragatha were chatting away. You were the odd one out today, mostly because you couldn’t find your other half.

You had no idea where Jax was today, you haven’t seen him at all since you woke up. Usually he’s around somewhere, pulling his usual antics. But today, he’s been weirdly absent. It was strange.

Other than the weirdness of his absence, you didn’t dwell on it much. If the purple rabbit wanted space you can give him that. It’s not really a big deal. Not like you were glued to his side or anything. Sometimes, you like having your own space. So instead of going searching for him, you settled on one of the couches with a book you had found laying around the tent.

“Come on. Get up.” Jax suddenly appeared, taking your book from your hands and closing it, “We’re going somewhere.”

“What?” You said, confused as he grabbed your hands, pulling you from the sitting position you were in on the couch. “What about the adventure today?”

He began to lead you out of the tent, towards the outside, “We’re not going on an adventure today.”

“Did Caine say that?”

“No, we’re not going. We’re skipping it.”

“What? We can’t do that!”

“Says who? There’s no rule that says Zooble is the only one allowed to skip out on adventures.”

“Fair.” You conceded, unable to come up with any other excuses. Not that you were trying to come up with an excuse or anything. It was just weird that Jax insisted on skipping an adventure. He liked the chaos they brought and added even more chaos to them.

The bright digital sun assaulted your eyesight, blinding you momentarily until your eyes adjusted to the bright light. It was like a pair of eyeglass transition lenses adjusting to the brightness, slowly dimming until the glare was gone. Strange that was a thing in a digital world. Then again you had to admit it was genius coding from whoever designed this hell.

“Okay, so where are we going?” You asked, following him as he walked across the digital grounds.

He chuckled, shaking his head, “You’ll see, dollface.”

So it must be a surprise. You were okay with that. It wasn’t every day he decided to surprise you. Although that wasn’t always a good thing. Sometimes he liked to prank you like he pranked the others. Just because you were together didn’t make you immune from his antics. Although, his antics weren’t as mean towards you as they were towards the others.

The walk wasn’t a very long one, not too much time had passed before Jax stopped next to a tree by the Digital Lake. That’s when you saw the cliché picnic blanket and a basket sitting on the edge.

Now it was your turn to chuckle, “Is there an assortment of cheeses and wine in the basket too?”

“Come on, I put a lot of work into this.” He didn’t seem to like your light-hearted teasing very much.

You sighed softly, a smile appearing on your face. “Alright, I’m sorry. It’s sweet. I like it.” You said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before moving to sit on the picnic blanket he set out.

You really did like it. The purple rabbit wasn’t known for doing sweet things like this and the fact that he did it for you made it all the better. As he sat down next to you, you opened the basket to find some egg salad sandwiches inside, as well as some single serve bottles of grape juice and some snack size bags of chips. It was the perfect lunch for a picnic by the lake.

While the two of you ate the food, there wasn’t really much talking done. It was quiet and serene as you watched the lake, the ripples reflecting the sunlight and the gentle breeze that passed by. It was almost like you and him were really on the lake in the real world, having a little date.

After your lunch was finished, the two of you actually went to the lake where you fished for a while. Neither you or him expected anything to bite the line, you really didn’t know if there were any fish in here or not. It’s not like you tried to fish before, you never really took the time out of your day to try previously.

So when there was something tugging on your line, you yelped in surprise. “Oh, s%$!#t!” You scrambled to grip your fishing pole and yank it towards you to hook the fish or whatever creature that took your bait.

Whatever it was on the other end of your line was really strong, while the thin line didn’t break, it was pulling you towards the bank and into the lake. Jax noticed this and dropped his own fishing pole to rush behind you to grab a hold of you, helping you try and reel the fish in and keep you out of the lake.

“Come on [Name], pull!”

“I’m trying!” You grunted from the effort, yanking the pole back as you continued spinning the crank.

Just then the tension snapped, the line broke with a sudden pull and the loss of the sudden resistance sent you both falling forward into the water below you. There was a beat of silence, mixed with the confusion of what just happened.

Then there was laughter at just how ridiculously funny it was that the stupid fish won and managed to pull the two of you into the water. It was funny at how completely absurd it was. The fish pulled the two of you into the water. After laughing about it for a solid ten minutes, you got out of the water to dry off.

Before you could get comfortable on the grass by the lake, the purple rabbit stood in the way of your sunlight, “Come on. I got one more thing planned for today.”

Really? What else did this man have planned? You didn’t argue with him. Instead you got up and let him pull you towards the Digital Carnival across the map.

When the two of you got there, the sun was just setting so all the lights of the rides were starting to light up. There were a few mini-games to play that won cheap prizes such as a stuffed cat. Jax won that plush for you in one of the shooter games. You still have no idea how he hit that tiny target on the wall when the game was rigged for carnival-goers to fail at it. Nonetheless, you were happy he got it for you.

At the end of the night, you both got on the Ferris wheel. The stars were beautiful up here and you could barely tear your eyes from the sky. You knew it was all digital, but still it was nice to look at. Overall, you had a nice mellow day with your boyfriend. It was nice to relax instead of going on another high strung adventure.

With you looking at the stars in the sky out of your Farris wheel carriage, you weren’t able to see the way Jaz was looking at you. But you could feel his stare on your figure. “Hey, Jax, thanks for the date. This was nice.”

You couldn’t see it, but you knew there was a genuine smile on his face at your words, “I’m glad you liked it, dollface.”

[asxgard]

AHHHHH maybe Jack having his wife and son come into the ER after a little incident at baseball practice 😭 just something a little angsty and fluffy but I love soft Jack Abbot! Your writing is so amazing, keep it up and if this doesn’t interest you please feel free to ignore.

Cast | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader

Requested

Summary: After an incident at baseball practice, you and your son end up in the ER.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: Thank you, anon!! I’m giving Jack a child stat! Omg, the world needs more dad!Abbot. I hope this was equally angsty and fluffy enough for you!

Word Count: 1.6k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: vague age gap, foul language, mild angst, injured child (non-life threatening), fluff, dad!Jack, mom!reader, reader has Jack’s surname, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, blood mentions

not beta read

You only looked away for a second, reaching into your bag to put your book away, and the next your son was screaming. Your head snapped to look at the field and you spotted him in the outfield, clutching his arm. You were out of your seat the next second and charging onto the baseball field. You beat the coaches there.

Steven was wailing, though you could hardly blame the six-year-old, and you felt like your heart had stopped, listening to him in so much pain. Clearly he had been hurt, but he had no obvious signs of injury other than the fact that he was clutching his arm tightly to his chest.

You tried your best to soothe him, calm him down, but your own fears had begun to cloud your mind. If it was not broken, it had to be a sprain. There was a lingering sense of dread, of fear kicked into overdrive, but if it was a break, then at least that was not life-threatening.

Your first instinct other than to comfort your child was to call your husband. You first wanted to get Steven into the car so you could get him to the hospital, so you tucked your phone into your pants pocket and helped him to his feet.

“I know it’s really painful, baby, but mommy is going to make it better, okay?” You attempted, “Do you want me to carry you? Can you walk?”

Steven finally took a long intake of air, cheeks damp. He huffed in a few more unsteady breaths in, his lips in a large pout. The hazel in his eyes was exactly like his father’s.

“I can—I can walk.” He said, face scrunched up.

You admired how strong he was being, but you wanted to wrap your arms around him and never let go. You helped him to the car, trying to position his arm against his chest with the elbow bent without causing any more pain.

“We’re gonna go to the hospital now, and I promise it’ll make you all better.”

You were overly thankful that Steven had been in the hospital enough to not be afraid of it — from picking up his father, to the odd days you needed to drop him off before the end of your husband’s shift so you could get to an early meeting, leaving him in the caring hands of one of the nurses.

Steven was still softly crying when you called your husband, and you found yourself unbelievably annoyed when he didn’t pick up. He nearly always did, always panicked that something might have happened. You hated that was how he reacted when you called him at work, but to be fair, you usually only texted him about things. The one time you actually needed him to pick up? Voicemail.

You tried to calm your own frustration, knowing he was likely in a trauma or something equally serious. Despite all his faults, he never ignored you on purpose.

In the waiting room, you found yourself relieved to see Lupe running registration. She recognized you instantly. Her eyes flickered from you to Steven’s tears.

“I think he broke his arm,” you told her, frowning, “can you get Jack? I couldn’t reach him.”

“I think he’s still in Trauma-1, but I’ll get someone to bring you back right away, Mrs. Abbot.” She nodded, disappearing into the back.

That explained it. Whatever he was doing, it was life threatening, but you still felt antsy to tell him.

It was Collins who came through the door within the next minute, eyes scanning for you. Looking at the time, she was likely rounding out her shift, but it was good to see her. She smiled when she saw you, before looking down at Steven and frowning.

“Let’s get you two into a room,” she said, ushering you into the back with her. “I’ll put him down for an x-ray, but I’ll go see about getting him bumped to the top.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at her. Oh the perks of being married to Jack Abbot.

Collins parked you both in an open room, mentioning someone would be in shortly to start some pain meds while she worked on getting Steven to x-ray. A figure passing by stopped short and stepped into the room.

You greeted Robby with a smile. You two were no strangers, Robby occasionally coming by your house to hang out with Jack. He took one look at you and another at Steven, and panic invaded his calm demeanor.

“Broken arm, I think,” you told him quickly, so his mind didn’t run to the worst case scenario. He was much like Jack in that way.

“Hey, buddy,” Robby said, stealing Steven’s attention. “Can I see your arm?”

Robby assessed your son gently, before ordering intravenous pain meds and administering them.

“Heather is trying to get him into x-ray.”

He nodded, “Jack know yet?”

You shrugged, “I heard he was in the middle of a trauma.”

“I’ll go switch out with him,”

“Thank you, Robby.”

He waved you off and disappeared out into the hall.

—

Due to a mild hiccup, Jack had come into work earlier than usual — missing his son’s baseball practice that evening. He went when he could, but he tried to never miss a game. The Pitt seemed to swallow most of his time, but he never let it steal those moments with his son.

After clocking in, he was thrown right into a major car vs pedestrian trauma, but he fell into it with practiced ease. The buzzing phone in his pocket made him a bit on edge, but with gloved hands soaked in blood, he did not even think to answer it.

It took forever to stabilize the pedestrian who had been hit, but they finally were wheeled up to pre-op and he discarded the bloodied gown. He reached into his pocket to check his phone, finding two missed calls from his wife and a voicemail. His stomach churned uneasily.

He stepped toward the charge desk to put a chart away, glancing up at the board out of habit, before turning toward the staff lounge so he could call you back.

Wait…

His eyes snapped back up to the board, scanning the names and stopping on his son’s.

Steven Abbot.

His heart lurched into his throat. Fuck. He saw the room number and turned, only to find Robby next to him.

“Hey, brother,”

Jack barreled past him toward Central-8, heart beating wildly against his ribcage. He hadn’t even checked what prognosis sat besides his son’s name, or the level of severity, there was just pure instinct to be with him.

Robby jogged to catch up with him, “He’s fine, he’s fine. Broken arm. Was just coming to get you.”

That settled some of his fears, but worry bled through every pore. The one time he did not answer his phone…

His wife’s face did wonders to soothe him, as did the fact that his son was sat back and playing on his wife’s phone, arm in a sling. He released a long breath.

“Dad!”

Jack wrapped his son up in a hug, careful not to put any pressure on his arm.

“Hey, buddy, how do you feel?”

Steven gave a toothy smile, “Better after Uncle Robby gave me medicine.”

A relief washed over Jack’s features, eyeing the IV in his uninjured arm. He kissed the top of his son’s head, turning back to Robby just as Collins stepped into the doorway.

“They’ll be taking him next,” she said.

“Thank you, Heather.” You said.

“Don’t mention it.” She told you with a smile. “Just glad the little man is okay.”

Robby and Collins departed, leaving just you and Jack with your son. You typically were rigid around screen time, but felt being in the hospital was a perfect time to be lenient.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer—”

“It’s fine, Jack,” you told him, grabbing his hand from the gurney. “I know you were busy. Besides, you couldn’t have done anything on the phone anyways.”

He frowned, “But you called and I didn’t answer. I could’ve—”

You sighed, “Had it been more serious, I would’ve called an ambulance, or tried to reach out to Robby or Dana or whomever to let you know. Our son is okay. Let’s not focus on the what ifs.”

Jack sat on that for a moment, before rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re still a good father, Jack.” You said, as if you could hear the thoughts racing through his head.

His hazel eyes snapped to yours, taking you in.

“I mean it,” you said in the silence. “Don’t let your mind trick you into thinking otherwise.”

“I love you.” Jack said, not fully knowing how else to put his feelings into words. His gratitude, his care, his love.

You smiled easily, already understanding what he meant, all he meant, “As I love you.”

He leaned over to kiss you softly and you smiled against his mouth.

Steven made a sound of disgust, shielding his eyes with a soft giggle. You laughed, moving to kiss your son’s forehead. Jack’s heart swelled.

The x-ray revealed that his arm had been broken, likely by falling on it wrong, but it was not serious enough for surgery. That fact relieved both you and Jack tremendously. Just a quick pull to put the bone back right and a cast for five weeks.

“So what color would you like, Stevie?” Jack asked, sitting down beside your son. “They’ve got blue, yellow, pink, green—”

“Green!” Steven yelled happily.

You chuckled at his excitement over his cast.

“Do you think everyone will sign it?” He asked, toothy grin wide.

That ‘look on the bright side of things’ definitely came from you, Jack thought with a smile.

“I’m sure they will, bud.”

All Dr. Abbot content taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @sharkluver @yournerdmodziata

All The Pitt content taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver

Dad!Abbot?? Give it to meee

Also?? 500+ followers?? You guys are great!🥹

[purinfelix]

constellation - n. riki ✶⋆.˚

summary: a late night, sleepy half-formed thoughts and quiet touches ──────── Niki x reader (established relationship) || sfw, super duper fluffy and wholesome idk im in my feels || w/c: 1k

a/n: GUESS WHOS BACK (no one remembers me) ... anyways i was rewatching the colour analysis enoclock ep and heeseung mentioned Ni-ki's seven moles on his back and i just thought it was such an endearing feature i wanted to write smth about it !!!

"You've got a lot of moles on your back."

You're not even sure why you say it, and it's only once the words leave your mouth that you realise it's a bit of an odd thing to point out. To be fair, though, it's starting to become one of those nights when you're so sleepy that you can't bother filtering your thoughts. Niki turns to look at you, halfway through pulling on a shirt, and even though his brows are raised, you can tell he isn't entirely surprised by your words.

"Oh, yeah," he says calmly, "you've never noticed before?"

"Hm, I've seen them but," you hum, lazily letting your head fall back onto the bed where you're lying, watching him, "it just never occurred to me how many you have."

He laughs softly, pulling his shirt over his head, and soon you feel the mattress dip beside you as he sinks into it. You instinctively shuffle over to make room for him, but Niki, always wanting to be closer to you, finds his way right up against you - his arm brushing up against yours.

"Hey," you mumble, turning to watch as he lifts his face from the pillow, "let me see them again." The way you ask is almost childish, but even through your half-lidded eyes, you can see how he's a little taken aback by your request.

"The moles?"

"What else, dummy?" you scoff, stifling a yawn. Despite your jab he does as you say, tugging the hem of his shirt up so that you can see his back again.

Even though the room is dim, you can make them out just clear enough - small and dark against the pale skin of his back. There's something so quietly beautiful about them and the fact that not many other people would get to see them up close the way you are right now.

Maybe it's that realisation of how vulnerable he's letting himself be around you that pushes your hand out to press a gentle finger to the one highest on his back, just above his shoulder blade. He tenses slightly, clearly not expecting your touch, but soon calms.

"They're like stars," you say, barely above a whisper.

Normally, and if it were with anyone else, Niki probably would've protested, laughed and told them that they were overthinking things. But in this low light, in this bed with you and with the feeling of sleep pulling at his eyelids, he can't find the heart, or energy, to say anything to spoil this moment.

"I guess so," he hums back, but once he feels your finger begin to move, tracing a shape on his back, he can't help but let out a quiet laugh. "What are you doing now?"

"Making a constellation," you say, in such a matter-of-fact tone that Niki finds himself unable to say anything more - he just resigns himself to feeling the sensation of your finger against his back, slow and steady, almost soothing.

"They're pretty," you say once you've finished your path, satisfying your curiosity and gently pulling his shirt back down. You flop back onto the bed next to him, watching as he turns to face you, cheeks flushed the slightest shade of pink.

"You know they say that your moles are where your past lover kissed you the most," you hum, and he just laughs softly.

"You really believe that kind of stuff?"

You make an effort to shrug, as if to say why not? Silently, you pull your hands out from under the covers and cradle his face gently, tracing your thumb over his features like you have so many times. You stop a couple of times - at the mole on his chin, under his eyes, on his cheek.

"You must've been really loved in your past life," you whisper, and like everything you've said that night you're not sure why you say it. Still, you can feel his gaze on you, soft and with an endearment you know he reserves only for you.

"You think so?" he says, finally breaking the silence.

You nod ever so slightly, fingers still resting on his cheekbone. "You must've been lucky."

He brings his hand up to grab yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a motion that feels so familiar now that it almost feels instinctive. With his other hand, he pulls you closer, pressing his forehead to you - the entire time his eyes never failing to meet yours despite the vulnerability in his expression.

"I think," he whispers, "I still am."

It's your turn to scoff at his somewhat cheesy response, but the sound is quickly swallowed up by his lips meeting yours - soft and sure, like he's been waiting the entire night for this moment and now that it's here, he clearly has no intentions of rushing it. Your fingers tighten in his as you sigh into the kiss, even after months of being together you're not sure if you'll ever get used to the feeling of him taking your breath away.

When you finally pull apart, you only do so enough to catch your breath, which you're sure Niki can feel on his face.

"You're so weird sometimes," he finally says, a lazy smile hanging off of his lips.

"You love it," you whisper back, pressing your nose to his as you let out a soft giggle.

