#and now its time to learn react lol

[bf-rally]

the headache is here

gonna try to code again today

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Actually, I think this does link in with a wider conversation that I have been thinking for a while Tumblr maybe needs to hear.

There's a common meme on this site now that no one here has any reading comprehension skills. The best one is, of course, the original "No offense but reading comprehension on this site is piss poor/How dare you say we piss on the poor" post, which gave rise to the nickname "pissing-on-the-poor website". There's also the "I like pancakes/How dare you say waffles are terrible" one. Both of these are great, because they're silly jokey ways to show two closely related phenomena that are probably the commonest ways to fail a reading comprehension check.

The first is someone reading certain catchphrases or buzzwords in the post, and based on their own biases or prior experiences or whatever else, their brain simply fills in what it reckons the poster is saying on the topic. Instead of reading the rest of the sentence and digesting it, the reader then just uses their assumption as the interpretation, and reacts to that.

The second is closely related, because it also uses biases and prior experiences to to interpret the post, but rather than ignoring what the OP is actually saying, it instead performs a series of gymnastic leaps to construct a whole new assertion on the OP's behalf that simply isn't there.

There's also a third, of course; that one is people being so eager to feel smug and superior over someone they perceive as Bad that they wilfully assume the OP is stupid or being serious when they're actually joking. And if the reader hadn't been so blinded by their desire to get to look down on someone, they'd have seen the very obvious tells, sometimes even including sentences like "Obviously this is a joke." (I think we have all seen examples of these. Also, in a bid to avoid as many reading comprehension fails here as possible, this does not include misunderstandings borne entirely of neurodiverse struggles to parse intentions; but, neurodiverse people are just as likely as neurotypicals to have ego play a part in their misinterpretation of others, and that is what this point is about.)

And the thing is... actually, we are all capable of any of these. I imagine a sizable chunk of people reading until this point were probably thinking "Lol, yeah, people are so stupid," but na, nage, I'm not having that. Literally everyone does these sometimes. And it becomes a particular risk when the topic under discussion is something that might brush against an issue that is a pressure point for you, like a social justice talking point that you are forever having to argue with internet strangers about, for example. Your brain holds schemas! And sometimes it likes to pattern match things before it deigns to tell you about its findings! And that can hit you right in the emotions, which if they are strong enough, really can shut down all rational thought.

But. This brings me to the real point of the post.

Because the thing is, we have all saddled up and gone to war under these conditions, or at the very least been strongly tempted to. And a vital skill that literally everyone has to learn, sooner or later, is:

Before you hit 'reply', double check the post to make sure you fucking understood it.

And that does not mean "simply re-read, confirm your bias, carry on." It means, "Is it possible to read this post from the point of view of someone who doesn't intend it the way I've taken it? If I put myself in the shoes of an innocent, could they still have written these words? Is there another interpretation for these phrases?"

And you do have to do this step. You simply do have to. Because if your desire is to 'clap back' and call someone a gargling knobskin made of garbage, fuck me sideways but you must see that it is imperative that you check if they actually deserve that kind of treatment first. You cannot spend your time claiming that we must all choose to be kind and then not bother doing your due diligence before screaming a person's various and assorted bigotries at them. If you misread it, and they were innocent - you are the raging aggressive cunt in this situation.

It does not matter that you reacted from an emotional place of normally having to defend yourself either, by the way. Sure, that makes the quality of your human soul better than that of the average Redditor who just enjoys anonymously hurting people, I guess? But it's also irrelevant. If you messaged someone and called them a misogynist because you performed several mental somersaults and landed on your own sore spot when they meant no such thing, you are the attacker. You owe them an apology. And yeah, sure, you can explain your over-reaction as the product of your normal experiences if you like, but that is only an explanation, not an excuse. You are still the asshole here. You still need to apologise and mean it.

And you could have avoided it if you'd done that due diligence, as you should have. If you're going to take a swing, make sure it's the right target. This was once described to me as donkey people - they don't think, they just kick. This is admittedly a little unkind to donkeys, who always do their due diligence, but I feel it's an apt metaphor.

TL;DR: If you feel moved to angrily reply to something, first make sure you've interpreted it right. Don't be a donkey person. And if you ask for clarification, people are innocent until proven guilty. Ask nicely. If they are a bigot, you can then smelt them for parts.

[heartswithinreach]

your post about sylus essentially conditioning the reader to sit on his lap hasjsakddf that was so perfect and in character 😭 i love it sm its given me so much brain rot - how bout this:

can i request the lads boys reaction to the reader randomly asking to be carried/picked up in the middle of walking? for no other reason just to see how'd they react lol

LaDS casually carrying MC

Xavier

The most casual. He just smiles at you and asks, "Bridal or piggyback?" in the same tone as if he's asking what you want to eat.

And he's not just playing along. He means it. He wants to be the one you lean on — metaphorically and literally.

You can try and backtrack but then you'll get those eyes. The bluest puppy dog eyes that can break the strongest of wills. "Are you sure? We still have a few blocks to go to the café, I don’t want you to get tired..."

You feel like you're holding out on him by not letting him carry you. The mind tricks this man is capable of to get what he wants are ridiculous.

You fold embarrassingly fast and Xavier is happy as can be with you on his back, your arms and legs around him like a full-body embrace. He can see the tactical advantage to carrying you like this during missions, too.

Rafayel

"You want me to carry you?“ Rafayel scoffs. “What if I pulled a muscle in my arm and couldn't draw for a week? No thank you!"

He refuses until you ask if it's not that he doesn't want to carry you, but that he can't.

Now you've wounded his pride. He might not be the God of the Sea anymore, but he can't let this go unanswered! Rafayel will be on you relentlessly to let him pick you up, no matter how long it takes.

"Whoa, be careful, cutie! There's no telling how deep these puddles are from all the rain — you're super lucky your boyfriend is here to carry you to safety."

When you finally break and let him do it just so he can prove a point, he realizes he likes this way more than he thought he would. You're like his adorable little prisoner and the only way you're getting out is in praise and smooches. This will become a regular thing, I fear.

Zayne

“I told you to wear more comfortable shoes.”

Zayne inwardly grins at how quickly you deflate at his blunt response. It's adorable.

But Zayne has a hard time denying you something so innocent as wanting to be close to him. So he guides your arm to wrap around his shoulders and picks you up with a strength that always takes you by surprise.

He waits for you to settle comfortably in his arms before he starts walking. He's aware of the disapproving stares from the people around you and not too long ago, he would've been one of them. How quickly his perspective has changed because of you.

Zayne is brought out of his thoughts when he feels you peck his cheek and now you get that oh so familiar look of gentle reproach from him. "I am working on being more affectionate but I'm not there yet, MC. Now, behave or your ride will end early."

Sylus

Sylus is so caught off guard that, for once, you can see his entire thought process play out through his expressions.

Surprise at your request, suspicion you're just toying with him, the realization you're being somewhat serious, and then the most gratified look you've ever seen on his stupid smug face.

Now you’re speaking his language. So delighted you’re finally catching on, he just picks you up and continues on his way without breaking his stride.

However, you didn't specify how he should carry you. So you're draped over Sylus's shoulder and to keep you there, his hand is dangerously high up on your thigh for being in public. The smack on your ass is so inevitable, you can feel it like it's already happened.

"You just said you were tired, now you want me to put you down? You need to learn to make up your mind, kitten. I'll just carry you until you're sure of what you want."

[rosenclaws]

Headcanons for each Logan in regards to the following please: 1. You're a virgin, he's about to be your first. 2. How he comforts you when you're upset. 3. First words and actions towards you after he rescues you from a kidnapping.

OO yes i love all these ideas If you don't mind I'm gonna split them up into 3 different posts! so this will be the first one!

(also if anyone wants to request specific logans to add like 70's or like an AU logan plz feel free. Im adding 70's to this bc it's perfect for him lol)

It's not full smut but I'll still warn for spice and ask that Minors DNI!

How the different Logan's would react to being your first

Origins Logan -

Ugh he would be so damn sweet and careful for your first time. I think he'd be a little hesitant as well because he's worried he's going to hurt you but he totallyyyy talks you through it. He also does a whole date before hand to help you relax. I'm talking a candlelight dinner into a nice relaxing bath into making out on the bed. Once he has you fully relaxed he makes sure you're okay and then he'll spend all night showing you just how you deserve to be treated.

Trilogy Logan -

Oh man his ego is relentless. He would be grinning from ear to ear like a total jerk when he hears you're a virgin. In the least creepy way possible it makes Logan so damn excited. He's a little worried about tainting you with his mess but fuck you're so sweet and you're trusting him of all people with this. Now just because he's cocky doesn't mean he's a total asshole about it. He will always make sure you're comfortable but he will tease you about it till you're too flustered to think. Of course he offers to be your teacher in ever aspect and will happily spend hours answering all your questions.

DOFP!Logan (gray hair) -

He feels guilty but also very intrigued. Like he's an older man now who should not be messing around with pretty virgins but he can't help himself. He may be wiser and kinder but deep down he's still the man he was all those years ago. He also guides you through it for sure like origins logan and just. Mmm fuck. He def grabs your face and checks in on you during it too to make sure and he absolutely demands that you call him sir and promises to teach you everything he's learned over his long life.

70's Logan (I'm adding him bc i just couldn't ignore him with this scenario)

He's so fucking filthy maybe you should never have told him. He fucking smiles like the grinch when you tell him. He's mocking when he tells you not to worry, that he'll take real good care of you and fuck you dumb until you can't even remember your name. He takes sooo much pleasure in know he's your first and being the one you trust with this just makes his ego go crazy. You beg him not to be so mean and he coos like the nice man he is and tells you he'll be on his best behavior. He does love it if you cry though but only because of how good it feels. He's also the guy to be like "make sure that whatever dick you sleep with next does this" and just like takes you apart so easily to prove he will always be the best man you've ever been with.

Old Man Logan -

He feels so horrible but he can't say no to you. He tries to talk you out of it. Like tells you he's not the man you should trust for this and to find someone who's less broken and can treat you like you need to be treated. He almost sees you like a fragile glass doll and he's a sledgehammer. But you refuse to budge. Trying to convince him that he's not going to break you and that you're an adult and you know what you want an you want him. He's not as athletic as he used to be so its much slower than he would like but he does everything he can to make sure it's a memorable experience. (It totally is)

Worst Logan -

Oh man so I said he was a shameful perv and I meant it. It should not turn him on as much as it does and he beats himself up for it mentally every time he so much as looks at you. You're innocent and kind and he's mean and old there's no way he can be the one to take that from you. He's like an animal though and when you look at him with those cute eyes and beg him to take your virginity he just breaks. He is a weak, weak man. He checks in on you a lot and makes sure he's not doing anything wrong. Almost too much because you just want him to hurry up with it at some points. But Logan is whining and panting as he shows you everything you've been missing. He does feel guilty but fuck it he'll repent later.

[luckykiwiii101]

Heyhey

First of all,

Much love to you. I know you've helped a lot of people and on behalf of everyone you've helped..a big thank you!

I found something on reddit and it made everything just click in an instant. I'll put it at the end. (for some reason I can't link it) I am sending this to you in the hope that this will really help some people who feel lost.

Sidenote: I know it's basically what you and other blogs has been preaching about, but this is rephrased differently and may help some people understand and truly apply (and stop overconsuming lol)

I CANT BELIEVE IT TOOK ME ALL THIS TIME TO FINALLY GET IT…  Tips & Techniques I’ve known about the Law of Assumption for almost four years, and now I finally get it. I always thought that when I closed my eyes to imagine something, it was my false self—let’s call her Ella—doing the imagining and experiencing the desire. But that’s not true. Ella only exists in the physical realm; she’s just another object in awareness. The one who’s really imagining is awareness itself—God, consciousness—the only thing that truly exists. Now I understand why imagination is immediate and real. It’s not Ella’s creation because she has no access to awareness. Ella’s role is confined to the 3D world. Her job is to make sense of life through logic, past experiences, and sensory input. So, when I imagine something, Ella can’t “see” it because imagination operates in the realm of awareness, not the physical. This is why thoughts like “Where is it?” or “It’s not working” arise—they’re just Ella panicking because she didn’t witness the creation happen. Ella is fixated on time and the physical world, so she doubts anything beyond her perception. But her panic doesn’t mean anything because she’s not the one imagining. She’s not capable of understanding or influencing what exists in awareness. This realization leaves no excuse not to trust my imagination. Imagination is beyond Ella’s capabilities, and its reality is not dependent on her understanding. This isn’t an invitation to hate or fight Ella—it’s about recognizing her limitations and letting her be. When I notice my mind being logical or thinking doubtful thoughts, I can let them pass because that’s just Ella doing her job. There’s no need to argue with or control her because it’s like bullying a blind person for not being able to see. She simply can’t perceive what’s happening in awareness, and that’s okay. Let her do her thing, knowing it doesn’t matter. The real work is already done in imagination, which is the realm of the infinite.

