ilyasorokinn

[ilyasorokinn]

annnddd finally a joseph woll blurb about maybe just how much he likes to always be touching you at all times, he seems like the kinda guy to link pinkies with you while you're both sleeping during summer nights where it's unbearably hot but he still needs you close!

TOO HOT TO HANDLE

joseph woll = funniest little guy! also, sorry this is a little shorter lol

joseph woll's love language was physcial affection. everyone knew that. even strangers could see it whenever you were out. he always had an arm around your waist, or he was holding your hand.

during off season, you made one big trip to visit both your family then joseph's. it was a nice way to decompress after the season, and it was always nice to see each other's families.

the second you landed in joseph's hometown, you were hit in the face with a gust of heat. just standing outside waiting to be picked up, you were melting.

you didn't like heat, and you were lucky that joseph played in toronto. it was hot for a few months, but the majority of the year, it was blisteringly cold.

of course, you loved joseph's family, but it was always so hot when you visited, so in order to make your visit a little more enjoyable, the woll family had gotten you a portable fan that was constantly going throughout your visit. they had ac of course too, but the fan was also just nice.

you were lying on the bed, on top of the sheets with the fan billowing below when joseph walked into the room. he laughed when he saw you lying on the bed, not moving and enjoying the cool air blowing directly at you.

"comfortable?"

"you have no idea." you sounded so relaxed joseph felt a little bad that he was about to disrupt it. he pulled the sheets back on his side, and crawled in next to you.

he reached out, and grabbed your hand, "too hot, joe." you whined, instead, linking your pinky with him. he sighed happily at the small contact and closed his eyes.

"goodnight," he brought your hand up, and kissed your palm.

"goodnight." you hummed happily.

requests are open (not for this celly)

[ilyasorokinn]

oh and you know I had to do it but a trent frederick blurb about him being the biggest cuddle bug known to man even though he's like twice your size

BAD DAY FIXER-UPPER

i'm sososososo SORRY this is taking so long. i'm working on some other stuff (thinking about david corenswet as superman) and i'm hyperfixating bad. i haven't forgotten about hockey guys!

bad days were becoming more of a regular thing in your line of work. you trudged up the stairs towards your apartment, the weight of the day feeling heavier than normal.

you ran a hand down your face as you unlocked the front door. you dropped your stuff on the small bench, then made your way further in. you could hear trent moving around in the kitchen, and when he finally saw you, he smiled.

"hi." his smile fell when he saw the look on your face. he set his bowl down, and made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your head.

he led you over to the couch, maneuvering around so he was lying down, and you were on top of him. he laid there, running one comforting hand up and down your back while the other played with your hair.

"you okay?" he finally asked, pausing his hands. you shook your head, and he went back to running a hand down your back and through your hair.

"you hungry?" you paused, trying to think of when you last ate. you pulled your head out from his chest, looked up at him, and nodded. "i made some pasta." you nodded again, getting off of him so he could get off the couch.

you took over his spot, lying down and turning your attention to the tv. something random was playing, but your mind was a million miles away.

trent came back, two bowls in hand and a bottle of some drink clutched in the crook of his arm. he set the bowls down and moved your feet so he could sit next to you.

"eat up." he pushed the bowl closer to you, watching you take the first bite before taking his first bite. he watched you eat, and could see how quiet you were being. "you wanna talk about it?"

"i need to get a new job," you announced. trent didn't react, taking a moment to digest what you had said, then nodded his head.

"whatever you want, i'm here to support you." he reached over and grabbed your hand. after dinner, you migrated back into a lying down position, trent lying on top of you.

you weren't paying attention to the tv, your mind still reeling. you ran your hands through trent's hair, and he could practically read your mind and hear your thoughts.

"hey," you looked down, "it's gonna be okay," he reassured. you nodded, but trent wasn't convinced, "what do you need?"

you sighed, "just you." he smiled, pushing up so he could kiss you. "thank you for being here." you finally cracked a smile when you pulled back from the kiss.

"always."

requests are open (for this celly)

[ilyasorokinn]

the smoking gun , clark kent

note, i need this man, it isn't funny anymore. he's just so wonderful. i now know more about money laundering and illegal firearms than the average person should i think lol. idk where this came from, but i hope you enjoy! :) pair, clark kent / superman (2025) x reader summary, clark kent has an in with someone who works in the metropolis police department: his girlfriend y/n. so, when a money laundering front shows up in the middle of town, clark knows where to go. warnings, crime, money laundering word count, 4676 words

(gif not mine)

The Metropolis Police Department lobby was exactly what Clark Kent thought it would be. It was dark, gloomy, and lacking anything colorful, unless you counted the rainbow mug on the secretary's desk, but that was it.

He glanced around, taking in the posters on the walls. Most of them were anti-crime posters, telling people not to steal or murder, one even telling kids not to do drugs. He smiled when he saw one with a Superman caricature on it.

"Mr. Kent?" A familiar voice called out. His head whipped up, and the woman couldn't help but smile at him. "You can follow me." You nodded towards the door you had just walked out of, waiting for him to stand up.

He quickly gathered his stuff, fumbling with his files, then stood up and straightened out his glasses, a nervous smile on his face. He looked back up to you, only to find you smiling back at him.

"You ready, Clark?" You raised a teasing brow at him.

"Yes." He nodded, slinging his back over his shoulder, and following you further into the building.

As you led him through the building towards the elevator, he couldn't help but look around at everything. Compared to his own office, everything felt much... dark. It was something he could put his finger on, but it sent a shiver down his spine as he kept walking.

"The difference in our offices is startling." He joked, sitting down in the little chair next to your desk.

You only smiled, scotching closer into your desk, and placing your head in your hands as you looked over at him, "So, what brings you down to my neck of the woods?" You asked.

"I can't just visit you at work?" He smiled innocently. You raised a brow, "All right, fine, you caught me." He rolled his eyes, pulling out a file from the stack he had been carrying, "I need your help with something."

You stared at him curiously as you took the file. You flipped through it, your face neutral, "How did this fall into your lap?" You finally looked back up at him.

"I have a friend," He stated, keeping his face as neutral as possible, "Look, I can't reveal my source." He added.

"Does your source fly and wear tights?" You teased, raising a brow at him.

"Leave the tights alone." He joked, rolling his eyes playfully, pushing the file closer to you once again.

"Clark..." You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. Money laundering had been a more popular crime as of late, and it was getting more and more out of hand.

"Can you just look into this? The man who owns the restaurant is older, and I just know something fishy is going on here." He opened the file and pulled out the owner of the restaurant.

"Thank you, Detective Kent. Remind me when you took the detective's exam." You asked sarcastically, raising a sarcastic brow at him.

"Y/N..." He was begging you with his eyes, and you were finding it hard to say no to him. You stared at him, looking into his eyes before looking away.

"I'll look into it, gimmie a few days." You told him, looking back over and smiling.

"Thank you," He sounded relieved, his shoulders dropping as he leaned back in the chair, "All right, I gotta get back to work. See you tonight?"

"I'm expecting pancakes tomorrow morning." You told him, raising a teasing brow at him once again.

"I'll add chocolate chips just for you." He smiled, placing a soft kiss on your head, and speeding out the door.

-

Later that night, you were still hunched over your desk. Practically everyone else had left for the night, aside from your boss, who was still in his office.

The case file Clark had brought you had proven to have more information than you thought, and led you down a deep hole. The small Chinese restaurant was owned by an older man named Chin Wei. From the outside, the restaurant looked innocent, and the reviews were good enough on Yelp that it didn't set off any alarm bells.

Their financial records, however, were a different story. How Clark had gotten these wasn't something you wanted to know, but looking it over made you raise a brow. Every other week, there would be larger transactions that would be deposited into bank accounts at four different banks around the city.

Taking your pen into your mouth, you wrote down the account numbers as a door shut nearby. You didn't even glance up when you heard approaching footsteps.

"Still here, Y/L/N?" You finally looked up when your boss, Chief Harry Patrick, was standing right next to your desk.

"Yes, sir." You nodded, sitting back in your seat and stretching your legs momentarily.

He smiled warmly, slipping his jacket on, "Well, I'm heading out." He announced.

"All right, sir." You nodded, going back to the computer screen in front of him.

He stared at you for a moment, studying you and smiling, "You hungry, Y/L/N?"

