#small/medium/big sized dogs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aspenmissing · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! First of all, love your work. Second off all, could you write arcane characters with an S/O who has a really big dog? Kangal type of shit?

ᴀ ᴍᴀɴꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 5135 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴ/ᴀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ, ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ᴛᴏ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ! <3

JAYCE

It had been a few months since you and Jayce had started seeing each other, and things were going better than you ever could have imagined. The two of you had settled into a natural rhythm, full of easy conversation, playful teasing, and quiet moments that made your heart ache in the best way.

You’d told him plenty about yourself—your work, your hobbies, your dog—but you’d deliberately left out one small, important detail.

The breed.

Jayce, being Jayce, had assumed you had a small or medium-sized dog. Something manageable, perhaps a lively terrier or an affectionate spaniel. Maybe even a lapdog that could curl up in your arms.

You didn’t correct him.

You were waiting for this exact moment.

Tonight, for the first time, Jayce was coming over to your apartment for dinner. He’d been over the moon when you invited him, eager to see more of your world outside of stolen hours together in the city or at his place.

"Looking forward to finally meeting your little pup," he said with a grin as he knocked on your door, completely oblivious.

You barely held back a laugh. Oh, he has no idea.

With a smirk tugging at your lips, you unlocked the door and cracked it open. You didn’t even get a word out before chaos erupted.

A massive blur of thick, golden-red fur and sheer muscle burst through the gap like a wrecking ball, launching itself at Jayce with the force of a battering ram. A deep, earth-shaking bark echoed through the hallway as Atlas, your beloved Tibetan Mastiff, tackled your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend straight to the ground.

Jayce barely had time to let out a startled yell before he was slammed onto his back, pinned beneath what could only be described as a small bear in canine form.

"What the—?! Y/N! HELP!" Jayce wheezed as he was absolutely smothered by Atlas’s overwhelming enthusiasm.

You burst into laughter, doubling over at the sight of your massive dog sprawled across Jayce’s broad chest, eagerly licking his face with sloppy, wet kisses.

Atlas, towering and fluffy, easily weighed over 75 kilograms of sheer power and fur. His thick mane—so full it looked almost leonine—puffed out around his enormous head, making him seem even bigger than he already was. His massive paws pressed down on Jayce like he was made of paper, his heavy tail wagging so hard it nearly knocked over a side table.

Jayce, absolutely helpless, flailed beneath him. "Y/N, call him off! He’s—he’s—there’s SO MUCH OF HIM!"

Tears of laughter pricked your eyes. "I told you I had a dog!"

"You didn’t tell me you had a MOUNTAIN!" he shot back, voice muffled as Atlas joyfully slobbered all over him, his deep, pleased rumbles vibrating through his chest.

Atlas was having the best day of his life. His enormous, fluffy tail wagged harder as he panted happily, thoroughly besotted with this new human.

Finally, you took pity on your poor boyfriend. "Alright, Atlas, off."

With a low, reluctant huff, Atlas lifted his head and, after one final suffocating lick to Jayce’s cheek, heaved his massive body off of him.

Jayce sat up, breathless, dazed, and utterly covered in dog slobber.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing again.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, which now had a considerable amount of drool in it, and turned to you with a look that was equal parts betrayal and astonishment. "THIS is Atlas?" he questioned. "This isn’t a dog, this is a whole lion!"

Atlas, completely unfazed by the accusation, plopped his gigantic rear down beside Jayce and gave him a big, toothy, doggy grin, as if expecting more attention.

Jayce blinked at him, eyes wide, before slowly turning back to you. "This is what you meant when you said you had a dog? You left out the part where he’s the size of a horse!"

You grinned as you crouched down next to Atlas, scratching behind his enormous, fluffy ears. "Would you have come over if I told you?"

Jayce opened his mouth, then shut it, clearly re-evaluating his life choices. "Honestly? Maybe not." He let out a sigh, wiping some of the excess drool off his face with his sleeve. "But now that I’m here, I guess I don’t have a choice."

Atlas let out a pleased huff, his tail sweeping across the floor in happy thumps.

Jayce looked at him warily. "He’s not gonna, like… eat me, is he?"

You snorted. "No, Jayce. He’s just obsessed with people he likes. Consider this his way of welcoming you to the pack."