Someone answered:

Yup, Ella is herself a manifestation of consciousness and there is only consciousness. We think we are Ella, when we are consciousness, perceiving things through Ella's perspective. Good job. And that's exactly why manifestation is instant, the moment awareness becomes aware of something through your imagination, it happens. Because everything is awareness. You already are living that reality from the moment you imagined it. Ella will keep thinking. You need to not react to those thoughts or feelings of Ella, observe them, take care of Ella when she feels down but laugh a little at her naivety. Most people imagine and forget that they're not Ella but consciousness and become aware of something else by giving attention to Ella's limited perspective but guess what? Ella is a well behaved child, she will learn as soon as you discipline her. Her thoughts would slowly get on board too and so will the feelings. So let Ella be, don't react to her thoughts and emotions and become aware of something that's not what you want

People need to read this!!! Thank you so much for sharing!!

[skeletonh0e]

A little request relating to the weather I’m dealing with the rn.

The boys reacting to their first thunderstorm/tornado. Especially with a Y/N who is just used to them. Sleeps through loud ass storms and goes through the protocol for a tornado yawning. Not ignoring the boy’s distress(if they have any) but just very used to it themselves. 🌪️⛈️

Heard about the crazy ass weather, thankfully I'm on the other side of it. Ya'll stay safe out there.

Some of these boys are gonna be IN for it considering the underground does uh, not have tornados lol. Gender neutral reader

The boys vs the Weather

Classic Sans:

He's heard of storms yeah and even made his own little tiny tornado, but uh-

The weather in the underline hardly changes and everything here is so chaotic what in the god damn

He's composed but definitely a sense of worry there

The fact you remain so chill is extremely off putting to him at first but it helps as it can show him this isn't anything to panic over

Plus also probably a good idea one of you knows what to do

Asks for advice on how you manage to sleep so peacefully through them, he'd like to do too but he'll settle for snuggling up to while you sleep waiting for it to pass

Underswap Sans:

P A N I C

The magnificent Sans isn't ready for this! What gods have the humans offended to deserve this!?

You'll have to talk him down, but thankfully it won't take him too long to recover. Though he'll be a bit jump

Listens to you explain the precautions intensely, definitely having a game plan for next time

Probably starts an epic speech about you two being the ultimate power couple going through this then yelps when something hits the window

He'll just uh....stay close to you for now

Underfell Sans:

"What the fuck is this bullshit!?"

Honestly though less anger and more genuinely being flabbergasted

And you're used to this!? Really!? You're so weird what the fuck (you will have to deal with him bitching and complaining the entire time)

Grumpily takes some safety protocols and keeps a close on the progression of the storm as if trying to determine his own right move

He can handle it and learn to adjust the best probably but still grouchy a bit

Might use it as an excuse to day drink after its over (you could both probably use it depending on the storm tbh)

Underlust Sans:

Oh he doesn't like this at all

Not shitting his pants with fear or anything but he definitely is more on edge during the whole thing

Cool that you're used to this, but he's not. Don't mind him, just idly hovering close to you constantly double checking about everything.

He'll be kinda noisy and ask how you manage to stay calm, how many times have you been through these, blah, blah

Honestly keeping him distracted with conversation will help

Maybe listen to some music with him to block out the noise while you snuggle up, he might just be able to fall asleep with you

Horrortale Sans:

The fuck? Doesn't know whether to be impressed, concerned or just annoyed by the inconvenience of it all.

Whatever he's definitely sticking near you, protective primal instincts have been activated

Won't ask for it but probably also give him some reassurance, tell him things will be fine. He naturally has come to expect the worst outcome due to trauma.

Type to stare out the window with a blank expression, just watching the harsh wind tearing everything to shreds....it's a little concerning....

Silent for the most part but does occasionally ask questions and ask if you're okay

Glad you're calm but also wants be there for you too

Fresh Sans:

Here comes the hurricane bitch(tm) starts playing

Okay there's A LITTLE concern, less on his end and more for your own but the fact that you're just chill about it kinda puts him at ease

But ya know....he can dimension jump, you really don't gotta deal with it.

You don't wanna end up in Oz (though he'll happily be the wizard while you're dorothy or...the scarecrow?....or something idk the reference joke got away from him)

Might wanna keep an eye on him though as he gonna skateboard in a tornado if you ain't looking but also he like nearly completely indestructible so

Might hover over you while you sleep through an particularly extreme storm, a rare protective moment from him

Killer Sans:

Pretty.....

Like actually low key fascinated by storm and the sheer amount of destruction they cause, the type to watch the forecast of the outcomes the same way ppl might watch a light show

Maybe if you freaked out he'd be a bit worried but for the most part you seem to know what you're doing so-

As long as you aren't in any active harm or visible distress

He's content to just watch the storms and the panic they cause

Though of course he can always use his short cuts to get you out of there if worst comes to worst

Dust Sans:

Nooooope

Too much anxiety for this, the two of you are LEAVING

You're uh, kinda not given much of the choice in the matter.

If you insist on staying anyway, he might just let you with a huffy "have fun dying" before he storms off

Uh lil reminder none of the bad sanses are 100% healthy partners

He will actually come to your rescue if the storm is extremely severe to the point you might be in legit danger, but even ignoring that he'll do something to apologize non verbally. What kind of depends on how salty you are about it.

Nightmare Sans:

Also in the camp of "not dealing with this" and instantly drags you to his realm

If you try to stay, well here's the thing-

He's not asking

Also not the healthiest partner out there but this is all coming from a good place. Besides he's not wrong in that this is the easiest option

Stay in his castle, everything is handled.

Admittedly a little.....impressed? (For lack of a better word) by your abilitt to stay calm even during such extreme storms though even if he doesn't experience this side of you fully

[kinda-indecisive]

ִ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ، ˖ ࣪ Cold Hands pt I་ ˖ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ʿ ִ 

The guys react to you (MC) surprising them by placing your freezing cold hands on their bare skin. Pure fluff lol

Part 1: The Zayne, Xavier, and Sylus Edition!

𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ 

Zayne

Having walked to the hospital after work to meet him, Zayne offers to drive you home. That plan changes suddenly when he casually mentions having a loaf of that special kind of sweetbread that you’d been craving for weeks at his house. Now you insist that it’d probably be best to stay the night at his place.

You ramble about your day in the car, Zayne interjecting every once in a while with his dry comments, when he suddenly receives an email on his dash that he swipes away with a sigh, his eyes not looking away from the road for a second. It isn’t a huge deal to you that he might have to work, but you knew that the sweetbread will have to wait a little longer.

“Have some without me. I’ll be finished soon,” he directs, sitting on the couch with his laptop. While he gets settled into work again, you quickly change into one of the more comfortable outfits you’d left at his place, then raid his tidy kitchen. Instead of doing as he said, you return to the couch with two plates, one of which he accepts from you between the clacking of keyboard keys.

After finishing your last bite, you look up from your phone screen to watch him as he sets his laptop and glasses aside, next to his empty plate. He looks tired, though not too exhausted, as he rubs his eyes, stands, and stretches.

Sometimes you find yourself enamored by the spectacle that is Dr. Zayne Li. The way his dark hair falls over his eyes when it’s been a while since his last trim. And, of course, the way his hands move as he intertwines his fingers to stretch his stiff shoulders.

And, sometimes, he catches you staring. Like right now.

“I’m going to change,” he explains as if that’s what you were wondering. You nod anyway, not about to admit what you were actually thinking, and you aren’t too surprised by the small smile that graces his lips as he turns and walks out. He sees right through you.

How can he blame you for staring when he’s as gorgeous as he is? It makes sense that you sometimes find yourself poking at him just to make sure he’s real. He’s gotten used to your pestering, usually responding sarcastically, trapping your hands in his to get you to stop bugging him.

But not bugging Zayne is so hard! He’s such a perfect target. And sometimes, deep down, you think he secretly loves it.

Well, maybe not so secretly. He’s all but admitted it with that small smile he tries to hide by shaking his head at you.

You discard your phone, thinking about your favorite hobby: Annoying Zayne. And the cogs in your brain are already whirring and turning to think up something good.

Hopping up onto your feet, you slip into the bedroom where he stands with his back to you, removing his watch and tie. He does so in a methodical manner as per usual, a comforting and familiar sight. His back still toward you, he loosens his collar and untucks his shirt, the slightly wrinkled white hem hanging free and suddenly giving you the perfect idea. 

One would think that a guy whose Evol is literal ice would run cool all the time, but Zayne is typically pretty warm. 

With all the stealth you’ve learned from hunting down Wanderers, you slip into the room and stand directly behind him.

If you thought Zayne’s posture couldn’t get any more straight, you are surprised to see how rigid he goes when your cold hands find the direct center of his bare back.

He reaches back, pinning your hands against him, his expression bewildered as he turns to look at you. Your face goes hot when you realize your hands are now pressed flat against his stomach.

“I almost thought that the house had a ghost who was trying to possess me with its frigid fingers,” he murmurs, shaking his head, still keeping your hands flat against him.

“What? I was just trying to warm my hands up a little,” you pout innocently.

“Of course you were,” he says, “I might have been annoyed if I weren’t concerned about your blood circulation. Have you been taking your medication on time lately? And the vitamins?”

“Yes!” you whine, attempting to slip your hands from underneath his, but he doesn’t release you yet.

“And those hand and wrist stretches we looked into last time? You’ve been doing them daily, right?”

You’re about to huff in annoyance at his pestering, but looking up at his face again you notice the slight gleam in his eye and immediately realize that he has got a reaction out of you. That soft smile instantly appears on his lips as those gorgeous eyes of his sparkle.

“Zayne!” you pout, burying your face in his chest when your cheeks burn with shame, “Using your doctor voice isn’t playing fair.”

He lets you slide your hands out of his grip as he chuckles.

“I apologize,” he says, barely concealing the humor in his voice, “I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to retaliate.”

If you liked teasing Zayne, he loved teasing you twice as much.

𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ 

Xavier

Using your key to enter his place, you call out a couple of times. Not receiving a reply, you let yourself in completely, closing the door behind you and shedding your winter clothes.

When you spoke to him over the phone earlier, he said he’d be home today. So you went straight to his place instead of stopping by yours to change. You figure he must have stepped out for a while, and you plan on making yourself comfy before he arrives.

Sending him a quick text to tell him you made it home safe, you have second thoughts and decide to call him instead. If he is walking home from the convenience store right now, that’s alright with you. But if he’s still there, he won’t mind doing a favor for you by picking up a couple things, right?

You are surprised, however, to hear his phone go off in the bedroom.

Instantly, you grow suspicious. Xavier has been known to pull a few pranks on you here  and there. And just last week, you had wandered into his room just for him to step out from behind the door wearing the most terrifying, low-quality Bun-Bun mask you’d ever seen in your entire life. So you’re admittedly a little wary of any more surprises from him.

“Xavier, you better not be messing around,” you grumble, loud enough for him to hear and rethink his life decisions, “I still have some of those wasabi-flavored candies and you promised you’d eat one as a punishment for scaring the life out of me last time. Don’t think I forgot about that.”

You still don’t get a response, so you decide to risk it. Stepping into his room, you prepare for a jumpscare…

Only to find him asleep atop the blankets, lying on his stomach with his arms folded under his head. He’s turned away from you as you approach and, still not sure he won’t suddenly hop up to startle you, you walk around the bed slowly.

Sure enough, he’s completely knocked out. His breathing is slow and steady and his brow is furrowed ever so slightly. But when you lie beside him and gently tap the space between his eyebrows with the tip of your finger, his expression softens and he slowly opens his eyes.

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” you coo, your heart nearly bursting with affection at the sight of his groggy face.

He frowns again, his sweet, low voice as rough as sand when he murmurs,  “Afternoon?”

“Yeah, I just got back. How long have you been asleep?”

He rolls onto his side, a thoughtful look gracing his expression as he reaches out and grabs his phone, “ Well, I was texting Jeremiah about the plants he’s renting out to the museum for the exhibition thing they're doing—since I’ll be watching the shop while he’s delivering them. So I’d say I fell asleep sometime during that conversation.”

He looks at his phone, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hmm… and I guess I fell asleep on my phone.”

He turns the phone to you and shows you the last message he sent to Jeremiah—a string of unintelligible keyboard smashing. Below it is a message from Jeremiah:

**Are you alright, Xavier? Are you in danger or did you fall asleep on your phone again?**

Then another:

**I’ll just go ahead and assume you fell asleep, then...**

You frown, “That message was four hours ago. You should text him back. You probably worried him sick.”

“He’ll be fine,” he murmurs, shaking his head, and tossing the phone back on the bed, “You don’t need to worry about him.” 

