#Chaotic-Crackings

[mayhem-bahs]

Welcome to Mayhem-BAHs! Enjoy the show!

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[a-hermit-pining]

LaDs Men Getting "She's busy bro" Text

Request: Hi!! I waited patiently (and eagerly) for your requests to open again, I'm so happy!! I love your writing!! I laughed so hard at the previous request where you mentioned Tara. I have another "Tara is on thin ice" idea, lol. Tara and Mc are having a girls night at Mc's place. Mc is cooking or just doing something, mc's receives a message from the lads men (something random like "hi, how are you, I'm off work"). Tara tells Mc she got a message (since Mc is doing something and she can't answer), and mc tells Tara to reply for her. All good and sweet, what does Tara reply with? "Hi, all good, she's busy now, she will talk to you later!" (Basically, the "she's busy bro" prank but with an oblivious Tara that didn't mean to prank them, lol)

AN: Hey anon, I am sorry for how last I am posting this. But thank you for requesting such a fun scenario. I hope you enjoy this!! Might be ooc at times but I am woman of dramatics so excuse me.

Ingredients: 75% fluff , 25% drama

My Fav: Zayne 🥺

Genre: She's busy bro, prank

Pairing: LaDS boys x fem reader

You’re in the kitchen, half-focused on stirring the pasta and half-listening to Tara rant about her latest training match when your phone buzzes on the counter.

“Hey, your phone just lit up,” Tara says, leaning over to check the screen. “It’s one of the guys. Something about ‘how are you?’ and ‘off work.’”

“Just reply for me,” you say, tossing a handful of garlic into the pan. “Tell him I’ll get back to him later.”

Tara shrugs, picking up your phone and squinting at the message. Her thumbs fly over the screen as she replies, “Hi, all good, she’s busy right now, she’ll talk to you later!”

She hits send with a satisfied nod, setting the phone back down without a second thought

Rafayel:

You lunge to catch Tara as she collapses, her hands flying to her throat, her breaths coming out in sharp, choking gasps.

“Tara!” you gasp, your watch buzzing with frantic alerts, the tiny screen flashing red with proximity warnings.

And then you see it. The curving, sinuous tendrils creeping from the edges of the painting on your wall. The one Rafayel gifted you not long ago. The inky black swirls ripple like living shadows, curling toward you.

You snatch your phone from the counter, one arm still braced around Tara’s trembling form, your body blocking her from the painting as the tendrils inch closer. You hit Rafayel’s contact, your finger jabbing the call button with a fury you can barely contain.

He picks up on the first ring, and you don’t give him a chance to speak.

“Stop it. Now.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, the sound of crashing waves and distant seagulls crackling through the line, but you don’t flinch.

“I swear to the fucking seas,” you snarl, your voice low and dangerous, “I will never talk to you again if you hurt her.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, a flicker of hesitation, and then the tendrils retreat, coiling back into the frame like startled serpents, the air around you cooling as the painting slowly still.

Tara collapses against you, her breathing evening out, her death grip on your arm loosening as she gasps for air. You meet her wide, dazed eyes, your own heart still hammering in your chest.

She gives you a shaky, crooked grin. “That was kinda hot,” she croaks, her lips twitching into a weak, mischievous smile, and your heart melts on the spot.

It takes Rafayel three weeks of pleading, apologizing, and bribing (both you and Tara) to be forgiven for 'the incident'. He sends flowers, chocolates, and a rare pearl necklace that you suspect he made with his anguished cries.

But the painting stays. “For protection,” he insists, his tone defensive, his eyes shifting away from yours when you bring it up. “You’ll thank me one day.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t push it.

Xavier:

He just shows up at your door. Because, of course, he does.

However busy you were, he could stop it. He is a victim to the sunk cost fallacy. If he has to pull you out of some other guy’s orbit, he’ll do it, no hesitation.

He knocks once, twice, each rap firm but patient, the ripped delivery package dangling from one hand, his other tucked casually into his jacket pocket.

The door swings open, and he inhales to deliver his practiced excuse." “Delivered to wr....” He blinks, momentarily thrown off as Tara opens the door, her hair a chaotic mess, pasta sauce smeared up to her cheeks like she’s just face-planted in a pot of marinara.

Behind her, you’re hunched over a massive dish of pasta, a noodle dangling from your lips, your eyes going wide as you choke at the sight of him, your face turning a lovely shade of tomato red.

“Oh, he—uhgh!” you splutter, breaking into a fit of coughing, nearly dropping the fork in your hand.

Xavier’s eyebrow twitches, his frown slowly morphing into a wide grin as his shoulders relax, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in the chaotic scene.

There’s a long, painful beat of silence.