Jayce glanced at Atlas, who was staring at him adoringly, eyes bright, tongue lolling out in an expression of pure joy. Despite himself, Jayce sighed and hesitantly reached out a hand.

Atlas immediately leaned into his touch, practically melting under the attention, his deep, pleased rumble vibrating through his whole body.

"Yeah, yeah," Jayce muttered, watching in mild horror as Atlas lifted a massive paw and plopped it onto his lap, effectively trapping him. "I guess he's kinda cute… in a 'he could kill me in my sleep' sort of way."

You laughed, leaning over to press a kiss to Jayce’s cheek. "You’ll get used to him."

Jayce gave you a long, dramatic sigh. Then, with an air of complete resignation, he reached out and scratched Atlas under his chin, prompting a deep, rumbling groan of bliss from your oversized beast.

"Yeah," Jayce muttered, shaking his head as Atlas nuzzled into him, tail wagging harder than ever. "I think I already have."

VIKTOR

The morning had not gone as planned. Y/N had meticulously arranged for Brutus, her colossal Irish Wolfhound, to be watched while she worked in the lab, but the sitter had cancelled last minute. With no other choice, she had wrangled all 80 kilos of shaggy, excitable muscle into Piltover’s prestigious Academy, leading him down the corridors as he practically dragged her along, nails clicking loudly against the polished floors. Heads turned, students and professors alike eyeing the enormous beast with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Brutus was a sweetheart, really, but he had no concept of his own size. The second the doors to the lab swung open, the enormous dog’s ears perked up. His dark eyes locked onto Viktor, his long tail beginning to thump against Y/N’s leg with increasing intensity. Before she could react, Brutus let out a deep, delighted woof and tore free from her grasp, galloping forward like a force of nature.

“Brutus, no—!” Y/N yelped, lunging forward too late.

Viktor barely had time to glance up before he was nearly flattened, only managing to brace himself against the desk with his free hand as Brutus barreled into him. His cane wobbled slightly under the sudden shift in weight, and he instinctively tightened his grip on it, trying to maintain his balance. The sheer force of the impact made him stumble slightly, his knuckles whitening as he steadied himself. Tail wagging so hard it rattled the nearby equipment, Brutus let out a high-pitched whine of joy, his massive paws lifting slightly off the ground in an attempt to get even closer.

Y/N was there in an instant, desperately grabbing Brutus by his thick scruff and trying to pull him back. “Brutus, off! You’re going to knock him over—Viktor, are you alright?” Her voice was filled with panic, eyes darting to his leg in worry.

To her surprise, Viktor let out a breathless chuckle, one hand braced on the desk while the other tentatively reached up to scratch behind Brutus’ ears. “Well, this is quite the enthusiastic greeting,” he mused, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. There was a warmth to his tone, an openness that made Y/N pause, her grip on Brutus loosening slightly.

Brutus groaned in bliss at the attention, his enormous body relaxing as he flopped against Viktor’s legs. Y/N’s heart lurched. “Brutus, you’re going to hurt his leg—get off him!” she pleaded, trying to haul the behemoth away, her muscles straining against his sheer size.

Viktor, however, waved a hand dismissively, adjusting his stance slightly so his weight remained evenly distributed. “It is alright, Y/N. He is just happy to see me, yes?” He smirked as Brutus, completely ignoring Y/N’s protests, leaned in and licked his face, leaving a wet smear across his cheek. Viktor wrinkled his nose but still chuckled. “It seems he recognises my scent.”

Y/N groaned, still wrestling with the dog’s thick fur. “Of course he does. You’re all over me, so when I come home, you’re the smell he picks up on most.”

Viktor hummed, clearly enjoying that revelation far too much. “I see, I see.” His smirk deepened, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Then perhaps I should leave even more of my scent, hm?”

Y/N’s face burned, but before she could snap back, Brutus, completely unfazed by the exchange, let out a pleased huff and finally settled at Viktor’s feet, his head resting on Viktor’s lap as though he had just claimed him as his own. Viktor gave Y/N a sly grin, fingers running through the dog’s shaggy fur with slow, thoughtful strokes. “I believe you have lost this battle, Y/N. Brutus has chosen.”

Y/N groaned, dropping her forehead into her palm. “I can’t believe this. Now I have two troublemakers to deal with.”