You resist an eye roll as you scoot closer to him. 

“Anyway, I just got here. It’s cold out, so you’d better warm me up,” you say, causing a soft smile to form on his lips, “Especially my hands. I forgot to wear gloves.”

“You can put them on me to warm them up,” he offers, shifting over and making space for you to curl up beside him.

“Are you sure? They’re pretty cold,” you warn, but he insists. After a short hesitation, you slide into the space he made for you. Still not entirely sure what his plan of action was for you, you hesitate again before sliding your hands under his sweatshirt.

Though he doesn’t say anything, you feel the way his abdomen tightens up beneath your fingers. Honestly, you thought he’d been wearing a shirt under the sweatshirt, he usually does, but apparently not today. And now your face burns as you tilt your head back ever so slightly to look up at him.

His cheeks are bright pink from this angle and when he looks down at you and meets your eye, his ears darken as well. 

“Sorry!” you squeak, pulling your hands back. He shakes his head, his hair covering his eyes for a moment as he reassures.

“No, it’s okay. I just didn’t realize how cold your hands were,” he murmurs, grabbing them in his and lifting them to place on the sides of his face. You scoot upward on the bed to get into a more comfortable position and he smiles faintly, “From here on out, I’ll have to make sure to put a pair of mittens in every one of your jackets.”

𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ 

Sylus

Plodding into the room, you pout down at Sylus who sits typing at the grand desk in his office with a bored expression, glasses halfway down his nose. Tapping your toe, you wait until he finishes typing and looks up at you.

“The twins are making a mess of the kitchen again,” you grimace, “They’ve scared the cook away and are talking about making dinner.”

He shifts slowly, then stretches with an almost feline fluidity.

“What are they planning on making?”

“Does it matter?” you whine, “Don’t you think it gives the wrong impression to have the leader of Onychinus throwing up his guts in-between meetings?”

He removes his glasses and sighs, “I’m sure I can handle whatever they throw at me. They’ve already tried killing me several times before and have yet to succeed, let them try once more.”

Squaring your shoulders, you continue to pout at your nonchalant boyfriend as he gets ready to turn back to his work.

“That’s not what you said after eating that bad shrimp they cooked that one time. We were supposed to take a trip that week and not only did we end up canceling, but we spent the entire week in two separate rooms because we needed the separate bathrooms. And I remember passing you in the hallway and thinking you looked a little green in the face.”

You watch with satisfaction as his brow furrows, knowing that you’ve dredged up some unpleasant memories. Sylus doesn’t get sick often and you know you’ve struck the right chord with him when he sighs and pushes out of the chair.

“Alright, Sweetie, point made,” he says, crossing the office with a few long strides, “How long ago did they chase the chef out?” 

“I dunno, the kitchen was already a mess by the time I got in there. I also managed to swipe the flambe torch from Luke,” you say as he glances down at you with a raised eyebrow and you explain, “They were trying to light the candles at the dinner table with it.”

When you reach the kitchen doors, Sylus steps inside for a second, only to return to you a second later.

“They’re gone. But their mess is still here,” he grimaces.

“They must have sensed you were coming and scattered,” you say, peering around his shoulder to examine the mess left behind, “I guess that means nobody eats. Unless we get takeout or something.”

He shrugs, “I’m already away from my desk. We might as well cook something. Unless you’d prefer takeout?”

You rarely find yourself saying no to cooking alongside Sylus, especially with how good he looks in his apron.

The majority of the mess you find to be superficial and the two of you manage to tidy most of it up naturally as you work on your meal. Meanwhile, Sylus plays his music over the speakers and your earlier, tense mood dissipates as the two of you hum and chat over the pots and pans.

Soon, the kitchen is nearly spotless and filled with such a delicious aroma you forget all about the twins. Sylus leaves you in the kitchen to dish out two well-portioned servings while he sets the table for two. Meeting him in the dining room, you admire the new set of candles he replaced the destroyed ones with.

Your chair is pulled out for you and before you can sit, you jump up suddenly.

“Oh, I forgot something!”

He watches you dash back to the kitchen with an amused sort of puzzlement. When you return, you excitedly present the bottle of red wine to him.

“I know it’s not as fancy as the ones you collect, but I thought it was tasty when I tried it and I thought of you. And I actually managed to get it in the fridge on time, so right now’s a good time to open it,” you explain. His eyes widen slightly and you feel the heat rush to your face, forcing the bottle into his hands and looking away, “Anyway, we don’t have to drink it tonight if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I’m happy to try it,” he says softly, his voice oozing affection and holding only a fraction of the teasing edge it usually does, “Especially since it’s a gift from you.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, continuing to avoid his eye. Wanting to change the subject, you suddenly reach up, “Come here.”

He raises an inquiring eyebrow, but does as you say. Having retrieved the bottle from the fridge, you now place your cold hands on the sides of his neck, grinning when you receive a small shiver from him that seems to roll through him from head to toe.

“Hmm… I should have known not to let my guard down around you, Sweetie,” he says, his voice a low, deep rumble and you know instantly that you’re in big trouble. Releasing him, you run away as you hear the bottle being set down on the table. Not even a second later, you feel his arms close around you, shrieking in laughter when his cold hands find the bare skin under your shirt just above your waistline. He chuckles, practically purring as he nuzzles his face against your neck, “Caught you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yay! Here's another scenario for y'all. I hope you enjoyed them :D

taglist❤: @fallthelong

MY LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MASTERLIST

[cultven]

Whumptober Day 6 - Not Realizing They're Injured

"It's not my blood."

RE2r Leon Kennedy X Reader

Content: Leon being a sweetie, Marvin mentions, Reader has been through a lot the past few days, teamwork!, and lots of hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Some mentions of blood/wounds (not graphic)

a/n: Wrote this for Whumptober day 6 a while ago but kind of just gave up on Whumptober because I am completely overrun by school </3 this one is still fun tho! (I am probably going to still post Whumptober content, just not at the right times lol)

You really wish you didn’t wear short sleeves today. Originally it was perfect weather to do so, with a cool breeze and warm air still surprisingly prevalent in the late days of September. What you didn’t account for was a zombie outbreak to begin the very same day. You were walking home from the story, retrieving a few necessities your roommate sent you out for, when you had your first encounter with a zombie. You’ll never forget the cold, white eyes that peered into your soul. Her pale skin was overtaken by lesions and blood, it was a gamble on whether the blood was hers or not. Thankfully you were able to dodge her attacks and settled into a sprint back towards your apartment. What was not so fortunate, however, was the explosion you were met with once you got back. Your apartment, your home for the past two years, all of your belongings, now nothing but ash and despair. 

How could this all happen so fast? One minute you were a normal citizen, and the next you were almost a victim of a horrible outbreak rampaging through your hometown. After brief consideration, you decided to head down to the police station only a few blocks from your apartment. You figured it would be better than leaving yourself in the open, plus they have officers and weapons there. If there were any safe places left in the city, it would be the Raccoon City Police Department. 

On arrival, you were met with many timid questions through a cracked door. You could tell they’d already been ambushed a few times by the way they were on edge to even speak to you, an outsider, after some convincing you were let fully into the building. There you sat with other survivors and police officers, trying to process that this was your new reality. Over time you lost more and more refugees. Officers who thought they were brave enough to survive got themselves killed, and citizens who began to get worried over their families all left until it was only you and Marvin left. That was until the rookie came in. 

Leon Kennedy, a tall man with brown hair and an adorable smile. The two of you instantly clicked. You were both similar in age and his personality meshed well with yours, resulting in deep conversations quite quickly. You learned he was supposed to have his first day around a week ago when this whole shitshow started but was told to stay away. As much as you grew a liking towards Leon, you could’ve scolded him for his idiocy. He should have stayed away, he should have spared himself from the horrors of Raccoon City. But you remind yourself that he couldn’t have known, and besides, in some selfish way you were glad he found you. 

With the task of getting out of the city at hand, you and Leon have grown closer and closer, which brings you to now, wandering the corridors together, flashlight in your hand and a gun in Leon’s. A groan emits from around the corner. 

“Did you hear that?” You whisper to Leon, keeping close since he is one of your only defenses against the zombies. Leon and a small knife Marvin gave you. 

“Yeah, stay behind me.” You nod slightly at his command, standing right behind his uniformed body. It should be illegal how cute he looked in the cop uniform. As the two of you rounded the corner, Leon cocked his gun and held both arms out to stabilize himself. Just as you had guessed, a zombie begins to come forward making its way into a sprint at the two of you. Before you could even think to react two bullets are lodged in its head as it falls limp to the ground. Leon puts an arm out in front of you, signaling for you not to move closer as he nudges the zombie with his foot. Dead. 

“Good aim.” You pat Leon’s arm as his gaze is still fixed on the body. He was still readjusting to the whole zombie thing. Even though he’s doing it out of necessity it feels wrong to kill the zombies. In his eyes, they’re still human, at least part way. Seeing he was lost in thought you nudge his arm a bit, “Let’s go. Marvin’s waiting.” He only nods as you begin to move again. Leon is grateful for you, he truly is. He doesn’t know if he would have the courage to do any of this without you. It seems there’s one good thing that came out of this tragedy at least. 

The pair of you continue walking, not having the luxury of spare time in this hell hole. To make things a little better, you try some small talk. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get out of here?” 

“Hm, definitely get some good food. Maybe some fast food. Is it bad to crave fast food in an apocalypse?” You giggled at his question. 

“Probably not. I just know the first thing I’m doing is taking a shower.” You’ve been stuck in the police station longer than Leon and it is very telling appearance-wise. Your clothes were not only filthy, but you also admittedly smelled. It was a wonder Leon wanted to be around you, much less wanted to stay so close to you. But you suppose it wasn’t the first thing on your mind. 

“Shower is a good one! Can I change my answer?” Leon looked you in the eyes, smiling. You had to resist tackling him on the spot. He was so cute, even with dirt and grime on his face. 

“Nope! Can’t steal my answer.” You playfully responded, still trotting by his side keeping an eye out. 

“Aw, dang. Well, Mcdonalds is still pretty good I guess.” Leon conceded. You were about to respond when you heard noises coming from the main atrium. You looked at each other in confusion, then in worry. Marvin was out there. 

“I think we should head back there.” You state, turning your head back in the direction you came from. Leon agreed and you both began to backtrack, maneuvering over dead bodies and pools of blood. Gross. Right as you were about to reach the gate you felt your boot slip on a puddle. As you were falling backward muscular arms caught you just in time, capturing your body in a tight hold. You open your eyes and are met with crystal blue. Leon. You smile seeing the relieved look on his face, his arms pulling you in closer before releasing his hold. 

“Please be more careful. I’m going to die of a heart attack before a zombie could get me.” Leon huffs, half joking half serious. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You apologize, feeling a bit bad. Leon only shakes his head a bit before smiling one of his sweet smiles again and leading you with his arm. 

“It’s ok, let’s just go check out Marvin, yeah?” With soft footsteps you make your way to the main hall where you expect to see zombies but nothing. Only sharing a quick, tentative glance, you continue forward. You were about to call out Marvin’s name when you heard a long, guttural groan. Turning your heads you find yourselves a devastating sight, Marvin with his head completely bent to the side with white eyes. The eyes were always the creepiest part in your opinion, it was the first glimpse of the zombie apocalypse you got. With painful noises leaving his mouth Marvin begins to limp forward, acting like all of the zombies you had encountered before. Earlier that week he told you to promise him if he ever became one of them, to shoot him. At the time you thought the promise was unnecessary. 

Backing away, you could see Leon was sweating. He looked at the gun in his hands before quickly looking at Marvin once again. It was hard to gauge his thoughts, he looked conflicted in himself. “Leon…?” You whisper, still slowly backing away as Leon stays in place. 

“What do we do?” His voice was quiet and strained. Marvin showed him kindness and was one of the only reasons he was still alive at this very moment. He should have died a few hours ago but Marvin saved him, and Leon couldn’t return the favor. His breathing picks up and his head begins to shake. “What do we do?” Leon repeats, slightly louder this time. His head was now facing you, desperately needing you to guide him. 

“I don’t know.” You stutter out, feeling hopeless. Like Leon, you wouldn’t be here now without Marvin’s generosity. He not only physically helped you by providing food and water, but once everyone else was out of the station the two of you gave each other emotional support as well. You knew what Marvin wanted, but you couldn’t bring yourself to suggest it. 

“Should I…?” Leon’s voice trailed off, but you knew what he was referring to. He was staring straight down at Matilda, his hands violently shaking. Deep down you both knew it was the only way. Either that or leave him alone in this miserable state. If there was any Marvin left in that brain of his you knew he would want to be taken out. The atmosphere became suffocating. You inched towards Leon, trying to gain a sense of false security. 