Then Tara, completely unfazed, just wipes her cheek with the back of her hand, shrugs, and steps aside. “You coming in or what, dude?” she says, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Somehow, Xavier ends up joining your girls’ night, plopping down on the couch, grabbing a fork and helping himself to the monstrous bowl of pasta, because why not?

He makes a few snarky comments about your terrible math skills, but shuts up when you threaten to make him eat his own disastrous cooking as punishment.

Predictably, he’s the first to fall asleep. Conveniently, on your shoulder, his head tucked against your neck, his soft breathing mixing with the faint sound of the movie still playing in the background.

Zayne:

Zayne, of course, doesn’t take the bait.

He’s the only one who doesn’t react to the “She’s busy, bro” text like it’s a declaration of war, because he’s seen this sort of thing before.

As a surgeon, he’s often out of reach, his pager passed off to a resident while he’s deep in the OR, his hands steady, his mind clear as he cuts through flesh and bone. He knows what it’s like to be unavailable, to be occupied with things that demand his full focus.

So when he gets the text, he just blinks at his phone, smiles a little, and sets it down without a second thought, already mentally filing away a dessert he can bring you later, something to help you relax after your busy day.

And he does. He shows up that night, a paper bag in one hand, his coat still smelling faintly of antiseptic and coffee, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the faint lines of old scars.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, a little shy, like he’s not sure if he’s intruding. “I brought tiramisu. Thought you could use a break.”

He’s literally the most precious bby, and you have to resist the urge to hug him right there in the doorway.

Sylus:

He’s in the middle of a deal, lounging back in his leather chair.

He checks his phone on a whim, his fingers flicking over the screen, and sees your text. His lips curl into a slow, arrogant smile as he types out a quick, casual, “Hey, what are you up to, sweetie?”

When the "She's busy, she'll call you later," text comes back, the smile freezes on his lips.

Busy? Busy?

His mood sours instantly. His fingers curl around the edge of his desk. He flicks his gaze back to the fumbling dealer in front of him, and his generosity reserves run dry.

“Out.”

The dealer stumbles back, wide-eyed, sweat beading on his forehead as he stammers out a “Y-Yes, sir!” before practically tripping over his own feet to escape the room.

Sylus leans back in his chair, teeth gritted, jaw tight, the soft click of his metal-tipped fingers against the desk the only sound in the now-silent room.

But just as he’s about to mentally spiral, his phone buzzes again.

“Made a pretty big batch of pasta, would you like some?”

He blinks, eyes flicking to the photo you’ve attached. A literal tub of way too much pasta, the noodles piled high, the sauce thick and steaming, a chaotic heap of carbs that only you and Tara could possibly miscalculate into existence.

He huffs, a quiet, exasperated chuckle slipping past his lips, the tension in his shoulders melting away. He leans back, his head tipping against the cool leather of his chair, a small, fond smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll be there in 20. Don’t start without me.”

And just like that, his mood is ruined in a completely different way, his dark, dangerous aura slipping into something much softer as he straightens his tie and stands, already picturing you waiting with a bright grin and a mismatched fork.

Caleb:

“Why does she get to use your phone and I don’t?” Caleb storms around your apartment, his boots clomping against the hardwood floor, his uniform still perfectly pressed.

It’s been an hour of this. A Fleet Colonel throwing a full-on tantrum in your tiny studio, pacing like a caged animal, his jaw clenched, his fingers flexing at his sides as if he’s debating strangling the nearest pillow. You did put your plushies away at the first given chance.

Pouting. Whining. Sharp, accusing glances thrown your way every time you so much as move.

You’re honestly grateful that Tara had left before this. She’d probably just laugh and egg him on, and you don’t need two chaotic messes in your living room right now.

“Caleb, I was busy,” you try to reason, leaning against the kitchen counter as he paces. “I didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

He whirls to face you, his eyes dark, his jaw ticking, his hair somehow still perfectly in place, untouched by the cap he’d clearly ripped off the second he stormed through your door. Your mind unhelpfully drifts to the way that uniform clings to his shoulders, the way his collar hugs his throat, and nope, now is not the time for that.

“Busy?” he spits, his voice a low, irritated rumble. “Busy with what? And why with her, exactly?”

You sigh, pressing a hand to your forehead, already exhausted from the emotional hurricane that is Caleb. “I was cooking, Caleb. With Tara. I didn’t want to leave you hanging, so I asked her to text you back.”

He scoffs, his shoulders tense, his eyes narrowing like he’s daring you to try that excuse again.

Rage bait Tara is Colonel Caleb’s worst nightmare come to life. Given how you never seem to care how close she gets to you, how easily she invades your space, how unapologetically she teases you.

Much to Caleb’s dismay, you never seem to mind.