Viktor laughed, full and rich, as he scratched Brutus behind the ears. “Oh, I assure you, I am much less work than this one.” He tapped Brutus’ nose, earning a happy chuff in response.

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms as she watched the scene before her. Viktor, looking more at ease than she’d seen him in weeks, a small smile playing at his lips as Brutus lay sprawled across his feet like a contented lapdog. It was ridiculous. It was unfair. It was—

Adorable.

She exhaled in defeat, shaking her head. “Fine. But you’re helping me walk him home later.”

Viktor raised a brow, smirking. “With pleasure.”

Y/N eyed him suspiciously. “Even if he decides to bolt and you have to keep up?”

Viktor tapped his cane against the floor with a small grin. “I will manage.”

Brutus let out a happy, rumbling sigh, and Y/N knew in that moment she was never going to win against the combined efforts of these two troublemakers.

JAYVIK

Jayce stood with his arms crossed, glancing at Viktor with a sceptical expression as they stood outside Y/N’s home. "She’s exaggerating, right? A ‘giant beast’? How bad can it be?"

Viktor shifted his weight onto his good leg, gripping his cane as he shot Jayce a knowing look. "You say that now, but I have learned not to underestimate Y/N’s words. If she says it is a ‘beast,’ it probably is."

Jayce scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Pfft. It’s just a dog."

Before Viktor could respond, the front door swung open, and Y/N stood there with a wide grin, leaning casually against the frame. "Finally! Took you two long enough. Come on in, the dogs have been dying to meet you."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance before cautiously stepping inside. The house was warm and welcoming, the scent of something sweet lingering in the air—maybe tea, maybe fresh bread.

But they weren’t focused on that. Their eyes immediately began scanning the room, looking for the so-called ‘giant beast’ Y/N had warned them about.

And then, from around the corner, a tiny dog trotted into view.

A minuscule, scruffy little Yorkshire Terrier with a puffed-out chest and an attitude far too big for its size. Its wiry coat was a mix of tan and grey, ears perked high with excitement as it strutted forward like it owned the place.

Jayce blinked. "That’s it?"

Viktor tilted his head slightly, studying the tiny creature with an unimpressed look. "This is the ‘beast’?"

Y/N, clearly holding back laughter, crouched down and affectionately scratched behind the little dog’s ears. "Yep. That’s Titan."

Jayce let out a bark of laughter, crouching to the dog’s level. "Oh, come on, Y/N! You made it sound like you had some monster in here!"

Titan—despite being barely the size of Jayce’s forearm—stood proudly, his little tail wagging with confidence. He yapped excitedly and immediately tried to wrestle Jayce’s fingers, gnawing at them with all the ferocity of a tiny warrior.

Jayce grinned. "Oh yeah, real terrifying."

Viktor exhaled, leaning slightly on his cane. "I was expecting something… larger."

And then the ground shook.

A heavy thud echoed through the room.

Jayce and Viktor froze.

There was a sound of something massive moving—slow, deliberate steps, heavy paws pressing against the wooden floor. The air suddenly felt different, thick with an undeniable presence.

And then they saw it.

Emerging from the hallway, like some ancient guardian beast, was a dog so massive it practically had its own gravitational field. A Kangal, broad-shouldered and powerful, with a thick, cream-coloured coat and a dark mask over its face. Its sheer size dwarfed everything in the room, towering over the furniture.

It stared down at them with calm but all-knowing eyes—assessing, judging.

Viktor instinctively tightened his grip on his cane. Jayce slowly stood up, his laughter dying in his throat.

"...A-Are you sure that's not Titan?" Jayce asked, voice suddenly a lot quieter.

Y/N smirked, crossing her arms as the enormous Kangal sat down with a heavy huff, the sheer weight of it making the floor creak slightly. "Nope. That is Peanut."

There was a pause.

A long, painful pause.

Viktor pressed a hand over his face. "You switched their names on purpose, didn’t you?"

Y/N grinned, tilting her head innocently. "I have no idea what you mean."

Titan, the tiny Yorkshire Terrier, let out a high-pitched bark, as if personally mocking them.

Peanut—who could probably take down a fully grown man if he wanted to—merely blinked slowly before gently lowering himself onto the floor with a yawn, completely unbothered by the chaos.

Jayce swallowed hard, clearing his throat as he stepped slightly behind Viktor. "So… uh… he’s friendly, right?"