You glanced up, raising a brow, "I could eat, sir." You nodded.

"How about Mexican?"

That was how you ended up in the Taqueria. It was pretty popular considering it was almost 9pm, but they were some of the best tacos you had ever had.

"Where did you get this information?" Chief Patrick glanced up from the file over to you across the table.

"I have a CI, sir." You informed him, poking at the noodles on your plate.

"All right," He nodded, thumbing through the file and running a tired hand over his face, "Call me Harry. We're off the clock now." He shrugged.

"Yet here we are, talking about a case," You pointed out with a laugh.

"With this job, work's always coming home with you." He joked.

"Don't I know it?" You muttered, taking a sip of your water.

"All right," He nodded, setting the file down and closing it, "You're running point on this. Don't let me down." He stated.

You simply stared at him, trying to comprehend what he had just said, "I won't, sir." You stated.

"I know you won't." He nodded.

-

You arrived home on a high. Clark had gotten home much earlier than you and had received your quick texts about working late. When you walked through the door, he could sense your good mood.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" He popped his head out from the kitchen.

You smiled at the sight of him. He had long since dumped his work attire and now wore pajama pants with cats on them, glasses slightly askew, and his hair ruffled like he had been running his hands through it.

"I'm lead on that laundering case you gave me." You beamed.

"No way!" His face lit up. He dropped whatever he was doing and practically ran over to you. You laughed when he picked you up, spinning you around, "That's amazing!" He pulled away just far enough so that he could kiss you.

"So, when you get that front page, I'd better be mentioned first." You joked.

-

The next morning, the bells above the door at Wei's Food and Baos jingled. Chin Wei looked up at the front door of his restaurant as the bells jingled. He smiled, but when he saw who it was, the smile quickly changed into something else.

"You're early," Chin stated, looking to the ground as the man approached him, his own army of security surrounding him. All of them stood tall with guns in places he couldn't see, but he knew they had them.

"I am." The man nodded, his face stone cold, "Just making sure you're on top of it." He slipped his hands into his pockets, an emotionless expression on his face.

"I am, sir. I promise." Wei nodded frantically, his heart racing so fast he almost couldn't catch his breath.

"All right," Douglas Astor nodded, "We'll be back." A threat or a promise, it sent a shock to the man's heart.

The men had left a few minutes prior, when the doors opened and the bell above the door jingled once again. Chin was still shaken and couldn't even look up to greet the person at the door.

"Mr. Wei?" A familiar, kind voice caught his attention, and the man looked up.

"Superman!" The man exclaimed, straightening up and trying to get himself together.

"Are you all right, sir?" Superman asked, his eyes soft and full of concern, trying to not move too fast and startle the man.

"Oh, yes. Don't worry about me. What can I get for you?" Chin asked, grabbing a nearby notepad and plastering on the best smile he could.

"Mr. Wei?" The man looked up, meeting the superhero's eyes finally, "Are you okay?"

"You have so many problems to deal with, Superman. I don't want to burden you with mine." Chin shook his head.

"I can guarantee it wouldn't be a burden, Mr. Wei," Superman told him. Chin looked up at him and finally met his eyes.

He sighed, "Not here." He led the hero into the back room and into the freezer, the one place in the restaurant that wasn't recorded.

"There's a man, his name is Douglas Astor..."

"I'm familiar with him." Superman nodded along, crossing his arms and leaning against the nearby wall.

"He's running all of the sales from his armsdeals through my restaurant, I don't know why, but that's all I do know."

"Arms dealing isn't illegal." Superman thought out loud.

"I'm not sure why he does anything, sir," Chin stated.

"I have a..." He paused for a moment, struggling to find the right words, "Friend." He finally landed on, "She works for the police-"

"No! I can't. If I go to the police, he'll kill my family. Please, Superman." Chin begged, shaking his head as tears suddenly welled in his eyes.

Superman paused, pushing his lips before dropping his head, "She can help." He tried.

"My family, please." The man pleaded.

"All right," Superman finally relented with a hesitant sigh. Chin made sure Superman was fed on a meal of baos, rice noodles, and pork chops. He even got a little goodie bag to take home. He lifted off the ground, waving goodbye to Chin one last time with only one thing on his mind.

He wasn't gonna let this go so easily.

-

You rubbed your eyes, blinking a few times as things on the screen got blurrier and blurrier. You heard the commotion and looked up to where the noise was coming from.

A flurry of commotion was running into the bullpen, and they were headed right to you. Clark suddenly appeared, looking disheveled as ever, the secretary from the front desk following after him.

She finally caught up to him as he stopped by your desk, bending over, and attempting to catch her breath, "I tried to stop him," She panted.

"It's all right, Meredith." You reassured her with a smile and a wave. She glanced at Clark once more, glaring at him briefly before turning and heading back to her desk, "You're gonna get me in trouble, Kent."

"I had to talk to you." The look on his face told you he wasn't in a joking mood, and you nodded, "Do you have anything on the laundering case?"

"I can't disclose that to you, Clark. You know that." You reminded him, tilting your head at him.

"I know, I know. But I might have something." He pulled out a small recording device from his pocket.

"How'd you get this?" You examined it briefly before looking back over to him, "You figured out how to work this?"

"Barely, look, just listen to it." He begged.

You reached for your earbuds, sitting down and listening to the conversation, then setting the recording device down and looking back up at him.

"So?" He raised a brow, crossing his arms and shifting from one foot to the other.

"It's good, but it's not enough." You began.

"Not enough?" He scoffed.

"Clark..." You began.

"I just wrapped up the case for you with a bow on top!" He exclaimed, raising his arms dramatically.

"No, you didn't. If I show this to anyone, let alone Douglas Astor, he'll laugh in my face and throw me out on my ass. I have nothing concrete; this is all circumstantial." You explained.

"This man is in fear for his life. He's being threatened, and you're saying you can't do anything about it?" Clark narrowed his eyes at you.

"No, I'm saying I need more than this." You narrowed your eyes right back.

"So, you're giving up." He shrugged.

"No, Clark, I'm not. I'm saying I can't do anything right now."

"It sounds a lot like you don't care and you're giving up." The anger melted into something different, something sadder. He saw your shift, and immediately tried to backtrack, "Y/N, wait..."

"I'm busy, Mr. Kent." You told him, your tone shifting in just. a few seconds, and it scared him. He opened his mouth to say something, but you were already sitting back in your seat and no longer looking at him.

-

"Chief?" You popped your head into the man's office, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"What can I do for you, Y/L/N? How's that laundering case goin'?" He asked, setting his glasses down and giving you his full attention.

"It's going... okay?" You shrugged, "Found out why he's laundering." He raised a brow, "His arms deals, they aren't legal obviously, but it's not what you'd think. When you think illegal, you think sawed off shotguns, that typa stuff, but not Astor." He nodded along once again.

"He's selling crazy guns you can't even find on the black-market. They fire quicker than an assault rifle, which I didn't know was possible. The numbers are all scratched off, they're all personalized to the buyer, and he's making bank on this."

"How are they personalized?" He raised a curious brow.

"They come in for a fitting, like you'd get fitted for a suit." You explained, "But I have an idea."

"All right, give it to me." He nodded, leaning in closer.

"I've been studying everything about this case, about Douglas Astor, and I think the next thing to do is go undercover." The look on his face gave you his answer, "Sir, I'm hitting dead end after dead end, and I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to."

"Y/L/N..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Sir, please. I know everything about this case." Your eyes were pleading along with the tone of your face.

"We have UCs for this." He reminded you, raising a brow.

"They don't know what I know. I've researched every nook and cranny of his finances and what he does. He has a gala coming up, and this is my in. Please." You begged.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, "Under one condition."

"Anything." You nodded desperately.

"You're not going in alone." Your brows furrowed together in confusion, "I don't care if it's together or not, we'll have eyes in there."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, sir." You nodded.

-

Those weeks passed slowly. You went to work every day, digging deeper into Astor's financials as well as Chin's financials. You dug through every file you could get your hands on in Astor's name.

Parking tickets, receipts, anything with the name Douglas Astor on it, you had seen. You had seen the name so many times, it was starting to not look like a name.

You knew Clark was a good man, and he always wanted to do the right thing. He refused to kill mice and would let them go before setting a trap in the house; that was just the kind of person he was.