He only chuckles in response, though it's enough for you. Silently, and still with his hand tightly gripping yours, he pulls you in closer so that your head is tucked under his chin, the blankets wrapped around the two of you. Gently, his thumb brushes over the stretch of your hand with a steady rhythm that lulls you to sleep and before you realise it, your eyes are half closed.

You shuffle, pressing your face further into his neck. The last thing you hear before drifting of is his voice again, though with how quiet he says it you're not sure if he's talking to you, himself, or the universe.

"I’m glad it’s you."

And even if he feels you smile against his chest in response, he doesn't say anything — just holds you tighter, like he never plans to let go.

taglist (for niki fics! <3) @miniw0nz @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

[luveline]

Shy!reader and post prison Spence - the first time he calls her a pet name? I love that your Spencers always use “honey” or “dove” or “love” and we know she’d be a mess.

P.S. completely agree with how much I love the gentleness of your characters. The way you write Spencer in love is literally my favorite

ty for requesting <3 fem

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

Spencer holds a hanging strap. You hold your own, core tense with the movement of the train. “I think I would’ve mentioned it before you got on the train if it weren’t.” 

You nod, glancing around the traincar at the other passengers. There's a stout lady wearing a large fluffy sweater, turquoise with two white kittens at her chest nuzzling one another in knit. A man with three bags of groceries sits just beside her. Further down, a teenage girl listens to music through leaking headphones, her phone reflecting blue light on her cheeks. 

“But are you sure I won’t be an imposition?” 

“You aren’t usually. I guess we won’t know until we get there.” 

“Maybe I should just find a hotel for the night.” 

“Y/N, I’m kidding. You’re not an imposition, it won’t be a problem. There’s enough room at my apartment for you to stay however long you want. Between all the books, that is.” 

It’s just not something you pictured asking him for. Your kitchen flooded in your apartment and the landlord had to put you up in a hotel until he could get someone in to make sure the stove wasn’t about to explode or catch light. But the idea of a hotel is rough torture —somewhere unfamiliar, living out of a suitcase, surrounded by people you don’t know without a door that locks properly. Spencer caught you sweating over it at your desk, pulling the story from you in reluctant drags with a hand on your shoulder. 

It’ll be okay, he said, you can just stay with me. 

Which is relieving and somehow a new can of worms to deal with. At least at a hotel there was no chance of seeing Spencer in a towel. Spencer seeing you in a towel, in your pyjamas, without your formal office protections. 

The worst part is the excitement. 

Terrified he’ll see it on your face, you stare at your shoes next to his. Spencer… Everyone told you he was a dork. When you joined the team in his absence, not once did you get the impression that the man who’d be coming back was like this. You feel like he’d been infantilised. Which isn’t to say he isn’t a dork, he is, he tells you the strangest things, facts or statistics to accompany each topic of the day, and he has all the manners and chivalry of someone who knows what it’s like to be as painfully shy as you are. But he isn’t shy. 

Autistic, he’d confided once. Probably. I’m better at dealing with it now. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Nervous.” 

“I know.” He grasps your arm as the train screeches on tracks, turning a tight bend. You’re grateful, but immediately flushed with heat. 

“I don’t want to embarrass myself.” 

“You couldn’t. I think I know you too well already.”

“You’ve known me for less time than the rest of the team, but you were the first person to offer me a place to stay.” You clench the rickety handle of your suitcase. “Thank you.” 

“That’s okay, angel.” He says it simply and softly, like you really are an angel. Something breathless to wait with. 

Angel, you think, heart skipping a beat, pulse slow and then suddenly ramped. 

His arm slips behind your back. “I don’t want you to stay in a hotel if it’s going to scare you. Besides, it’ll be fun. Like a sleepover.” He laughs. And you, despite your flush, heat sinking across your chest like a bruise, manage to laugh back. “I’ve never had one before.” 

“What?” 

“Never had a sleepover. I didn’t have any friends in school, and I haven’t had a girlfriend stay the night before.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, expecting a retraction. Not that you’re my girlfriend, not that you’re anything like that at all. 

He smiles at you. “Should we get takeout?”

“What were you thinking?” 

“There’s an Indian restaurant between the station and my apartment? We can stop in. Or we can order something to come. Or I can cook, if you want home cooked.” 

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to cook–”

His lips turn to a quizzical pout. “I don’t mind.”

You want him to call you angel again. You want him to take you home, make you dinner, and you want to sleepover. Like a girlfriend, you want to wake up in his bed. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod. “Alright. I was worried you didn’t like the pet name, but your pupils dilated when I said it–”

You can’t escape him. One hand in the hanging strap above, the over on your suitcase handle, you have no choice but to stand there with his arm around you to keep you from falling, face so hot with it that you’re sure you’d be feverish to the touch. “It’s fine,” you say, too afraid to look at his face that you end up staring at the nice shape of his throat, his black and purple tie. “Call me what you want. Um, I think we should get Indian.” 

“Good choice, angel.” 

[whisperedmeg]

LIBRARY RULES ⋆˚꩜｡ spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you went to the library to escape the solitude of your apartment. but the last thing you were expecting was to spend the afternoon flirting over Foucault with a sweater vest-clad FBI agent who talks philosophy like it’s a love language.

genre: fluff | w/c: 1.2k

tags/warnings: none really! some light academic jargon and mentions of philosophical theory but you don’t need background on them for the story to make sense

a/n: went to the library and got inspired to write a quick little fluffy fic over the weekend 🤓 I chose the philosophy angle because I recently rewatched s4e8 ‘masterpiece’ where spencer mentions working on a philosophy BA. I dove into my old university notes while writing this, but my brain is a bit fuzzy on this stuff so pls excuse any inaccuracies lol. also specifically had season 2 glasses reid in mind (yet again). if glasses reid has no fans, I’m dead.

You only came to the library because your apartment is too loud. Or too quiet. One of those paradoxes you could never quite define — either way, you can’t focus, and you need to. So you packed up your laptop and headed for the only place where you could guarantee the atmosphere would match your mood: hushed, academic, and ever-so-slightly tense.

You love libraries. Especially the older buildings — all worn paper, polished floors, and endless mazes of shelves. There’s something sacred about it. But what you didn’t expect was for someone else to reach for the same book at the same time as you.

“Sorry—”

“I’m sorry—”

You freeze. So does he.

Your eyes meet.

He’s tall. Messy-haired. Wearing a sweater vest over a button-down and a pair of browline glasses that make him look like he walked straight out of a graduate seminar. His hand is still suspended halfway toward the spine of the book you’d both reached for — Foucault’s Discipline and Punish, of all things — and his mouth was already parting to apologize again when he seemed to realize you’re both staring at each other.

“You go ahead,” he says quickly, dropping his hand.

“No, really, you can take it,” you say. “Are you also writing an unhinged think piece on carceral theory and state surveillance?”

His mouth quirks at the corner. “Not currently. But now I’m intrigued.”

You tilt your head, feeling a little emboldened. “Do you think Foucault actually believed total surveillance was inevitable?”

He blinks, surprised. “I think he meant it more literally than people like to admit.”

“So, panopticism as a warning?”

“Or a prophecy. Depends on how generous you’re feeling.”

You laugh. “Are you always this philosophical in the library?”

He looks faintly bashful, like maybe he isn’t used to playful interrogation. “It’s, uh, kind of my default setting.”

You laugh again and glance at the book still between you. “So, are we sharing this, or arm-wrestling for it?”

“Actually,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was just hoping to reread the section on disciplinary power, but it’s not urgent. I can find something else if you—”

“We could share,” you offer, surprising yourself. “There’s a reading table over there. Neutral ground.”

He looks at you for a moment, something curious in his expression. Then he nods. “Alright. Neutral ground.”

You walk side by side to a tucked-away wooden table nestled between shelves, sit down next to each other, and open the book.

The silence is companionable at first. You each pull out notebooks. You reach for your fountain pen. He’d brought a mechanical pencil — you find that endearing.

He turns the book toward you and taps a paragraph. “This part always gets overlooked.”

You read it silently. Nod. Scribble something down.

Then pass it back.

He makes a soft noise of agreement and flips a few pages, skimming with an intensity and speed that makes you wonder how many times he’d read it before and just how many words per minute he could possibly absorb.

You lean over slightly. “That part, where Foucault describes power as diffused rather than centralized. That’s where the whole thing turns, don’t you think?”

He glances at you across the book’s spine. “Yes. That’s where it stops being about prisons.”

You smile. “And starts being about everything.”

He passes the book back and nods towards your padfolio. “You take good notes.”

“Thanks,” you say, warmth blooming behind your ribs.

For the next twenty minutes, you trade the book like it’s a conversation — passing it back and forth with soft commentary and under-the-breath questions. You don’t speak constantly, but there’s no awkwardness. Just the quiet rhythm of two people paying attention to the same thing at the same time.

You aren’t sure when your knee started brushing his under the table. Or when your hands began to linger slightly too long during each pass. You tell yourself it’s incidental. The table’s small, and the book is large. But still, you notice.

When your fingers brush his again — knuckles, this time — you hear his breath catch and look up to catch his eyes.

You could look away. Instead, you opt for a conversational angle.

“So what’s your background? You don’t seem like the political theory type.”

He tilts his head. “No?”

“You read too fast. And your notes are in shorthand.” You lean in, smiling. “You’re either a court reporter, an academic, or some sort of federal agent.”

His eyes sparkle with something between amusement and alarm. “I’d argue there are more possibilities than that.”

“You’d probably argue anything,” you say, grinning. “Which is why I’m betting on academic.”

He ducks his head. “I’ve spent a lot of time in academia, but nope. I’m with the FBI.”

You struggle to hide your shock, then study him a little closer. “You? No way.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he says, offering a wave instead of a handshake. “Profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Wait. I’ve heard of you.”

Spencer blinks. “You have?”

You smile. “It’s hard not to, if you work anywhere near federal law enforcement. You’re the one with, like, a million PhDs and a tendency to quote Enlightenment theorists in case briefings, right?”

His ears flush pink. “My reputation precedes me, I guess. But, uh, just three PhDs. Not a million.”

You laugh softly at his awkwardness and introduce yourself in return. “I work in federal program management. Mostly DOJ-funded prison reform initiatives. Sometimes I write about the surveillance state.”

His brow lifts. “Then you probably know more about this than I do.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” you chuckle.

He ducks his head. “Well, I’ve never done it professionally. I just read a lot.”

You study him for another moment — soft-spoken, serious, a tad awkward, earnest to a fault — and feel something warm pool in your chest.

“I like your brain,” you say casually.

That makes him choke on air.

You grin. “Too forward?”

“No, I just… don’t hear that often.”

You tilt your head, feigning surprise. “That seems criminal.”

He looks at you like he’s mentally thumbing through an index card catalog for the appropriate response. When he doesn’t find one, he does what you imagine he always does: he reaches for something safer. Facts.

“Foucault argued the panopticon wasn’t just architectural,” he says suddenly, voice steadier than his posture. “It was a metaphor for disciplinary power throughout society. He thought it turned surveillance into a subtle form of control.”

You gasp. “Oh no. Now you’re flirting with post-structuralist theory?”

He flushes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s my love language.”

For a moment, the air between you shimmers — not quite silent, not quite static. You watch his fingers tap against the pages. He watches your smile soften.

You stand, closing your notebook. “I gotta head out. But would you want to do this again? Same time next week?”

His gaze lifts. “Same book?”

“Same table,” you say, shaking your head as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Different philosopher. I want to see what you have to say about Nietzsche. I bet you have many opinions on eternal recurrence.”

Spencer huffs a quiet laugh, eyes still on you. “You have no idea.”

As you turn, notebook tucked under your arm, the air in the library seems to shift. The hush of pages and footsteps resumes around you, but it sounds different now. Warmer, maybe. Or maybe it’s just you.

At the end of the row, you glance back.

Spencer’s still watching, lopsided grin on his face. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks away like a little kid caught peeping at his gifts on Christmas Eve.

You turn the corner smiling.

Library rules: always return what you borrow. But this time, maybe — just maybe — you’re hoping to keep what you’d found.

ᝰ.ᐟ

masterlist

PSA: likes do very little for promoting posts on tumblr! if you'd like to support a fic, please reblog!

[mysticlael]

Bat inco quotes

Roy, in Jason’s bed: Morning… how’d ya sleep last night? Jason, knocking Roy off: WHAT THE HELL?! Roy: Ow— Jason: What were you doing in my bed? You were supposed to sleep on the air mattress on the floor! Roy: I had a nightmare. Jason: You had a nightmare? What are you, five years old? Roy: Listen, I needed to feel comfortable and I was getting this perverse power dynamic vibe from me sleeping on the floor and you sleeping up there- Jason, in a royal accent: Why yes, how high and mighty I am up on my twin XL! Roy: That is not what I meant— Jason: Silence in the presence of your king, who sleeps a lofty twelve and a half inches above the ground! Roy: Listen, I’m not ashamed. I slept comfortably when I got up on your bed and I’m sure you did too. Jason: Yeah, okay- Roy: You know what? I wanna know. How’d you sleep last night? Jason: …That was the best I’ve slept in a while. Roy, gasping: The king slept comfortably with a peasant in his bed! Jason: I did not consent to this- Roy, dramatically: But my liege, our love is forbidden! Jason, on the phone: Hi, is this the front desk? Yeah, there’s a bed bug in my room and he’s five-foot-eleven, he’s got red hair- Roy: Ask them if they have one of those “Do Not Disturb” signs. I’ll put it on the door next time we… do it. Jason: Okay, I'ma go shower and wash all of the you off of me. Roy: Oh, maybe together we could— Jason: NO. Roy: Just to save water— Jason: No! You don’t even pay for the water! Roy: …Good point.

Steph: *Texts a selfie to the group chat* Hey besties!! Jason: *Texts a selfie clearly parodying Steph's* hey besties !!1! Steph: I literally hate you so much.

Dick, holding a box of Lunchables: Ah, I loved these when I was your age… fine dining. Damian: Fix yourself.

Tim: What did you guys get in your yearbook? Steph: 'Prettiest Smile' Dick: 'Nicest Personality' Jason: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' Cass: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Steph: Today at 7 am, Tim poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing. Dick: I watched Tim brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm. Damian: The survivability of the human race never fails to amaze me.

Damian, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with 7 kittens one day? Bruce: … Bruce: What’s in the box? Damian: What woul- Bruce: Damian, what’s in the box? Damian: I think you know.

Bruce: Did you buy eggs like I asked? Damian: Even better! Bruce: What the fuck did you- Damian: *holding up a chicken* Her name is Fluffy.

Tim: What are we gonna do?! Jason: Blame you?

*Dick comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Barbara’s bedroom.* Barbara: Dick, are you.. coming to bed? Dick: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend. Dick: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep* Barbara: ...

Roy: sapnu puaS. Kori: What?? Jason: What language is that? Roy: Turn your phone 180 degrees. *Roy was removed from the groupchat*

Kon, admiring a sleeping Tim: You’re so cute. Tim, sleepily: I could beat your ass. Kon, lovingly: I know.

Duke: How do those little boys on XBOX parties always know what slur to call you? Tim: They're empaths.

Steph: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute. Dick: No, that's not how you make cookies. Duke: FLOOR IT!! Jason: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!? Damian: YOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN- Steph: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES! Tim: DO IT! Bruce: NO-

Tim, at Kon: Would you like to stay for dinner? Bernard, from the kitchen: Would you like to stay forever!?!

Damian: What the fuck is with english teachers and being like; "write a story about a deep and personal memory that impacted your life". Ma'am, if I do that you're going to send me to the counselor's office.

[wafflefries13]

Asking Out the Twisted Wonderland Cast (Multi TWST cast X Reader)

Summary: Sometimes, you can't just wait for good things to happen to you. Time to screw your courage to the sticking place and finally ask out that boy you like!

AN: I meant for these each to be like 200 word drabbles. Some of them kind of got away from me, lol.

Cross-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Fluff, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

Part 2: First Dates

The sounds of the NRC cafeteria clattered around the group of first years. Utensils scraping on plates, sizzling from the open window to the kitchen, a hundred different conversations from all sides. Their small group sat clustered around their table, nestled close together to be heard over the general din. 

“I’m just saying,” Ace said, mouth half full. 

“You’re always ‘just saying’,” Deuce said. 

Ace shoved him. “I’m just saying, if you want to try out for the anchor position on the track team you have to actually ask for it. Get Coach Vargas and don’t stop bugging him until he sees what you can do! No one’s going to just wait for it to happen.” 

“And I’m saying it doesn't do any good to be a nuisance when I don’t even know if I’m good enough yet. I might as well wait till tryouts next semester.” 

“No, no, he’s right,” (Y/N) said, distantly. 

“Yeah!” Ace said. “Wait, right about what?” 

“You can’t just wait for stuff to happen to you. If you really want something you have to go and take it for yourself.” She stood abruptly, face determined. “I need to ask something.” 

Ace:

“Ace!” 

Ace jumped, brushing off crumbs from his jacket. “What? What did I do now?” 

“Do you want to go out with me?” 

Epel choked, Jack thumping him on the back. Deuce looked like she had just insulted his mother. Sebek rolled his eyes as he took another bite. Ortho gasped, leaning forward, eyes wide and excited. 

“I-What?” Ace stuttered, his face rapidly turning red. “Where the heck did that come from?” 

“You were just saying you shouldn’t wait for something you want. I like you, I have for a while now. So, do you want to go out?” 

Ace stuttered out a reply, slapping on his normal cocky smile but decidedly not meeting (Y/N)’s eyes. “I mean, yeah, of course you fell for me! It’s about time you said something. But, um, yeah, I’d like that. A lot.” 

“Well,” Deuce said, rolling his eyes. “It’s about time one of you said something.” 

“Hey!” Ace shouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

(Y/N) playfully shoved him. “Oh, please, don’t act like I haven’t noticed that you like me too. You’re not subtle about it.” 

“What made you think that?” 

“Ace, within the first week of me being here you asked to sleep in the same bed as me twice.” 

From another table, definitely not eavesdropping, Riddle fainted. 

Deuce:

“Deuce!” Deuce jumped at (Y/N) suddenly shouting his name. “I need your help with something. Can you come with me for a second?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course.” Deuce ignored Ace’s pointed look. Deuce followed (Y/N) out of the cafeteria down the halls. “Where are we going?” 