[fanaticalthings]

Bruce coming home one day to find Robin Jason clinging onto a chandelier with Dick below him cheering him on.

Bruce: Jason what are you doing?

Jason: Dick said that you missed his antics after he moved out and so he’s teaching me how to be a better son

Dick: After this we’re going to drive the Batmobile into the bay :D

Jason: We’re going to what? I mean yeah! Right into the water.

Jason trying to whisper to Dick: Dick I can’t swim though

This just further fuels the chaotic dynamic of Dick and Jason during a time where Dick was still going through his teenage angst and was absolutely not a benevolent role model LMAO

I mentioned it in this post, but it's just so funny to me to imagine a Jason who grew up with an absolutely WILD Dick Grayson as an older brother, while the younger batkids grew up with a more mellowed out and mature (arguable but when measured against the other kids, he wins by a landslide) Dick Grayson.

Robin!Jason era:

Dick: You wanna go out and get high?

Jason: I can't, I have homework.

Dick, sputtering: HOMEWORK?

----

Dick, about to do an elaborate (and totally not dangerous) acrobatic move in the manor: Watch this, littlewing

Jason: You shouldn't do that, it'll make Bruce upset.

Dick, on the brink of angry tears: Why are you like this.

----

Jason, dejected: Listen, I know you don't approve of me because you think I'm not good enough as Robin, but-

Dick: Not good enough as Robin? I don't care about that, I just think you're a little bitch

----

Dick taking Jason out on a hangout for the first time: OK, looks like I got my work cut out for me. Take out a notepad and write everything down. I will NOT have my successor embarrass me like this. So what you wanna do to piss off Bruce-

---

[Years later, Jason returning to Gotham with the fury of a thousand suns and the chaos to match it]: I'm gonna make your life a living HELL, Bruce

Dick, older and relatively more chilled out: Okayyyyy, maybe let's just– calm down a lil, haha, no need for the theatrics

Jason, betrayed, observing a Dick Grayson who is teaching his new younger siblings to behave and be mature: Dick, what the FUCK

-----

Present!Dick, mentoring Tim: Make sure not to be too impulsive, don't wanna raise Bruce's blood pressure

Red Hood!Jason spying on them from afar: Who even ARE you??

-----

Jason: So you teach me ALL of that, only to turn into the ONE thing you despised so greatly all those years ago

Dick, sweating: Well-

Jason: I'm ASHAMED. How can you be worthy of being called my PREDECESSOR?

[summikomi]

jjk smau: just a nibble! (you bite them)

ft. gojo, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, nobara, megumi, yuuji

cw: suggestive content

this is so silly. sorry for the minor disappearance, life got crazy. hopefully more stable uploads from now on!

[hansptacek]

Presenting: the Devil's Pack

Jan Žižka

Katherine

Kubyenka

Hynek Jevišovský (aka Dry Devil)

Janosh Uher

Adder

Bonus + Honorary Members:

Henry of Skalitz

Hans Capon

Father Godwin

Samuel of Kuttenberg

[wh1spic]

I think the next big psychological study should be the correlation between batfam and mha fandom. almost every. single. person. I know. who loves mha, has had an obsession with the batfam.

is it because there is an angsty emo looking dad who's chronically tired and has too many kids?

[pampelushka]

Jake Seresin's mom group

You can't convince me Jake would not enjoy the mom group dynamics. He would bask in the attention the moms would inevitably give him.

This is crack treated only semi-seriously. Tbh, I giggled my way through this thing.

***

Jake's heart is overflowing with love as he watches his little girl bounce around the park. Her big brown eyes wide with joy, her smile too bright for this dull world. She’s the most beautiful human being under the sun, parental bias be damned. 

Resting in his palm, like a treasure, is a glittery pink bow, long forgotten by its little owner, traded instead for a little too big, well-loved San Diego Padres baseball cap adorning her long chestnut curls like a crown for the princess she is. 

“She’s the sweetest,” Veronica leans in, bumping into his shoulder. Her eyes follow his line of sight and she smiles, a pleased private thing, only for Jake to see. They stand like this, shoulder to shoulder, watching the scene unfold in front of them. 

The kids play some sort of game only they know the rules of. They're in the middle of an excited outburst when Veronica's little boy, overwhelmed by the noise, new surroundings and too many friends all at once, starts to spin on the spot, screaming his lungs out.

And Jake’s little girl, bless her, joins him in immediately, matching his energy. She spins with her arms outstretched, dress twirling. Leaning her head back, she loses the cap, but she doesn’t care. Jake watches enamored, noticing that with her head thrown back like that, her hair almost reaches under her knees. It’s a miracle, she hasn’t yet pulled half of it out by stepping on it. 

The rest of the kids run to join them too, making it look like a flash mob, rather than a successfully dissolved tantrum. They soon switch to a weird version of tag, chasing each other while still spinning.