Y/N gave Peanut a few loving pats on his massive head. "Oh, absolutely. Wouldn’t hurt a fly."

To prove her point, Peanut lowered his massive head onto his paws, staring up at them with the softest, kindest eyes imaginable. His tail gave a single slow wag, clearly too relaxed to care about their presence.

Jayce let out a relieved sigh. "Alright, okay. That’s not so—"

His words were cut off as something launched at his leg.

Titan, the real beast of the house, latched onto Jayce’s ankle with all the force of a miniature hellhound, snarling like he was taking down an intruder.

"WHAT THE HELL—GET IT OFF!" Jayce yelped, shaking his leg in a panic as Titan clung on with surprising strength.

Viktor, for once, looked genuinely amused. "Ah, I see now," he mused, watching the tiny terror gnaw on Jayce’s boot. "Peanut is the gentle one. This is the monster."

Y/N doubled over in laughter. "Yeah, yeah, Peanut’s a sweetheart. But Titan?" She smirked. "He’s the real beast of the house."

Jayce finally managed to shake Titan off, the tiny dog landing gracefully on all fours and immediately puffing out his chest as if he had won the battle. He let out a triumphant bark, clearly enjoying Jayce’s suffering.

Peanut, still sprawled on the floor, let out a long, lazy sigh, completely unbothered.

Jayce ran a hand down his face. "I hate this house."

Viktor smirked, giving Peanut a few careful pats on the head before glancing at Jayce. "I, on the other hand, rather like it."

Titan barked again, eyes locked onto Jayce like he was ready for round two.

Jayce narrowed his eyes. "Don’t you dare."

Y/N grinned, wrapping an arm around both of them and pulling them closer. "Oh, relax, big guy. You’ll get used to it."

Titan wagged his tiny tail. Peanut yawned.

And Viktor? He was definitely enjoying this far too much.

VANDER

The first time Y/N waltzed into The Last Drop with a mountain of fur trailing behind her, everyone assumed she’d brought a bear into the bar. The sheer size of the beast alone made Mylo shriek and scramble onto a table, clutching his drink like it was his last lifeline. Claggor, ever the level-headed one, simply blinked in astonishment, while Vi and Powder immediately rushed over to the dog with stars in their eyes.

“Christ love, what the hell is that?” Vander had asked, arms crossed, eyebrow arched as he took in the massive St. Bernard panting happily at her side.

She grinned, scratching behind the dog’s ear. “This? This is Vander.”

Vander blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Meet Vander.”

Silence.

Then Powder gasped. “She named him after you! Oh my gods, she thinks you look like a dog!”

Y/N snickered as the kids erupted into laughter. Vander pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, muttering something about 'not getting paid enough for this,' despite the fact that he didn’t get paid at all.

From that day on, the beast—Vander the dog—became a permanent fixture at The Last Drop. He would amble behind the bar and flop down with a heavy thud, taking up an alarming amount of space. Vi often used him as a pillow, Powder climbed all over him, and even Mylo begrudgingly warmed up to the enormous canine (after realising Vander the dog wasn’t, in fact, out to eat him).

Powder, however, took things a step further. She didn’t just climb on Vander—she practically lived on him. If she wasn’t sitting on his back while he walked around, she was draped over him like a particularly lazy cat. Sometimes, she’d ride him through the bar like a horse, giggling as he lumbered along, completely unbothered. She even tried tying little ribbons in his fur at one point, though Vander (the man) put his foot down when he saw the dog parading around with bright pink bows on his ears.

“Powder, get off him,” Vi groaned one evening as Vander the dog ambled past, Powder sitting proudly on his back like she was the queen of The Last Drop.

“But he doesn’t mind!” Powder protested, wrapping her arms around the dog’s thick neck. “Do ya, big guy?”

Vander the dog huffed in amusement, his tail wagging slightly.

Human Vander shot Y/N a look. “You’re letting this happen?”

She shrugged. “He likes it. Besides, it's free entertainment.”

The only problem? Every time Y/N called for her dog, chaos ensued.

“Vander! Come here, boy!”

Two heads turned. The dog’s and the man’s.

Y/N bit back a grin as she watched them both react simultaneously. The dog perked up, tongue lolling, and trotted towards her eagerly. The man, on the other hand, groaned and shot her a look. “Really?”