(Y/N) suddenly turned around, Deuce almost colliding with her. Before he could apologize, she took his hands, looking up into his eyes as he felt blood rush to his cheeks. 

“I just wanted somewhere more private,” She said. “Deuce, I really like you. Will you go out with me?” 

“I-huh?! I mean, yeah, yes! I like you, too!” He rubbed the back of his head and looked away shyly. “Man, I wanted to ask you out first.” 

(Y/N) grinned. “Really? How were you going to do it?” 

“Well, my mom said that when my dad first asked her out he got her this big bouquet of flowers. But he ended up being allergic to them so he kept sneezing the whole time. She took him to the infirmary at their school and he had to write it down since his face was too swollen to talk.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to flowers. Maybe we can skip the rest of that, though.” 

Deuce marched over to the cut out window of the hallway, opening out onto the quad. Reaching over, he plucked a fluffy pink peony from one of the bushes. He came back to (Y/N), suddenly very flustered, and held it out to her. 

“(Y/N),” He began. 

She clasped her hands together. “Yes?” 

“Would you do me the honor of - Ah!” Deuce yelped as a bee flew out of the peony blossom, shooting for Deuce’s face to sting him. 

Turns out, they did spend time in the infirmary. But, after (Y/N) kissed his cheek and gently held the flower, Deuce didn’t seem to mind too much. 

Trey: 

“Ow!” 

Trey paused outside the Heartslabyul kitchen as he heard the exclamation from inside. He was planning on testing out a new bread recipe his parents had sent him and wasn’t expecting anyone else to be using the kitchen that day. He peaked in, seeing (Y/N), Grim, Ace, and Deuce crowded around the island in the middle. (Y/N) was blowing on a burn on her hand, Grim rifling through the pantry for various sweets, and Ace and Deuce waving away smoke from a burnt pastry freshly pulled from the oven. 

“I told you!” (Y/N) said. “You can’t just raise the temperature for it to cook faster, it’ll just burn!” 

“Well, sorry for trying to make your confession go faster before you chicken out,” Ace said. 

“I’m not going to chicken out! Probably. Maybe. What if the pie burning is an omen?” 

“I wouldn’t read too deeply into it,” Trey said, entering the kitchen. The first years jumped, (Y/N)’s eyes going wide and she stared at the floor. 

“Well!” Deuce said, grabbing Ace and Grim and hurrying them out the door. “Omen or not, that’s our cue to leave. Good luck, (Y/N)!” 

Silence echoed around the two of them as the door of the kitchen thunked closed. (Y/N) fiddled with her fingers, still not looking up. Trey walked around the island, looking at the smoldering pie. There was a mostly neat lattice across the bubbling fruit, with extra crust cut into letters around the rim. 

“‘Trey,’” He read. “‘Will you-’”

“Ah! No, wait!” (Y/N) jumped forward, covering it with her hands. She jumped back as her palm accidentally hit the hot pie tin, giving her another burn. 

“Oh, wait, hang on.” Trey quickly went over to the sink, grabbing a clean towel and soaking it in cold water. He gently took her hand, pressing it to the burn. (Y/N) chewed her lip. “You know, I’d be happy to help if you want to try again. I’ve been wanting to try this new butter pie crust that’s good with custards and-”

“I really like you!” (Y/N) blurted out, face going as hot as the burn on her hand. “Would you want to go out with me? Please?” 

Trey tightened his grip on her hand, careful to avoid the injury. He smiled, laughing. “I was wondering if I should say it first. I guess you beat me to it. Yes, (Y/N), I’d love to go out with you.”  

Cater: 

Cater was relaxing in the Heartslabyul gardens, a can of red paint discarded beside him. He hummed something the pop music club had been working on as he scrolled through Magicam. He took a quick selfie, winking, tongue out with a peace sign, before refreshing his feed. 

He paused when he saw (Y/N) come across his dash. She was smiling brightly, one arm arched above her head and the other held down at an angle to create half a heart. The word ‘Will’ was written in bubbly cartoon letters in the middle. A few posts later, there was a second photo, an almost perfect mirror of the first to complete the heart. The word ‘You’ was written in the middle of this one. 

Cater almost felt like he was solving a puzzle as he searched the rest of his feed for more posts. Each had (Y/N) in a dramatic pose, adding another word to complete the sentence, ‘Go,’ ‘Out,’ ‘With’, ‘Me.’ When he realized it was a request to ask someone out, he couldn’t help but feel a little deflated. He shook his head. Of course (Y/N) would be crushing on someone. With all the adventures she had gone on during their time at NRC, it would make sense to develop strong feelings. He tried to quiet the voice in his head that hoped those strong feelings would go his way. Well, whatever, that just meant he had to keep a close eye on whoever had earned her affections, maybe give them a good threatening to treat her right while he was at it. 

Cater tapped on her name, taking him to her Magicam profile. It felt like just the other day when he was helping her set it up. He sighed at the happy memory. For a second, it occurred to him that the message (Y/N) had been spelling out in pictures didn’t end with a question mark. He thought it was weird. Was it a mistake? Then his eye caught on the latest picture, posted just a second before. 

It was a selfie of (Y/N) holding a large bouquet of yellow and orange flowers, marigolds, daisies, and buttercups. The majority of the frame was over her shoulder, showing Cater himself sitting against the hedges. His name was drawn in the same cartoon font with a question mark, surrounded by a heart.  

Cater snapped up, whirling around. He quickly whipped away the happy tears budding at the corner of his eyes as he saw (Y/N) waiting for him. The flowers were crushed between them as he scooped her up in a tight hug, both of them laughing. 

(They both carefully rearranged the flowers after to be presentable for the mandatory #TogetherForever couple photoshoot after.) 

Riddle: 

Riddle frowned at the commotion building from the Heartslabyul common room. He could make out the familiar rising sounds of Ace and Deuce’s voices. He began marching to the source of the racket, faltering a little when he heard (Y/N)’s voice joining in. Mentally scolding himself from eavesdropping  (it wasn’t eavesdropping, he was keeping tabs on his dorm mates, that’s it) he hovered near the cracked open door. 

“No, wait!” (Y/N) said. “We can’t use coral roses! I said pink!” 

Ace huffed. “What’s the difference?” 

(Y/N) tapped a small dark red book she was holding. “Coral roses symbolize desire, pink roses mean admiration and happiness. I’m not trying to scare him off before I can even ask him out!” 

Before he could even think about it, Riddle threw open the door, shouting, “Just what is going on here?” 

Everyone inside jumped. Riddle swept his eyes across the room, taking in the bundles and bundles of roses in multiple colors carefully poised on every surface. Ace and Deuce were meticulously balancing a bouquet in the chandelier, plucking out the offending coral colored roses. Cater was smirking in the corner, phone poised to capture everything. Trey chuckled behind his own large bouquet of yellow roses.. 

“Um,” She said, startled by his interruption. Taking a deep breath, she set the book down and picked up a bouquet of lavender roses, shoving them in Riddle’s direction. 

‘Lavender,’ He thought. ‘Love at first sight.’ 

“Riddle!” She said, probably a little too loudly. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Cater tried to break the tension with a laugh. “Aww, (Y/N),” He said. “What happened to that whole speech you had?” 

“He surprised me!” She said. “Oh, wait, hang on, I still have it.” Without thinking, she shoved the bouquet in Riddle’s arms, searching her pockets to pull out a neatly folded piece of notebook paper. “Ahem. Riddle, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few months have been a torment. I came to Heartslabuyl with the single objective to see you. I-” 

“Everyone out!” Riddle shouted. As the group scuttled to the door, he pointed at (Y/N). “Not you.” 

The door thudded behind them, Ace and Deuce giving a quick thumbs up and what was supposed to be a confident smile as they left. (Y/N) crinkled the paper in her hands. 

“It gets better,” She said meekly. “The speech. Although I guess in the movie it ends with a rejection too. I should have used the one from the end, or Shakespeare maybe. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more - well, I guess you're not very temperate. Wait, let me try again.” 

“(Y/N),” He said. He held the lavender flowers tightly. “You know what this means?” 

“Oh, the flowers? Yeah, I, um, I’ve been studying.” She picked the book back up, shyly holding it up. Riddle could read the title now: The Queen of Hearts Guide to Courtship and Love. 

“You,” Riddle said, feeling his face heat up. He held up the flowers. “You mean it? Really?” 

(Y/N) took a step towards him, understanding softening the worry on her face. “Of course. I wanted to ask you out and I thought, well,” She waved at the multicolored roses, laughing. “Go big or go home, right?” 

“It certainly is a statement.” Riddle picked up a yellow rose with red tipping the petals and handed it to her. (Y/N) recognized the colors immediately as meaning ‘Falling in love.’ She gasped in happiness, jumping forward to wrap Riddle in a tight hug. 

Leona: 

“Ruggie!” Ruggie paused as he heard (Y/N) call his name. She jogged over to him where he held Leona’s typical boxed lunch order. “Hey, that’s for Leona, right? Do you mind if I bring it to him? There’s something important I have to talk to him about.” Ruggie considered it for a moment before shrugging and handing it over, but not before stealing a couple of chips to pop into his mouth as he strolled away. 

(Y/N) found Leona in his normal spot, a hidden alcove in the gardens in the biodome. He was laying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, and eyes closed as he dozed. He cracked his eye open as (Y/N) approached. 

“Hi,” She said, kneeling down beside him. 

“Hmm,” He replied. 

“I have something important to ask you.” 

“Are you going to try and make me get up?” “No.” 

“Alright, ask away.” 

“Will you go out with me?” 

Leona’s eyes snapped open. He pushed himself up on his elbows to stare at (Y/N), smiling sincerely at him, and maybe holding his lunch hostage until she got an answer. 

“I really like you,” She continued. “You’re brave and confident and know exactly who you are. Sure, you can be stubborn as hell, but you also really care about people close to you. Don’t make that face, you can’t fool me. You could have easily thrown me out when Grim and I needed someplace to stay when Azul took over Ramshackle, but you didn’t. You didn’t even kick us out when we were making so much noise and annoying you, you helped us break Azul’s contracts instead. You joined the Culinary Crucible because Epel did and you wanted to keep an eye on your team mate. Please, as if you ever need to learn how to cook, I know you can’t even use a microwave. And you pretend not to notice when Ruggie steals your credit card. And there was that time you followed all of us to Playful Land because you were worried we were going to get scammed. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. You’ve got a big heart of gold under that spiky exterior. And I really admire you for that. I… I really love you, Leona.” 

“Well,” Leona said, laying back down, tail flicking. “I suppose going on a date wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” (Y/N) decided not to point out the content smile stretching across his face. She made a move to stand up, but Leona shot an arm out to hook around her waist, pulling her down next to him with an “Oof.” “Now don’t tell anyone else about all that,” Leona grumbled without any real heat. 

Ruggie: 

Ruggie was in Leona’s room, folding laundry while the house warden took a nap behind him. Ruggie stretched his arms above his head, sighing when there was a satisfying pop in his back. Suddenly, the door to the room slammed open. Ruggie yelped and Leona woke with an undignified snort. 

“Gah, what now?” Leona mumbled. 

“Ruggie!” (Y/N) said, standing in the doorway. She was panting as if she had just run across campus (she had). 

“Uh, what? Yeah? Whatever it was, I didn’t take it!” 

Unperturbed, (Y/N) marched over to him, taking both his hands in hers. “You did take something.” Ruggie frantically tried to remember if he had stolen anything from Ramshackle recently. He tried not to, knowing (Y/N) was pretty much as broke as he was. It didn’t seem fair. And maybe he liked her a little too much to swipe something. “You stole my heart!” (Y/N) continued dramatically. “Will you go out with me?” 

Behind them, Leona coughed to unconvincingly cover up a laugh. 

Ruggie’s ears flattened to his head in shock. He reached back and batted at his tail as if that would get it to stop wagging. “I - what? Are you sure? Me? What?” 

“Of course! You’re resourceful, you work hard, you’re clever, and you care a lot about your family back home. I really admire all that about you and more! Not to mention you’re super cute. So, will you go out with me?” 

“Oh, just say yes already, Ruggie,” Leona said, settling down to continue his nap. “At least then I won’t have to hear you being such a sap all the time.” 

Ruggie let out his signature laugh. He tightened his grip on (Y/N)’s hands. “Well, sure then, why not? As long as you’re paying, right?” 

Jack: 

Jack and Vil were out on their daily morning run. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting the Night Raven College campus in a warm golden light. At their halfway point, they took a break, Vil stretching in his cooldown. 

“You sure you don’t want to keep going with me?” Jack asked. 

“No,” Vil said. “I’d rather stay slim than bulk up like you. I have my status to maintain. And besides, it looks like I would be interrupting something rather important.” He smiled knowingly and pointed with his chin a little ways down the sidewalk. 

Jack turned. He felt his tail start to wag on its own when he saw (Y/N) standing by one of the Great Seven statues, drawing circles in the ground with her foot. She looked up, breaking out in a warm smile when she saw him. Vil chuckled under his breath and waved as he headed back to Pomfiore. 

Jack clenched his jaw, willing his tail to stay still as he approached her. “Good morning. You’re not usually up this early, right? Is everything okay?” 

(Y/N) jutted her arms out completely straight, offering up the flowering Chin cactus in her hands. “Jack!” She said. “I really like you. I love how brave you are. I love how you’re dedicated to the people you care about. I love how you can be sweet and kind even when you try to act tough all the time. Would you go out with me?” 

“Yes!” Jack replied, almost before the words had even left (Y/N)’s mouth. He put his hands over hers, cradling the cactus. “I mean, yes, I would like to go out with you. Very much.” 

Azul: 

Azul jumped as (Y/N) slammed her hands on his desk in the VIP room of the Monstro Lounge. He quickly gathered his composer, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Well, Prefect, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I have a deal for you,” She said confidently. 

“Oh? I’d love to hear it.” 

Smiling, she whipped out a sheet of paper and slapped it on top of the other documents Azul had spread over his desk. On the top of the page in an elegant script were the words ‘Contract of First Date.’ Azul felt a lump form in his throat as his heart sped up. He quickly scanned over the rest of the ‘contract,’ outlining the proposed date. 

“Terms of the deal,” (Y/N) continued. “You, me, romantic night out. I know a guy in Craneport who said we could use one of their rowboats and I found this really cool pond with all these willow trees and fireflies. Plus I have this cute picnic basket all set up. Jamil has been teaching me how to cook, you know? Can’t say it’ll be as good as his, if we’re being honest about the terms of agreement. And the contract leaves an opening for future dates depending on the success of this one! Of course, success is not really a super definable term but you get what I mean. So, do we have a deal?” 

Azul covered his face with one hand, trying desperately to ignore how red his face must be at this point. He couldn’t seem to meet her enthusiastic and twinkling eyes. 

“I, uh,” (Y/N) continued, shyer this time as Azul scanned over the contract. “I really like you, Azul. A lot. So, will you go out with me?” 

He looked back down at the contract where her name was written in elegant script at the bottom with space for his next to it. He cleared his throat, bringing back his practiced (definitely not shady) businessman smile. With a sweep of his pen, he said, “It’s a deal.” 

Jade: 

(Y/N) marched across the cafeteria, determination in her eyes. She stopped in front of a table with Jade, Floyd, and Azul. “Hi!” She said, maybe a little too loudly with nerves. Jade and Azul looked up from their conversation, Floyd pausing his efforts in making a castle out of mashed potatoes. “Jade, I really like you. Do you want to go out with me?” 

“Oh?” Jade said, a brief moment of genuine surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features back into pleasant neutrality. “Well, what a pleasant surprise.” 

Floyd snorted and elbowed his brother. “Shrimpy’s got a crush,” He said in a sing-song voice. 

“I must admit,” Jade said, pouting with one hand on his cheek. “I always did imagine a more theatrical confession. Nonetheless, I happily acc-” 

“I can do that!” (Y/N) interrupted. Holding on to Floyd’s shoulder for balance, she climbed on top of the table. She clapped her hands loudly, shouting, “Attention! Attention, please, everyone! I have an announcement!” She cleared her throat as the room fell silent. “I would like to declare my unequivocal, utter devotion and love for Jade Leech.” She heard a choking sound below her but continued on. “I am hopelessly in love, helplessly enraptured, and absolutely head over heels. And it is my deepest hope that he could return my affections. Thank you.” With that, she hopped down, beaming. There was a smattering of applause and laughter from around the room. Epel whooped from back at the first year table. 

Jade’s hands covered his blushing face, fierce sharp eyes peeking out between his fingers. His mouth was split in a wide smile, sharp teeth glinting in a mixture of bashfulness, excitement, and desire. 

“Congratulations, (Y/N),” Azul said. “I can barely remember that last time Jade was actually flustered.” 

“Aww, look at him, he’s speechless!” Floyd teased. 

(Y/N) winced. “Sorry, was that too far?” 

Jade shot out with lightning speed, crushing her in his tight eel grip. “I should let you know,” He whispered to her. “I expect this level of dedication for the entirety of our relationship.” 

Floyd: 

Floyd darted through the stacks of the library. He could have sworn he saw Goldfish in here earlier, and he was in the mood to mess with the easily angered boy. And, while he didn’t find Riddle, he did pause as he saw (Y/N) between the books. He paused, pushing a few books aside to rest his chin on the shelf, an easy smile crossing his face as he spied on her. 

She was hunched over one of the study tables, a large book propped up and open in front of her. She was diligently working on something in her hands, tongue poking out between her lips (lips that Floyd found himself thinking about more often than he would admit), looking back up at the book in front of her every so often. 

Dropping down low, Floyd carefully made his way behind her, silent on his feet. Rising up to his full height behind her, unsuspecting, he jolted forward, wrapping her in a backward hug and pulling her back so the chair careened back on two legs. 

“Shrimpy!” He said, taking delight in her startled squeal. “Whatcha doin’?” 

“God, Floyd,” (Y/N) said, putting a hand to her chest to calm her raging heart. Her eyes suddenly went wide and she lunged forward to cover what she was working on with her arms. “Ah! Don’t look, don’t look! It’s not done!” 