That’s when Jake turns back to Veronica, not really keen on seeing the next skinned knee the game will inevitably bring upon them.

“She’s always ready to include him, no matter what,” Veronica says gratefully. “Got a heart of gold, your little one,” she adds, squeezing his shoulder. Her words make Jake’s heart expand in his chest. 

Sometimes, the feeling gets so big. It’s like he’s ready to explode any moment, letting it consume him in a way only love can do. But then he holds it in for a while, cradles it in his aching arms. And lets it loose to the world. Everytime, his heart stays a little bigger than it was before, aching with the intensity in the best possible way.

“Well,” he aims for a joke, because there’s no way he can let her see what’s happening inside of him right now, “She’s got it from her dad,” he says with a smirk. 

Veronica laughs at that. “Sure, ‘cause you’re such a sweetheart yourself.” 

Jake winks at her, enjoying his own secret joke, while maintaining his persona. He was not talking about himself, but she doesn’t know that. Him. Not yet. 

“Yeah, well, I made the raspberry pop tarts she loves so much,” Veronica says, waving her hand at the table their little group is currently occupying. 

Jake nods his thanks while he turns around to take in the rest of the women currently setting up what looks like an entire aisle of snacks of the nearest supermarket spread onto the wooden picnic table. 

They might not look like it, but they're his people. Together, they form one very average mom group - perfectly curated, very typical, a bit bonkers. Just the way he likes it. They’re like pokemons and he has them all. 

There’s Alice, the I-can-and-I-am-doing-it-all single mother, who hit on him HARD the first time they met but backtracked immediately when he flashed her the ring on his left hand, becoming his bestie instead. They’re THE team when it comes to field trips and class meetings. Always ready to jump in and help each other when life and school pick ups get complicated.

Then there’s Tess, the overzealous extroverted stay at home mom, who will plan everyone’s week just so she doesn’t have to stay with her kids at home alone. Play dates and coffee dates organized for the rest of the school year, art supplies always ready.

Veronica, always complaining about anything and everything, but secretly the most tender and loving person, who makes the best and most beautiful cakes. She’ll also drive around half of the town just to come back for you when your car won’t start.

Also Emily, the chaotic mom, always running late, kids in mismatched outfits picked by themselves, her cheeks covered in sparkles from the last time her little boy wanted to try his hand at make up, fake Anna and Elsa tattoos covering her forearms. 

And then there’s Jake, the designated dad of the group. Always cracking jokes, always low-key flirting with all of them at once, basking in the attention naturally given when a group of mothers adopts a fellow parent who also happens to be a man. 

They've been his village for the last five and a half months, since his little girl started school and Bradley left for his latest deployment. 

They follow all the unwritten rules of any mom groups out there:

Do not ask too many questions. Any information must be given freely.

Talk about the kids. Safe territory.

Complain about your partner once in a while. The group’s foundation stone is solidarity. 

Engage in the WhatsApp group chat, for fuck’s sake. We need to hear your opinion. 

Be there for each other. Everyone needs an adult conversation once in a while.

“Oi, darling, careful,” they hear from afar, and that’s Emily. Arms full of backpacks and hats and snacks, finally arriving, only forty minutes late this time. She’s stumbling behind her three kids that are already running wild joining their other friends on the playground. 

Jake runs up to her, taking all the backpacks from her arms. 

“Hi Em, are you moving or something?” he asks jokingly, looking down at the amount of stuff she’s bringing. 

She just laughs. At herself mostly. She may always bring chaos with her, but she’s never in a bad mood. “The camo one is yours, actually,” she says, nodding with her chin to an old worn-out camo backpack that’s got a pink stuffed arm of Jake-doesn’t-know-what peeking out of it.

“Mine?” He asks, eyebrows raising. 

“Yeah, Bee said it was her dad’s?” she says, frowning. “She gave it to Timmy last time he was at yours. Apparently, he had collected too many rocks and needed something to put them in, so he could bring them home,” she clarifies while unloading another snack aisle on the already overflowing table.

At the same time, Jake spots the rooster keychain dangling from the zipper and understands. “Oh, right. Her dad’s,” he mumbles with a little smile.

The thing is, they haven’t met Bradley yet.

The thing is, they haven’t heard of him yet either. At least as far as he knows.

Though their little girl is always talking about her dad, they have no idea there’s two of them. 

He fights the urge to giggle. It’s a little stunt they pull anytime they get the chance. And they move a lot, so there are always new opportunities waiting. 

It doesn’t work out everytime, but when it does, it’s glorious. 

“Jake, did you manage to get that gluten-free cake thingy for Hallie?” Tess asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“Of course,” he drawls, “but I’m never going back to that shop ever again. As much as I love Hallie,” he adds quickly. 