“He- Marvin told me, before you were here, that if he turned into one of those things he wanted someone to shoot him. He didn’t want to survive as one of those monsters.” You solemnly repeat Marvin’s words back to Leon, who was only falling further into distress at the words. Now he knew what he needed to do, but bringing himself to do it was a completely separate issue. 

“I can’t.” No, he wasn’t trained for this. The academy didn’t build him strong enough to kill his allies like this. 

“I can.” You put your hands on Leon’s, staring into his soft eyes. For the past week, you’ve been surrounded by chaos and despair. If anyone were mentally ready enough for this, it would be you. Leon has protected you time and time again, it was your turn to protect him. 

“Are you sure?” Leon looked suspicious but allowed you to gently take Matilda out of his shaking hands. You squeezed one of his hands in your own, a gesture he mimicked back to you, before cocking the gun towards Marvin. It was your turn to be anxious now. Before this week you’ve never shot a gun, even then you’ve only used one twice out of necessity. You take a deep breath in. 

A gunshot rings through the room, but nobody falls to the ground. Instead, you feel a decaying hand grab yours and push you down, effectively knocking Matilda out of your hands in your stunned state. Of fucking course you missed the shot, why did you think you could get it in the first place? You weren’t trained for weapons, let alone a police handgun.

You’re now on the ground, fighting Marvin off of you as you frantically attempt to grab the knife attached to your hip. Leon watches in horror at the scene, stumbling to retrieve Matilda from the other side of the room. As he grabs the gun you successfully grab your knife and jab it into Marvin’s side. Much to your displeasure it doesn’t elicit any reaction other than a small groan. Losing your grip on the knife due to the many liquids such as blood and sweat surrounding you, Marvin gets his chance to take the knife out of himself and begin swinging at you. Luckily, Leon returns from grabbing his gun just in time to kick Marvin off, effectively taking the knife with him. 

Without hesitation this time, a gun goes off, and then silence. You look over to see Leon coldly standing over Marvin’s lifeless body. He liked Marvin, he truly did. Leon held much respect for his elders, but he knew this wasn’t the same man he saw at the beginning of the night. Even if it was, however, Leon still didn’t regret his actions. You were his haven in this hell, and if protecting you meant he had to make some hard decisions then so be it. As much as he wanted to believe the opposite, Marvin was never going to make it out in that state. But you had a chance. 

Looking over at you his heart was beating out of his chest. Even disheveled from a fight you looked beautiful. Not to mention the fact you could have almost died right in front of him. Leon yelled your name, running back over to you. He enveloped you in a hug, pulling away after feeling a warm liquid coat his clothes. He looked down in horror to realize the liquid was blood. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks, confused since you seem fine. 

“What?” You look down at his hands that were smeared with blood. “That’s not my blood.” You felt fine, maybe a little buzzed after the fight, and your heart was racing out of adrenaline, but nothing hurt. 

“Your arm…” Leon whispers, turning you slightly to the side to take in a giant gash on your upper bicep. It was likely from when Marvin was slashing the knife at you. You were so focused on getting him off of you that you didn’t feel the pain. 

“Oh shit.” That was all you said before Leon guided you over to the bench and firmly sat you down. He seemed angry. Not aggressive, just silent and mad. He grabbed a first aid kit and took out a rubbing alcohol pad. 

“I’m sorry, this might hurt.” He seemed genuinely hurt when he felt you wince against the pad, your teeth gritting together. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the phrase again, somewhat to himself. Luckily the gash wasn’t deep enough for stitches, only surface level. If you had sleeves on it likely would’ve been the depth of a paper cut. Damn you short sleeves. Leon began to wrap gauze around your arm as the room was buried in silence. Once you were all wrapped up and Leon put the first aid kit away you both sat in silence, about a foot apart and awkward. You weren’t sure why Leon was being like this, he saved your life. Did he think you were weak and didn’t want to associate with weak people? No, that’s not Leon. 

Little did you know, in his mind, Leon was killing himself over the fact he allowed you to get injured due to his empathy for a fucking zombie. His skewed moral compass could have been your first-class ticket to death. You deserve someone better than that, someone more rational. How is he supposed to get the two of you out of here when he can’t pull a trigger? 

Sick of the silence, you spoke up. “Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s up?” You look over, he is clearly still lost in thought. When he doesn’t answer you nudge his arm slightly, scooting closer so that your hips are now touching while sitting. 

“It’s just…” Leon trails off, allowing himself to reword his thoughts before spewing them out. “I hesitated to kill a fucking zombie and it almost got you killed.” 

“Leon, I understand your hesitation. He was our friend.” You inched your hand close to his but didn’t commit to touching it. You were uncertain whether or not he wanted to be touched in this state. He answered your question however by grabbing your hand and squeezing it on his own, a grounding technique. 

“Exactly, was. I knew it wasn’t him. I knew he was dangerous, and I still allowed him to get close enough to hurt you. I’m the cop here for God’s sake!” His frustration was taking over, you could tell all he wanted to be was a protector. 

“You still saved me, Leon.”

“Saved you from my own actions.” He let go of your hand and buried his face in his palms. The stress of everything was beginning to get to him, Marvin was only the final straw of everything that had been building up recently. 

“Hey,” You moved Leon’s palms from his face, taking his hands in yours and holding them gently. “Leon, without you I wouldn’t be here right now. Not only because you stopped Marvin, but because of all the other zombies and monsters you’ve saved me from today.” He still didn’t look convinced, so you continued. “Your hesitation only further proves how caring you are. Marvin was our friend.” Leon looked away at the word ‘was’. You sigh, moving putting one hand on his cheek and redirecting his gaze to you. 

“You’re a good person, Leon. I need you to know that.” It felt like there was a laser between your eye contact, anything that tried to pass through would simply burn out. You were all he could see and vice versa. Suddenly, Leon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in. His face buried itself into your neck, beads of water, presumably tears, beginning to run down your skin. 

“Thank you.” It was just above a whisper, but you heard him crystal clear. There the two of you sat in each other's arms, recollecting yourself for the certain hell you had to face once more.

[kannouo]

Gentle "Parent"ing

fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers x gn!reader warnings: none summary: how the brothers react to an mc who coddles their younger siblings. prompt by @satansbiggestkinnie: I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM I'M YOUR NO1 FAN >:3 SO UHH HEAR ME OUT: A MC who's just the opposite of Lucifer when it comes to being an older sibling!! They looooove their little siblings and they show it!! A little too much since they're "famous" for being a total coddler and giving their lil siblings a buuunch of affection!! (Me-coded fr) (Also what if they're little siblings are annoyed at that and the little brothers in OM especially Satan is just.. FLABBERGASTED.) A/N: tysm for the kind words, this was really sweet to read in my inbox ;-; you didn't specify if you wanted all the characters or just the brothers, but i ended up only writing for the brothers as you mentioned both lucifer and the younger brothers. sorry if i got this wrong. also,,, this kind of turned into "how the brothers would treat your younger siblings" at some point lol.

LUCIFER

• As a man who is big on family, he was definitely happy to meet yours. Perhaps even eager, but he'd never admit that.

• He usually wouldn't be the type to stress all that much over meeting the family — he's confident enough in his ability to be cordial and agreeable for just one evening — but the added presence of his brothers changes his entire attitude. He does everything short of giving them an actual script to rehearse just to make sure they don't screw something up. He cares immensely about first impressions.

• Is somewhat relieved when your younger siblings turn out to be a laid-back bunch.

• Maybe a little too laid-back for his liking.

• Now, Lucifer loves his brothers. Absolutely he does. And he's known for going along with their antics from time to time for the purpose of bonding. But his style of discipline can hardly be described as gentle or understanding, and he sort of experiences whiplash when he sees you fussing over your siblings like toddlers.

• You're doing... everything for them. Some seem happy to let you take the wheel, but others (specifically the older kids, some in their teenage years) seem annoyed at your insistence on cleaning up after them.

• If you have any siblings that are still children, he notices how they seem to just hang off of you. They want attention and playtime from you 24/7 and it honestly gets on his nerves, but don't worry, he won't do anything. He knows they're just kids.

• Still, I can imagine him being their first experience with proper discipline outside of your parents. He once put one of your youngest siblings in time-out for wasting their food by spilling it onto the table or throwing it, and after you found out you glared at him, picked up the child responsible and started going on about how "Lucifer is just grumpy and mean" and they "don't have to listen to him".

• "MC, they need to learn not to play with their food somehow—"

• "Look at their little faces! Just leave them be."

• Warns you repeatedly about how they're going to grow up to be spoiled brats if you keep coddling them like this, but it's up to you if you listen to him or not.

• Also, don't let him fool you. He may not be particularly fond of or good with children, but he's just as weak to their pouting.

"Why are your eyes red?" Lucifer turns his head to look down at the small child before him, who stared right back. "It's weird." Children were always strange to him. His presence struck fear into the hearts of most, but children seemingly lack that sense of self-preservation that adults have, making them a mix of brave and... well, dumb. "I was born that way," he replies simply, and the child nods in understanding. "And you shouldn't call people 'weird'. Would you like it if someone said that about your eyes?" "No." The child shook its head and Lucifer nodded and reached down to pat the kid's hair. "Exactly."

MAMMON

• The week leading up to meeting your family were the most stressful days of his life. Not only were his own nerves acting up, but Lucifer's constant lectures on how to act weren't helping.

• What if MC's family hates him? What if that's a dealbreaker and they can't be together anymore? Will he spend the rest of his life chasing this feeling just to find that there's no-one who will love him like that again as he whittles away his time thinking about how he let the love of his life get away and—

• He overthought it. The kids love him.

• Mammon is actually really good with kids, if not kind of a pushover. Teenagers also tend to like him for the "rebellious vibe" he's got going on, and the fact he's easy to talk to (and make fun of). The only problem is he gives in to anything they want way too easily, and for that reason you two can't be left alone to babysit. Everyone else will come back to find out you bought an entire bouncy house.

• He, unlike Lucifer, totally gets why you coddle your siblings so much. He's prone to doing so himself, mainly with Belphie, and also has literally no perception of how humans age or what level of basic ability they're at. He treats your teenage siblings like toddlers.

• "Shouldn't we cut up her food so she don't choke?"

• "She's 16, Mammon, she can chew."

• Mammon also seems like the type to get straight-up bullied by children. You have absolutely walked in on him having been forced into a "princess tea party" with a fake tiara on and messily-done makeup on his face from your sibling's attempt to doll him up.

• Is the victim of every toddler's rough-housing phase (if you know you know). They literally jump on him and start wailing on him with their tiny baby fists. It's not like he can fight back, they're kids, so he just lays there and screams for help.

• Will later come crying to you about how he got fucking mugged and beaten by a 3 year-old. Is absolutely appalled when you take the kid's side.

• "That little shit took my money!"

• "He's just a baby! He doesn't know what he's doing! And don't swear!"

• Catch him and your sibling glaring at each other whenever they think you're not looking, because the child absolutely acts like an innocent angel whenever you're around, and you buy into it completely. Even if you didn't, you don't have it in you to punish him.

"What ya doin'?" Mammon approaches the kid laying on the floor with their schoolwork scattered on the ground in front of them. They lean to the side so Mammon can take a look at what they're writing. "Huh. Ya can spell yer name already? Nice." They give him a strange look. "...I'm 10." "...Oh." ...MC's boyfriend is weird.

LEVIATHAN

• Levi... uh... doesn't want to be here.

• It's not that he doesn't want to meet your family... well, yeah, that's exactly what it is. He's absolutely convinced they're going to hate him. Why would he leave the safe abode of his room just to go mingle with some normie kids?

• I can't imagine he's very good with children, and teenagers scare him. So, catch him hiding in a dark corner.

• He does like simply watching you go about your day with your family, though. It's an insight into your daily domestic life he never thought he'd get, and it's just really nice to him. He'd never admit he was watching if you confront him about it though.

• But... your tendency to coddle your siblings makes him jealous. Obviously.

• I mean, it's not like he wants to be treated like a child. But they get away with everything. How come his older brothers don't treat him in that overly-affectionate, loving way? Thinking about it, he'd probably hate if they did... But still!

• These stupid kids are taking away your attention, and the way you talk about them like they can do no wrong and remind them how much you love them at every opportunity is making his chest burn with envy. The only reason he isn't summoning Lotan is because it's your house and that would be rude.

• Reassure him that just because you love your siblings doesn't mean you love him any less.

• Also, if any of your siblings are into anime or at least interested in it, he's more likely to come out of his shell a little. He'll discuss any shows they've watched with them (because he's watched literally everything) and give them recommendations. Child-friendly of course.

• Keep him away from any siblings going through a "mean teen" phase. They will make him cry and you will have to talk him down so he doesn't go all demon form crazy on an actual child.