Floyd grinned again. “Aww, it’s not nice to keep secrets.” His hands shot out, pulling out the thing she was hiding. (Y/N) covered her face as Floyd inspected the object. It was a thick piece of twine, various polished shells, sea glass, and dried shiny scales strung throughout. Although it wasn’t exactly neat, the way it caught the sunlight cast tiny rainbows and simmers around the library. Floyd peered at the open book. It was a cultural history of merpeople in the Coral Sea. The opened chapter described mer courting rituals and marriage traditions. Floyd started cackling as (Y/N) buried her face further in her hands.  

“How old is this thing?” Floyd asked, poking at the book. “I don’t even think my grandparents made courting charms.” 

“Shut up,” (Y/N) mumbled. “I was trying to… Forget it.” 

Floyd slipped the haphazard necklace over his neck, prying her hands away to hold them tightly in his. “I accept!” He said brightly. “This was for me, right? It better be, Shrimpy.” 

She smiled and flicked his forehead. “Possibly against my better judgment, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, Floyd.” 

Kalim: 

Kalim knew he should probably be studying, but every time he opened a text book or looked at the notes Jamil had oh-so-carefully marked and tabbed for him, he felt his eyes start to droop and mind get fuzzy. A good after lunch walk was just what he needed, and he definitely wasn’t just saying that to put off work. 

He stopped when he realized he had wandered outside Ramshackle dorm. Was that on purpose? Did he subconsciously come here, with the hope he might see (Y/N)? Kalim walked up to the front door, knocking before opening the door and calling inside. 

“Hello! It’s Kalim! Can I come in?” 

There was a squawk of surprise from the front sitting room. (Y/N) poked her head around the corner, flustered. 

“Hi. Sure, come on in. Uh, sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of something.” 

“Can I help?” Kalim asked, walking over to her. Peering into the sitting room, Kalim’s face lit up. Every available surface, and a few unavailable surfaces, were covered in colored and patterned paper. There were stacks and crowds of tiny paper birds littered between everything. 

“I don’t know if it counts if more people make them.” 

Kalim sat on one of the plush chairs, picking up a flowery piece of paper. “If what will count?” 

“It’s an old superstition from my world. If you can fold 1000 paper cranes, your wish will come true. Or something like that.” 

“Ooh, origami! I’ve made decorations using that before! I’m not super good at it, but I’ll help if you want.” 

(Y/N) smiled and sat next to him and Kalim felt his heart flip. “Yeah, I’d like the company.” 

They lost track of time folding cranes, the sun beginning to set high above the dilapidated house. They talked the whole time, jumping from topic to topic, joke to joke, without any real sense of flow. It was warm, there in the small room, not only due to the crackling fireplace. 

“So,” Kalim asked eventually. “What wish were you wanting to make? If this dosen’t work out, I can help you with it!” 

(Y/N) suddenly went bashful, turning away to pay extra attention to the folds of her bird. “I…” She muttered. She took a deep breath, turning to fully face Kalim. “I was going to ask you out. You have all these elaborate decorations and parties all the time. I was going to string all of these together and hang them in your room then ask you out. But, now that you’re here… Kalim, would you go out with me?” 

Kalim dropped the paper crane, flinging himself across the couch to wrap her in a tight hug. “Yes! Yes, yes yes! Oh, I would love to! Huh, I guess that means I need to cancel that order of doves now. That’s how I was going to ask you out next week. Hey, we both thought of birds! That must mean we definitely belong together, right?” 

Jamil: 

“Be right back,” (Y/N) said, standing from the first year cafeteria table. She walked across the cafeteria until she stopped in front of Kalim and Jamil. 

Jamil was shoving a napkin at Kalim. “Careful, you’re going to get sauce all over your shirt.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll be careful! And besides, it’s a pretty color, right? Oh, hey, (Y/N)!” 

“Hi,” She said, looking solely at Jamil. “Jamil, I really like you. Would you want to go out with me?” 

Kalim gasped, hands to his cheeks as he looked excitedly from Jamil to (Y/N). Jamil sucked in a sharp breath, clenching his hands. “I…” He started. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I can’t.” 

“Oh.” Jamil looked down, but not before he caught the hurt confusion on (Y/N) face. “That’s okay. Thanks for hearing me out. Bye, guys.” She walked back to her table. 

Jamil only looked up again when Kalim slapped his arm. “Jamil! That was your chance!” 

Jamil scowled. “There is no chance. I said no, she accepted it. Drop it.” 

“But you told me you liked her!” 

“I said no such thing.” 

Kalim waved his hand dismissively. “I read between the lines.” 

“There were no lines!” 

“Jamil.” He looked up at Kalim. It wasn’t often the other boy used such a serious voice, or had such a set expression on his face. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep yourself from being happy because you feel like you don’t deserve it.” 

Jamil flinched back, standing suddenly. A million retorts zipped through this mind at once, all of them falling flat and dying on his tongue. Before he could say something he would regret, heart thundering in his ears, he fled the cafeteria, ignoring the stabbing looks from the first year table as (Y/N)’s friends gave her sympathetic pats on the back. 

Jamil couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, listening to the soft, even breathing of his roommate. Huffing in annoyance, he threw off the covers and left his room. He thought he would just take a walk, just get some fresh air. Without paying attention, Jamil’s feet took him out of Scarabia, across campus, and, before he knew it, in front of Ramshackle dorm. His fist hovered in front of the door, internally debating whether or not he should knock. He startled when he heard talking behind him, spotting (Y/N) and Malleus making their way up the pathway. 

(Y/N) stopped when she saw him. “Oh. Hi, Jamil.” 

“Hi,” Jamil said, limply lifting a hand in greeting. 

Malleus looked down at Jamil, glaring. “Viper.” It sounded more like an insult than his name. 

“Did you need something?” (Y/N) asked. “It’s kind of late. Is everything okay?” 

“I-” Jamil started. “I need to talk to you.” 

Malleus stepped in front of (Y/N), but stopped when (Y/N) put a hand on his arm. They had a quick and quiet conversation, Malleus nodded and walked away. (Y/N) came up to the front door, opening it for him. 

“I’ll make some tea,” She said as they stepped into the entryway. 

“Wait-” Jamil said, catching her hand. Everything tumbled out of him all at once. “I wanted to go out with you. I like you, so much so that it scares me sometimes. That’s why I said no earlier. I just think - I thought you would - should - do better than me, after everything that’s happened. But I -” He paused, only realizing now how out of breath he was. (Y/N) looked up at him and he felt breathless all over again. “I want to do better. I want to be better, for you if not for anything else. I know I probably don’t deserve it but, (Y/N), will you go out with me?” 

(Y/N) laughed, wiping away tears at the corners of her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Yes, I’d like that a lot.” 

Vil: 

Something was wrong, Vil could feel it. After all the chaos of his time at Night Raven College, he had almost developed a sixth sense for this type of thing. 

Vil narrowed his eyes, sweeping them over the Pomfiore sitting room. A group of students were sitting around one of the tables, studying. A few others were in front of the fireplace. A couple others were performing some viral dance for a Magicam reel. Nothing seemed amiss here. 

Vil walked down the hall of the dorm, heels clicking against the marble floor. With a missed step, Vil realized he hadn’t seen Epel or Rook in quite some time. That was… concerning. He quickened his walk. 

Vil almost gave himself whiplash as he passed by the ballroom. The door was cracked open ever so slightly so he could peer through. He felt slightly ridiculous, eavesdropping as if he wasn’t the caretaker for the dorm and all those in it. But his thoughts faltered as he observed the scene inside. He found Epel and Rook, as well as several other Pomfiore students, constructing elaborate sets out of painted cardboard and repurposed decorations from the dorm. Was that…? Something about this all seemed eerily familiar. 

“Wait, wait! You’re early!” (Y/N) said. She appeared in front of him, waving her hands to try and block his view. She grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the room. “Don’t look!” She pushed him back into the hall, disappearing back into the ballroom. A second later, she emerged with a chair, setting it down and waving to it. “Just another few minutes.” The door clicked closed behind her before Vil could say anything. He thought about barging in, demanding an explanation. But his curiosity got the better of him. And besides, he always loved to see what (Y/N) got up to. Huffing in amusement, he sat down, crossing his legs at the ankles. 

A while later, Epel, Rook, and the other students fled the ballroom, giving Vil knowing looks as they passed. With skepticism, Vil stood up and made his way inside. Standing in the doorway, he was suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. Taking a better look, he recognized the replica set. It was from one of his first ever movies, a children’s adventure called The Heist of the Everlasting Rose. This particular scene was set in a museum where the Everlasting Rose was kept. It had been a supporting role, where, ironically, he had played a child actor in part of a crew to steal the titular Rose to pay for the main character’s sister’s surgery, or some other such justifiable nonsense like that. It was his first big screen production, although it was a relatively low-budget and minor movie. He remembered after the film had come out he and his father would pour over reviews praising his performance. At that moment, he felt like he was on top of the world. 

Vil was brought out of his reminiscing by (Y/N)’s voice. “Hello, sir!” She said. She had put on a tour guide’s jacket, once again modeled after the one in the film. “Welcome to the museum! We have our prized exhibit right this way.” Vil smirked, humoring her, if nothing else than to see where this was all going. Linking their arms, (Y/N) brought him through the makeshift museum. “Legend has it that this rose was given by a cursed prince to his beloved, who saved him from the brink of death with its magical powers. Since then, it has been a symbol of pure and everlasting love.” She carefully lifted the cloche from the silk flower, tiny fairy lights arranged around the base. She held it out to him, one hand dramatically pressed to her chest. “And now, I’d like to give it to you, Vil, to profess my everlasting love. Would you go out with me?” 

Vil couldn’t help it, it was all too much. The extravagant set, (Y/N) memorizing specific passages from such an old and now obscure film, the entire production. He burst out laughing, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, eyes closed. “Well,” He said, catching his breath. “After such a wonderful effort, how could I possibly say no? Yes, my dearest (Y/N), I would love nothing more than to be with you.” 

Rook: 

“(Y/N), you’re gonna shoot your eye out.” 

“No, it’ll be fine. You have to take risks for the sake of love.” 

“Oh, Seven, we don’t need two of you.” 

Rook’s ears picked up, hearing Epel and (Y/N) talking in the back gardens of the Pomefiore dorm. Smiling, he crept around to (definitely not) spy on them. (Y/N) was struggling with a large bow, an arrow flopping around as she tried to aim it. Pomfiore had a small target practice area set up in the back of the dorm. (Y/N) was trying, emphasis on trying, to shoot arrows at one of the red and white round targets. After her latest arrow struck the ground in front of the target, Epel sighed and walked to the target, collecting other fallen arrows. He stabbed them into the target in the shape of a heart, a letter with Rook’s name pinned to the bullseye. 

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Epel said. 

“Oh? And what favor are you performing, Monsieur Pommette?” Both of them jumped, Rook smiling wider at the surprised squeak (Y/N) made. 

“You’re on your own, (Y/N)!” Epel said before rushing off. 

(Y/N) huffed. “Traitor,” She said under her breath. She turned to Rook. “Hi.” 

“Bonjour, Trickster.” 

“You’re, uh, early. I thought you were going to be at your club for a while longer.” 

Rook waved a hand. “There was an unexpected explosion and we had to evacuate. But I am much more interested in what you’re up to here.” 

“Ah, well…” She trailed off, limply pointing to the letter stabbed in the target. She covered her face with her hands, heat rushing to her cheeks as Rook elegantly plucked the letter up and began reading. 

(Y/N) could basically see the hearts forming in his eyes as he finished reading her confession. He dramatically clutched the love letter to his chest, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, mon amour le plus cher! Comme c’est merveilleux de lire vos sentiments les plus caret! Je n’ai jamais vu quelque chose d’aussi beau!” 

“So,” (Y/N) asked nervously. “Is that a yes?” 

“Oui, oui! One thousand times oui!” He cheered as he gathered her in a swinging hug. 

Epel: 

Epel found the first note the day after (Y/N)’s announcement in the cafeteria. Whatever she had wanted to do was apparently pretty important, as she had grabbed Grim and they left immediately. Epel hadn’t seen her the rest of the day, but he would recognize that handwriting on the paper wrapped around his dorm room handle anywhere. 

He looked around to make sure no one was watching before unfolding the paper and reading. ‘Epel, I have something important I need to ask, but before that I have a simple task. Take this first note of the set and go to the place we first met. Love, (Y/N).’ Epel tried not to think too much about that ‘Love’ part. Where did he and (Y/N) first meet? At this point it almost felt like they had known eachother forever. 

Would that be, maybe, the well in the quad? Epel remembered meeting her, Ace, Deuce, and Grim there when he was rehearsing singing, using the well’s acoustics. But, no, they had seen each other somewhere else first. Epel blushed in embarrassment at the memory. He had been crying, frustrated to hell and back with Vil’s lectures right after coming back from winter break. He’d run into them at the Great Seven statues. 

Epel went to the statues, deciding if he didn’t find anything there he would try the well. But, lo and behold, another note was waiting at the base of the Fairest Queen’s statue. He read, ‘Epel, Congrats on finding your second clue! By now you have an idea of what to do. For the next place I want you to go, think of the place we lived side by side before the show. Love, (Y/N).’ 

That one was easy, Ramshackle dorm. As Epel sprinted across campus, both notes held tightly in his fist, he reminisced about spending his days training for the VDC in Ramshackle. Most of the time there seemed like torture, running endless dancing drills, feeling constricted by Vil’s lessons whose purpose he still didn’t fully understand at the time, worrying about the whole dorm falling down around his ears at any moment. But there were plenty of good moments too. (Y/N) making them - Vil approved - breakfast in the morning, her encouragement at each of their rehearsals, how she would slip them treats when Vil and Rook’s backs were turned to help boost their mood. 

Sure enough, Epel found his next note on the Ramshackle front gate. There was another rhyme instructing him to go to another location, also connected to his and (Y/N)’s relationship and past. That lead to another and to another and another, each unlocking a precious memory between the two. Eventually, he unfolded the final note, the sun just starting to set, casting NRC in beautiful golden light. ‘Epel, I hope by now you get to see exactly how much you mean to me. We’ve been through a lot and I’ve enjoyed every and I’ve enjoyed every second, and… Okay, I can’t come up with any more rhymes. Just turn around!’ 

Lowering the paper, Epel turned, opening his arms just in time to catch (Y/N) in a big hug. They spun around each other for a second with the momentum, finally coming to a stop and looking to each other's eyes. 

“Hi,” (Y/N) said. “Did you like my scavenger hunt?” 

“You’re bad at rhyming,” Epel said with a crooked smile. 

She wacked his shoulder. “Hey, I meant what I wrote, though. I really like you, Epel. Would you go out with me?” 

Epel squeaked her tight. “Only if you promise not to write any more poetry.” 

Idia: 

Idia was holding out in his room, huddled under a blanket, his phone clutched tight in his hand. He was watching a live stream from his favorite idol group, Premo. He smiled as the group answered fan questions, talked about their upcoming tour, and demonstrated how to perform some of their most famous dance moves. 

The viewer chat scrolled across the side of the screen. Donations and chat reactions popped up in various animations across the screen. Idia hit the donate button, sending a flurry of roses blooming along the edges of the screen. He smiled as the idols thanked Gloomurai for his support. 

One of the idols leaned over, checking the chat feed. She gasped, flapping a hand at the others and enthusiastically pointing at what she was reading. They all started smiling and giggling, whispering to each other. Idia shuffled closer, as if that would let him read whatever message they had gotten. 

“Hey, everyone!” One of them said. “We’ve got a super special shout-out! This is from (Username) to… Gloomurai!” 

Idia’s heart raced as he sat up in bed, blanket draped over him. (Username), (Username)... Wait, he recognized that. That was your username! He had helped you set up your account to the MMO he played a while ago. He remembered helping you through the intro stages, stumbling over the tutorials. He had laughed at your frustrated frown as you died on the same boss for the third time. 

“Aww,” The second idol said. “This is sweet. It says, ‘Gloomurai, I thought about telling you this in person, but I wasn’t sure when that would actually be. And sometimes big feelings require big gestures. I like you, I really, really like you. I think I have for a long time. I love your smile, I love your hair, I love your brain, I love that you’re such an amazing big brother. Will you go out with me?’ Well, Gloomurai? Tell us your answer! We’re waiting on pins and needles here!” 

“Oh, wait,” The third idol said. “There’s more. It says, ‘PS, check your door.’” 

Idia yelped as he shot up, the blanket falling to a heap on the floor. Heart thundering in his chest and head starting to go fuzzy. He almost felt like he was in a daze as he walked with trepidation to his door. Slowly opening it, Idia saw a basket placed just in front. It was filled with his favorite snacks, small acrylic standees of characters from his favorite games and anime, and studded with bluebells, irises, and blue asters. A large paper heart was pinned to the front with her and his initials drawn in the middle. Hair flaring pink, he quickly brought the basket back into his room before any of his dorm mates would notice. 

He heard commotion from his phone, Premo and the chat all eagerly awaiting his response. He sent in another donation with a simple, “Yes.” The idols cheered and squealed. 

He swiped out of the livestream, opening his messaging app. (Y/N)’s name popped up with a new message, a cheering emoticon with three blue hearts. 

He subconsciously covered his face as he smiled wide, typing back, “You’re so cringe. Can’t wait for the date.” 

Silver: 

(Y/N) sprinted across campus, heading whipping around to try and catch a familiar shimmer of silver white hair. She skidded to a stop when she saw a black Diasamonia coat draped over a low tree branch, a pair of shined boots sticking out behind the trunk. 

(Y/N) rounded the old oak tree. “Silv-! Oh, sorry.” 

Silver was reclining against the tree, hands folded across his stomach, chest rising and falling with deep even breaths, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he slept. A few songbirds and a pair of squirrels congregated around him, looking up with big eyes at the newcomer. 

(Y/N) shifted her weight from foot to foot before screwing up her courage and sitting down next to Silver. She shuffled down so she laid next to him, still leaving enough room to not cause too much of a scandal if anyone walked by. She settled down, closing her eyes and relaxing, taking in the sounds of the woodland animals around them, the talking of other students in the distance, the wind whispering through the trees. 