So, you didn't take it to heart that he was so passionate about this one specific case. His comment did hurt, but when you got home later that night, he had made dinner and set the table nicely. He spent the rest of the night apologizing, making sure you knew he was apologetic and felt bad.

He knew about you going undercover and didn't love the idea. "What day?" He asked, his eyes not leaving the TV screen in front, playing a movie neither of you was really paying attention to, but was on for the sake of distraction.

"Next Saturday," You responded, looking over at him and raising a brow, "Is Superman going to be making an appearance?"

"No, why would you think that?" He asked, his voice suddenly high-pitched.

"Clark, I can take care of myself." You reminded him, "I don't need you hovering over my shoulder."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Superman has a very busy schedule," Clark stated, a pointed look on his face.

"Right, well, whenever you're interviewing him next, let him know you're being annoying and I can take care of myself." You punched him softly.

"I am not being annoying." He huffed, "I'm worried about you. You know, you always make fun of me for being protective, but in this situation, I think I have a right to be." He defended.

"I know, I'm teasing. Just don't break through the ceiling and steal my moment." You pointed your finger at him.

"I won't, I'll steal the spotlight another day." He joked, rolling his eyes, but leaning over and kissing your head.

-

Your heart was beating so loudly you could hear it in your ears. You were sure the detective sitting next to you, whose name you didn't even know, could probably see your pulse popping out from your neck.

"This your first time?" The woman asked, smiling warmly at you.

"That obvious?" You chuckled nervously, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"This is my thing, so just try not to think about this being a case, immerse yourself in this. You're not Y/N, you're Celeste." Her words did manage to settle your nerves just a little.

"Thank you." You nodded, blowing out a breath. You could see the giant building approaching through the window. The chauffeur walked around to the back door and held the door open while you and the other woman exited.

You took his hand, glancing up at the giant building ahead of you. The necklace you were wearing had a small camera embedded in the small gem, and you had a small com in your ear so everyone located in a van parked nearby could hear.

You knew Clark was probably parked on the roof of a random building, just far enough that he couldn't be spotted, but close enough that he could still hear what was happening.

The woman who was in the car with you locked arms with the man who was sitting in the front seat, sending you a subtle nod before they entered the building.

You took a breath, shaking out your nerves the best you could, before making your way into the building. You entered the building, showing the security guards at the front the invitation, then handing them your jacket.

The first waiter who passed was lucky, carrying a tray of champagne flutes. You greedily grabbed one and downed it in one gulp, glancing around the room.

You spotted Douglas Astor almost immediately, standing at the top of the stairs with his right-hand man, surveying the crowd. You turned your head, looking around and surveying the scene in front of you.

"Astor spotted," You muttered, covering your mouth with a small cough.

"Do not engage, wait for a distraction, Y/L/N." You heard Chief Patrick in your ear.

"Copy that," You whispered, covering your mouth with the flute. You walked through the rest of the building, looking around at the paintings hanging on the wall, "Rich people." You muttered, shaking your head.

"Ladies and gentlemen..." Everyone's attention quickly shifted upwards towards the front of the room and towards the small makeshift stage where Douglas Astor stood, a smile only a rich man with dark secrets would plaster on his face.

With your distraction in place, you slipped out of the room. Making your way through the halls, you peeked your head in every room, trying to find Astor's office.

"Of course it's at the end of the hall." You muttered, checking your surroundings before entering the office. You made your way around the giant desk sitting in the middle of the room, and bent over the desk.

"All right, Leo." You reached into your pocket and pushed the small USB into the side of the computer. "Do your thing." Leo Vince hacked into the computer system, downloading everything onto the USB you had plugged in.

You waited, anxiously looking around to make sure no one was coming, "Any day now, Leo." You told him.

"I'm almost done." He responded. You could hear his fingers moving across his keyboard. You could hear clapping downstairs, and a few cheers and whistles. "All right, done." You ripped the USB out, cleared the search history, and closed all the tabs.

You turned off the computer, rushed out of the room. You managed to shut the door and stick the USB into your bra when you heard footsteps approaching.

You managed to slow your pace just in time to come face-to-face with Douglas Astor himself. He didn't even look shocked or surprised to see you; in fact, he showed no emotion when he made it to the top of the stairs.

"Can I help you with something?" He raised a brow.

"Was looking for the restroom." You responded with a shrug and a faux nervous chuckle.

"How's that going for you?" He joked, a playful smile on his face.

"Not great, I'll admit." You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as you looked up at him.

"I'll bet." He nodded, raising a calculated brow and slipping his hands into his pockets, "What's your name?"

"Celeste." You answered, tilting your head, "I'm a writer, you see. That's why I'm here." You explained.

"I'm flattered you chose my gala, I have to say." He nodded, "Are you working on anything?"

"Just a little mystery novel." You responded with a shrug. "A girl and a boy meet, she ends up dead."

"Anything else?" He raised a brow once again.

"Of course, but then what's the point when I can leave you on a cliffhanger and wanting more?" You shrugged, a smirk on your face.

He was about to speak when suddenly, the doors banged open and SWAT agents rushed in, their guns raised and shouting words so loud they weren't coherent.

When Astor looked back at you, you couldn't help but smirk bigger, "Gotcha."

-

You were sitting outside the building, leaning on the hood of a car with a police jacket wrapped around you. Blue and red flashed all around you as police took statements, placed Astor's men in the back of the cars, and finished up.

You straightened up when you saw Chief Patrick approaching, his hands in his pockets, "Sir." You nodded.

"Y/L/N, I'm proud of you." Your heart warmed, and you smiled, "Good job." He nodded, a proud smile on his face as he spoke.

"Thank you, sir." He reached out, and you shook his hand. Once his back was turned, you leaned back on the car, a smile on your face as his words sank in.

"Sir, please!" You heard a familiar voice shout from behind the yellow tape. You smiled to yourself, making your way over to where the commotion was happening.

"My girlfriend, she's the lead detective on this case," Clark begged.

"Sure, bud." The cop nodded, rolling his eyes.

"Let him in." You instructed, glancing over to the officer and flashing him your badge, "I'm the lead detective." You emphasized.

The cop looked conflicted before holding up the tape. Clark bent down at an awkward angle, not even looking at the officer who refused to let him in. He was focused solely on you.

The proud smile on his face was enough to make an iceberg melt. Once you were in a more private spot hidden behind a larger police vehicle, he bent down and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the ground once again.

"I don't think there are even enough words in the world for me to explain how proud I am of you." His words were slightly muffled due to him shoving your face into your neck, but you heard him all the same.

"Well, if you hadn't given me that file, we wouldn't be here." You reminded him.

"I know, but you did all the heavy lifting." He pulled away for a moment, admiring you even if his neck was bent at an awkward angle.

"I did." You nodded, a smile on your face.

He pulled you in one more time, squeezing you and peppering your face with kisses, "All right, all right, I have to talk to the press for a second, then I can leave." You told him.

"Just talk to me, and we can leave." He practically groaned.

"I know you interview yourself all the time, but I don't know if that'll work this time." You joked, "Besides, it's TV press." You gestured to the small podium in front of the building, caution tape decorating behind.

"I want to celebrate you, I know a good little Chinese restaurant." He joked.

"I'll give you an exclusive later, I gotta do this first." You kissed his cheek and sent him a wink before making your way over to the flashing cameras.

-

"ASTOR ARRESTED: SHOT HIMSELF IN THE FOOT" was plastered all around the Daily Planet. Clark had been on cloud 9 all morning. His article was on the front page, with a gorgeous picture of you.

There you were on the front page, speaking into a walkie-talkie to someone, looking authoritative (Clark wouldn't admit it to anyone but you, but you looked hot). You were wearing the police jacket and were looking over a file.

He had decided, when he saw the final copy, they it would hang on a wall in your house next to a framed photo of Krypto that you had begged Clark to hang despite his whining and begging not to.

The elevator dinged, and Clark just happened to glance up in that moment, and stood from his seat when he saw you standing there. You smiled, tilting your head to the side and raising a brow.

"I was trying to surprise you, but surprising you is like trying to discipline your dog." You joked, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Krypto technically isn't my dog." He corrected.

"Whatever." You shook your head, "Was wondering if you wanted to get lunch."

"I've got a few minutes to spare." He nodded, reaching out and logging out of his computer, "What were you thinking?"

"Chinese?"