Tess frowns but Alice snorts, almost drowning in her Iced Blond Vanilla Latte. “You should have seen him,” she’s laughing now, coffee splashing around as she shakes with it. “He almost fell out the door, basically running to my car,” she heaves with laughter, taking the piss out of Jake, because she knows she can. “He jumped in, go, Alice, go!” She mimics Jake’s drawl, which earns her the group’s full attention and one very intense green-eyed stare.  

“And I’m like… all confused, what the fuck’s going on, is there a zombie going after you?” she’s acting out the whole scene now. “But before I can even start the car, there’s a lady bursting out of the shop, Sir, sir!” And Alice apparently missed her calling because she should have been an actress. Jake can already feel the embarrassed heat reaching his cheeks. “And she’s waving the paper bag with the cake up in the air like it’s a handkerchief and she’s flagging down fucking Titanic.”

She has too much fun with the story. That’s when Jake needs to intervene and try to save some of his own dignity. If that’s even still possible, that is. “Alice,” he cries out, “you saw her! She was insane. She literally wrote her number on the,” he lowers his voice, because there are kids running around and he’s a good parent, for fuck’s sake. “Fucking paper bag.” He says, eyes wide, emphasizing the words quietly. He rummages the table to find said gluten-free cake thingy, and from underneath pulls out a paper bag, which has, indeed, a phone number written on it in big black, desperately looking numbers. 

“And,” he continues pointedly and fishes out the receipt from the bag, “on the fucking receipt, too,” he says, pulling out the thin strap of paper, showing the unmistakable digits to everyone. He holds it high above his head, pinning Alice with his glare. She’s still laughing, nonetheless. “She would have written it on the fucking cake, if she could,” he mumbles, scrunching the receipt and paper bag in one ball and throwing it into the trash can resolutely. 

They’re all laughing now, mostly at his and Alice’s dramatics, rather than Jake’s despair, but he’ll have none of that. “I’m a married man, for fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, arms crossed over his chest, lips pouting, willing the blush from his cheeks away. 

“Speaking of which,” Alice sidles up to him, “When’s your significant other coming?” she asks, eyebrows raised, all business like. 

And suddenly, there are four very intense pairs of eyes on him. They circle him like prey. “You promised.” 

Yeah, he did.

Jake thinks back to the day he made that promise and his heart thumps a little faster in his chest. It was the day Bradley finally came back home. After long, long six months of deployment in stupid, far away, across-fucking-too-many-time-zones Japan, he came back. And Jake was so happy, holding their girl and his husband in his arms, after so long. The three of them finally together again. 

He made that promise on a whim, out of pure happiness.

“Should be here any minute,” he says, smirking, confidence back where it belongs. 

“Oh, I can’t wait to finally meet her.” - “Is she even real?” - “She must be a real one, putting up with you.” - “Little Bee must be her mini-me, right? ‘Cause she sure didn’t get those curls from you, blondie.” - …

He doesn’t correct them. 

His eyes go back to his little girl. She’s sitting in the grass, laughing at something Timmy just said. The sun is painting her hair in gold, her skin too. She’s picking daisies the way all the kids do - the cap in her lap full of flower heads with no stems. Jake forgets how to breathe for a while. 

Until…

“God almighty!”

“Holly fucking shit!”

And of course, that gets Jake’s attention. “Come on, there are kids arou…” His scolding fades away as he catches the sight of his friends. They are staring, jaws half way on the ground, hands on chest. 

He follows their line of sight and oh… 

He forgot. He totally forgot. 

Bradley had an official meeting today. Which means he’s now striding towards them, all easy confidence, crossing the park like the whole world belongs to him, in his uniform. 

And Jake stares too. 

Because he’s allowed to. Because he couldn’t for so long. Because it’s Bradley. 

It’s that simple.

He’s … Gorgeous. He’s always been the most handsome man Jake has ever laid his eyes upon. And he still is, after all those years. Even with silver strands in his chestnut curls, even with his midsection getting fuller over the years. All of these things only add a layer of beauty to the man he once was. A layer of life. A shared one. A layer of love. 

The uniform leaves nothing to imagination, hugging him at all the right places, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders, his impossibly long legs, the swell of his strong arms. The sun finishes the picture by painting him in every shade of gold, from his curls, to his skin, to the deep brown of his eyes. The uniform cap is tucked under his arm. The wings, pinned on his chest proudly, glitter with light. 

Eyes and heads turn in his direction. Women stop in their conversations, ducking their heads, trying not to stare too obviously. And failing. Kids stop in their tracks, eyeing him suspiciously - in the intense way only kids are able to. 