A short while later, she heard stirring next to her. (Y/N) blinked awake quickly, propping herself up and leaning back on her hands as Silver woke up beside her. 

“Hi,” She said. “Would  you want to go out with me?” 

Silver blinked the sleep out of his eyes, looking up at her. “I must still be dreaming,” He muttered. “If I am, then…” He reached forward, cupping the back of her head and pulling her down. She gasped as their lips brushed. Silver’s eyes suddenly shot open and he jerked back from her as if burned. “I- uh-” He studded, pale skin turning a ruby red. 

(Y/N) giggled at his embarrassment. “Well, I guess that’s a yes, right?” 

Sebek: 

“Be right back!” (Y/N) said as she suddenly stood from the first year cafeteria table. Before anyone had a chance to say anything, she was off like a shot. 

“Any idea what that was about?” Epel asked. The others shrugged. 

Grim reached over to snag half (Y/N)’s sandwich from her discarded tray. “Probably going to go ask out that boy she keeps talking about,” He said nonchalantly, mouth full. 

Sebek choked, standing fast and slamming his hands on the table so all their plates and cutlery clattered. “What!” 

“Chill, man,” Ace said, waving him down as people across the cafeteria turned to stare. Ace smirked. “Unless you’re particularly invested in (Y/N)’s love life?” 

Sebek blushed and slammed back into his seat. He picked his knife and fork back up and started sawing at his Salisbury steak. “No,” He snapped. “(Y/N) can do whatever she wants. What do I care?” 

“Sure,” Epel said. 

(Y/N) reappeared in the cafeteria a short while later, Malleus in tow. She was talking with him, gesturing with her hands. Malleus had a wide, amused smile, nodding along. 

Sebek stood again, at attention for his prince. “Good afternoon, Lord Malleus!” He said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” He scowled at the other first years rolling their eyes at his formality. 

“Hello, Sebek. I’ve come to give my blessing.” 

“Blessing?” 

“Sebek!” (Y/N) said brightly. She took both his hands in hers as he sputtered and blushed. “I really like you. Would you go out with me?” 

For once, Sebek was speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. (Y/N) squeezed his hands tighter as Malleus chuckled next to them. “Well, Sebek? It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.” 

Life seized back into the knight. He tightened his grasp on (Y/N), pulling her closer. “Yes! Absolutely! I mean, ahem, I accept your offer of courting, since you went so far to get my lord’s blessing, after all.” 

Lilia: 

Lilia wouldn’t call what he was doing skulking, exactly. More like surprise chaperoning, keeping an eye on the youngsters of Night Raven College like a good upperclassman should. And, if he just so happened to pop out and scare the living daylights out of whatever unfortunate student happened to be nearby, well, more fun for him. 

So it wasn’t especially surprising when he heard Silver and (Y/N) talking to each other in the courtyard. As a sly smile stretched across his face, he floated to a hiding place in the shadows of the flying buttresses, resting on his stomach to kick his feet, chin resting in his hands, as he observed the two. 

“You want my permission?” Silver asked, an amused smile on his face. 

“Of course!” (Y/N) replied. “I wouldn’t want to make it weird by dating him while we’re all still students together.” 

Lilia faltered. That was the problem with spying, sometimes you heard things you didn’t want to. So the Prefect was romantically interested in someone, eh? And if they were asking Silver for permission, it must be someone close to him. Sebek, maybe? Or, oh dear, Malleus? Lilia knew for a fact that both of the boys thought of (Y/N) as a close and dear friend and nothing more. His heart panged in sympathy at the idea of rejection. And, if he was being honest with himself, it panged with something else as well. 

“You don’t think he’s a little old for you?” Silver asked teasingly. 

“Maybe I like a silver fox,” (Y/N) teased right back. 

Silver laughed. “I don’t think I ever want to hear my father described as a silver fox ever again.” 

Lilia lost his concentration, falling with a yelp against one of the chandeliers hanging in the hallway. 

“Lilia?” (Y/N) asked with a gasp. 

Lilia smiled, trying to regain poise as he floated down to them. “Looks like I’m not as slick as I used to be. Now, what were you two discussing just now?” 

(Y/N) look startled. Silver gave her shoulder a reassuring pat and left with a wave. Just the two of them now, (Y/N) took a deep breath, building up her courage. 

“Lilia!” She said, probably a little too loudly with nerves. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?” 

Lilia chuckled, leaning close to enjoy the shy and flustered look on her face. “Well, if you have my son’s blessing, how am I to refuse? Besides, I think I rather like being called a, what was it you said? A silver fox?” 

Malleus: 

Malleus looked up from his book, looking around his room for the source of the noise that disturbed his studying. There, another sharp ‘ping’ from across the room. He looked to the window, noticing a small pebble hitting the glass. He walked over and opened the window, dodging just in time to miss another pebble. 

“Oops! Sorry, Horton!” He looked down, a smile automatically crossing his face at (Y/N)’s voice. But his expression quickly changed to puzzlement as he looked down at her. (Y/N) was standing in the courtyard of the Diasomonia dorm, inside a giant heart made of dozens of tiny tea candles. 

In a swirl of green light, Malleus appeared next to her on the ground floor. She jumped a little bit at his sudden appearance, but quickly recovered herself and beamed up at him. He felt his heart flip in that pleasant way it always did when he was near her. 

“What’s all this?” 

She cleared her throat dramatically, dropping to one knee. “Dearest Horton, you have bewitched me body and soul. I would like to officially court you. Would you do me the absolute pleasure of accompanying me on a date this weekend?” 

Malleus blinked down at her for a moment, basking in the admiration and adoration filling her eyes. He laughed, reaching down to take her hand and pull her to standing. “My, how formal,” He said. 

She smiled, shrugging. “I wanted it to be memorable. Couldn’t manage the fireworks, though. Sorry.” 

“I can rectify that.” With an elegant sweep of his hand, sparks erupted from Malleus’s fingertips, shooting into the dark sky around the dorm to explode in fantastic colors. Students from in the dorm leaned out windows to admire the impromptu show. 

Malleus drew (Y/N) closer to him, admiring the multicolor flashes playing across her face. “I would adore being anywhere with you.”

[fromrory]

Where’s the dog !

POV: Fem!Reader & Damian Wayne Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff | Humor | Chaos | Domestic Softness Featuring: Titus Word Count: 1K .Taglist🏷️: @simpingmyassoff , @shootingstargirl2001 (if you want to be added,comment down below!) requested by: @simpingmyassoff sorry it took long!!! I was finishing classes A/N: English isn't my first lenguage,enjoy! ! ! A/N 2: It's kind of inspired in how @fromdove (💕💞💓💗💖💘💝) writes damian. . .,please GO CHECK HER BLOG ! ! ! !

———

“He hid again,didn’t he?” 

‘’Pffft– what? Of course not!”

©𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐,𝑹𝒐𝒓𝒚🐚 —-do not copy, repost, plagiarize,translate or feed any of my work into ai. I work hard to give quality content.

POV: You

Dog-sitting Titus should be easy. I mean, come on. He’s a dog. A big dog, sure, but mostly a big, fluffy, lovable dog who just wants to nap, chew his squeaky toys, and occasionally judge me for my lack of treats.

I’d done this countless times before. Titus stayed with me while Damian was off doing who-knows-what, and I’d happily take care of the giant fluffball. Feed him, walk him, throw his favorite toy until he got tired, repeat.

Simple.

Today was supposed to be just another normal Titus-sitting day.

And yet here I was, standing in my living room with my hands on my hips, heart thumping, and pillows thrown all over the floor like a tornado had hit my apartment.

Because Titus had vanished.

Literally.

It started an hour ago. I was cleaning up after one of Titus’s enthusiastic toy-chasing sessions, when I glanced around and noticed he wasn’t at his usual spot by the couch. No gentle snoring. No wagging tail brushing against the carpet.

Nothing.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

Lil’ Bratman 🦇:  I’m on my way to pick up Titus.

Oh great.

Great.

Because Titus was nowhere to be found.

“Okay,” I muttered, dropping onto my knees, scanning the floor for any signs of him. “Keep calm. He’s probably hiding. He loves hiding.”

Except that usually, when Titus hid, I could hear him. His nails tap-tap-tapping on the hardwood, or the faint squeak of his favorite red toy being tossed around. This time? Silence.

And the clock was ticking.

Damian’s text came again.

Lil’ Bratman 🦇: I’m five minutes away.

I was about to text back a frantic, “Hey baby! Um…I think I lost your dog,don’t kill me. xoxo” but I knew that would only make things worse. Damian’s eyebrow raise would be legendary.

No. I had to find Titus before Damian showed up.

So I launched into full search mode.

First, the couch cushions. I flipped and dug through every crevice, fishing out dust bunnies and a couple of crumbs, but no Titus.

Next, under the coffee table. No wagging tail. No big eyes staring at me.

“Come on, Titus,” I whispered, voice catching. “Please don’t make me look bad in front of Damian.”

I moved to the kitchen, thinking maybe he was trying to steal some snacks, but no. Empty floors.

The balcony door was closed, so no chance he escaped outside — plus, I was pretty sure he’d never survive the drop without some serious bat-gadgets.

Then I heard it. The tiniest squeak.

My heart jumped.

Titus’s toy.

I followed the sound, creeping around my bookshelf — and suddenly, there he was.

Curled up in the tiniest corner behind the books, happily gnawing on his red squeaky toy like it was the best thing in the world.

Oh my god.

Relief slammed through me in a tidal wave.

“Titus! You little stinker!” I scooped him up before he could run off again. His tail thumped against my arm as if to say, “I was just having some alone time, chill.”

I didn’t care.

I hugged him tight.

And then, because I was officially losing my mind, I looked around at the disaster zone my apartment had become.

Pillows from the couch tossed everywhere.

Blankets flung like flags of defeat.

My coffee table now sporting a suspiciously large scratch.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” I told myself. “Damian’s coming. You can do this.”

Almost like the universe heard me, the doorbell rang.

My heart jumped again.

“Okay, Titus,” I whispered, setting him down. “Time for Operation: Don’t Look Like You Lost Him.”

I straightened my hoodie, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Damian stood there, expression unreadable, as usual.

His dark eyes flicked from me to Titus—who was now sitting politely by my feet, tail wagging.

“Welcome back,roohi! ,” I said, voice a little too cheerful.

Damian’s lips twitched—maybe the closest thing he had to a smile.

“You seem… relieved.”

I flushed. “Really? You’re making up things again”

He took the leash from my hand and clipped it to Titus’s collar.

Titus immediately jumped into Damian’s side, tail wagging furiously.

Damian glanced back at me, then said quietly, “I suppose I won’t ask where he was.”

I opened my mouth to protest.

But the way his eyes softened told me he already knew exactly what had happened.

And maybe, just maybe, he was choosing not to make me explain.

POV: Damian Wayne

I texted her fifteen minutes ago.

I’m on my way to pick up Titus.

Simple enough.

When I arrived at her place, I expected to see Titus sprawled on the floor, maybe half-asleep, or at worst, begging for a walk.

Instead, the door swung open, and there stood her—looking disheveled, slightly flustered, and clutching Titus like he was a fragile treasure.

My eyes scanned the room.

Pillows were strewn everywhere.

The coffee table bore a fresh scratch.

Blankets were tossed haphazardly.

The couch was upside down.

Clearly, some kind of Titus-related chaos had ensued.

I kept my expression calm, though inside I was amused.

“Titus,” I said softly, kneeling down to the dog’s level.

The giant mutt wagged his tail, tongue lolling happily.

Relief was written all over her face.

“You seem… relieved,” I said quietly, not really expecting a reply.

She flushed and gave a small laugh.

“Really?,” she said, “ You’re making up things again”

I clipped the leash to Titus’s collar.

The dog immediately pressed against my leg.

I didn’t press.

I glanced back at her.

“Where was he?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

Some things were better left unsaid.

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDs Men React to Your Different Hobbies

Request: Hi hermit! I noticed your requests are open and wanted to ask if you could write about a reader who is a complete nerd for something specific. It could be anything from anime, to reptiles, to astronomy, to novels, to literature, anything really. Maybe they start off more reserved and quiet but once they get comfortable they let the floodgates open and now the guys get to witness the pure, unfiltered joy when they talk about something they love. Bonus if they don’t necessarily seem like the type to be interested in that sort of thing. I just need something cute and fluffy where angst isn’t destroying my heart. It can be as silly and/or serious as you want it to be. You handle writing different scenarios so well I feel like you are the best when it comes to these kinds of scenarios. I hope this isn’t too big of an ask. Thank you for reading this! I hope you take care of yourself and that you have a good day/night! 🫶🫶🫶💞💞💞🍀🍀🍀

AN: I love this request so much!! I've been daydreaming of this so much. So here is my attempt at this. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for reading my works :))))

Pairing: LaDS boys x gn reader

Genre: people in love

Ingredients: 100% fluff

My Fav: Sylus and Caleb. My heart 🥺

(I do not own any of these characters)

Xavier:

He’s your reader boyfriend. You’re the gamer. He’s just here for the vibes.

He’ll nuzzle next to you while you curse ten generations of a 14-year-old with suspicious aim.

Just peacefully flipping through a romance novel as you become the ultimate baddie of Vice City.

You can convert him to join you on the Switch. He loves Pokémon Go, Mario Kart, even those ridiculous farming simulators.

He’s that one PewDiePie cooking simulator video come to life.

Xavier is most likely to doze off with his legs crossed over yours, your moans of despair functioning as peaceful white noise.

You build him a castle in Minecraft, but he’s honestly more content just watching you game, cheering softly from the sidelines.

Rafayel:

You were born to repurpose.

A ratty old ladder? Planter. Scrap cloth? Braided technicolor rugs. Crumbling grandma furniture from eBay? It’s now a “boho-chic” nightstand that Rafayel lovingly uses to pile all seventeen of his earrings.

You steal his paints constantly. The good ones. The ones labeled in French. Does he mind? Not even a little. He calls it “collaboration.” (It’s theft, but okay.)

He watches you work like it’s the Louvre. Which is wild, because you’re in overalls, sanding down what used to be someone’s broken cabinet-slash-pet coffin.

You’ve got sawdust in your hair and paint on your ear, and Rafayel is just standing there, in awe, like you’re building the Sistine Chapel out of literal garbage.

You’re also slowly “Rafayel-proofing” the penthouse, one corner at a time. No more stubbed toes. No more nightly opera of him cursing the furniture like it personally betrayed him.

You call it DIY. He calls it love.

Perhaps it is.

Zayne:

You don’t have a green thumb. You have a green vendetta.

Zayne swears the plants grow out of fear. And honestly? He might be right.

The sunflowers outside your house are seven feet tall and actively reaching for the second-floor window like they want in. The neighbors have started calling it a local attraction.

He’s the one lathering you in sunscreen as you stand armed and ready to wage war on a new army of weeds.

He works from the patio more these days, just to sneak glances of you in the garden, sweat on your brow, yelling at a tomato plant like it is a new recruit to your battalion.

You plant a vegetable patch. A blessing, really. Because Zayne is an absolute wizard in the kitchen with fresh produce.

He’s obsessed with homegrown ingredients. You’re obsessed with terrorizing invasive species.

It works.

Sylus:

"You're pretty," you murmur, tilting his chin up with your fingers. "Now be good and sit still for me, dragon." You grin as Sylus shakes his head, pretending that didn’t just work on him.

You pick up your sketchpad, charcoal already smudging your fingertips, and begin tracing the outline of his eyes. Fierce, yet soft when they rest on you.

"Did I ever tell you your eyes are the most beautiful I’ve ever sketched?" you murmur, shading the lashes with a flick of your wrist.

"You say that about everything, kitten," Sylus replies smoothly, though there’s a hitch in his breath.

You love this. Overwhelming him with affection. Praise. Backing him into a corner where all he can do is take it. He never wins.

"And your cheekbones..." you say, smudging a shadow across the apple of his cheek. "So dramatic. So sketchable." You press a kiss there, just to prove your point.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You don’t resist.

Your eyes drift to his lips. "These," you whisper, eyes locked on his mouth, "I dare not draw. They’d inspire passions in anyone who might stumble upon this page."

He rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, cheeks flushed. "You’ll be the end of me," Sylus groans softly. His voice all gravel and silk.

And you? You smile, smug and starry-eyed.

Because you’re Basil to his Dorian.

Caleb:

He’s lost you. Again.

Caleb wanders through the mind-boggling bookstore for the tenth time, the aisles blurring together. There’s no rhyme or reason why the classics are right next to cookbooks.

Achilles’ Fig Pastries and Twenty Cakes for Jane Austen Girlies (he bought that one for you).

So it’s no surprise when he finds you in the far-off corner of historical fiction. A pile of used books already half your height sits beside you. Books are your world. Rooms full of them. Brimming nightstands, stacked floors. Stories, so many of them.

Caleb grew up watching you devour them. Any and every book you could get your hands on. "You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope... I have loved none but you," you quote from Wentworth’s letter, just in time to meet Caleb’s eyes.

He pauses, heart in his throat. Words written by another shouldn’t hit this hard. But they’re true. Truer than anything.

Books have held your pining. They’ve understood your heart. And they’ve delivered it to him, in folded pages, tearstained stanzas, and scribbled notes of passion.

[meganegatari]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST SO YUMMM so yeah🧍🏻‍♀️can you write something about streamer ellie <33

☆: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. definitelyyyy hasn't been...months...anyway. positive this is one of the worse things i've written, but didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! ngl it's pretty filthy..heh.

◇: 18+ pretend those twitch guideline things don't exist. remote control vibrator use, orgasm denial, sub-ish!ellie?? plot twist at the end bc i think im so funny. 1.6k wc. don't mind the layout of this idk what else to do...

You watch your girlfriend stream her game from your fluffy and comfortable spot on your shared bed—you observe how focused she was on her screen, how her skilled fingers were flying across the keyboard and mouse. It would certainly be a shame to disturb her in such a high tension moment but you think it over, running your finger over the small buttons of the sleek little remote in your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, got 'em! Look at that guys, I fuckin’ aced that!" Ellie rejoices in her victory, and gleefully boasts to her viewers, adjusting her microphone closer and leaning back in her chair.