One of the kids in the house makes their way up to Levi, who is slumped back on the couch with his knees up. Levi looks up at the kid, then at his phone, then at the kid and at his phone again. He feels a bead of sweat form. Is this child judging him? "Do you have games on your phone?" They suddenly ask and Levi blinks. Damn, the meme is real. "Uh..." He clears his throat. If he doesn't let the kid play, then they'll hate him. And if the kid hates him... MC will hate him too! "...Y—yeah. You wanna play...?"

SATAN

• So, although I think seeing you treat your siblings with such overbearing affection and love comes as a bit of a culture shock to him, I don't believe he'd be super surprised that some of them have a negative reaction to it.

• He hates baby-talk or being treated like a child to any degree. He'd probably lose it if one of his brothers did something like offering to complete any kind of work for him, because it implies he isn't capable of doing it on his own. There's that scene of him in Nightbringer threatening Lucifer for force-feeding him breakfast when he wouldn't eat, and the text conversation where he tells you he wants to kill Asmo because he's been baby-talking him all day.

• He completely understands your urge to coddle your siblings, but he also understands their frustration in response to it. Will probably try to explain why you should ease up on it a little, but recognises it isn't really his place to decide.

• Kids and teenagers actually probably like him well enough. He has a short temper and isn't the best person to deal with kids when they make a mistake, especially when it's with something he considers second nature by now, but he's the type to talk to kids like they're adults and take the things they say completely seriously.

• Also encourages rebellion in the older kids because he thinks it's funny and relates hard. Probably joins in, actually.

• That being said, they aren't exempt from discipline by him, and he'll absolutely argue against you letting them off so light.

• "They need a time-out, MC."

• "They're just playing! Aren't you?" They both nod and Satan glares down at the little liars.

• "They were hitting each other and nearly broke the TV."

• Little added headcanon: Satan does not need to be forced to partake in kids' tea parties or games. He will do it willingly, but will deny it to the grave if he's walked in on. He gives me girl dad vibes.

The youngest toddler in the house waddles up to Satan with a toy phone in hand, holding it up to her ear to mimic what she's seen the adults around her do. The child then holds the phone out for Satan to take. "Bababa." Satan responds with a nod as if he understood the gibberish perfectly and takes the toy phone from her little hands, holding it up to his ear to take a pretend phone call. "Yes? Yes... mhm, mhm..." He murmurs, then looks down at the little girl before him. "Mm, she says she will not be attending unless there is baby food at this function. No? Okay." With that, he takes the toy away from his ear and holds it back out for the child to take, which she does, followed by another sentence in gibberish. "Banguguu..." "Yes, I handled it."

ASMODEUS

• Lmao he's even worse.

• Asmo is great with kids, but doesn't particularly... like them. I mean, he thinks they're cute and absolutely hosts mini fashion shows with your younger siblings. But he could never take care of one full-time because while they can be adorable, they can also be gross.

• That being said, he too is the overbearing coddler type. Not just with your siblings, but with his own too, even his older brothers. All it takes is them acting a little more affectionate with him than usual for him to fold and give them anything they want. Your own family is no different.

• He had no concerns before meeting your siblings. After all, he's just naturally so loveable — why would he need to be worried? In his mind, your siblings not liking him didn't even register as an option.

• He really didn't need to worry though, because he was right, teens and kids alike do love him. He's the perfect person to share and talk about drama with, as well as doing their makeup and recommending products. And princess tea parties? Playing with dolls? Of course he'll join you, dear!

• I wasn't joking about the mini fashion shows. He goes out, buys a bunch of clothes in your siblings' sizes and has them come with him so they can try all of them on. He takes so many pictures (he's always in the frame though).

• Joins you in being completely unable to discipline your siblings even if they clearly need it. If your younger siblings find your behaviour annoying or frustrating, then Asmo is absolutely intolerable.

• ...Kind of wishes you would coddle him like you do your siblings. I mean, he's clearly cute enough to deserve it!

"And then— get this," Asmo nods at the teen's words and leans forward a little to show his interest. "We found out, nobody could find her because she was sleeping with Jackson's brother." Asmo lets out a dramatic gasp, pausing the nail painting for a moment. "Really? As revenge?" "Yeah, 'cause he cheated first. Apparently she was going to just leave him, but wanted to make it hurt." "Serves him right."

BEELZEBUB

• Another guy who is big on family, and really wanted to make a good impression on your siblings because of it. He worried a little too much over it though, because well... he's Beel. The biggest thing you actually have concerns about is whether he'll raid your entire fridge. You know for a fact your siblings are going to love him.

• Beel is very blunt and straightforward, and so are kids. This works out for him because it results in most kids immediately being fond of him.

• Lets any younger kids hold on to his arms and dangle off of him because he's so tall. Will even give them a piggyback ride just so they can experience what it's like to be over 7 feet tall.

• He also doesn't really react much to how you coddle and fuss over your siblings. He's used to acting a similar way with Belphie, so it's hard to say he notices anything different about the way you treat them. Similar to Mammon, I feel like he also has difficulty keeping track of what humans at different ages are and are not capable of doing.

• Covers the ears of a whole ass 17 year old when he hears any swearing.

• Beel will absolutely ask you for stories about your siblings just so he can hear the way you talk about them. He knows they're probably not innocent little angels like you make them out to be, but there's just so much love in the way you tell stories of when they were younger that he can't help but listen and nod along.

• "There's the handsomest boy in the world!" You coo as you play peekaboo with your baby brother. There's silence from beside you for a moment as the child laughs in delight. You look over and Beel is just... staring at you.

• "...You too, Beel."

• ":)"

"Um, I don't think I can finish this..." He looks up at the child next to him, seeing how they poke at their food. Although the idea of being a picky eater is somewhat foreign to him, he doesn't want to force them to eat something they don't like. "It's fine," he says before covering his mouth when he realised he was talking with his mouth full. "You can give it to me." "Really?" The kid looks up at him and then slides their plate over to him. "Thank you!" Honestly, they're the one doing him a favour...

BELPHEGOR

• ...Does he have to?

• He loves you, he really does. But meeting the family means he'll have to work to keep his attitude, body language and exhaustion in check and it just seems like... a lot of work. Especially if you have a lot of siblings. So much talking.

• Belphie doesn't really like kids, but you know how when you're very young, you tend to gravitate towards the cool, quiet and closed-off relative more? That's essentially what happens here. Your younger siblings adore Belphie for some reason even though it's very clearly not reciprocated.

• As for the coddling aspect... yeah, he's used to it.

• He receives that kind of treatment from most of his brothers and doesn't particularly enjoy it per-se, but as the baby of the family, knows how to use it to his advantage to get extra privileges. When he finds out from watching you and your siblings that "acting cute" works on you as well, expect him to start doing it to get you to clean his room for him.

• On that note, he does also understand the annoyance with it. He also hates things like babytalk or being coddled constantly, he finds it tiring. He probably won't bring it up like Satan would, though. He doesn't care.

• Insists he doesn't like any of your youngest siblings but you will find him asleep with them curled up on his chest a couple times at least.

• Also a victim of toddler rough-housing because he's always laying down, so he's an easy target.

"What?" Belphie groans as a pair of tiny toddler hands repeatedly pat his face to get his attention. Finally opening his eyes, he's met with the evillest grin he's ever seen on a kid this young, followed by the little shit grabbing a chunk of his hair and yanking it. "Ow..." Belphie huffs and tilts his head away, holding the toddler back with one hand. "...You're lucky MC loves you," he mutters, then glares at the child when they immediately follow up with a slap to his arm, as if they heard him. "Stop it." The kid then manages to shuffle onto the couch, now trying to climb on top of Belphie to continue beating him. It doesn't hurt, but it's a hassle. "MC..." He calls, too tired to deal with this. "Come get your baby. I'm trying to sleep..." "They're not my babies, Belphie..."

[dwaekkicidal]

mean jeongin with a pussy pump or nipple clamps would be insane💋

i had to do a little research bc i have oddly never heard of a pussy pump before, but OH!!!

apparently one of the things it does is makes you even more sensitive??? which jeongin would eat the FUCK up i fear… he loves getting you to be overwhelmed by building you up so he can break you down (read: rearrange ur guts) but having something else do that for him on days where he’s impatient is dangerous!!!! (for you)

he will abuse this little contraption literally any chance he gets from now on.

not feeling like spending hours overstimulating you? our friendly pump will do most of the job for him in a shorter time!

simply wanting to tease you, even if you’re already horny and sensitive? pump. 🙂

hes overstimulated and needs a breather, but wants to keep making you feel good? oh no what will we- pump.

he’s like cavemen discovering fire😭 straight up in awe and making little noises as he discovers what is does and how well your body reacts to it

after he learns the aftercare, he is a man possessed…

now, im not huge on nipple clamps (solely because i personally dont often get pleasure from my nipples 😭) but i think if its something you’re ok with, jeongin would looove to use some on you

would SPECIFICALLY want the kind that connects the chains on the clamps to either a little collar/necklace or some restraints hehe

he really likes the necklace ones because they just look SO pretty on you and they’re still practical/usable enough for him to get some fun out of it (and the sparkly/gem ones really shine from his camera/video flash…)

however… the restraints one is where he’ll really get mean lol, tugging at the occasionally just to hear you squeak or cry out in surprise. likes fucking you harder than usual just to see you fight your demons over moving your arm too much

likes pulling out a vibrator and teasing along the chain and ONLY the chain to see how long it takes for you to feel it. would even stretch the chain until its almost (or IS) pulling at your poor puffy nipples, and then puts the vibrator on the lowest setting and coos when you whine when he “accidentally” runs the vibrator beside your clamp

his favorite part is when he pulls them off, and his start aftercare; consists very softly sucking your nipples ❤️sometimes just running the softer underside of his tongue over your nipples so that the rougher top side doesnt hurt or overstimulate you

[babyjinsu]

[r/TooAfraidToAsk] my girlfriend never eats the last bite of her food. ever. why??

PAIRING ⟢ anton lee x fem!reader

GENRE ⟢ reddit au, social media au, established relationships, fluff, crack, written

SYNOPSIS ⟢ a confused but amused boyfriend wants to know why his girlfriend never takes the last bite of her food on r/tooafraidtoask.

FEATURING ⟢ jaemin of nct and giselle & nigning of aespa

CHAPTERS ⟢ 002 003

STATUS ⟢ completed! (10.02.25)

💭 first ever post, first social media au too! i really like smosh so i want to try to do something reddit related... so scared so nervous, hope you guys enjoy!! xoxo.

[r/TooAfraidToAsk] my girlfriend never eats the last bite of her food. ever. why?? posted by u/braciocell • 14h ago

hi. okay, so this has been bugging me for some time now, and i feel like this is the right place to ask (hopefully). my girlfriend (20F) has this.. questionable habit where she never eats the last bite of anything. including her favourite food. like a spoonful of it. she will always leave the last bite or last sip.

initially i thought maybe she just got full, she's not much of an eater in the first place anyway. but even when she's super hungry, she does it. i've tested it by giving her smaller options, but it's the same. she just leaves tiny, sad bite like idk some kind of food sacrifice.

when i asked her about it, she just laughed, or shrugged me off with a "just for fun. it's what i do!" and doesn't explain it any further. and i never take her last piece either unless she's halfway done, and she gives the rest to me, and she never finishes my food, or she just leaves the last bite of it too. get it?

to be very honest, it's actually kind of cute. i don't know anything she does that isn't cute but at the same time like why? is this a thing? like a normal thing? am i dating someone with some kind of food ritual i don't know about?

Top Comments:

[u/56brocoli] bro maybe she's leaving food offering for the gods. have you tried doing it too?

[u/ghostslys] that's not questionable at all but i see where you're coming from. my grandma used to say that eating the last bite will give u bad luck lol. maybe she grew up with that?

[u/braciocell OP replying to u/ghostslys] i thought so too but she never mentions anything about bad luck and my girlfriend's not that... superstitious... she has two black cats in her apartment.

[u/burntoast] last bite of food is normal. but drinks too? coffee, soda? she leaves the last sip?

[u/braciocell OP replying to u/burntoast] yeah! even the last sip. she does that with matcha lattes which i'm most surprised about since she can buy those drinks up to 3 times a day hahaha.

[u/burntoast replying to u/braciocell OP] ohh i have that kind of friend. they think last sips are gross because of backwash or sumn.

[u/24friedshrimps] ask her if she ever grew up with siblings or a strict household. sometimes people learn weird habits when they grow up having to share food. maybe unspoken eldest daughter trauma.

[u/braciocell OP replying to u/24friedshrimps] she has an older brother, and she's the baby of the family. they're really close though so.. i don't think it's a sharing thing.

[u/chaotically] does she just keeps avoiding the question? everytime you ask about it?

[u/braciocell OP replying to u/chaotically] somewhat. she just laughs and says, its what i do, or why not. which i found really ??? because why arent u telling me but i never press it.