But Bradley’s eyes are on his own target. He strides with intent, crossing the grass like it’s tarmac and he’s ready to embark on a mission. Only the mission is Jake. 

He doesn’t slow down until he’s right in front of their group. All eyes on him. He stops then and smiles, eyeing Jake’s friends with amused grin - Jake’s forever favourite expression of his. 

Jake’s always so excited about the big reveal. He can’t wait to see his friends finally connecting the dots. Laugh at their surprised faces. But he always misses it, too busy staring at his perfect husband. 

Alice is the first one to come to her senses. She clears her throat, breaking the moment of silence. 

"You looking for something, Sir?" she squeaks, cheeks pink, all her usual game gone with the wind.

Bradley smiles a bit more, steadfast and confident. “No,” he answers simply. And there’s a whole life hiding behind that one short word. “I’ve got everything I need,” he adds, locking his eyes with Jake. 

And Jake knows what flying feels like, he knows what being the best of the bests feels like, what being completely utterly totally free feels like. But nothing ever compares to this. 

He can’t hold his act any longer, he needs his husband’s arms around his waist, his lips against his lips, the affection currently consuming his whole body and soul out of his system before he explodes with it.

He takes a deep breath. How is it possible that after all those years, he still gets butterflies in his stomach just by looking at the man? He smiles at that thought and makes a move to finally step closer and erase the distance between their bodies, but someone beats him to it. And Jake can’t even be mad about it.

“Daddy!” a happy squeak breaks the silence and Bradley has just about the right amount of time to turn around so he can catch his little girl jumping into his arms. She hugs him with all of her body, koala-style, burying her face into his shoulder, uniform be damned.  

“Hi, sweetheart,” Bradley says with the soft voice he only keeps for his little girl. He hugs her back tightly, but she’s a kid at a park and has no time to waste, so it only takes a second before  she wiggles her way out of his embrace, running back to her friends again.

She makes room for Jake to finally step in. He leans in, planting a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Hello, darling,” Bradley purrs, pulling him closer by the belt loops on his pants.

“Hi, husband,” Jake says, grinning into another kiss, chasing Bradley’s lips. 

Loud gasps slice through the air behind his back. 

[enhaflixer]

super villain from temu (villain & violent, infant & innocent)

Villain!Sunghoon x Hero!reader

(Crack, fluff)

wc: less than 1000 words

synopsis: He became a villain by accident. You became a hero by chance. Now, you're both stuck in a never-ending game of tag—except he's definitely losing (and somehow still flirting)

AN: hi guys!!! please let me know what u think in the comments i would really really appreciate it! leave as many requests as you would like!

Masterlist

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You weren’t exactly sure when Park Sunghoon became your biggest problem, but here you were, once again, staring him down in the middle of the city, exasperated beyond belief. The night air was crisp, the moon hanging overhead, casting silver light across the rooftop where you stood. It would’ve been almost picturesque—if not for the dork in the villain cape standing in front of you.

“You’re late,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his cape fluttering slightly in the breeze. “I had this whole villain monologue prepared, but now I’m just standing here like an idiot.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Sunghoon, do you ever stop talking?”

“No. And as your sworn enemy, you should appreciate my dedication.”

You had long since stopped taking him seriously. Not because he wasn’t capable of mass destruction—no, the problem was that he was way too awkward to be genuinely evil. Like last week, when he tried to steal a hotdog cart as a distraction but ended up tripping over a ketchup bottle and getting mustard all over himself. Or the time he tried to hijack a news broadcast, only to accidentally press the weather channel button instead.

And yet, despite all his antics, Sunghoon still insisted he was your archnemesis. It was kind of… cute.

“I assume you’re here to fight,” you sighed, stretching your arms as you got into a battle stance. “Let’s get this over with.”

Sunghoon’s expression flickered for a moment—was that hesitation? He shifted on his feet, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. Fight. That’s what we’re doing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Unless you have something else planned?”

“No,” he blurted out way too fast. Then he coughed, trying to look serious again. “I mean—yes. I have the perfect plan.” He lifted his hand dramatically, but nothing happened.

A long silence stretched between you. Sunghoon lowered his arm slightly, glancing at you. “Uh. I forgot what it was.”

You groaned. “Oh my god.”

“Wait, wait, I have a backup plan!” He rummaged through his pockets before pulling out a small remote. “Now behold, HERO!” He pressed the button, and suddenly—a metal cage clunked down from above, trapping you inside.

You blinked. “What the hell?”

“Jokes on you! I stole your dog! Now I have the upper hand, HERO!” Sunghoon cackled, arms crossed triumphantly.

Except. One tiny issue.

“I don’t… have a dog.”

Sunghoon’s face froze. “Wait. Then whose dog did I steal?”

A distant barking sound echoed from the side of the rooftop, followed by the furious stomping of an angry old lady.