-

The bells above the door to Wei Food and Baos jingled, and Chin Wei looked up, a smile on his face when he saw you and Clark walk in.

"Welcome, welcome, table for two?" He grabbed some menus, approaching you both.

"Yes, sir." Clark nodded, leading you over to the table Chin was gesturing towards, "Thank you."

Chin studied you for a moment before breaking out into tears, "Oh." You glanced over at Clark, "Mr. Wei, please don't cry."

"You saved me and my family." He managed to get out through tears, "I can't thank you enough." He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly.

"I'm only sorry I couldn't help you sooner, sir." You smiled sadly, squeezing his hands back.

He straightened up, wiping his tears, "Mr. Kent, your article also brought more people in, so thank you for that."

"I only pointed them in the direction, your food is what's keeping 'em here." Clark smiled.

Chin stood there for a moment, smiling down at both of you, "And if you ever see Superman, tell him 'thank you'."

Clark only smiled, "I'll be sure to pass the message along."

-

my taglist: @golden-hoax @daisydark @cpt-cevans

add yourself to my taglist!

[ilyasorokinn]

the pitt

* = from a prompt list

michael “robby” robinavitch !

fics,

✷ expect the unexpected - y/n and robby were something so long ago that gray hair wasn't even a worry in his head. now, with a head fill of gray hair, y/n and robby, by some miracle, find each other again. this time, he isn't letting go.

[ wips ] [ masterlist of masterlists ] [ taglist ]

[ilyasorokinn]

this comment 🥹 thank you i’m so glad when people notice things like this. this almost made me cry. thank you!!! 🫶🏻

clark kent’s love language , clark kent

note, y'all i've loved this man since 2019. i'm so glad everyone is hopping on this train fr. ALSO, i know women are capable of saving themselves, but i'm desperately single, and want a knight of shining armor of my own. so what better than to write about a 6'5 knight in shining armor. pair, clark kent / superman (2025) x reader summary, clark thinks his love language is to keep you safe. he likes to check in on you every once in a while during the day. one afternoon, his daily check-in's prove to be necessary. warnings, grocery store robbery, guns word count, 1479 words

(gif not mine)

Clark Kent liked to make sure you were okay.

It's just the type of person he was. He cared deeply for the people around him. You, he cared more deeply than anyone he'd ever met. So, throughout the day, he wanted to make sure you were okay.

Every so often, he would zero in on your voice overtop the overlapping voices of Metropolis. The second he heard your voice, even if you were reprimanding a student, a wave of calm would wash over him.

This wasn't something you were aware of. You knew of his alter ego, and would always dread when he would fly into the night, donning a cape and a large 'S' on his chest, but you knew it was who Clark was.

Saving and helping the people of Metropolis was in his blood. But there was always that little pit of worry that settled in the bottom of your stomach when you would kiss him goodbye and hope he came back in one piece.

You knew he worried about you, especially with the rising crime rates. It wasn't something he voiced, but he never liked to bother you with his heroic duties. So, instead, you learned to read him. Read his responses, read his reactions, read how actions.

Sometimes, Clark would find it hard to sleep, having awful nightmares of you getting injured or worse, ending up in a position because of him.

So, he made it his duty to take care of you, even if you insisted you didn't need him to look over your shoulder for you.

Today was no different.

He sat at his desk, frantically typing away at his computer as he tried to figure out a good hook for his newest article. He checked the clock, and his heart began racing.

2:25.

2:30 was the exact time he would check on you, right on the dot (He was punctual like that). His co-worker picked up on his brief breaks and knew that Clark Kent would go outside at exactly 2:30 every day. What he did, they never knew, and although they were curious, they wouldn't pry it out of him.

He pushed his chair out, stretching his legs, then reaching for his water bottle that was sitting on his desk. It was a gag gift you had gotten him for Christmas one year. A Superman-themed water bottle that he proudly brought to work every day.

It was so obviously a children's water bottle, but he proudly brought it in every day because it was a gift you had gotten him, even if it was a joke.

"Heading down for your break, Clark?" Jimmy Olsen teased, looking up from his own desk.

"You know it." Clark chuckled, straightening his tie before pushing his chair in and heading for the elevator.

He pressed the 'G' button, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he waited to reach the bottom floor. Once the door opened, he took his time heading for the back entrance where he would go for his daily breaks.

He first made sure the alley was empty before closing his eyes. He cracked his neck, taking a breath and focusing. His brows furrowed together as he tried to find your voice.

This morning, you decided to call in sick to work, needing a break from the needy voices of children you taught every day. It was just one of those days when you needed a break and not walk into a room where 20 kids were clamoring for your attention.

As he zeroed in on your voice, it was like every voice around him, every voice in the city, was being sucked up by a vacuum, disappearing the moment he put any effort into shutting them off.

"Sir!" That caught his attention. The desperation was clear in your voice, and it made his heart pick up. He also didn't miss the loud and erratic beating of your heart.

"Shut up!" The man in question snarled back. Your heart sped up, and that was enough for him.

In the blink of an eye, gone was his work attire, and he was launching into the sky, red cape billowing below him. He flew through the sky, trying to locate where you were.

You weren't at home, he knew that. Definitely not at work. Not visiting any friends.

Where were you?

Finally, the voices started clearing up, and he knew he was getting closer. He tilted his head to the side as he landed.

A grocery store?

"Empty the registers, or I'll light this place up!" The man demanded, waving his gun around like it was going to protect him.

Superman busted through the doors, "You know, there's a help wanted sign on the front door. You could've just applied." The superhero raised a brow at the robber.

You would recognize that voice anywhere, and you knew, sooner than later, Clark would've heard. Your head shot up, and you looked over at him. There he stood, in all of his glory, cape blowing in the wind behind him as he stood up tall.

"Superman?" The robber looked confused to see the man standing in front of him. He was only a flimsy supermarket robber, not a scientist trying to blow up a building.

"But, I guess when you're holding a gun in everyone's face, that gets you what you want." Superman shrugged, a nonchalant look on his face.

The robber, stupidly, held up his gun and took his aim. He shot off once, watching in horror as the bullet simply bounced off Superman's chest.

"Uh-oh." Superman took one step, smacking the gun out of the robber's hand.

Minutes went by, and sirens could be heard heading in the direction of Metropolis Grocers. The cops walked in and didn't hide their surprise when they found Superman looming over the attempted robber.

"Superman." The officers looked confused.

"Officers." The man greeted with a nod, "I'm sure you're capable of dealing with this..." He trialed off, simply shaking his head.

"Yes, sir." The officer nodded, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and handcuffing the man in front of them.

More officers began arriving, taking statements from witnesses and offering medical attention to the one person who ended up getting injured in the crossfire.

You leaned against your car by yourself, your arms wrapped around yourself as you waited for your turn to talk to an officer. You heard someone approaching, whose footsteps told you they were worried but were trying not to hide it.

You looked up and couldn't help but smile in relief when you saw Clark standing in front of you, wearing what he had gone to work in that morning.

"Boy, it's good to see you." You joked, wrapping your arms around him and leaning into his warmth.

"You're telling me." He sounded just as relieved, "How are you feeling? Did he hurt you?" He pulled away, cupping your face so he could look you over for injuries.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." You reassured him, brushing his hands off, "A little shaken up, but he didn't hurt me. I'm okay." You shook your head.

"Are you sure?"

"I just really want to go home." You admitted shakily. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around you again, kissing your head and hugging you.

You melted into his arms, engulfed in his warmth and his scent. After a traumatic ordeal, the only thing you wanted was Clark.

"I'm gonna go talk to an officer, then we'll go home, okay?" You nodded apprehensively, "I promise." He reassured you again.

"I'll be here." You tried to joke, and he managed to give you a small smile.

You wrapped your arms around yourself again as you watched Clark approach an officer. They talked, Clark explaining what had happened to you, then he walked back over to you.

"Give me your keys." He demanded, holding his hand out. You handed him your keys, and he walked you over to the passenger side. He opened the door for you and waited for you to get in.

He climbed into the driver's side, wincing when he got in, and his knees were up to his chest. He cranked the seat back, sitting slightly more comfortably, then glancing over at you.

"What were you even doing here?" He asked the question that had been on his mind.

"Wanted to make you something special for dinner. "You shrugged, "Guess the universe didn't want me cooking today." You joked.

"Yeah, it was the universe doing us all a favor." He smiled when you let out a small laugh, "We'll go home and I'll make you some grilled cheese."