[u/realogic] my girlfriend does it too, but she feels like the last bite of the food is never as good as the rest of the meal. too soggy, too cold, too dry. so she just skips it.

[u/webearbear] why not try taking her last piece? see how she reacts. maybe she'll or her reaction will explain it.

[u/braciocell OP replying to u/webearbear] thanks! i'll report that.

[u/webearbear replying to u/braciocell OP] please do lol. lowkey intrigued. goodluck!

💭 there will be a 002 to this. so excited to write more (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[lady06reaper]

Viking x Sweetheart reader. Who on the outside is a big sweetheart who wouldn't hurt a fly. Said Viking got her from a village.

Only when alone with her husband does she cuss like a sailor and scream when she wants to. Just a overall temper (Viking finds it hot tho-)

She also acts like this around her kids (if she has any) and her kids are absolutely flabbergasted to see how their mom acts outside of home. Often getting secretly slapped upside the head when they say something smart only to realize no one saw it.

- Marshmellow (bit of a crackfic lol)

ya know, this the OPPOSITE of me, I'll cuss anytime, it's only when I'm alone I'm a total "sweetheart"

NSFW lines are slashed, the rest is SFW besides the cussing

HOW THE RAGNARSONS REACT TO YOU HAVING THE MOUTH OF A SAILOR

Bjorn wouldn't know it was coming, you were the sweet and doting wife, helping neighbors and playing with the local children

Your were a delicate flower in his eyes, but he knew you could hold your own when need be

Until you came home and slammed your dagger into the table where he was eating

"That mother fucking no tits asshole of a cunt! Who the hell does she think she is?! Talking about my damn husband in that fucking manner!"

his hand stopped mid path to his opened mouth, his eyebrows rose away from his widened eyes

did he hear that correctly? or was the mead taking effect already?

he stayed like that for a few moments until you snapped at him to say something

"Your mouth, where'd you learn to talk like that?"

little to Bjorns knowledge, you had always had that vocabulary, it just only came out when you were pissed

not to mention you prefer to keep the innocent facade up in public, but that doesn't you can't flip the switch if you get pushed more than what you did that day

More occurrences like this happened, though he was prepared to just let you go and cool off

that doesn't mean he didn't help you let out your frustrations with sex either

Now he knew that this delicate flower of his was poisonous

Ubbe had a feeling that that mouth of yours was dirty, he just never witnessed it

unless you were going down on him

the feeling stayed dormant for the longest time, until he came home to the long house turned upside down

furniture was strewn across from its original places, some were broken too

You were sitting on the throne throwing daggers at a table you had propped up on its side, cussing every time the enlarged knives left your hands

"That *thud* little dicked *thud* no balls *thud* bastard child *thud* of a fucking merchant! *thud*"

he now knew his feeling was right, as they normally were

he was grateful you ran out of daggers when he reached you, or otherwise he feared one would end up in him

he didn't need no explanation, he knew that the merchant you were lewdly referring to must've tried something on you to woo you away from him, it wasn't the first time, but you were so sweet in public that you didn't want to ruin your public look by cussing the man out in public

no words were spoken as he picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the bathtub where you and Ubbe would share a relaxing soak

Ivar knew from the start that you had a mouth, there was no way you were as innocent as you portrayed

there was always two sides to sword, he just hasn't seen your sharper, more deadlier side

until he about took your blade to his throat when he approached you in the woods while you were hacking a tree with your sword

"What's the matter my dove?" Ivar cocked his head to the side.

"That god damn fish fucking tree humping shit eating whore of woman your brother keeps closely by his side! Bitch tried to say my form was wrong during training!"

and there was your sharper edge

Ivar never understood why you kept this side hidden, especially from him

he figured it was a threat to everyone to have your meaner side out in public, and keep your softer side for him only

but Ivar wasn't you, you preferred to keep this side a secret incase you truly needed it

he thought it was hot watching those profanities drip from your mouth

like his cum did last night when you two were fucking

but, I also know that if he encouraged the sailor talk he would also receive it too, which would most likely turn into a battle of who can come up with the worst names

he liked the fiery side of you and wished you would show it more often

the villagers did not as they heard every cuss word that came out of your mouth, including the whore

[redroomreflections]

Paint It Black Chapter 1 - Cracks In The Mirror

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary, Reader disrupts Natasha’s rigid training routine, introducing her to small acts of rebellion while hinting at the dangers of being Dreykov’s favored.

W/c: 3k

A/N: I have been sitting on this for 2-3 years. Rewrote it plenty of times, but I really want this out in the world (mostly for myself, lol)

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the red room and Natasha's origins, kind of.

The room was cold, but sweat dripped down Natasha’s spine. She moved in perfect sync with the other girls, her limbs precise, her breathing steady. She didn’t dare falter. 

"Front tendu!" Tap. Tap. Tap. 

“Tendu side.” Tap. Tap. Tap. 

The words were yelled across the training room. A long, thin stick in wrinkled hands, tapping against the hardwood floors in measured beats. Girls stood in rows. All shapes, sizes, and ages. They moved their limbs with precision. There was focus and determination on every single face. A hidden wariness of falling out of line kept them from making the slightest mistake. Their bodies moved and bent to the will of the woman standing before them. The sound of feet sliding to their correct positions could be heard as the tapping of the ruler kept them going. Its tapping served as a reminder. One wrong move could be their hands, legs, or behinds. The soreness would last until the following day, disallowing them to sit or feel anything but the pain of their mistakes.

“Tendu side. Tendu back.” Over and over again. The mirror stretched across the room, reflecting each girl as they stared straight ahead, unblinking. This was routine, ingrained in them after years of practice. Ballet wasn’t just about grace—it was control. Every movement was drilled into them for flexibility, precision, and discipline.

 Madam B. walked through the small class with a heated expression. Her face was all hard lines and wrinkles. Her frown seemed to be permanently set. Her hair was pulled impossibly tight into a slick bun, leaving little room for tension and no hair out of place.

Natasha, short, thin, and less reserved than the others, stood proudly as she moved her feet. She was out of practice. Years of being away would do that to her. Her body ached with the use of muscles left untouched. Her knees buckled for a millisecond, but she fixed them. She squared her shoulders and breathed in through her nose and mouth. Her eyes never left the mirror in front of her. She was too focused.

A sharp crack of wood against the skin broke the rhythm. One of the girls flinched, her body folding in on itself for just a moment before she scrambled back into position.

Natasha didn’t flinch. She couldn’t.

From the corner of her eye, she saw you. You stood out of sync, your movements deliberate and slow, almost mocking.

Madam B’s stick struck twice against your thigh, then your shoulder. You didn’t react. Not really. A flicker of pain crossed your face before your lips curved into a slight, defiant smirk.

Natasha’s chest tightened. Trouble. That’s what you were.

"Yobanaya suka (fucking bitch)," you muttered to yourself from behind her. Natasha couldn’t help but wonder where you learned so many colorful words. She’s heard half a dozen since you chose your spot beside her almost an hour ago. She glanced in your direction, finding that you'd stepped out of position.

Madam B. tapped the ruler against the floor twice in a warning. You ignored it and continued stretching. Natasha didn’t miss the smirk that formed on your face.

You knew what you're doing.

She watched Madam B. walk over to you again, her movements quicker this time. She stood before you, her back rigid and her head held high. You looked up at her through fluttering lashes.

Madam B's lips curved into a thin, sharp smile as she stood before you, her voice cutting like a blade. "Dreykov’s prized little doll," she drawled, the mockery laced with venom. "So delicate, yet he lets you pretend you're special."

Your hand twitched at your side, a brief betrayal of the calm exterior you wore. As Madam B did, Natasha noticed, her eyes narrowing with satisfaction.

Her voice sliced through the air, dripping with derision. “Dreykov’s shining star. Always so perfect, aren’t you? Though we both know perfection comes cheap when you’re his favorite.”

You didn’t flinch. Your hand stilled at your side, and your face hardened into something unshakable, unreadable. Without missing a beat, you slid effortlessly into the next movement, your lines precise.

Madam B hovered momentarily, waiting for a crack, a tell. When none came, her sneer deepened. “Impressive,” she muttered, though her tone made it sound like a curse. She turned on her heel, the sharp click of her boots fading as she moved on, leaving you untouched but more closely watched.

Class today was boring for you. It was the same old things and the same old people. The same fifteen girls since you were four years old. Natasha has just been transferred into your age group and is a year or so younger than you. You didn’t know her that well. Only things you’d heard whispered about her from within the halls of the Red Room. Natalia Romanova is a spitfire. She’s quick-witted, fearless, and disciplined. Looking at her, you’re not convinced of any of those things. Though, you’d be a fool to think otherwise. People could be surprising.

You studied Natasha for a while.  With each extension, each plié, she navigated the dance floor effortlessly, her every movement purposeful and controlled. There was an air of mystery surrounding her, and you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

But the more you looked, the more you found her boring.

Everything about her screamed perfectionist. She seemed to have it all together and knew what she was doing. You, on the other hand, were bored. 

Determined to uncover the enigma that was Natasha, you made it a mission to learn more about her. She was your competition, after all. Dreykov whispered about her when he thought you weren’t listening. He praised her every chance he got. You needed to stay ahead.

*******

The halls were buzzing during the transition, though no one dared raise their voice above a whisper. Natasha had always imagined this was what middle school must’ve felt like—girls moving in packs, their identical uniforms blending into a single, faceless entity. White poplin shirts were pressed to perfection, black skirts were grazing their knees, and knee-high socks were pulled taut. No strand of hair was out of place; every ponytail was slicked back tight enough to ache. No individuality. No room for it.

Natasha lingered near the edge of the group, blending in but feeling distinctly apart. That was when you appeared at her side, your voice low, almost a murmur.

“Come with me,” you said, your hand brushing hers before locking onto her wrist. The touch was light, fleeting, but it made Natasha stiffen.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, pulling back slightly, though you didn’t let go.

“I’ve got a place,” you said, not bothering to explain more. “We can skip the next class.”

Natasha stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “We can’t just—”

“We can.” Your voice was steady, certain. “Unless you’d rather spend another hour listening to Madam B tear into us.” You tugged her gently, your steps deliberate as you weaved through the flow of girls. “Trust me.”

Natasha hesitated, but her curiosity—her reluctance to stand out in the hall—won out. She followed.

You didn’t stop until you reached a side corridor, the girls thinning around you—a clearing. Ahead, a door with the sign “RESTRICTED” leading to a narrow staircase stretched upward. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Keep up,” you said, already slipping through the door. Natasha followed reluctantly, trailing you up the steps, her grip tightening on the railing. 

“There are cameras,” Natasha said, her voice low and disbelieving.

“Not for another thirty seconds,” you replied, already moving toward the top of the staircase. You didn’t look back at her. “The cameras will swing back this way soon, so if you’re staying, stay. Otherwise, go back now.”

Natasha froze, indecision rooting her to the spot. She could feel the seconds ticking away, each heavier than the last.

“Your call,” you said over your shoulder, not waiting for her answer.

Natasha exhaled sharply, her feet carrying her forward before she could stop herself. The cool air hit her first, causing a shiver up her spine as she watched you. Maybe this was a trap. Maybe she shouldn’t have trusted you. 

"Don't you love being outside?" You twirled effortlessly, the movement precise, like muscle memory. When you stopped, you glanced back, catching Natasha’s wary eyes darting across the rooftop.

"This is a bad idea," she said, her voice flat, her shoulders stiff. She didn’t move from the doorway.

You laughed softly, leaning against the edge of the low wall. The wind caught your hair, tugging at the strands you sliced back. You didn’t care. “Maybe. But it’s better than listening to Madam B drone on about posture, right?”

Natasha didn’t answer, her eyes still scanning, her arms folded tightly.

“You ever do something just because you wanted to?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied her.

She finally looked at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “No,” she said, blunt and quiet. “Widows follow the rules.”

You smiled, a little sharper now, but your voice stayed light. “Rules are boring. You should try breaking one sometime.” You pushed off the wall and took a step closer to her. She didn’t flinch, but you could feel the tension radiating off her. She was too careful, too rigid.

“Aren’t you afraid?” she whispered after a beat, her voice so low you almost missed it.

You grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Of what? Getting caught? Been there, done that.” You glanced at the rooftop around you, then at the open sky. “Up here, though? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The wind brushed against your face as you stepped onto the ledge of the rooftop wall, your arms outstretched for balance. You moved effortlessly as if you had done it a hundred times—because you have. “Relax,” you called over your shoulder, the corners of your lips quirking. “I’ve been up here dozens of times. It’s fine.”

Natasha stood frozen by the doorway, her arms crossed tightly. Her eyes tracked every step you took. “You fall, I’ll get in trouble,” she warned, her tone clipped.