You're glad you were far off camera, her fans didn't even know she was in a relationship—Ellie made it clear she wanted you to be separate from her hobbies, not because she wanted to keep you a secret, but because she wanted to keep you safe. And you enjoyed watching her stream from the sidelines like this, you saw how her personality captivated viewers and how much fun she really was. But you also enjoyed messing with her on the occasion. Like today.

"Can I watch tonight's stream again?" You asked her eagerly. "Yeah, why not? I'll be doing some tournaments and stuff though, so no distractions." Oops. You bit back a laugh. Ellie immediately sussed out the mischievous look on your face and she sighed, expecting the worst.

Then you showed her the box you've been hiding, "Please let's try, I won't click it too much, I promise." She stared at you for a whole minute, maybe more, before sighing and reluctantly agreeing, rubbing her hands all over her face. "God, fine. Just 'cause I love you. Damn you're evil."

Fast forward to now—the device was snugly inserted inside her pretty pussy, tested out to prove it does in fact work, and works well at that.

So off Ellie went to play her game, getting so caught up in everything she seemingly forgot about the device entirely. In between games she was talking to the viewers, reading the chat and joking back and forth. You decided it was a good enough time to click it so you pressed the button, only for a miniscule zap.

She jerked in her seat, gasping, but quickly recovered with a strategic cough. "Phew sorry guys, something got caught in my throat." You saw a bright berry blush spread across her face, and the way she fought to turn and throw a glare at you. This was going to be fun.

"Alright, the next round’s gonna start, we gotta lock in! Hopefully nothing pops up and this goes smoothly. I can taste the win already.” She put a certain warning tone to her voice in the last part of her sentence, you knew it was meant for you, but were you going to listen? Absolutely not. "Oh yeah chat fun fact, this old area of the map was inspired by ancient ruins just of—ah!" As if her body had a mind of its own, she squirmed in her seat and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan when you hit it again, but this time you didn't turn it off right away. You kept it going for a few more seconds, to prolong the terribly delicious sensation.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath until you turned it off, mumbling to her viewers about "having hiccups". "The game is starting now, so we really gotta get serious." Her voice had an unsteadiness to it only you could hear, she was keeping her composure rather well so far. But likely wouldn't be able to keep up the act for much longer. Even she has her limits.

As her match went on, she got quiet when she was focused, mashing the keys with a speed fast as sound. Of course, you hit it again, just a short one, causing a choked "guh" to escape from her lips and she twitched when you did so, her facade starting to crack. The effort to keep her voice stable was showing, she was huffing and struggling to get her words out clearly, they were laced with obvious irritation.

"Fuck missed the shot, dammit. Yeah I don't know, somethings up today, sorry guys...off my game." You decided to be nice to her until the game ended, not pressing it further or adjusting the intensity. She played for a little while longer before losing the match, leaning forward on the desk with her face in her hands. This was the perfect moment, so you cranked it up, increased the intensity to maximum, and held the button for the longest time yet, making her whine—a low, drawn out sound she couldn't stifle this time.

You could hear lots of messages being sent, pings in rapid succession, they were probably clipping that moment. Perverts, you thought. 

Her chest was noticeably heaving up and down, her legs spread as she rocks her front against the chair, and she kept her head lowered until you decreased the intensity but didn't turn it all the way off. Her hands were shaking, and her face was a vibrant cherry red, the screen even reflected the sparkle of a couple tears in her eyes.

“What? Oh, I'm just so sad about the loss guys, we were so close—hnn- so…so closeahh—I mean, we should've gotten that…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her fingers on the desk’s wooden surface. “Y’know what, I'll be right back.” She paused the stream, made triple sure her camera and microphone were turned off, then whipped around in her chair to face you, glaring silver daggers your way.

You just giggled innocently and turned the device off again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, this shit is not- not light on you at all.” Her voice was breaking, her pretty features contorted in a beautifully needy expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all watery. Nearly as wet as the mess in her pants. You feigned innocence and shrugged at her, “Well I didn't know it was that strong.” “You knew damn well.” She's fed up with your antics, but you have fun playing with her. She covers her face and leans back in the chair, the embarrassment in her voice the only thing you could hear, “Fuck you...turn it up again, wanna cum.”

You couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth from your chest, then said, “Only if you stream it.” The shock that flickered across her face was priceless, you wish you could have snapped a photo.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, nah forget it.”

“Hey, you gotta finish your stream either way, they're waiting. Would you wanna be so awful and deprive those darlings of your presence?”

You flash her a sugary smile, and she shoots you a murderous look again, before wordlessly scooting back to her setup, fanning herself briefly and readjusting her coppery hair.

Then she turns the stream back on. “Sorry guys, I had to get up for a second. Anyway, let's play one more game. I'm getting kinda tired today. Let's make this one count, lock in like never before.” She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and begins smacking away at the keyboard buttons. You're able to see the way she looks tense, on edge, anticipating your devilish interruption.

You debate whether you should torture her, but the answer quickly becomes clear. Click.

“Ah—fuck!” She sputters, and roughly slams her fist on the desk. The pleasure was hitting her with full force, she was in her own, lewd, world now. Her head is thrown back, back arched and hips stuttering, the release was about to sneak up on her.

You watch the scenario unfold, licking your lips and pressing your thighs together to deal with the pressure between them. Her unapologetic moans get louder, but for a second she snaps out of the trance to sit back upright, turn the stream off, before the peak hits her like a truck.

“Holy, fu—hah!!” With a squeal she cums, not caring about how fucking loud she was being, wanting to be selfishly absorbed in ecstasy.

She started to jolt around in her seat, the throes of overstimulation making her whimper like an animal in heat, it truly was a sight to behold. You wish you were in between her legs, lapping up her sweetness straight from the source, but in a way, just watching from the sidelines was satisfying enough. You'll clean her up afterward.

Finally you turned it off once and for all, and gazed at her, she was panting heavily, the post-orgasm glow making her rosy skin shimmer in the low light.

“Hmmm, thanks babe, that was so good…” She tried to talk, her head was in the clouds, but she looked at peace.

“You're a whore.” You chortled, and you two shared a laugh.

Although, a flurry of shrill sounds brought you both out of the fantasy. Ping, ping, ping.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to enjoy the aftermath of a mind-numbing session, because her eyes shot open and she began scrambling to find the source of the sound. Your stomach dropped as you watched her panic, her neuroticism infectious.

She looked at you, her eyes wider than saucers, nothing but fear in her voice, “I wasn't able to turn my mic off…”

What was she going to do now?

if you'd like to be tagged in my fics, click here! thank you for reading. asks, reblogs, and comments are appreciated more than you know. ♡

tags: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @ashaynep @mascdom @xysbree @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @bunnitewsilly @mimasroom2 @deliriousrn @infiniteinquiries @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @elliesapple

[southernimpala]

midnight swim

sam winchester x fem!reader (ft. dean :)

summary ↬ you and dean decide to take a dip in the pool after a rough hunt, but sam takes a little convincing

notice ↬ super fluffy, the boys are actually happy for once, a lil suggestive, sam's just a shy boy in love and dean sees it but you don't (what else is new), first ever work for spn and i'm so excited to keep writing for them, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 1.8k

motel pools were always a disgusting concept to you. murky, unkempt water that was debatably properly chlorinated, bugs and dirty concrete. every time you saw one, it was always you shutting down dean’s feeble attempts at dragging you and sam in with him. 

but this one is different. 

it’s nothing five star, certainly no cleaner than what you’ve seen in the past, but after the grueling hunt—a couple of stubborn poltergeists and a bunch of flying knives—you’re in need of something to soothe your muscles. and a gross body of water certainly feels like the right thing to dip your aching feet into.

“i’m grabbing three towels from the lobby,” dean says, a childlike grin on his face. 

sam stops him, looking up from his computer, “just get two, i’m stayin’ in.” 

“what?” you and dean both say simultaneously. 

sam looks between the two of you with furrowed eyebrows, “is this a surprise to either of you?” 

you roll your eyes, “come onnnn, sam. we just got done with a case and you’re already looking for the next one.”

“that’s because i don’t wanna catch some disease just because i’m bored,” he bears that know-it-all grin that erupts butterflies in your stomach and twinges an incessant need to slap it off him at the same time. 

“just come outside and enjoy some—” dean glances at the window, “—moon—whatever—just don’t be a grouch and get out there!” he reaches for the doorknob, “i’ll meet you there. you, too, sammy!” 

when the door shuts you turn back around to sam and cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot, “so, what’s it gonna be? coop up in here or hit a midnight swim?” 

 sam sighs, defeated, “fine, i’ll go out, but i’m not getting in.”

the moon glows full in the pitch black sky, blending with the gross neon motel sign, its flickering M and T painting the pool a vibrant blue. there are some questionable stains on the pavement, and one visible from the bottom of the deep end, but it looks swimmable enough. 

soft rock music plays from a speaker somewhere, wrapping you in an embrace of nostalgia and something so winchester. 

sam’s leaning back in one of the flimsy plastic pool chairs, kicking his feet up and placing his hands behind his head, “maybe you’re right, it is kinda nice out here.” 

“it’ll be even nicer if you get in,” you tease, fumbling with the button on your shorts. 

you swear sam’s eyes find their way to your figure, growing wider as you slide the denim down your legs, revealing the black panties you wear underneath. 

your cheeks tint crimson as you feel his warm gaze on you, and pretending not to notice, you pull your shirt over your head, now exposed from head to toe, your bra—which doesn’t match at all—suddenly feels too scandalous for a pool. and now your heart starts to beat quicker, and—

“got the towels!” dean calls from behind you, startling both you and sam. you turn around as sam clears his throat, shaking himself out of a trance, “swimming in jeans, sammy?” 

“very funny,” he responds, narrowing his eyes. 

when dean lays the towels down, he quickly strips into his boxers, not wasting a second before cannonballing into the still water. you follow shortly behind, your underwear clinging uncomfortably to your now wet skin. the pool's temperature is a relief from the muggy summer night air, goosebumps crawling up the parts of you not submerged. 

you can already feel your tight muscles loosening—and dean’s rough swimming pelting water at your back—so much so, you throw your head back in pure bliss. 

“feels nice, huh, sweetheart?” dean says, brushing up against your forearm.

you nod, shutting your eyes, “hmm… just what i needed.” 

suddenly, your head breaks the water’s surface, and you’re pushed under. your eyes snap open in shock, but all you can see is the blurry underwater. you can hear muffled shouting before your shoulders are free and you spring back up. you gasp, whipping your now drenched hair as you spin around to dean, laughing so hard his face is pink. 

“what the hell!” you yell, rubbing your burning eyes. 

he struggles through his laughter to get words out, “you were flailing around like a fish down there!” 

your mouth parts in annoyance, you want to be mad but can’t bring yourself to be. the sound of such rare happiness warms your insides, and you huff a laugh, “sam, tell your brother that he almost drowned me!” 

“i tried,” sam says, and that’s when you notice he’s now standing by the edge of the pool, a crease of concern lingering in his forehead, but the ghost of a smile on his lips. your stomach flips. “dean, you almost drowned her.”

 “maybe if you were in the pool, you could’ve saved her,” dean baits, and sam’s face flushes. 

he chokes on his words, “you’re ridiculous.”

“not as ridiculous as you’re about to look,” dean says, and before sam has time to question it, he’s being snatched into the water by the bottom hem of his ragged jeans. 

a wave of water crashes against your face, but you unshield yourself quickly to catch sam’s surprised expression as he’s drenched in wetness. his button down has turned a dark, damp blue, clinging to the outline of his pecks, and his perfect wisps of hair stick to his neck and cheeks. 

you can’t lie to yourself and say he doesn’t look so good dripping wet like that. 

“i swear to god, dean,” sam threatens, “i will drown you!” 

“try it, sammy!” dean swims to the other end of the pool to escape his brother’s wrath. you watch from the edge, leaning against the pool wall as sam attempts to speed up. his clothes are obviously weighing him down, so an idea sparks to you. 

you move through the thick water to sam, stopping him by reaching for the buttons on his shirt. as he opens his mouth to question you, you shush him, “you’ll be faster without these,” and try to put on a brave face as sam’s eyes bore into you so intensely you’re drawn to meet them. and when you do, it’s catatonic. breathless as your fingers idly pop each button loose, a shimmering glint of confusion glowing in his eyes.

he’s still panting aggressively from the shock of the water, his soft lips tinted blue. you try to avert your eyes to anything other than his, but staring at his mouth isn’t a good idea, either.

he keeps you looking at him, his brows ever so slightly furrowed in bewilderment at your sudden boldness, but once the last button threads through, you’re hastily shrugging his shirt off his shoulders. you want to get his jeans, but you can already hear dean treading closer. plus, you don’t know if you’re brave enough for all that.

“alright, go!” you shout, queuing dean to start swimming faster. 

it takes sam a minute to break out of whatever trance he was in—hell, you both were in—but eventually, he starts towards dean, grabbing him playfully by the shoulders and pinning him underneath, just like you were. 

lighthearted giggles escape you and sam as dean tries to lift his head up, “oh, what was that, dean? i can’t hear you under all that water.” he laughs.

sam catches your face from across the pool, matching your smile. something twinkles in his eye. you catch it before it fades when dean grabs sam from behind the neck, flipping him under, too. 

you swim closer, attempting to hold dean’s large frame while sam grapples under the weight of his brother’s strong hand. “let him go, you monster!” you yell playfully, jumping onto dean’s back to take him down. 

sam manages to pop up, gasping for breath but grabbing your slick arm to pull you off dean and into him. your cheek is squished against his broad chest, water clinging to your lashes. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, the leather belt still worn rough on your legs, while your arms circle his dripping neck. you can feel sam’s adam's apple bob at the movement.

dean tries to get ahold of you, but sam keeps you tight, and to keep yourself from crumbling under the weight of your crush, you try to focus on dean’s feeble attempts at shoving you under again. 

“i call a truce!” you call out, twisting in sam’s grip, “my savior has come!” 

“oh, yeah, just climb him like a tree, why don’t you?” he pants, shaking his hair like a wet dog. 

“whatever works,” you giggle, and when you turn into sam’s face, he’s already looking at you, eyes hooded with something indescribable, scanning every inch of your face as rivulets of pool water run down your smooth skin. “right, sammy?” you try and say, but it comes out breathless. 

"yeah," he nods, and suddenly the feeling of his warm body on yours in the ever chilling water is too much to ignore, now that the playing’s died down, “whatever works.” 

after the three of you get out, you all shiver underneath the poor quality pool towels as you make your way back to the room. sam is dying to get his damp jeans off his legs, and you’re dying for one more second against him, to feel his heartbeat against yours. 

sam, insisting to shower first—”it wasn’t my choice to get wet,”—”whatever you say, sammy,”—leaves you and dean sitting your damp bodies on the floor against the far right bed. 

“i’m happy we got him out,” dean says after a moment of silence, save for the low hum of the AC and the shower running in the bathroom. 

“yeah,” you agree, leaning back tiredly against the mattress, “me, too.” 

“y’know,” he starts, sitting up further, “it’s been a long time since i’ve heard him laugh that much.” 

your eyes open to look at him, prompting him to continue. 

“he laughs that much when he’s with you,” he says, sending you a rare, genuine smile, “i see it.” 

your heart blooms in your chest, pulse loud in your ears, “dean—” 

the shower stops and the bathroom door swings open, startling the words right off your tongue, “what are you two talking about?” sam asks nonchalantly, rubbing a towel against his noodly hair, damp on his forehead. 

you open your mouth to answer, to say anything other than, ‘we were talking about you loving me, or, something’ but dean speaks before you can. 

“i was telling her not to forget getting your jeans off next time,” he says teasingly, and sam stops in his trek to grab pajamas. 

“fuck off, dean,” he mumbles, embarrassed, but you swear you see the corners of his lips turn upward, just slightly. 

dean winks at you, and before he gets up to steal the shower, whispers in your ear, “he’s so in love, it’s gross.” 

you believe him when you catch sam’s eye twinkling at you again as the bathroom door shuts.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sam winchester masterlist !

[wendichester]

safe and sound was absolutely beautiful 🥹 dad!dean is one of my faves, and for every story i read about him as a dad, i truly believe it’s like he would have had been if he would have had a child of his own 🩵 could you write sth with dean and his bby about she having her first sleepover ever? baby winchester can have the age you prefer, but i know sth for a fact, dean wouldn’t sleep that night, he would miss his girl until he picks her up, but he would also very sooo happy that she has a relatively more normal childhood than he did ✨

no one can change my mind, dean winchester deserved the world 😭

₊˚⊹♡ first night, forever girl,

summary. dean's gone through a lot, but dropping his little girl at her first sleepover? that's the hardest thing he's ever had to do in his entire life

pairing. dad!dean winchester x 8yo daughter!reader genre. fluffy fluff

wordcount. 645

notes / warnings. dean winchester being the world's most emotionally repressed softie: no actual sadness—just man vs. sleepover-induced heartbreak

Dean’s standing by the Impala like he’s witnessing the end of the world.

His daughter—his baby, his tiny tornado of a human—is halfway up the walkway of her friend’s house, backpack bouncing and braid swaying, when she turns and beams at him with her whole face.

And Dean Winchester melts.

She waves. “BYE, DADDY! LOVE YOU!”

“Love you more,” he calls back, voice caught somewhere between proud and panicked.

She vanishes inside. The door shuts.

And Dean stands there, alone on the porch, looking like he just got dumped by the love of his life. Which, technically, he kind of did.

“She’ll be fine,” Sam says gently from the passenger seat when Dean climbs back into the Impala, still staring at the house like it might explode. “It’s a sleepover, not the end of the world.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean mutters. “What if they give her the wrong kind of mac and cheese?”

Sam blinks. “That’s your concern?”

“It matters, Sam.” Dean grips the steering wheel like it’s a lifeline. “She likes the spiral kind. Shells are a betrayal.”

Sam snorts and pats his shoulder. “You’re a wreck.”