"And..."

"A side of tomato soup." He finished your sentence with a smile, "I'm gonna take care of you. Don't worry." He reassured, reaching over for your hand and placing a soft kiss on your palm.

-

add yourself to my taglist!

i know this is short but TRUST i have more stuff coming 🙂‍↕️

[ilyasorokinn]

good taste , clark kent

note, okay, guys wow you really enjoyed the last little thing i wrote. i love you all, thank you so much!! i've now seen the movie, so expect more stuff!! pair, clark kent / superman (2025) x reader summary, clark can't get drunk, so whenever you go out with friends, he's always there to make sure you're okay. warnings, drinking, alcohol, getting drunk word count, 1024 words (sorry it’s shorter)

(gif not mine)

The cup in his hand was beginning to get slippery as the ice melted. He set it down, wiping his hand on the napkin before his eyes went back to the dance floor.

This was not how Clark imagined his Friday would go. He wanted to get home, put his feet up, throw a pizza in the oven, or order if you were feeling fancy, watch movies still you fell asleep, and that would be his night.

Instead, he found himself sitting in the back of some bar, drinking a lukewarm cup of whatever, watching you to make sure no one got too close to you or your friends.

He didn't have to come; in fact, he invited himself.

When you walked through the door with Clark trailing behind, your friends moaned and groaned because it was supposed to be a girls' night. But, Clark managed to convince them to let him stay with the promise of driving everyone home. And how could they say no to a Clark Kent smile?

So, he sat in the back of the bar, sipping a lukewarm drink, eating some stale chips, and watching you. He couldn't help the smile that was growing as he watched you dance freely with your friends.

He straightened up in his seat as you headed over to the bar. You greeted the bartender with a polite smile, ordering your drink, then going back to your friends.

He deflated when you got back safely, going back to his stale chips. With all his attention on you, he totally missed the girl walking over to his table until she put her hand on his shoulder.

He flinched, almost jumping out of his seat as he whipped around to her. He stared at her with wide eyes, "Hiya, hotstuff." Clark winced at her bad pickup line, trying to push her hands off of him.

"Ma'am." He nodded, trying to find you in the crowd. He cursed to himself when he couldn't find you.

"Who're you looking for?" The girl pushed her hands onto his shoulders, messing around with his shirt.

Clark ignored her, pushing her hands off and standing to his full height. He fixed his glasses and straightened out his shirt before walking away from the table he had been sitting at and leaving the girl behind.

"What the hell?" The girl outraged, running back to her friends. He could hear her complaining about what a douchebag he was, but he didn't care about any of it.

His eyes moved around the bar, trying to find you. He was losing hope, and honestly, he was beginning to panic. He looked away for maybe 5 seconds, and he managed to lose you.

"Clark?" He heard a familiar voice, and suddenly, calm washed over him, and everything returned to normal.

When he turned around to your confused and worried face, he let out a relieved noise and wrapped his arms around you. You let out a noise in surprise when he picked you up and lifted you off the ground.

"Oh!" You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him, "Are you okay? You looked kinda worried." You pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"'S nothing." He shook his head, "Just happy you're here." He hummed happily.

"All right," You were still confused, "I got you a shot, though. I was trying to find you, but you weren't at the table."

"Yeah..." He scratched the back of his neck, pulling away from the hug and setting you back down on the ground. "Just needed to stretch my legs." He didn't want to bring up the girl because while he might have been nice about it, you wouldn't be if you had found out.

"Huh." You nodded, raising a brow and studying him, but letting it go, "Here you go." You handed him the shot.

He shot it back, putting on a show of wincing before looking back to you, "So, do you girls think you'll be done anytime soon?"

"Why? Don't tell me you're getting tired on me, Clark." You joked, crossing your arms with a teasing smile.

"No, ma'am." He shook his head with an equally teasing smile, "Just wondering when I'm gonna have the become the chauffeur." He joked.

"Soon, probably." You reassured, glancing back at your friends who barely even noticed you were gone, "They're all sort of far gone." You could feel a buzz in your head, but you weren't fully drunk yet.

"All right, I'll wait over at that table." He pointed to a different table in the opposite corner.

"Did something happen at the other table that I should know about, Clark?" You raised a curious brow.

"No," He shook his head, "Go have fun." He kissed your head, sending you on your way back to your friends.

He took a seat on the empty stool that would give him the best view of you. People probably thought he was a creep, just sitting there and watching you, but he didn't mind.

His smile brightened when you made your way over and plopped yourself onto a stool right next to him. "Tired of dancing?" He asked.

"My feet hurt." You moaned in pain, lifting your foot up and taking off your shoes. He reached down wordlessly, lifting one of your feet into his lap and helping you take your shoe off.

"So, what happened at the other table?" You leaned your head into the palm of your hand and looked at him.

"Nothing." He shook his head.

"Clark, I know you." You tilted your head to the side, "What happened?"

He took a breath, beginning to rub your foot that was in his lap, "There was a girl." You nodded. "I ignored her, and that's why I moved tables." He shrugged.

"Okay," You nodded.

"Okay?" He looked surprised. "That's all you have to say?"

"Clark, you sat here all night watching me and my friends, and now you're rubbing my feet. I think we're pretty stuck together." You joked, leaning forward and cupping his chin, "But, I have to admit, she has good taste." He rolled his eyes.

-

add yourself to my taglist!

(if you filled out my last taglist... i'm sorry you have to fill it out again because i forgot to add the spot for usernames 😭)

[ilyasorokinn]

just saw superman… that’s MY superman.

[ilyasorokinn]

clark kent’s love language , clark kent

note, y'all i've loved this man since 2019. i'm so glad everyone is hopping on this train fr. ALSO, i know women are capable of saving themselves, but i'm desperately single, and want a knight of shining armor of my own. so what better than to write about a 6'5 knight in shining armor. pair, clark kent / superman (2025) x reader summary, clark thinks his love language is to keep you safe. he likes to check in on you every once in a while during the day. one afternoon, his daily check-in's prove to be necessary. warnings, grocery store robbery, guns word count, 1479 words

(gif not mine)

Clark Kent liked to make sure you were okay.

It's just the type of person he was. He cared deeply for the people around him. You, he cared more deeply than anyone he'd ever met. So, throughout the day, he wanted to make sure you were okay.

Every so often, he would zero in on your voice overtop the overlapping voices of Metropolis. The second he heard your voice, even if you were reprimanding a student, a wave of calm would wash over him.

This wasn't something you were aware of. You knew of his alter ego, and would always dread when he would fly into the night, donning a cape and a large 'S' on his chest, but you knew it was who Clark was.

Saving and helping the people of Metropolis was in his blood. But there was always that little pit of worry that settled in the bottom of your stomach when you would kiss him goodbye and hope he came back in one piece.

You knew he worried about you, especially with the rising crime rates. It wasn't something he voiced, but he never liked to bother you with his heroic duties. So, instead, you learned to read him. Read his responses, read his reactions, read how actions.

Sometimes, Clark would find it hard to sleep, having awful nightmares of you getting injured or worse, ending up in a position because of him.

So, he made it his duty to take care of you, even if you insisted you didn't need him to look over your shoulder for you.

Today was no different.

He sat at his desk, frantically typing away at his computer as he tried to figure out a good hook for his newest article. He checked the clock, and his heart began racing.

2:25.

2:30 was the exact time he would check on you, right on the dot (He was punctual like that). His co-worker picked up on his brief breaks and knew that Clark Kent would go outside at exactly 2:30 every day. What he did, they never knew, and although they were curious, they wouldn't pry it out of him.

He pushed his chair out, stretching his legs, then reaching for his water bottle that was sitting on his desk. It was a gag gift you had gotten him for Christmas one year. A Superman-themed water bottle that he proudly brought to work every day.

It was so obviously a children's water bottle, but he proudly brought it in every day because it was a gift you had gotten him, even if it was a joke.

"Heading down for your break, Clark?" Jimmy Olsen teased, looking up from his own desk.

"You know it." Clark chuckled, straightening his tie before pushing his chair in and heading for the elevator.

He pressed the 'G' button, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he waited to reach the bottom floor. Once the door opened, he took his time heading for the back entrance where he would go for his daily breaks.

He first made sure the alley was empty before closing his eyes. He cracked his neck, taking a breath and focusing. His brows furrowed together as he tried to find your voice.