You glanced back at her, unbothered, and twirled on your heel like a circus performer. “Nah, I won’t fall. And even if I did, what are they gonna do? Ground me?”

“Maybe not,” Natasha said, her voice dropping, “but you’re Dreykov’s star student.”

That stopped you. Your smile faded, and you hopped down from the wall with practiced ease, landing softly. You crossed your legs on the ground and began picking at the frayed knee of your tights, pretending not to care. “So what?” you muttered, your fingers moving restlessly. “You look like you needed this,” you said, changing the subject.

Natasha didn’t move at first. She watched you, unsure, her arms still crossed as she shivered against the chill. Finally, she took a hesitant step forward, then another, until she was close enough to sit beside you. You felt the warmth of her body as she edged closer, but you didn’t shift away, even though you could feel her gaze studying you.

“I know you,” Natasha said quietly, her voice laced with suspicion. “You’re always with him. He seems to like you a lot.” She glanced at your tights, your pointe shoes, then back up to your face. “Is that where you got the key to get up here?”

“Yes,” you said simply. Then, after a beat, you added, “Not like I had a choice.” Your voice was even, but the weight of your words lingers in the air. You tapped your fingers rhythmically against your legs, your eyes flitting to the open sky.

“Why does he like you so much?” Natasha pressed, her tone more curious than accusing now.

You looked at her, then back down at your knees. “As long as he doesn’t like you, it doesn’t matter,” you snapped, the words sharper than you intended. Natasha flinched, her shoulders shrinking inward. Regret crept in, and you sighed. “Sorry,” you mumbled, your gaze drifting back to the sky.

For a moment, it was quiet. Then you spoke again, your voice softer then. “When Dreykov takes a special interest in someone, it’s not good. You don’t want that. Trust me.” Your fingers kept tugging at the hole in your tights. “But I’ve learned how to use it. It gets me things—keys, a little freedom, a little breathing room. I can mouth off sometimes, and he lets it slide. Usually.”

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. “He’s got his eye on you, though. You're all he talks about since you came back from Ohio.”

Natasha frowned, confusion flashing across her face. “Why? I’ve barely done anything.”

You shrugged, looking back up at the sky. “Maybe that’s why. Or maybe he sees something in you. Either way, you should be careful. You don’t want to end up like me.”

She didn’t reply, but you caught the flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, maybe. Or doubt."I think it's because you're a good girl. A rule-follower. Someone who knows how to distract others. I'm not. He wants you to be his best soldier."

"He wants to mold us into the perfect killers." Natasha frowned.

"That's why they make us dance," You said, "To teach us the grace and balance we'll need."

"Men like pretty girls who can do damage," You muttered. "You seem like the type."

"Oh," Natasha nodded. She's not sure what any of that means. She looked at your feet and then her own. "How old are you?"

"I think fourteen?" You tried to remember. "I'm not sure. I just had a birthday, so..."

You leaned forward, stretching your limbs until you could touch your toes. You peeked between your fallen curls to look at Natasha. She followed your every move. You sat up again to look at her.

"Do you like it here?" You asked her.

"It's the only home I know," She said, "And it's all I'm good at. Do you?"

"No," You said with a frown, "I despise this place.”

"I think we can be friends, Natalia." You held out your hand for her to take. 

“Friends?” She repeated the word as if it was foreign to her. She looked down at your hand. This could only mean bad things. But she shook it anyway. 

As you and Natasha released hands, footsteps approached from the shadows beyond the roof door. You barely have time to process the sound before a figure appeared—a tall, older soldier, maybe eighteen at most, with a roughness that spoke of years hardened by the Red Room. He had a scar that ran along his jawline, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing as it landed on the two of you. Instinctively, you straightened, keeping your face blank and ready for whatever he might demand.

“What are you two doing here?” His voice was gravelly, making you wonder what he’s been through to end this way. He crossed his arms, looking between you and Natasha with a disapproval that seemed all too familiar.

“I asked a question,” he repeats in English this time, his eyes narrowing. “This is a restricted area.” He stepped closer, and you felt Natasha’s shoulders tense beside you. You saw her instinctively brace herself, her fists tightening at her sides, but you placed a subtle hand on her arm, urging her to let you handle it.

“Just clearing our heads,” you answered calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Training has been… intense.”

He gave a harsh, humorless chuckle, his eyes flicking down to your ballet slippers and then back up. “You think any of us get to clear our heads? Or take little strolls without a consequence?” He sneered. "Dreykov lets you off the leash, and this is what you do with it?”

You could see the threat in his stance, his arms bulging, muscles straining as he clenched his fists. It's the stance of a man who knows how to cause pain. 

"I should bring you to him and tell him you've been causing trouble. He'd like that."

"And maybe we should tell him you're a bully," You didn’t back down.

"You think you're immune because he f-"

You spit on his shoe. He didn’t need to finish that sentence.

"Disrespectful little brat," He growled, reaching for you. Natasha moves before you do. However, she paused when you spoke.

"You touch either of us, and Dreykov will have your head," You promised him.

The man paused and glared. "You little-"

"I will give him the honor," You told him, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave."

"You have to go back to class anyway." He reminded you.

"Not if I don't want to," You shrugged.

He scoffed. "I'd like to see that,"

"You will," You promised, turning your back on him. You grabbed Natasha's hand and tugged her toward the door. You walked off, and Natasha was the first to speak.

"I don't like him,"

"No one does," You told her.

"Why did he call you...that? Say that Dreykov likes..."

"I'm his favorite," You told her. You didn’t say it smugly or with pride. It’s simply a fact. You couldn’t lie. She already knew. It was a secret, but it was not. Everyone knew.

"That's why they treat you differently." Natasha nodded to herself.

"They treat you differently, too,"

"Yeah, but not like they do to you," Natasha suggested.

"You have no idea," You mumbled. "Anyway, are we cool Natasha?"

"We're cool," She nodded.

"Good, now go get dressed. You can't wear your ballet outfit to the infirmary."

"Right," She nods her head. "The infirmary? Why?

"We’re going to be getting excuses from my favorite nurse,” You grinned. 

The last thing she expected when she arrived back at the Red Room was to make a friend. As Natasha headed toward the dorms, she couldn't help but look back at you, her new friend, in this cold, barren place. There’s a flicker of warmth, the briefest feeling of connection she hadn’t known she needed. Even though she’s been trained to rely on no one but herself, knowing someone understands makes the isolation a little more bearable.

---> next part

[tokiwarcube]

I have a funny thought ! How would the boys react to their s/o meeting their parents. I feel like this would be hilarious or uncomfortable for the s/o (because they may get to see pictures of the boys when they were babies/kids or some of them talking about weird topics) but downright mortifying for the guys, because they’re parents are embarrassing at times, lol !!

And it’s okay if you don’t do this one, have a nice day or night :) 

I swear, I went into this with silliness and joy in my heart. But alas, not all of our boys had... passable parents. Not angst, but some of our boys are tinged with it.

Nathan Explosion

Maybe if he smashes the photo frames, he can gouge out his eardums so he doesn’t have to listen to this anymore. He regrets ever introducing you to them, and worse, he’s wishing death unto whoever created the fucking camera. How do they have this many photos of him? How do they remember such weird shit about his childhood? How does he not remember that phase, and how did they even get that photo? He hates every moment of this. I mean really, with how quickly Rose pulled out the baby albums, its like she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life. Maybe she has. And he knows his dad has too, with how readily he’s jumping on to add details to every little story. He knows you’re never gonna let him live any of this down.

He would like a copy of him, age 10, punching Donald Duck though. Now that, that was brutal.

Pickles the Drummer

If the stories that Molly remembered weren’t so damn embarrassing, he might feel happy that she remembers so much of his toddling years. But then she’s pulling out her phone to show you the old family photos she “sent to the clouds,” and she’s zooming in on one of his baby photos, and good God, he’s about to walk into the woods and never come back. He hates that stupid polo shirt.

He chooses not to comment on how she doesn’t talk about his teenage years, and he bites his tongue when the garage discussion comes up. Place a hand on his thigh to quell his bouncing leg before he loses it, please.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

This could go one of two ways — either A.) She sets her sights on you, or B.) She doesn’t. The former is just about the most uncomfortable situation you could possibly be in, and no amount of reminders that you’re dating her son will dissuade her. When Servetta is over, Skwisgaar has learned to just keep his head down, ignore everything, and just practice his scales. But the moment she starts flirting with you? It’s the only time you’ve ever heard him miss a note.

In the latter case though, she does actually try to regale you with stories from Skwisgaar’s childhood… but they’re tinged with a sadness that frankly, I don’t think she entirely grasps. Stories of him holding her hair back in the morning, that time he punched one of her dates, or that time he walked home in the snow because he thought she forgot him at school… not all of the stories are like that, mind you, but they’re interspersed so casually with the normal ones that really, it leaves a rather heavy impression.

Toki Wartooth

He’s catatonic, and for better or for worse, doesn’t recall much of the meeting once they leave. He’s left with very faint memories, ghost-like in nature, of Anja silently encouraging you to go out on the town with her… but it’s all very foggy.

William Murderface

Now surely, murder has to be warranted in this case. How the hell Stella keeps finding him, he’ll never know — what he does know, however, is that he’s about to lose his fucking mind. Rationally, he knows that the stories she’s telling shouldn’t be that embarrassing — he still pisses in the apple bins at the grocery store, who gives a fuck? — but it’s the way she says it that just makes his anger boil and his face flush in embarrassment. You have to be the voice of reason for him, otherwise he might actually kill her this time.

[hellvst]

OFFSEASON – quinn hughes

featuring ; quinn hughes x fmc (sydney gray) & oc!brother

✮⋆˙ warning & content ; swearing

✮⋆˙ word count ; 2.7k

✮⋆˙ series masterlist – next chapter

a/n ; hi everyone, here's the first chapter of 'offseason'! i thought about making this a prologue but decided not to lol. and again, this fic is inspired by the striker by ana huang BUT make it hockey. also note that this was set around the same time as the 2024 playoffs. weekly updates unless noted otherwise and let me know if i'm missing any warnings. not really proof-read so excuse any mistakes & happy reading!

CHAPTER ONE

QUINN

I wasn’t the type to get a wave of anxiety while playing, but something about playing the biggest match of your life really does fuck you over; both physically and mentally.

The roar of the crowd was deafening, a tidal wave of noise continued to wash over me. 

My sweat dripped down my face, stinging my eyes. My lungs burned, but the adrenaline rush fueled every muscle in my body. There was no stopping me at this point. I was on a high.

Fans cheered for my team, for me, which always fired me up. I mean, I’ve always dreamed of this moment ever since I started to learn how to skate. Playing in the NHL, competing for a Western Conference title, and hopefully earning a spot to win the Stanley Cup.

It’s every hockey player’s dream. And here I am.

Game 7. A tied series against the Edmonton Oilers in the second round playoffs.

Everyone in this building was putting their faith in us–putting their faith in me to win it.

But in this very moment, I tried not to think about the immense pressure that has been put on me throughout this season. Being the new captain this year had its perks, but more importantly, all eyes were on you.

There were lots of articles and reports about me after announcing my captaincy; wondering if my team’s performance would either sky rocket, or plummet down to the ground with my new leadership in the mix. 

Everyone thought that it was a bad idea to name one of the youngest guys on the team to take on such an important role. I get it. Not a lot of people saw me as a leader since I wasn’t the loudest or biggest guy in the room. But seeing how my team’s come this far into the playoffs, I’d say I was doing pretty well. 

The scoreboard flashes: CANUCKS 2 – OILERS 3.

The game clock ticked down. One minute left. The crowd’s tension in the arena was palpable as they were on their feet.

My grip on my stick tightened when I reached the defensive zone, next to Demmer, our goalie. Eyes glued onto the puck, watching the swarm of Canucks and Oilers trying to battle along the boards for possession. 

Edmonton’s Cody Ceci got a hold of the puck, and tried to wrap around the post in front of me. 

He flicked his wrist. But my body reacted faster than I could process as my stick inched forwards in Ceci’s way. The puck bounces off my stick and rebounds off of Demko’s pads.

Fil dived forwards, swiping the puck loose in my direction.

I swiftly caught it and passed it forward to Conor Garland, racing towards the blue line. 

The Oilers were pressing hard as they closed in. Connor McDavid was breathing down Garly’s neck as he skated down, cutting the ice. He sped up ahead, but stumbled–although a piece of his stick poked the puck just enough out of McDavid’s reach.

I was too far behind, I won’t be able to get there. 

I scanned the ice, looking for anyone to take it.

“The puck is loose! And looks like McDavid will take it–AND THERE COMES SIMON GRAY!” The announcers shouted. 

Simon came out of nowhere in my line of view. 