“THAT’S MY DOG, YOU IDIOT!” she screeched, waving a cane in the air.

Sunghoon turned just in time to see the old woman whack him over the head. “oh shit.” He yelped, immediately bolting away as she chased him down the stairs. You stood there, watching the scene unfold, trapped in the ridiculous cage, contemplating your life choices.

After chasing Sunghoon down, knocking him out, and handing him over to the authorities (who, at this point, were getting tired of his antics), you sat beside his holding cell, sipping your drink.

Sunghoon, now sitting on the bench inside his cell, stared at the ceiling, pouting.

“This is so embarrassing,” he muttered. “I am a disgrace to villains everywhere.”

You leaned back against the wall, shooting him a lazy smile. “At least you’re entertaining.”

He exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face before finally looking at you. “You know… this whole villain thing?” He gestured vaguely at his surroundings. “It kinda started as a joke.”

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

Sunghoon let out a dry laugh. “Back in college, you just… became a hero. It wasn’t even some big, dramatic thing. You helped someone, people started calling you one, and suddenly it stuck. It was effortless for you.” He hesitated. “And I… I wanted to get your attention.”

Your breath caught slightly. “Wait, so you—?”

“I thought if I became a hero too, we could fight together,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe you’d finally notice me. But I guess I botched it, because people didn’t call me a hero. They called me a villain. And instead of correcting them, I just… rolled with it. It was kind of… fun?”

Your heart twisted. “So this whole time—”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not exactly how I pictured my life going, but hey, at least I get to annoy you for a living.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. A real, genuine laugh. Sunghoon’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before he grinned, his usual smugness returning. “See? I can still make you smile, even from jail.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you stood up. “Well… you’ve definitely got my attention now.”

Sunghoon blinked, then smirked. “Oh? So you admit it? You can’t resist me?”

You leaned down slightly, close enough that he sucked in a sharp breath. “I think you just like being chased by me.”

Sunghoon’s grin stretched wider as he leaned back against the wall, looking far too smug for someone in a holding cell. "Ohhh, you want me so bad. Just admit it, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. Maybe you did. Just a little.

[raileurta]

Unicron in Miko's head: The prime speaks only lies.~

Miko: I had a feeling that was the case Satan.

Miko: I should kill him.

Unicron: Well let's not be hasty..... 🤨

Unicron: Tha- that's a little extreme.

Miko: So I should not kill Optimus?

Miko: But I should kill myself and ascend to lichdom. =D

Unicron: Woah.

Unicron: Woah!

Unicron: Woah?!

Unicron: What the frag are you talking about????

Unicron: Glitch you're crazy!

[mayhem-bahs]

Hii :3 can we get a level 2 brainmade based off of green slime/toxic waste and casinos? Some emoji inspo if need it: 🧪💵🎲⚠️📼

Welcome to the show!

Toxic Waste/Biohazard, Green Slime, and Casino based BAH!

Remember! Not all alters form or attatch to an identity exactly as listed!

Also, apologies that the identity itself doesn't include much of the casino part of this request.

Slimeclicle and X-Virus mixed Alter!

Names:

Cody, Charlie, Slime, Chem, Cain, Cal, Isaac, Toxi/Tox, Atlas, Magnus, Xenon, Caspian

Age:

Teen to Young Adult

Species:

Human...? Humanoid.

Perhaps this one used to be human..

Genders:

[Some links are TBA]

Transneutral, chemcoric, chemicallexic, plutonian, hazardgender, biohazenic, biohazardgender, radioactivegender, slimcaeic, greengender, slimegender, cardgender, casinocoric,

Neo-Prns:

Beak/Beaker, Acid/Acid, Comp/Compound, Tox/Toxic, Cor/Corrosive, Bon/Bond, Radio/Active, Chem/Chems, Ura/Nium, Slime/Slimes, Drip/Drop, Drip/Drips, Goo/Goos, Goop/Goops, Sludge/Sludges, Droop/Droops

Sexuality/Orientation:

Unlabeled/Doesn't see a need for a label (possibly masc leaning attraction)

Source(s):

Slimeclicle (DSMP), X-Virus (CrP/Creepypasta), Slime Demon/Charlie (Gen Loss)

Roles:

Chameleon, Comedian, Gearturner, Medicine Taker (If Applicable), Addiction Holder (Gambling, If Applicable)

Likes:

Slime, Chemistry, Green, Medium/Neutral Temperatures, Neons, Radioactive Aesthetics, Casino Aesthetics, Post-Apocalyptic Aesthetics, Earthy Smells, Experimenting, Sour Foods, Sour Candies, Scene Music, Alt Electropop, Indie music, Loose Ties, Suits, Casino noises, Slot Machines, The visual of Sand/Deserts