This morning, you decided to call in sick to work, needing a break from the needy voices of children you taught every day. It was just one of those days when you needed a break and not walk into a room where 20 kids were clamoring for your attention.

As he zeroed in on your voice, it was like every voice around him, every voice in the city, was being sucked up by a vacuum, disappearing the moment he put any effort into shutting them off.

"Sir!" That caught his attention. The desperation was clear in your voice, and it made his heart pick up. He also didn't miss the loud and erratic beating of your heart.

"Shut up!" The man in question snarled back. Your heart sped up, and that was enough for him.

In the blink of an eye, gone was his work attire, and he was launching into the sky, red cape billowing below him. He flew through the sky, trying to locate where you were.

You weren't at home, he knew that. Definitely not at work. Not visiting any friends.

Where were you?

Finally, the voices started clearing up, and he knew he was getting closer. He tilted his head to the side as he landed.

A grocery store?

"Empty the registers, or I'll light this place up!" The man demanded, waving his gun around like it was going to protect him.

Superman busted through the doors, "You know, there's a help wanted sign on the front door. You could've just applied." The superhero raised a brow at the robber.

You would recognize that voice anywhere, and you knew, sooner than later, Clark would've heard. Your head shot up, and you looked over at him. There he stood, in all of his glory, cape blowing in the wind behind him as he stood up tall.

"Superman?" The robber looked confused to see the man standing in front of him. He was only a flimsy supermarket robber, not a scientist trying to blow up a building.

"But, I guess when you're holding a gun in everyone's face, that gets you what you want." Superman shrugged, a nonchalant look on his face.

The robber, stupidly, held up his gun and took his aim. He shot off once, watching in horror as the bullet simply bounced off Superman's chest.

"Uh-oh." Superman took one step, smacking the gun out of the robber's hand.

Minutes went by, and sirens could be heard heading in the direction of Metropolis Grocers. The cops walked in and didn't hide their surprise when they found Superman looming over the attempted robber.

"Superman." The officers looked confused.

"Officers." The man greeted with a nod, "I'm sure you're capable of dealing with this..." He trialed off, simply shaking his head.

"Yes, sir." The officer nodded, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and handcuffing the man in front of them.

More officers began arriving, taking statements from witnesses and offering medical attention to the one person who ended up getting injured in the crossfire.

You leaned against your car by yourself, your arms wrapped around yourself as you waited for your turn to talk to an officer. You heard someone approaching, whose footsteps told you they were worried but were trying not to hide it.

You looked up and couldn't help but smile in relief when you saw Clark standing in front of you, wearing what he had gone to work in that morning.

"Boy, it's good to see you." You joked, wrapping your arms around him and leaning into his warmth.

"You're telling me." He sounded just as relieved, "How are you feeling? Did he hurt you?" He pulled away, cupping your face so he could look you over for injuries.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." You reassured him, brushing his hands off, "A little shaken up, but he didn't hurt me. I'm okay." You shook your head.

"Are you sure?"

"I just really want to go home." You admitted shakily. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around you again, kissing your head and hugging you.

You melted into his arms, engulfed in his warmth and his scent. After a traumatic ordeal, the only thing you wanted was Clark.

"I'm gonna go talk to an officer, then we'll go home, okay?" You nodded apprehensively, "I promise." He reassured you again.

"I'll be here." You tried to joke, and he managed to give you a small smile.

You wrapped your arms around yourself again as you watched Clark approach an officer. They talked, Clark explaining what had happened to you, then he walked back over to you.

"Give me your keys." He demanded, holding his hand out. You handed him your keys, and he walked you over to the passenger side. He opened the door for you and waited for you to get in.

He climbed into the driver's side, wincing when he got in, and his knees were up to his chest. He cranked the seat back, sitting slightly more comfortably, then glancing over at you.

"What were you even doing here?" He asked the question that had been on his mind.

"Wanted to make you something special for dinner. "You shrugged, "Guess the universe didn't want me cooking today." You joked.

"Yeah, it was the universe doing us all a favor." He smiled when you let out a small laugh, "We'll go home and I'll make you some grilled cheese."

"And..."

"A side of tomato soup." He finished your sentence with a smile, "I'm gonna take care of you. Don't worry." He reassured, reaching over for your hand and placing a soft kiss on your palm.

-

add yourself to my taglist!

i know this is short but TRUST i have more stuff coming 🙂‍↕️

[ilyasorokinn]

2024 Stanley Cup Playoffs: Round 2, Game 4 Canucks @ Oilers | May 14, 2024

[ilyasorokinn]

glasses are the sluttiest thing a man could wear.

[ilyasorokinn]

heartbeat — isaac lahey

pairing: isaac lahey x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: isaac can hear your racing heartbeat content warnings: stiles eating alot , bickering between stiles and you , shy / awkward reader

You sat in the passenger seat of Stiles' old, beaten-up Jeep, the leather cracking beneath you as the vehicle rattled over the uneven pavement. The rhythmic hum of the engine might have lulled you into a daydream if not for Stiles' relentless chatter filling the small space. 

He was going on about the kanima, listing off every fact he’d dug up in his obsessive research. His hands gestured animatedly as he spoke, barely keeping one on the wheel.

“—and honestly, I can't believe Scott. Inviting Lahey? He couldn’t have picked anyone more annoying than—” 

“What?” you blurted, snapping out of your trance. Your head jerked toward him, heart suddenly racing. 

“What?” Stiles glanced at you briefly, his expression a mix of confusion and annoyance, before returning his focus to the road. 

“Why would he do that?” you stammered, your stomach twisting into knots. 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Stiles groaned, throwing his hands up dramatically before returning one to the steering wheel. “I mean, Isaac Lahey? Mr. Broody-McBrooderson with his creepy silent stares and his, ‘Oh, I’m so mysterious and tragic’ routine? Please. We don’t need that guy sulking in the corner while we’re trying to figure out how not to get murdered by a lizard monster.” 

You barely heard him. The name Isaac was bouncing around in your head, louder than the Jeep’s sputtering engine. 

You swallowed hard, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. Of all the people Scott could’ve invited, why him? You’d had a hopeless crush on Isaac Lahey for what felt like forever, and it had only gotten worse since he’d been bitten.

He’d always been cute in that quiet, shy way, but now? Now he looked like he belonged on the cover of some edgy teen magazine with his sharp cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and that perpetual messy-haired, tortured-soul thing he had going on. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Stiles asked, waving a hand in front of your face. 

“Huh?” Your head snapped toward him again, and he gave you a look like you’d just grown a second head. 

“You’re spacing out. What’s the deal?” Stiles squinted at you, his brows knitting together suspiciously. 

“Nothing! No deal! Just, uh… processing,” you said, stumbling over your words and crossing your arms defensively. 

“Processing? Processing what?” he pressed, his tone sharp with curiosity. 

“Nothing!” you repeated, maybe a little too loudly. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes but thankfully returned his focus to the road, muttering under his breath. “Weird. You’re being weird.” 

But before you could respond, the Jeep turned onto Scott’s street, the familiar sight of his house coming into view. 

As Stiles pulled into the driveway, your stomach churned with nervous anticipation.

You climbed out of the Jeep, the gravel crunching beneath your boots as you followed Stiles up the driveway. His pace was brisk, determined—typical Stiles.

Stiles reached the door and, with his usual enthusiasm, began banging on it like it was some kind of emergency. "Stiles, stop," you hissed under your breath, your voice tight with nerves. 

"What?" He turned to you, brows furrowed, completely unfazed by your discomfort. He shrugged his shoulders and knocked again, louder this time. 

Before you could protest any further, the door swung open with a groan, and Scott stood there, eyes wide with surprise.

“Will you stop?” Scott groaned, stepping aside to let you both in. He didn’t look angry, just… used to Stiles' antics. “I told you to stop,” you muttered under your breath as you passed Scott. 

Stiles gave you an exaggerated, sheepish grin, as he passed you, heading straight toward the kitchen. 

Scott followed him immediately, his voice rising in frustration. “Stiles, we’re supposed to start planning, not—ugh, you’re already eating!” 

You stood there for a moment, watching them head toward the kitchen, your fingers absently tugging at the sleeve of your jacket. The sight of them bickering made you smile slightly—this was familiar, the way they always were.