A few seconds ago he was by the boards, but being a fast skater like himself, he easily swiped the puck and gained possession.

Gray skated towards the blue line, glancing up only to find two Oilers about to press on him. 

I caught up and flanking on his left by the blue line, Garland trailing slightly behind.

He needed to pass it, now.

“Yeah, Gray!” I yelled at him, my stick ready to wind up.

Simon ignored me, eyes kept scanning the ice for Garly or Fil, looking anywhere but at me.

What the fuck?

The clock was ticking down, twelve seconds left. We were still down by one.

I was open, wide open. Why won’t he fucking pass it to me?

Ten.

I heard Tocchet spit out a variety of curses directed at Simon, so did our teammates on the side.

My heart hammered against my ribs, my eyes reeked of desperation.

Eight.

Seven.

Frustration loomed over me and took over. I began slamming my stick onto the ice. Hard. Yelling louder than I ever had, “GRAY! PASS THE PUCK.”

He gave me a short lived glance, fleeting look of annoyance. The two Oilers were basically about to jump on top of him. 

Four.

Simon tightened his jaw as he looked at the net with hesitation. Just give me the puck.

Three.

He lifted his stick, winding it back. The crowd roared in anticipation.

Two.

He fired a wrist shot, and the puck rockets towards the net.

One.

It sailed wide, hitting the post in a sickening thud.

My head drops along with my stick. The air in the arena was thickening, heavy with the weight of disappointment. My team just stood there, appalled, as they stared into the abyss of the Oilers flooding the ice.

It’s over.

We lost.

This was the season I thought we had it; a chance to advance to the Western Conference Final, and a chance to compete for the Stanley Cup. This would have been the year for the Canucks.

Everyone expected a lot from us–from me to bring home a championship, but we lost.

I skated back to the bench, joining my teammates as they gave me consoling pats on the back and helmet.

I looked over my shoulder. My frustrated eyes found Simon, who was still on the ice, staring blankly ahead thinking about what he had done.

He was probably lost in whatever excuses he came up with.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

The game was over. The damage was done.

The atmosphere was tense. Silence filled the air with the exception of occasional clangs of the equipment being tossed onto the floor. 

Nothing was more awkward than coming back to the locker room–when you just lost one of the most important games in your life. No one knew what to say. But there was nothing worse than facing our coach who entered the room last.

Rick Tocchet walking in the locker room was like a storm rolling in–controlled, yet charged with something heavy. He wasn’t the kind of coach who needed to yell to make you feel the weight of his words. His silence did enough.

The room was dead silent as he stood in the center, arms crossed, looking down at the floor. 

I kept my head up, but I could feel the frustration pulsing off him, off all of us. He wasn’t just pissed at the loss–definitely not–he was pissed about how we lost. 

About the selfish plays, the missed connections, the opportunities that were handed to us on a silver platter but let slip away.

Finally, he spoke, his voice even but firm.

“You wanna win? Start playing like a damn team. What I saw out there was nowhere near a team that would win a championship. This is the playoffs for fuck’s sake!”

No one said a single word. We didn’t need to. We all knew exactly who he was talking about.

I slumped into my stall, jaw clenched, replaying the last few seconds in my head like an endless loop. My chest heaves as I stare at the floor. Across from me, Simon leaned back against the lockers, arms crossed, looking unfazed.

Myers shook his head, the first guy on the team to break the silence, “We had them. We just needed one more clean play.”

The others nodded, thinking the same thing.

Those last ten seconds of the game was between me and Simon, everyone in the room knew that. It was just the matter which one of us was going to speak first.

Simon wasn’t going to talk, but when had he ever? 

Being the captain, the team’s eyes fell onto me, I guess I won that latter.

I let out a sharp exhale, then looked up–directly at Simon.

“Why didn’t you pass it to me?”

Simon shrugged, clearly uninterested, “Didn’t see you.”

My brows almost immediately clashed together. Is he being serious right now? A few players exchanged looks. JT Miller, Millsy, scoffed at that, shaking his head. Simon always had a way with his words, clever tongue. There were times when he caught Millsy off guard, he didn’t like that, not one bit.

“Bullshit.”

Simon smirked, spoke in a mocking tone, “Wow. Cap is swearing now? Must be serious.”

I stood up unwillingly, the blades of my skates clattering against the rubber floor. “You know what? Yeah. It is pretty fucking serious. You don’t want to pass it to me? Fine. But you put yourself above the team, and that’s why we’re packing our shit instead of getting ready for the next round.” 

It’s not that he just chuckled, and shook his head as if this was another post-game rant that pissed me off. He looked amused to see me riled up like this. That’s all Simon ever wanted. To provoke me.

I wanted to slap that grin off his face.

“Relax, Hughes. It’s one game.” He said loosely.

As if the air in the room couldn’t be more suffocating, I was about to lose my mind.

I stepped closer, glaring at him, “It’s not just one game, Gray. It’s every damn game. Every shift. Every time you decide you would rather play your own game than be a teammate. I don’t give a shit if you’re a great player–you’re a shitty teammate, and you have been for years now. It’s not helping this team.”

Silence. Simon’s smirk faded, his jaw tightened. A few of the guys shift in their spot uncomfortably.

This was the first time I had to ever do something like this in front of them. I wasn’t really thinking once my mouth started running–which was very out of character for me, but I couldn’t help it, not when I was so frustrated. I could have said much more, but seeing the increasing tension in the room, they got the point.

JT’s voice was low, “He’s not wrong…”

Simon exhaled sharply through his nose, standing up. Both him and I are practically nose to nose now. I lifted my chin, sizing him up a bit. But it didn’t help that he was an inch taller than me. “You don’t like the way I play? Cool. But don’t come crying when I end up with more points–”

“Hughes. Gray. My office. Now.” Tocchet’s stern voice caused my head to whip to him, and so did everyone in the room.

We both traded glances–both annoyed, neither surprised. It was about time our coach pulled us apart. If Gray kept going, my fists would be colliding against his face not a second later. But I kept my cool.

There was no questioning. We just obeyed, dragging our feet to the coach’s office.

Tocchet was already behind his desk, hands firm on the armrest of his chair, eyes burning with barely restrained anger. 

Once the door was shut behind us, it didn’t take long for the man to be straightforward.

“You two have a problem.” He stared at the both of us. 

He was only stating the obvious. It has been like this for years–the moment I arrived here in Vancouver to be exact. Simon got drafted to the Canucks a year before I did, and he did nothing but give me hell, and progressively got worse each season. 

I don’t know what went wrong. There were many conversations–I tried to figure out what his problem was with me. But, he wouldn’t budge at all no matter how many times I asked.

So, I learned to tolerate him. We didn’t need to be friends as long as we worked together on the ice. I was willing and trying, but clearly he couldn’t do that either.

“Ten seconds. That’s all we needed. But instead, I got–” He gestured to the both of us, “–whatever the hell that was. Sims, Hughsy was wide open while you had two guys on you. Hell, he was so loud that the entire fucking arena heard him.”

Simon sunk further down his chair, “Coach, I thought I had it. If I had passed it to Hughes, it would’ve–”

“Would have what?” Tocchet seethed.

He was upset, all three of us were. I stayed silent, staring off into space, replaying what could have been–actually–the worst last few seconds in the season. He knew if he had given the puck to me, then I would get all the glory in the end. But, I don’t care if I had the winning goal, I never cared about that. I cared about the team. And just because Gray was his selfish, arrogant, and–

“But, Coach–”

“Sims, you don’t need to like Huggy, you just need to work together and start acting like teammates. Because next season? This bullshit stops.”  He said pointing at the two of us.

Tocchet grabs two files and tossed them onto the desk. Simon and I immediately gravitate our attention to it. “This isn’t up for debate. You two are a disaster together. So, this is my way of fixing this mess. I’ve set up a mandatory off-season program for the both of you.”

I frowned at that, reaching for the file, “Off-season?”

“What kind of program?” Simon slowly grabbed the other.

“Cross-training. Pilates. Together.”

“What?”

Both Simon and I practically bursted at the same time.

I wasn’t sure if I heard correctly, like my ears were messing with me. There was no way Tocchet was making the two of us spend our entire off-season together. 

There were no rules about how to spend your off-season, players did whatever they pleased during those four months. Some went on multiple vacations, or hung out with friends, and spent time with families. The organization didn’t care where you were or what you were doing–as long as they put in some summer training before the preseason camps starting in September.

“You’re joking…” Simon said.

Tocchet shook his head, “Does it look like I’m joking, Sims? I threw in a small surprise for you too. I was told she was the best of the best. You will be training with Sydney Gray.”

Wait, Gray? As in–

“My sister? No way in hell! I am not training with her.” Simon said, raising his voice a little. The guys on the other side of the door probably heard that, considering how silent it got out there.

“That isn’t fair. There has to be some sort of bias behind that.” I reasoned.

Since Simon rarely talks to me, I didn’t know much about his family–unless I overheard him talking about them. So, I knew he had a sister, and they seemed close the way he talks about her. Therefore, spending my summer with the Gray siblings just means a recipe for disaster.

“This isn’t up for discussion. I talked with her studio and you two are booked in. You will do these sessions with Sydney twice a week. She is one of the best pilates instructors here in the city. That means you will give her nothing but your utmost cooperation and respect.” Tocchet’s voice seemed to have dialed down, but still held some intensity behind his glare. “Because if you can’t show me that you figured your shit out by September, you’re riding the bench next season. That’s final.”

And there it was…the big drop.

I was anticipating him to whip out that card sooner rather than later. But worst of all, I knew he wasn’t joking. Rick Tocchet doesn’t mess around, at least, not with this.

“Understood?”

“Understood.”

Simon and I both sunk further in our seats, as if our world just stopped moving.

I wanted this offseason to be just how I planned. Time with my family, a chance to reset after the pressure of my first year as captain. Instead, I’m stuck with the one guy on the team who would rather shoot a puck into the post than pass to me. 

And now we’re supposed to fix it with fucking Pilates? With his sister, Sydney Gray, training us? 

Yeah…this was going to be a nightmare.

all rights reserved © 2025 hellvst. please do not copy, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[kittygowrite]

Bad jokes

Warnings: fluff? Bad jokes, Gn!reader, maybe a very slight Ghost x Reader?

An: this was supposed to be a super short drabble… I blacked out and now we have this lol. It was bouncing around my head like a ping-pong ball. Really abrupt ending but idk how to finish it 😔 (I didn’t edit it, written on my phone at literally 1am, sorry for any mistakes)

Word Count: 400+

Ghost, once you get to know him, is one of the funniest men you’ll ever meet.

He has a very particular sense of humor, but his timing is always perfect and his delivery is unmatched. Soap never fully gotten on the dad joke train, Price has grown used to sighing and shaking his head to hide the slight smile, and Gaz just rolls his eyes with a halfhearted chuckle.

So imagine Ghost getting to drop his arsenal of horrible puns onto the new recruit who’s stuck around long enough to get comfortable with the 141 guys?

He would scare the shit out of you, appearing right as you're about to knock on Price’s office door to hand in a report.

“What form is required for all members of the military?” The deep timber of his voice has you jumping and spinning to him, eyes wide. Was this some pop quiz? A test to see if you remember from basic training? You’re wracking your memory for what the hell he could be talking about.

“A uniform.” It stops you, frozen in place, still staring at the Lieutenant.

Did he seriously just make a joke?

As quickly as he had appeared, Ghost turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall, leaving you blinking and watching the space he had just vacated. It was the first of many horrible jokes to come. But he wasn’t the only one with a bad joke up their sleeve.

It had been a relatively quiet mission, Soap talking everyone’s ears off about some new explosive he learned about. He’s in the middle of explaining the different chemical compounds when you shift slightly to bump Ghost with your shoulder from where he’s leaning against a crate next to you.

“Hey, lieutenant… How do the elements stay in touch?” You ask softly, watching him from the corner of your eye. Despite the balaclava, you can see the slight quirk of his eyebrow and the subtle narrowing of his eyes as he thinks. After a pause he gives a soft grunt, signaling you to go on.

”They get together periodically…” you eye him carefully, testing, gauging how he reacts to his own style of jokes being thrown back at him. It was small at first. The slow blink as the information registers, then the corners of his eyes pinching.

And all at once, laughing cracks through the air. Deep and rumbling, so warm and full. It has the rest of the team turning to look at the pair of you, stares narrowing on Ghost who’s covering his face with a gloved hand as he laughs.

You’re left frozen once again, unsure how to react. It was a sound you’d never heard before but after a moment it had you puffing with pride. You had made ghost laugh. That was something.

An: its literally 1am im half awake… please laugh at the element joke… (as far as i know) i came up with that one and please i want to be funny ;-; As always, feedback is greatly appreciated <3

Tags: @pythonmoth @hattiefunny @daydreamerwoah @sweetheart4you