“She's never been away for the night,” Dean mumbles, eyes on the rearview like she might suddenly sprint back out and change her mind. “Not once. She still can’t reach the top cabinet without a chair.”

“She’s eight.”

“Exactly.”

Sam doesn’t argue. Because he gets it—they never had this. A childhood with birthday parties and glittery backpacks and sleepovers. Dean made sure she did.

It’s 11:37 PM when Dean finally stops pacing.

She would’ve been tucked in by now. Maybe they’re watching movies. Maybe she’s cold and too polite to ask for an extra blanket. What if she forgot her toothbrush? What if—

BZZZT.

Dean’s phone lights up.

[Photo attachment] It’s her. Wearing a fluffy headband and a pink face mask, making peace signs with two other girls and grinning so wide her eyes are little crescents.

Dean stares at the picture like it’s a sacred text.

Text from: Cece's Mom

"Face masks + Barbie movie night = best time ever! She’s glowing! 🩷

Sam leans over the couch. “That her?”

Dean flips the phone so he can stare at it alone.

“…She’s having fun,” he says, and there’s something weird and wet behind his voice.

Sam smiles softly. “Like she should.”

It’s well past 1 AM when Dean gives up on sleep.

He’s lying on the couch, fully dressed, one arm draped over his eyes. The baby monitor he hasn't used in years is weirdly back on his nightstand. The light in the hall is still on. Just in case.

He keeps looking at her bed like she might appear there by magic.

He misses the soft shuffle of her socks in the hallway. The way she always comes in three times before bed—to ask for water, for a hug, for just one last chapter of her favorite book.

She’s fine. He knows she’s fine. But Dean Winchester doesn’t know what to do when the most important person in his universe isn’t under the same roof.

When he picks her up the next morning, she runs out the door, messy-haired and still in her unicorn pajamas, and barrels into his chest like she never left.

“Hi Daddy,” she says, half-yawn, half-giggle.

Dean holds her tight—just a little longer than usual.

“Did you have fun?”

She nods against his neck. “So much fun. But I missed you.”

Dean’s chest tightens.

He pulls back and smiles down at her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, baby. I missed you too.”

He ruffles her head, helps her into the Impala, and gives the other girl's mom a grateful nod and a small wave.

The door shuts.

And this time, when he drives away, she’s in the backseat—home, safe, sleepy—and humming along to the radio.

Dean exhales. Finally.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[livelaughlovesubs]

Kiss kiss shy shy~

Dom!Reader x Sub!Anaxagoras - reader is gn

Kinks warning: teasing, making out, kissing, hair tugging, anaxa chest fingering, licking that thing off, cumming untouched, clothed sex, dacryphilia

Word count: 5.8k

I wanna make out with anaxa, that’s it, that’s what this entire fic’s about Also reader’s role isn’t specified. Can be another professor/student/someone else.

You don’t even remember how you got into this situation, not that it matters anymore. Only fragments of it remained in your memory, it started with him saying something along the lines of ‘I’m too busy to coddle you, if you’ve got no more questions, leave’.

How nice of him.

Ah, that’s right, your tight-scheduled boyfriend had to grade the exams of his students, and after a night full of sudden bursts of inspiration, he was low on time. If only oronyx could stop it for him, he might for once appreciate what the titans do.

That wasn’t all though. For some reason, you decided you couldn’t put off your daily dose of quality time anymore. Nagging him to take a break and spend time with you. It started with little comments, asking him how long he’s been at it, until it somehow spiralled into peeking over his shoulder while lingering around him. Since you didn’t stop bothering him, clinging to him like a leech, you two had to somehow find a middle ground.

Because what you craved the most in that moment was physical touch, you longed to hold him in your arms. In exchange for you to shut your trap, that composed professor would sit on your lap while reading through the essays of his students. Obviously, you were the one to suggest it. While you earned yourself sceptical glances from the scholar, he eventually accepted. He only enjoyed arguments on interesting topics after all, not some lovers bickering. There were but two rules: no talking and no excessive touching.

Therefore, you were quite content with the arrangement. His rather small frame was so huggable, perfect to hold and cherish. Once he settled down completely, you took a mental note of his weight, which was a little worrisome. Maybe you should dine with him more regularly. His posture was tense, probably due to your presence, so you held him closer by the hips to signalise you were comfortable. The warmth of your body quickly seeped through the layers of his robes, and he managed to loosen up a tad.

For the next few moments, time felt like it was passing in tranquility. Only the gentle scratch of quill against parchment could be heard among his steady heart beat and breathing. He could probably feel the pounding in your chest against his back as well, does that mean he noticed the slight disharmony in the rhythm whenever your eyes wandered over his features?

It’d be somewhat incorrect to say you weren’t bored. It goes without saying that each second spend with him was time well spent, yet it’s been hours already (incorrect: it has been half a system hour) and simply glancing at the soft sway of his fluffy hair wasn’t enough anymore. Your fingers twitched around his waist, once, then twice, before digging them deeper into his corset. Each time he’d flinch, trying to hide his instincts. At this point, your legs were kind of giving out as well. It cramped and tingeled, probably because the blood circulation got blocked off.

When your palms squeezed the narrowest part of his torso for a third time, he covered your left hand with his, and pressed down. About 7 seconds passed in dead silence before he placed his hand onto the parchment again, and continued writing. Guess you got busted, it was starting to get fun too…whatever. You sighed in disappointment, mumbling under your breath, “when are you done…?”

“Silence, we made a deal.” Was all he had to say, but he indulged you by molding into your embrace a little more. How adorable that his actions were opposites to his words.

By the time the first hour really passed, your legs cramped, and you whispered with an agonising groan, “Anaxa- my legs… can we change positions real quick..?” You leaned back against the chair, thumbs rubbing circles into his hips. “Don’t call me that.” He said, not even looking up from the exams, how cruel. “Sorry sorry, I meant Anaxagoras. Now, please?” With a satisfied huff, he gazed at you over his shoulder, about to stand up as he commented, “see? It’s not that difficult. Even the-”

To his surprise, your hands pulled him closer, forbidding him from leaving, and your lips collided. His eyes widened, one hand still holding the pen. Before he could retaliate, you broke the kiss already, chuckling, “got you~” anaxa, who was still perched up on your lap, looked a little flustered now, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, lips pressed into a thin line while he glared at you. “That wasn’t a part of our deal.”

All you did was smirk, face beaming like a child who just received honey cakes. “Come on, A-nak-xa-go-ras, let’s take a break. You are already done with that batch.” His eyes followed yours. You nodded at the stack of papers piling up on his right, the height about the same as the pile on the left. He snarled, hands now gripping the edge of the desk as he retorted, “No, i prefer to finish everything before starting something new.”

Suddenly he jerked his head back to the furniture, noticing that he accidentally crumpled one of the papers. You placed your chin onto his shoulder, and muttered in an apologetic tone, “oh.. I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Anaxa stared at the exam in his hands. Once you took a closer look at its contents, your eyes widened in surprise. Luckily, he didn’t get mad and replied, “it’s alright. He submitted a blank sheet.” You noticed as well, what a brave soul that student was.

He began to laugh softly, a hint of pride hidden beneath his voice, before the tone faded into something akin to amusement. Then he turned around completely to face you, thighs now clenching your lap. “You’ll stop chatting after I take that break, right?” You didn’t know what caused his sudden change in mood, but you got to thank whoever submitted that empty parchment. “Of course.”

One of your hand crept up to tangle itself in his hair at the back, stroking the locks gently, giving his head something to lean against. The other was still holding him rather possessively, not about to let go anytime soon. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, lips a breath away from his. Only now did he notice the proximity between the two of you, and his shoulder jerked backwards, putting in some more distance. “You already did.” He responded, a frown on his face.

Since you weren’t one to back down, which was quite a notable quality of yours, you pestered him, “then can I do it again, Anaxa?” His hands pushed your shoulders half-heartedly, a farce he didn’t know why he bothered playing, “you are using that nickname again. And didn’t you say your legs were tired?” You took the liberty of kissing the left corner of his lips, hovering dangerously close to his eye patch, catching the twitch in his jaw when you did.

With a cheeky smirk, you answered, “somehow it doesnt hurt anymore.” Anaxa pressed a hand to your temple, making you tilt your head back as he scoffed, “hah! Such a coincidence.” You sulked a little, yet it was quickly replaced by a satisfied expression when you saw the meek smile from your precious scholar. “You haven’t answered my question yet, professor Anaxagoras.”

He jerked a little, settling his hands on your shoulder and the back of your neck respectively. A faint blush began to spread to his cheeks, and he groaned, “don’t ask questions you know the answer to, it’s a waste of time I don’t have.” After that, he lowered his head, almost pressing his forehead up to yours.

“Is that so? Then you can’t blame me if I interpret things wrong.” You claimed, lunging forward to catch his lips in a quick peck. An innocent little kiss, without much thought behind it. He wiggled backwards when you did that, almost falling off your lap. It ended with you pulling him flush against you, both hands tightening down around his waist. “Careful.” You uttered, accidentally pulling his ponytail loose in the process. None of you cared to look for his hair tie.

Now the proximity between the two of you were nonexistent. Your steady heartbeat drummed against his, loud, undeniably excited, and all because of him. The knowledge of that fact felt like a gentle breeze, maybe that’s why he didn’t shy away the next time you approached. It’s just bodies touching with an unspoken timidness behind it, not a careful experiment with the expectation of results. “Just hold me tighter.” He replied, giving your shoulders a demonstrative squeeze.

His cheeks flushed a deeper crimson the more he indulged in you. Lips quivering slightly after every close-mouthed kiss, paired with the occational tensing of his fingers. You wondered if your shoulders will bruise the next day… probably not, considering his physical abilities.

At some point, the distance you'd put between you two after each smooch shortened. The trembling gasps he'd unwillingly let slip whenever you pinched his waist began mingling with your steady exhales, enough to send shivers down his spine. He could swear your body heat was making him dizzy, like the most natural aphrodisiac there is, as if he was losing control over his muscles.

Up until now, all he did was stay still while receiving your attention. Though after he got comfortable, he began wanting to fulfill his own desires. When you gave him another half-baked kiss, withdrawing before he was satisfied, he chased after the feeling. The hand that was on your neck trapping you as he reciprocated your previous actions. Just more clumsily, more necessity behind it.

After a long while, he finally retreated, mumbling barely above a whisper, “don’t waste my time on patience games.” Being the one to initiate caused him to shudder in embarrassment, at least internally. He tried to conceal everything right under your nose. The only reason why it was such a hard pill to swallow was that he admitted to wanting this too.

“Games, you say?” Your smirk widened, and you questioned his words with a too carefree tone, “what kind of game did i supposedly play with you?” Thats when his signature glare returned, though in such situations, all it did was make him look cuter. “Don’t act like you dont know, you've been... teasing me. Get to the point so we can end this earlier.” Look at that, he’s almost pouting. Heavens, why did this man have to be so adorable? That little scorn and hesitation is simply too tempting to not point out.

A rather cheeky grin replaced the earlier gentle one, and you said, “I dont think I understand, I'm not as smart as the renowed professor, after all.” He twitched at the mocking use of his title, and groaned in annoyance, “drop the act.” Your fingers dug into his skin some more, squeezing his waist playfully. When he jerked upward with a yelp, spine arching at the motion, all you did was tilt your head to the side with a smile.

Anaxa almost hit you in frustration, and chose to close the little distance between you two, snapping at you, “you clearly wanted to—!!” he stopped himself, still too ashamed to say it. Since it came down to this, he pushed off your lap in a feigned rebellion, explaining, “fine, since you aren’t planning to do anything else, I can continue my work?” A part of him hoped you’ll fell for the provocations. Because he didn’t want to be the first to give in, to admit he wanted it yet again.

With a rather heretical approach, you yanked him back for the second time today, booing, “so cold~ come on, anaxa. Forgive me?” He sneered, voice a hitch higher than usual as he spoke, “if you are truly sorry, show me with actions.” But as if his words went in one ear and out the other, you only gave him some small pecks again. He dropped his forehead to your right shoulder, voice muffled as he snapped at you, “you insufferable, stubborn—! I said stop teasing me!”

A lighthearted laugh reached his ears, and he blushed at how unfazed you seemed. It can’t be that he’s the only one losing his mind over this, right? “You are enjoying making a fool out of me, aren’t you?” His hand squeezed enough for your shoulder to actually hurt, and his gaze lowered as he begrudgingly admitted the words you’ve been wanting to hear. “I want you to kiss me properly. There, that’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? Indisputable proof that I want this too?”

Though he tried to appear as agitated as possible, the neediness written all over his face was like an open book. He felt something hot burning him from the inside out, the heat was evoking chaos from within, making his heart leap out of his chest. Exposed, vulnerable, and something else he was yet too stubborn to admit.

“So you knew all along what I wanted. Who’s the one playing games now?” You nuzzled your cheek into his hair, it smelled a bit metallic but also like something mysterious. Maybe a touch of mint too? One of your hands climbed up his body, splayed over his back as you slowly peeled his coat off, revealing more skin. He always wore so many layers, how bothersome. Nevertheless, your fingertips danced from the back of his neck down his vertebrae, before resting atop his hips once more, causing him to shudder and arch into the embrace.

Anaxa peeked at you by tilting his head to the left. When your eyes locked, you placed a soft kiss to the side of his temple. He grumbled, tugging his hair behind his ears, revealing the flushed skin there. The soft cling of the chain of his eyepatch breaking the silence.

After he calmed down a little, enough to let you make it up to him, you brushed over his lips with your own. Followed by you grinning against the soft and rosy skin, whispering in a low tone, “I just need to hear you say you want it sometimes too~” The vibrations of your voice tickled his skin, and he clenched his eyes shut as you finally pressed your lips against his.

The pace you set was sensual but demanding, a drastic contrast to the gentle caress you've been prepping him with. It seemed you both weren't too different in the end, nothing but a mess for the touch of the other. At first, it started off with what he was used to, just the simple act of connecting your lips. Yet there was something unusual about the way you did it this time, as if a storm of uncontrolable emotions were behind it. His intuition was right, as it quickly spiraled into something more intimate.

As if experimenting with sensations, you nibbled at his bottom lip carefully, teeth grazing the flesh as softly as you managed. The last thing you’d want is to hurt him, or for him to truly dislike it. Your hands tightened around his slender waist, holding him as if he might disappear any moment. The edge of overprotectiveness made him roll his eye, he wasn’t going anywhere soon, you were worrying too much.

When you kissed him more deeply, hands wandering slightly to trace the outlines of his body, he groaned into the kiss. Always so eager to feel him up, weren’t you? To let your hands caress every last inch of him, to get to know him on the physical and emotional levels. You wanted to know where his every weak spot was, his favourite places to be touched, or facts not even he knew about himself. And he gladly let you.

But it’d be a lie to say he wasn’t a little overwhelmed. It wasn’t a problem though, he knew how to adapt fast, and simply let you do it. Going with the flow, wanting to see where this would lead him. Curiosity gnawed at the edge of his mind. That’s why when you suddenly reverted back to the previous smooches, he pulled back and groaned, “you are too much, ruining the build up like that. I might really just go back to work, then we’ll see who’s the idiot.”

You glanced at him with a calculated smile, still messing with him, “since when did you care for the mood?” He scoffed in response, acting more composed than he was, considering he was still gasping for air a moment ago, “what do you take me for?” Suddenly he grabbed you by your collar and snarled, “I already did what you wanted, it’s your turn to hold up your end of the bargain.” The motion caused you to cross the space between you two, and you murmured a little caught off guard, heart beating faster at the closeness, “easy now, whatever you want, anaxa.”

He must have been really fed up, because he crashed his lips against yours, eyes squeezed shut in shame. His actions were a bit rough around the edges, a result of his hastiness. While initially taken aback by the turn of events, you weren’t going to say no to a pretty boy, who’s sitting on your lap, trying to make out with you, were you? His right hand curled into the fabric of your clothes, and his other one gripped your shoulder tightly, as if his strength would suffix in stopping you from breaking the kiss.

Not that you wanted to pull away first, definitely won’t when he was acting this adorable. You cupped his cheek with one hand, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. Soft and slightly wet. Only your upper lips were still connected, and while whispering, you yanked his lower lip down with your finger, “aren’t you a needy thing? Didn’t know you could be so aggressive.”

His breath hitched at the bold tease, pupil widening, a stifled gasp as you pressured him into parting his mouth for you again. “Such a flirt..” The scholar remarked, knuckles tuning white as he held onto you, “you better don’t go around seducing everyone like this.” This made you arch a brow, and he dismissed it, “just saying.” You hummed, reassuring him, “there’s no one I would want to seduce but you.”

Soon, the hand on his cheek climbed to the back of his head, intertwining in his mint green hair. It splayed over his body like the finest silk, soft to the touch and combed. You gently massaged his scalp, cooing at him, “open your mouth.” When he didn’t oblige even after the short break, you wondered, “didn’t you want this, my dear anaxa? Don’t be shy now.” He scoffed yet leaned into your touch and replied, “don’t you dare blame me if it doesn’t feel good.”

So that’s what he was concerned about. If that was all, it wasn’t going to be a hindrance. “I’m sure it will, because I’m doing it with you.” You smiled, he could feel it through his nerves. A shaky exhale escaped his throat, and his gaze dropped down to the floor, all responsibilities temporarily forgotten. His eyes were half-lidded when you tugged at his bottom lip anew, but this time, he obeyed, the tip of the muscle leaving his parted mouth. Your voice felt so dazzlingly warm this time when you whispered, “good boy.”

Soon, your lips locked one more time, a gentle kiss as you both closed your eyes. It started off like a bashful greeting. He was quite rigid, and far too stiff. It didn’t matter to you, it’s not like you were going to grade him based on skill. You turned your head to the side, hand still holding the roots of his hair firmly. Then you tried to help him relax, letting your actions speak louder than words as you both explored the preferences of each other.

Nothing mattered at this moment. Not the cramp in your legs you lied to not have anymore, the ticking of the clock he barely registered, or the way he forgot to breath amidst this dizzy cloud of lust. He couldn’t get into a rhythm, and began to gag quietly, twitching at every drag of your tongue. You tilted his head back by tugging at his hair, explaining with a certain tenderness in your voice, “you have to breath through your nose, silly.”