But then your eyes drifted across the room, and your stomach lurched when you saw Derek standing by the map on the table, his sharp eyes scanning over it without sparing anyone a glance. 

You wandered toward the couch, pulling a random book from the stack on the coffee table and sitting down, grateful for the distraction. You'd been friends with Scott and Stiles for years now, so it was easy to slip into the comfort of Scott’s living room.

As you flipped the book open, you heard footsteps approaching and glanced up to see Stiles plopping down beside you, a crinkling chip bag in his lap. He leaned over your shoulder, his usual curiosity piqued as he tried to see what you were reading. 

"Seriously, do you need to know what I’m reading right now?" you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, but it wasn’t like Stiles cared. His head was already too close, eyes peering at the page with exaggerated interest. 

“You're reading this?” Stiles made a face, tapping the cover with a chip. “I thought you were all about the paranormal stuff, not romance novels. What, are you a romantic now?” 

As Stiles leaned closer, still teasing you about the book in your hands, you decided you’d had enough. With a mischievous grin, you reached into the chip bag on his lap and grabbed a handful. 

“Hey! Stop that!” Stiles exclaimed, pulling the bag away and holding it just out of your reach. 

“These are mine!” he grumbled, glaring at you like you’d committed some sort of heinous crime. 

You smirked, unfazed. “If you didn’t want to share, you shouldn’t have brought them in here.” You made another grab, earning a dramatic gasp from him as he twisted away. 

“Guys, can we start now?” 

Scott’s voice cut through the room, and you froze mid-snatch, your hand awkwardly hovering over the chip bag. You glanced up to see Scott standing in front of you, arms crossed, wearing his usual exasperated expression. But what really caught your attention was the figure standing beside him. 

Isaac. 

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly dropped back into your seat, trying to act nonchalant as you let Stiles deal with Scott’s frustration. 

“Finally,” Stiles muttered, getting up from the couch with his precious chips in hand. “Stop stealing my food,” he huffed before shuffling over to the table where Derek stood waiting, a map spread out before him. 

Scott followed Stiles to join Derek, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. Isaac was still standing there, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets as his eyes flicked toward you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low but warm. 

You forced yourself to meet his gaze for a fraction of a second before quickly looking away, your nerves making it impossible to hold eye contact. “Hi,” you mumbled, your voice softer than you intended. You stood up from the couch, and made your way over to where Stiles was loudly explaining some wild theory about the Kanima, grateful for the distraction.

You felt Isaac approach. He moved to stand beside you, his tall frame close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from him. 

Your heart was racing, and that was a huge problem. You were in a room with three werewolves, all of whom could undoubtedly hear it. You swallowed hard, trying to calm yourself as Scott and Stiles debated over a detail on the map. 

Then, as if the universe had it out for you, Isaac leaned in. His shoulder brushed against yours, the light touch sending a jolt through your body. He pointed at something on the map, his voice smooth as he added to the discussion. 

Your breath caught in your throat. There was no way they didn’t hear it now—your heart hammering against your ribcage like a drum. You didn’t dare glance at Isaac, afraid of what you might see in his expression.

Instead, your eyes flicked across the room, landing on Derek, who was watching you. 

His sharp gaze met yours, and his brow lifted ever so slightly. It was subtle, but the meaning was clear. We can hear you. 

You felt your cheeks flush a deep red, and you quickly looked away, your embarrassment nearly overwhelming. Great. Just great. Now Derek knew, and by extension, probably everyone else. 

Meanwhile, Isaac didn’t seem to notice—or at least, he didn’t let on. He stayed where he was, his shoulder brushing against yours once again as he adjusted his stance.

It was maddening. You could barely focus on what Scott was saying because all you could think about was Isaac standing so close, his presence practically enveloping you. 

The sound of keys jingling at the front door made the entire room freeze. The faint click of the lock turning was followed by the door swinging open, revealing Melissa McCall. 

The group turned as one, Stiles mid-crunch with a mouthful of chips, Scott suddenly standing bolt upright and awkwardly shifting to block the map on the table. 

“Mom!” Scott exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. He reached behind him, hurriedly folding the edges of the map in a poor attempt to hide it. “I thought you were working!” 

Melissa raised an eyebrow, her eyes scanning the room full of teenagers and one brooding adult - werewolf. “I got off early,” she said, her tone skeptical as she stared down her son. “What’s going on here?” 

Stiles, in true Stiles fashion, tried to fill the silence with something that, in his mind, probably sounded reasonable. Instead, he mumbled through a mouthful of chips, crumbs flying everywhere. “Uh, homework club?” 

You slapped his arm before he could make it worse, glaring at him. “Why would you say that?” you whispered harshly, though the exasperation in your tone was loud enough to draw attention. 

Isaac, who had been standing close enough to overhear, let out a quiet chuckle. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your gaze fixed on Stiles.

“Homework club?” Melissa repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief as she crossed her arms. 

Scott, still scrambling for an explanation, stepped in to intercept. “We’re, uh… just hanging out! You know, normal hanging out.” His smile was painfully forced, and you couldn’t help but cringe internally at how obvious it was. 

Melissa’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Scott to the rest of the group. Her gaze lingered on Derek, who had remained uncharacteristically silent, leaning against the wall with his usual brooding expression. 

Derek glanced at Melissa briefly before muttering under his breath, “I think we’ve got it figured out.” Without waiting for a response, he pushed away from the wall and strode toward the door, brushing past both Melissa and Scott like they weren’t even there. 

Melissa frowned, watching him leave. “Figured what out?” she asked, her tone sharp with suspicion. 

Scott threw up his hands, laughing nervously. “Oh, you know… just… things.” 

You winced. Real smooth, Scott. 

Melissa gave her son a long, pointed look before sighing. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but as long as it doesn’t destroy my house or involve the Sheriff showing up, I don’t want to know.” 

Stiles, having recovered from your earlier slap, grinned through another mouthful of chips. “See? She gets it.” 

“Stiles!” you hissed, your face heating with embarrassment as Melissa’s gaze turned to him. 

Scott, clearly desperate to shift the focus, quickly ushered his mom toward the stairs. “Thanks, Mom! Love you! You should get some rest!” 

Melissa paused, narrowing her eyes one last time before reluctantly heading up the stairs. “You all better clean up before you leave!” 

The room fell into an awkward silence as her footsteps receded, and once the door to her room closed, everyone collectively let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. 

Stiles turned to Scott with a grin. “Well, that went great.” 

Scott groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even let you into my house ?” 

You leaned against the table , shaking your head with a small smile. Isaac, who was still standing nearby, caught your eye. His lips quirked up into a faint smirk, and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Homework club, huh?” he said quietly, the teasing lilt in his voice making your cheeks burn. 

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way your pulse betrayed you. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

His smirk widened just a little, and before you could say anything else, Stiles cut in. “Alright, now that the mom crisis is over, can we please focus on the Kanima before it decides to show up and eat someone?”

Once the group got back to discussing the Kanima (without Derek, who had clearly had enough), Stiles predictably wandered off into the kitchen, announcing he needed to refuel. 

Scott groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Stiles! We’re trying to plan here!” He sighed, giving in and following his friend to presumably drag him back—or at least stop him from raiding the fridge. 

That left you alone with Isaac. 

The room suddenly felt much quieter, the weight of his presence amplifying everything. You tried to focus on the map on the table, but the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears made it impossible. 

“You heading out?” Isaac’s voice broke the silence, his tone low and casual, but his question caught you off guard. 

You glanced up at him, your eyes locking with his startlingly blue ones. For a moment, you forgot how words worked.

Then, snapping out of it, you shook your head quickly. “Nope,” you said, the p popping more than you intended. 

You immediately cursed yourself. Smooth. 

Isaac tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned against the edge of the table. 

“Stiles drove me here,” you added, trying to sound nonchalant. “So I’ll be waiting until he’s done… y’know, with eating Scott's entire fridge” You rolled your eyes, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen. 

Isaac’s lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that made your chest tighten and your pulse quicken—again. He noticed, of course. Of course he did. 

Your heart was racing so fast now that you were sure it was louder than your voice. A tiny, irrational part of you hoped he hadn’t noticed, but deep down, you knew better. He was a werewolf, after all.

Isaac tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the side like he was trying to stifle a grin. Then he leaned in just a fraction, closing some of the distance between you.