Dislikes:

The cold, overly sweet flavors, authority figures saying to do something after already starting, classical music, english/ela classes, the texture of/touching sand

Bonus! Possible Memories:

Knowing people before meeting them, playing slot machines, being in a casino, being in a garage lab, experimenting with something that may have been dangerous, sand sticking to their hand

Faceclaims: 1 2 3 4 5 6

[dearestgentlereaders]

the things I would do to get a scene where michaela stirling is flirting with all the bridgerton wives. like I want anthony and benedict realising they have no game compared to her literally none whatsoever. anthony would basically go into cardiac arrest when michaela is able to get the kate bridgerton flustered. colin is just in the corner contemplating suicide when penelope starts blushing cause he thought he was the only one who could make her feel that way.

[obsesssedblerd]

jin itadori telling baby yuuji and teen choso, "you're spending the weekend at your uncle sukuna's house" and they let out the loudest sigh bc he's always doing some crazy shit and they just wanna have a chill weekend 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[leehanadez]

NO ONE NOTICED, right?

BOYNEXTDOOR when they accidentally reveal their secret relationship with you

Pairing: Idol!boynextdoor x gn!idol!reader Genre: fluff, soft, total chaos, established relationship Warnings: bnd being a bunch of idiots that love their partner, mild language, fans being FBI-level detectives

Myung Jaehyun:

He was livestreaming when it happened — just casually reading some comments when, out of nowhere, you walked into his hotel room. He looked at you with the biggest smile... like he completely forgot he was live.

"Hey, baby" he said, stretching out his arm to pull you in. It wasn’t until he noticed you standing frozen, eyes wide in panic, that he realized what he’d just done.

The next day, even though the livestream was deleted, Twitter was flooded with the video. People even dug up old clips, adding captions like, “How were we so blind?”

Park Sungho:

It happened during an interview. He was distracted, missing you more than usual, and when the interviewer jokingly asked, “Is there anyone special waiting for you guys tonight?” — he didn’t even think.

“Yeah, I miss my baby, Y/N...” The moment it left his mouth, his face went pale. The members immediately tried to cover it up by being loud, laughing it off — but his expression said it all. He knew he messed up.

Riwoo:

It was just supposed to be a collab stage. In fact, it technically wasn’t even his fault. The staff just hadn’t noticed the kiss you two shared in the background while Woonhak was being interviewed.

Surprisingly, fans didn’t take it the wrong way — they actually loved your relationship.

Taesan:

Okay, this one was totally his fault.

He was so excited to see you at the M Countdown show that he couldn’t hold it in.

“You were amazing the other day, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

He was so sweet... if only that clip hadn’t been playing on the big screen. And if only fans hadn’t been able to clearly read his lips.

Leehan:

He didn’t mean to reveal anything either. He was just so excited to be on your solo YouTube show that he couldn’t stop smiling, laughing, and giving you those heart eyes. How was he supposed to know fans would be that obsessed — enough to dig up old pictures of the matching couple collars from that beach trip a year ago? The same collar he casually wore in a backstage vlog?

“At least we don’t have to hide it anymore?” He always tried to see the bright side.

Woonhak:

Who would've thought a livestream could go that chaotic.

It was his birthday, and he was doing a solo live when he got a call. He picked up quickly, meaning to tell them he was live — but didn’t realize the phone was on speaker.

The way his face dropped when your voice came through: “Hey baby, how’s my birthday boy?”

Pure. Chaos.

He panicked, accidentally hung up on you, and tried way too hard to explain himself to fans before abruptly ending the stream. It didn’t even matter — everyone recognized your voice. Some even figured out you’d met during his MC days.

[gwendolynnderolo]

liam: *says the absolute dumbest shit imaginable*

theo: god, he’s so stupid. i can’t believe i’m going to fuck him.

scott: …i mean, you don’t have to.

theo: no, i’m gonna.

[imkumichan]

Transmigrated!Reader in Love and Deepspace who have no idea what to do as a hunter and you absolutely have no plot armor. You don't even have time to think about the plot because how chaotic and life changing it was for you. Everytime you want to resign it's as if the universe doesn't allow it. In the end, you try your best to survive every mission as a hunter wheater you like or not.

Honestly, it would be easy for you if it was your only problems. But why in the world the main character is always following you around?? You don't even know why she talks to you. Honesty.. all you want to do is just go home and watch some movies without thinking about what really happening in your life.. but you know it's not gonna happen soon, not when the MC always try to make her space in your life.

[wh1spic]

Shouta, talking about vigilante Izuku: “Has anybody here had any contact with him in the last five months?”

Katsuki, who has been exchanging rants about their favorite shows with him daily and is currenly typing a new one: “…No.”