When you kissed him again, you moved slower than before. Easing him into it, gradually speeding up once he got the hang of it. It didn’t matter how it was done, if it was correct or not. The only requirement was that it fulfilled its purpose of bringing a shared pleasure between two people.

He shuddered at the intensity of it all, the feeling of you touching him in such an affectionate way. It didn’t feel like you simply taking from him, no, nothing like a conquest, but more like him willingly bending to your will. Reciprocating everything with an equally potent desperation. Without him noticing, the earlier doubts dissolved, leaving behind a vulnerability that ended in heated acts of passion and quiet whimpers. “ah… ngh- hah-ahhh...” He simply couldn’t help the noises erupted from him.

What to do? His mind was going blank. That’s not good… his heart was busy pounding against its cage and now he couldn’t rely on his brain neither…? Guess the only thing left was to trust you, to go with the flow, and let his carnal desires take over. Who would have thought it could feel this nice? Such tender actions, featherlight touches, resulting in something so intense, he was basically moaning into the kiss…

A whine tore from him, muffled by your soft lips. His senses were focused on you, on the hand that was grabbing his waist, on the hand tugging at his hair, and the barely noticeable pain from the yank. Another shiver raced down his spine, goosebumps broke out across his skin, and his fingers bawled into fists, tears prickling at the corners of his eye. It felt like time stopped just for this moment, for him to enjoy your embrace a little longer, the comfort it all brought. Seriously, you were rendering him to a melting mess.

He got so lost in everything, swallowed whole by the thrilling experience, he didn’t even notice the hand on his hip wandering upward. It slipped over his robes, sliding across his nipples and dipping into the hole located at his chest. Starting off with a careful tap, since you weren’t sure how he would react. Some weird liquid stuck to your fingertips, and you rubbed your fingers together to take mental notes of its consistency. Since it appeared he didn’t even notice your actions, so deeply engulfed he was by your still ongoing kiss, you pushed one finger inside.

As if snapping back to reality, anaxa suddenly tried to push you back and yelped, but to no avail. His hands had no strength behind them, and it felt more like a kittens paws kneading your skin. He whimpered loudly, unaware of his own volume, “ngh- wait… ah!! ♡ w-what are you..?” Yet after getting another taste of your tongue against his, he caved in, he didn’t actively try to pull away anymore. Arms looping around your neck, shoulders raised to his ears as he gasped, “b-be gentle… when you- HnnGh..! Do that…”

Just what was that sensation? He didn’t even know why he suddenly made that sound. And why did he allow you to continue? This didn’t make sense, it was illogical, but maybe he gave his permission because he didn’t want to break the kiss. Because he was drunk on the feeling of you.

Isn’t that pathetic? To have his reason be overwhelmed by primal desires.

Ah, really, he couldn’t care less. If that’s how it turned out, then that’s how it is. He wasn’t one to act all self-righteous.

You whispered between the kisses, reassuring him, “I will, don’t worry, naxa.” That was a nickname he hasn’t heard before. Perhaps it wasn’t as annoying as ‘Anaxa’. Another shudder crashed through him when your index finger submerged in the strange pool, and you swore in a breathless voice, “I promise.”

What a strange sensation, feeling this weird pressure against his chest. It was foreign to both of you. For you, it felt like you were touching condensed water. Kind of cold to the touch, and had a sense of divinity to it. Maybe ichor would be a fitting word for this gooey substance.

Though for Anaxagoras, it was even more vague. Like a strange button that causes his brain to pour out dopamine when pressed. How weirdly pleasurable it was, he felt like his nerves were burning, heat traveled straight to his groin, and he moaned into the kiss, “mhmm..! Ah- I-it feels strange- haaah..” He simply couldn’t wrap his head around this… what to call. None erotic zone..?

Intrigued, you prodded at it, sticking a second finger inside, which caused his breathing to become uneven and ragged. When you rubbed both fingers against what seemed like the other end, he arched his back, choking as saliva drooled down his chin. “Mhmff..! S-stop… I- argh, I-i can’t..” Anaxa cried, tears spilling as he pulled at the clothes on your back, fisting them. You broke the kiss at his request, strings of saliva connected your lips, and you panted a little.

Which was nothing compared to his shaky inhales, head dropped to your shoulder yet again. “A-ahh… damn it.” His entire body was quivering, and you tried pulling your fingers out, though he stopped you, “n-no! Don’t… don’t do anything, just, give me a second. Please…” that little plea slipped from him before he noticed, and the blush on his cheeks spread all the way down to his chest. His nipples perked up, and he subconsciously tried to squeeze his thighs together.

“Of course.” You replied a little too fast, taken aback by this unexpected side of him. Seeing your normally composed and stern Anaxa, who didn’t feel shame under most circumstances, now rendered to a needy thing all because of you. How sweet, how lovely. And you adored him for that. “You only show this side to me, right, Naxy?” After a while, you muttered quietly, the hand once pulling at his hair now stroking them, soothing out the pain.

His glistening tears were still falling down, so you kissed them away, tasting the saltiness and the heat in his cheeks. His eye was frowning at you, yet also sparkling with desire. What a complex man he was, and so, so precious to you.

“As if I’d act this shameful in front of anyone else…” He snarled, averting his gaze before turning back to glance at your lips. “Kiss me, now. You are more tolerable with your mouth shut.” You couldn’t help but giggle, answering his demand enthusiastically, “anything for my Anaxa.” While you busied him with the kiss, your fingers stirred to life again. Since this condition was so uniquely his, you still weren’t sure what to do. Considering what you have done didn’t hurt him, it will probably be alright to just treat it like a… Hole? For a lack of better wording.

With that mindset, you curled your fingers, wondering if you might find his sweet spot. He cried out at the action, nails scratching your back as you began your research. “Tell me if it hurts.” You whispered, putting off your actions for a bit, waiting for his nod before catching his mouth in another fervent kiss.

The fingers stuck in his chest hole moved around, igniting sparks of pleasure all over his body. Like electricity shooting through him, he couldn’t help but whine out. Shaky sobs as his eyes watered, all of this was becoming much too overwhelming to him. The endless ecstasy overworking his senses, the slide of tongue against tongue in multiple breathless kisses… His chest heaved with each sharp intake of oxygen, and he pushed his body even closer to yours, savouring every moment.

Such a debauched sight, and what a beautifully ruined thing he was, letting lust take over his mind. The short, airy gasps and groans he couldn’t suppress were cheering you on to do more, to make him feel better. “Ah- haah… nghh, hurgh-mmh..! R-right there..♡♡” Anaxa barely managed to form a single coherent word, eyes still shut while he eagerly met each of your advances. His body was moving out of its own accord, he never wanted to appear this needy in front of you, but his body wasn’t listening. It seems no matter how much he tries to fight it, he always loses against you.

You added a third finger, the once bluish green colour of that almost magical substance transforming into a bright pink. To think that liquid could change colours like that, how fascinating. Wet squelching sounds filled the room, and if you weren’t making it up, it appeared that his torso was leaking more goo than before. When you pressed and moved your finger against that one spot he mentioned earlier, he almost lost his mind. At this point, his pants were soaked, revealing a dark, wet spot, spilling precum with every second.

“HnNghh…!! ♥︎♡♥︎” Pitiful professor, weeping even harder at the added pleasure, almost suffocating himself on his sobbing as he attacked your back. Leaving behind red lines along your skin, melting with every thrust of your hand. “Ahh-hic,, t-too much… too- mhMm~! P-please…! ♡♡♥︎” Getting to listen to him make all those noises he’d normally bite back was way too fulfilling a feeling.

With that being said, you fingered that hole some more. Each move drawing out another cute reaction from him. Suddenly it felt like you were dealing with water, because the fluid splashed out with every thrust, dirtying his garments. “Please.. I-I.. really, can’t.. please…♥︎” He begged, grovelled, plead, whatever you could think of. Anything from crying for you to stop to urging you to go faster. It was just too good.

He got drunk on you, your touches, kisses, the way you made him wither and melt. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say he couldn’t live without this anymore, like an addiction that took its roots before he knew. “Ahhh—!! Haa-hngg..! Ugh, h-hic.. ♡♥︎♡” With a final wail, his body gave in to the relentless stimulation, and he whispered between the smooches, “no- nonono, s-stop, I… I don’t want you to s-see me like…. AaAhhHh.?!! ♡♡♥︎”

With every move of your lips, you were taking his breath away, and now you were stealing his words too. A broken sentence as he moaned into your mouth, tongue trembling against yours as he came into his pants, making such a big mess. The dark spot from earlier grew in size, nestled nicely between his spread legs, still unable to close them due to your position. You could swear some of his cum seeped through the fabric.

His once orderly clothes, without a single wrinkle, was now disheveled, half stripped off his shoulders. Robes thrown onto the ground, shirt stained with the sticky fluids that dripped down from the edges of his chest window. Such a lewd appearance, you would have never expected it from your proper and honest blasphemer. Then again, for some, what you two just did might be blasphemous as well.

For the longest moment, he just held onto you with shaking hands, little hiccups ripped from his throat. To be honest, not just his palms, his entire frame was shaking with the afterglow of his release. He basked in it for the longest while. Afterwards, he loosened himself from the kiss. Head hanging low as he slumped forwards, panting like he just ran a marathon. Poor thing really wasn’t build for physical activities. While he clenched onto your chest, seemingly trying to hide himself from your preying eyes, you slowly removed your fingers.

While the liquid did feel sticky, and it did cling to your fingers, it also kind of didn’t really stick. It simply came off, as if it wasn’t compatible with the human skin. Anaxa peeked up at you, his eyepatch hanging slightly off. His face was still as red as before, and the residual tears on his face were beginning to dry. For some reason, he had that annoyed expression again as he mumbled accusingly, “what are you doing this time.” You answered a little in awe, “look, it has such an unique consistency. I wonder what—”

With an obviously displeased huff, he grabbed your hand and stuffed your fingers into his mouth. Licking off the goo that apparently caught your attention. You haven’t even processed what just happened when he stuck his tongue out from between your digits, smirking as he declared, “you are making such a foolish expression, haha~” He sucked at you one last time, lips sealing around you, before he let go of your wrist and pulled the fingers out.

Despite him having stopped already, you needed a few seconds to get back on track, and when you saw him crossing his arms in front of his chest, you muttered as if something clicked, “ah right. I just remembered someone gets awfully needy post-orgasm.” Then, a chuckle escaped you before you could hold yourself back, and he immediately retorted with a rosy blush, “w-why are you laughing while looking at me like that?” Your arms snaked around him, just holding him, and he leaned into your embrace almost too eagerly.

“Oh? Am I wrong to assume you did that because you wanted my attention?” You smiled, that irritating thing you always did to mess with his already pouncing heart. Stupid thing, one day he was going to rip it out of his chest. “Irrational conclusion, I was doing it out of impulse, there’s no correlation.” Who was he kidding, it goes without saying that you didn’t believe him.

“Yea right, then how about you get off me and resume grading the papers?” His brows furrowed, and he gritted his teeth, “…no. I want more rest.” And you were back to where you began, teasing each other nonstop. “Rest somewhere else then~” You almost sang the last part. For a split of a second, he wavered, before giving you a quick peck. Arms located around your neck anew, holding your gaze as he finally confessed, “alright, fine, I was a little… annoyed. So stay, and don’t move. I want…”

He stopped himself, eyes half-lidded while his fingers played with your shirt, trying to divert his focus or something. You waited, but still urged him by saying, “you want…?” Anaxagoras groaned in frustration and embarrassment, whispering something along the lines of ‘this is humiliating’, before admitting begrudgingly, “want you to hold me, okay? Only for a bit, then I have to continue my work… so you better enjoy it to the fullest.”

With a grin that yelled ‘yes’, you followed his command to the point, basically cuddling him and smothering him with kisses. He permitted the attack, letting out a heartfelt laugh when you rubbed your cheeks together. Enjoying the aftercare as he allowed himself to bath in this warmth he never wanted to let go of, never again.

[xoxolaw]

Haii i really love your geum seongje ficss! and yeah to a point you might get tired of writing himm. I hope you did well on your exams or if it hasn’t started I wish you luck!!

Maybe a Baku ficcc with angst but a fluffy endingg ^^

- 🦕

+ WHEN YOU SMILE AGAIN

in which Baku tries to do everything he can, just to make her smile again.

Park Hu-min (Baku) x reader

angst, fluff

It started with the silence.

Not the kind that settles during class or in the library. This one was different—heavier. It followed her everywhere. It replaced her laughter, smothered her warmth, and made her eyes look like they belonged to someone much older.

Baku didn’t get it at first. He’d walked into class, plopped down beside her, and flicked the back of her head like usual.

No reaction.

He cracked a loud joke, half-shouting it across the room. A few guys laughed. She didn’t.

She just stared at her textbook like it owed her money and she planned on collecting with interest.

“Hey,” he whispered the next day, sliding a juice box her way. “Smile tax.”

She blinked.

Nothing.

It only hit him a few days later—after she stopped showing up to lunch altogether—that something was seriously wrong.

When he found out her brother had died, it made sense. And that pissed him off. Not at her. Never at her.

But at the world for breaking people like that and expecting them to keep walking around like they weren’t bleeding inside.

---

“I’m not good at this emotional crap,” Baku grumbled, sitting cross-legged in front of her door a week later, holding a paper bag in one hand and a crumpled apology note in the other. “But I brought dumplings. And this note. And also myself, which I’m told is a blessing.”

No answer.

He looked up at the sky and sighed. “If you don’t open this door in ten seconds, I’m gonna start singing that trot song you hate.”

Still no answer.

“Ten—nine—eight—”

The door cracked open.

She looked tired. Hollow.

But her arms crossed, her brow lifted. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” he grinned, triumphant. “And I practiced the dance, too.”

---

It became a routine.

He showed up every few days. Sometimes with food. Sometimes with dumb gifts like a rubber duck in a graduation cap or a plushie shaped like a punching glove. Sometimes with just himself—loud, obnoxious, painfully honest.

“You look like a sad onion today,” he told her once, leaning back on the school bench, one leg tossed over the other.

“Wow. Thanks.”

“I’m just sayin’. You used to look like a spicy ramen girl. Now it’s all... steamed cabbage energy.”

Her laugh was short. A puff of breath.

But it was there.

He lived for those.

---

The day everything cracked was a rainy Thursday. He found her alone in the school stairwell, clutching a notebook to her chest like it held something she couldn’t let go of.

“Wasn’t on the roof today,” he said gently, sliding down beside her. “Kinda messed up my whole ‘find-the-sad-girl’ scavenger hunt.”

She didn’t look at him.

“You ever feel like... you’re stuck in someone else’s bad dream?” she whispered.

His grin faded.

“I keep waking up thinking it didn’t happen. That he’s still here. That he’ll text me something stupid like ‘don’t forget your umbrella’ and then I check and—”

Her voice cracked. She bit down on her lip hard.

Baku didn’t say anything. Just leaned his shoulder against hers, solid and warm.

“You wanna know the dumbest thing?” she continued, voice shaking. “I feel guilty for laughing. For breathing. Like if I smile, I’m forgetting him.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Baku said, in the most serious tone he could muster:

“Well, damn. You’ve clearly never seen my face when I laugh. It’s ugly enough to bring people back from the dead out of sheer concern.”

She snorted—just a little.

He glanced sideways. “There it is.”

“There what?”

“A crack in the cabbage armor.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t move away.

He nudged her knee. “Look, I know I’m not deep or wise or whatever. But I’m strong enough to carry your sadness for a while if it’s getting too heavy.”

She looked at him then. Really looked.

Baku wasn’t pretending to be okay or trying to fix her. He was just there. Loud, ridiculous, dependable.

“I don’t want to forget him,” she whispered.

“You won’t,” he said, softer than she’d ever heard him. “But you don’t have to disappear with him either.”

She blinked rapidly, then let her head drop to his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a while. Rain tapping against the windows. His warmth anchoring her like gravity. And for the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel like she was drowning.

---

A week later, she walked into her class expecting nothing. Just another day, another seat by window where she could disappear quietly.

But there it was.

Taped to her desk was a folded piece of notebook paper with “DO NOT OPEN unless you are mentally prepared for greatness” scrawled across the front.

She opened it.

Inside was a 4-panel comic drawn in messy black pen, colored in with highlighter and (for some reason) ketchup smudges.

Panel 1: Stick-figure Baku, labeled “Local Muscle God,” bursts through a classroom door with fists in the air. Behind him, tiny stick classmates scream “AUGH IT’S HIM.” His speech bubble reads:

“I bring EMOTIONAL SUPPORT and QUESTIONABLE WISDOM.”

Panel 2: Stick-You is sitting under a raincloud, holding a “sad juice box” labeled regret flavor.

Baku throws a towel on her head and shouts:

“CRYING IS JUST SWEATING FROM THE EYES. STAY HYDRATED.”

Panel 3: Stick-You starts to smile faintly. The cloud shrinks.

Baku throws confetti, a juice box, and a rubber duck at her head yelling:

“SHE SMILED! ACTIVATE PARTY MODE.”

Panel 4: The final scene is drawn big, with fireworks, absurd sparkles, and two stick figures high-fiving under a banner that says:

“When You Smile, the World Gets 69% More Bearable. (Baku Did the Math.)”

In small writing at the bottom:

“P.S. You don’t have to be okay. Just don’t go quiet on me again, yeah? :)”

---

She laughed.

So hard and so suddenly she snorted—actually snorted—startling half the class.

And right on cue, Baku bolted upright from across the room, one foot on his chair like a war hero.

“WE GOT HER BACK!” he shouted. “SOMEONE PLAY THE NATIONAL ANTHEM!”

He tried to salute, lost his balance, and crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

Groans, giggles, a few panicked footsteps followed.

But she just kept laughing, holding the paper to her chest, heart stinging in a new way—warm and alive.

Because only Baku could make grief feel a little lighter with a stupid comic and a ketchup-smudged duck.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

I am happy you liked the fics!! The exam went banger!! Let me know if you liked this!!

TAGLIST

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