“You know,” he started, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, “you should really work on that.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “Work on what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Isaac’s smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tapped a finger lightly against his chest, just over his heart. “That,” he said, his tone almost playful.

You froze, your face heating instantly as the realization sank in. He could hear it—your racing heartbeat—and he was absolutely calling you out on it.

Before you could even attempt to recover, Isaac stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he passed. The touch was brief but enough to send your nerves spiraling.

“I’ve got to head out,” he said, his voice soft now. He paused near the door, glancing back at you with that same teasing smile. “But don’t worry. It’s kinda flattering.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, equal parts mortified and exhilarated.

You let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Great. Just great,” you muttered to yourself.

From the kitchen, Stiles’ voice rang out. “Hey! Did Isaac just leave? Did I miss something?” 

You let out a long sigh, glaring at the doorway. “Just eat your food, Stiles!” 

[ilyasorokinn]

for your stanley cup blurbs may I ask for one with Wyatt Johnston and nighttime rambles, like a little snippet of whatever reader and wyatt talk about as they get into bed/try to go to sleep

WYATT, THE ROMANCER

oh, my kesh! i love you! ty for sending things in, i always love to see what you request, and i always love bringing your ideas to life! *muah* <3

wyatt had been lying in bed for almost 20 minutes, waiting for you. by this point, he was very used to it. getting ready and unready was something of a task for you, and he knew it.

he managed to distract himself this time by playing some game on his phone. the tv was on and waiting to be used, but he never hit start on your shows until you got there.

he set his phone down when you crawled into bed, a smile on his face as he waited for you to get comfortable. "what?" you asked, chuckling nervously at the almost giddy look on his face.

"nothing." he shook his head, "i just like you like this."

"like what?" you raised a brow.

"comfortable." he stated, "at home, i don't know." he shrugged, suddenly shy.

"you're so cute." you laughed, leaning in and kissing his cheek, "now, can we start the show?"

"yes." he nodded immediately, hitting play on the remote. you lay down next to him, your head resting on his chest as you got comfortable.

"can you get me tickets to the next home game?" you asked. this was how it went. you would turn the tv on, start a show, and spend the whole time talking.

"of course," he nodded.

"i'm craving chicken tenders," you told him.

"right, cause you can't go out and get them at any restaurant," he laughed.

"they aren't the same as arena chicken tenders.'' you shook your head, wrinkling your nose.

"all right, i'll make sure you get a good seat and have your tendies." he shook his head, leaning down and kissing your head.

silence blanketed the room for a few moments before he broke it, leaning down to show you a video he had just gotten on his feed, "what the hell?" you laughed. the video that had popped up on his feed was a fan edit. a fan edit of him.

"the ladies really like me," he joked, pulling up the comments and letting you read them.

"get out of here with that." you pushed his phone out of your face.

"what? jealous?" he smirked.

"god, no. your ego just doesn't need to grow anymore." you shook your head with a laugh, "but i will admit, the girl has talent. she made you look good."

"she made me look good?" he made a noise of outrage, "i did that all by myself." he rolled his eyes.

"whatever, the day they start making edits of me, it's game over for you." you joked, rolling your eyes back at him.

"the day they do that, i'll post it everywhere so everyone can see it." he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head again.

"awh, that's very romantic." you smiled.

requests are open (not for this celly)

[ilyasorokinn]

https://www.tumblr.com/ilyasorokinn/781293020296445952/stanley-cup-blurb-week

Hi can I request anything fluff with Timo Meier? Thank you!

MEET N GREET

this is my first time writing for most of the players who were requested for, and i'm so excited for that! ty to everyone who requested anything!! also, sorry this is so short. i sorta struggled a bit lol

you were waiting in line behind an eager kid, decked out in devils merch. his excitement made you smile as you looked ahead. the second he was given the okay, he was running off to the table and leaving his parents behind. the players who were sitting at the table couldn't help but smile either.

the devils were holding an event for fans where they could meet the players, get their pictures taken, and have merch signed. when you heard about it, you signed up for it, wore your best meier merch, and brought a jersey for the players to sign.

the kid went down the line, getting his picture taken first with timo, then nico, then jack, then dougie, then jacob, jesper, and lastly dawson. the attendant gave you a nod, and you approached the first player.

"hi!" you greeted, setting the jersey down in front of timo. he couldn't help but smile when he saw you, "it's so nice to meet you!"

"nice to meet you too." he went along with it, pulling the cap off his sharpie, "what's your name?"

"i'm y/n." you laughed.

"my dear girlfriend," he began, writing as he went.

"i'm obssesed with you," you joked.

"i'm obssesed with you," he repeated, writing it on the jersey before signing his name and handing the jersey off to you.

"can i get a picture?" you asked, holding up your phone.

"of course!" he nodded, leaning in and posing for the camera. when the picture was taken, he turned to you and smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

"ooh! you kiss all your fans?" you joked, kissing him anyways.

"just the ones wearing my name." he joked back, laughing when you made a face at him, "kidding! just you." he winked.

"hurry it up!" nico jokingly shouted from down the table. you laughed while timo rolled his eyes.

"i'll see you later." you waved at him before waving to the rest of the guys.

requests are open (not for this celly)

[ilyasorokinn]

Woah.

He literally looks perfect omg, I need him SO BAD!!!

[ilyasorokinn]

just got fired 😝 so i’ll have more time to write guys!!

[ilyasorokinn]

nico hUUULkenberg!!!!

[ilyasorokinn]

Maybe some fluff with Joel Eriksson Ek? It's impossible to find anything with him.

SPECIAL DAY

eek! i love ekky, but i never get requests for him, so i'm SUPER excited for this one!! it was just my birthday, so this is going to be birthday themed!

joel loved celebrating birthdays, but your birthday? that was a different situation.

your actual birthday was something special for sure. he woke you up with your favorite breakfast and had a whole day planned. you had a nail appointment (with him) after lunch, and a reservation at your favorite restaurant for dinner.

your parents wanted to celebrate with you too, so you made a small trip to your visit your parents, which is how you found yourself asleep in your old childhood bedroom, crammed into a bed with joel.

joel had woken up earlier than you, and couldn't help but just stare at you. you were peacefully asleep, and joel couldn't help but stare, a lovesick smile on his face.

you made a noise before rolling onto your side, now facing joel. he couldn't help but reach out, letting his finger graze your cheek. you nose wrinkled at his touch, but you didn't wake up. he hummed, kissing your forehead before lying back on the pillow and closing his eyes, letting sleep take over.

you awoke a few hours later, completely oblivious to what had happened a few hours prior. the bed was empty, and joel's spot in bed was warm like he had just been there, but not for some time.

you grabbed a hoodie and made your way down to the dining room, where the voices only got louder, "there she is!" your dad announced, getting up from his chair and kissing your head, "the birthday girl!"

"how did you sleep?" your mom asked, setting a few pancakes on your plate and kissing your head.

"bed still creaks whenever you move," you joked before turning your attention to joel, who was smiling bright at you, "hi."

"hi." he beamed, pressing a kiss to your head, "eat up! we've got a big day ahead of us." he pushed the plate closer to you before reaching for his own mug of coffee.

the rest of the day, true to his word, was filled with lots of fun things. you learned joel had been in contact with your parents for about a month, going over an itinerary he had made for you, making sure everything he had planned would happen.

he had the whole day planned from the second you got in the car to second you sat down at dinner. when you got back to the house, your parents led you into the living room while joel disappeared into the kitchen.

you winced when you heard something clang to the ground, "you okay in there?" you called out.

"all good!" joel called back. your mom quickly stood up, making her way into the kitchen. a few minutes later, your dad looked behind you towards the kitchen, and nodded before reaching for the lights.

you smiled when the lights went off, and joel started singing, "happy birthday to you..." he approached you carefully, a cake in hand with candles on top.

"make a wish." he beamed. you closed your eyes, thinking for a moment, before blowing the candles out.

everyone cheered before your dad reached for the lights, "all right, into the dining room so we can cut it." you gravitated to the dining room, joel's arms going around your waist and his head on your shoulder as you watched your mom cut the cake.

"so, did you have a good birthday?"

"technically..." you started, laughing when joel rolled his eyes, "i'm kidding. it was perfect though. thank you for planning this one and the last one."

"of course." he hummed, kissing your head, "anything for you."

requests are open (not for this celly)