She shrugged, completely unapologetic. “What? You do kinda look alike.”

More than once, it led to absolute confusion. Like when Powder excitedly shouted, “Vander, wanna treat?” and both Vanders turned to her with equal enthusiasm. Or when Y/N would scold, “Vander, get your ass off the floor!” and human Vander grumbled, “I AM standing up,” while the dog remained unbothered, snoring at her feet.

The worst, however, was when Y/N, exhausted from a long day, absentmindedly muttered, “Good boy,” while patting the dog’s head—only to look up and see human Vander standing there with an unreadable expression.

“Uh—”

“Y’know what? Not even gonna ask,” Vander said, shaking his head before grabbing a pint. “I need a drink.”

Despite all the mix-ups, Vander the man and Vander the dog had an unspoken understanding. The dog was his unofficial replacement whenever he was busy, acting as a very fluffy bouncer when needed. And in return, Vander (the man) made sure the dog had the best scraps from the bar. More than once, Y/N had caught him sneaking the beast a particularly large cut of meat, muttering, "Don’t tell anyone, big guy."

As much as Vander (the man) would complain, Y/N knew he secretly loved the giant fluffball. Because, at the end of the day, she often caught him sneaking the dog extra treats or murmuring, “Good boy,” when he thought no one was looking.

And if Vander (the man) would grumble when the dog responded faster to his name than he did, well… that was just a bonus.

SILCO

"You what?" Silco's voice was flat, but there was a hint of trepidation beneath it.

"I need you to watch Goliath for a few hours." Y/N stood in front of his desk, arms crossed in a way that left little room for argument.

Silco pinched the bridge of his nose. "And why, exactly, am I—crime lord of Zaun, mastermind of an entire revolution—reduced to a dog sitter?"

"Because you're the only one I trust with him."

Silco narrowed his eyes. "I highly doubt that."

"Also because Sevika said, and I quote, ‘I’d rather risk being blew up my Jinx than deal with that overgrown mutt again.’"

Silco turned his gaze to Sevika, who merely took a swig of her drink and grumbled, "Thing nearly sat on my lungs last time. Couldn’t breathe for five minutes."

Silco sighed, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine. But if he eats anything valuable, you’re replacing it."

Y/N beamed. "You’re the best!" With that, she whistled, and a low rumbling growl preceded the appearance of Goliath—a Bernese Mountain Dog of utterly ridiculous proportions.

Thick, glossy black fur with rust and white patches made him look even larger as he lumbered into the room. His huge paws clicked against the floor, and his golden-brown eyes gleamed with excitement as he made a beeline for Silco.

The crime lord tensed. "That is not a dog. That is a bear."

Goliath panted happily, his fluffy tail wagging as he sniffed at Silco’s coat before promptly leaning against him.

"Good luck!" Y/N called over her shoulder as she made a swift exit, leaving Silco alone with the beast.

Two Hours Later

Silco was mid-conversation with Sevika, poring over a map of Zaun when he felt it.

A weight. A considerable weight.

At first, it was just a slight pressure against his legs, then a shift of movement. Then—

He glanced down.

Goliath—all 55 kilograms of him—was slowly crawling into his lap.

Silco's lips parted in silent disbelief. "…Is he—?"

Sevika’s eyebrow twitched. "Uh, boss?"

Silco remained utterly still as the massive dog wiggled his way into position, draping his front paws over Silco’s legs, his broad head resting against the crime lord’s chest.

The sheer force of the dog’s weight nearly tipped Silco’s chair back. A very real fear of toppling over and dying beneath a mountain of fur hit him.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.

Sevika, to her credit, was trying very hard not to laugh, but her shoulders were shaking.

Silco glared at her. "Say a word, and you lose another limb."

"Not sayin’ a word," she muttered, her smirk betraying her amusement.

With painstaking slowness, Silco tried to shift the dog’s weight, only for Goliath to release a deep, satisfied sigh and settle in even more.

Sevika let out a sharp snort. "Boss, I think he’s claiming you."

"He is smothering me," Silco deadpanned.

"Same thing."

"Am I the mountain in this scenario?" Silco muttered to himself, exasperated. "Because he is certainly climbing me like one."

Goliath let out a deep huff and burrowed his face into Silco’s coat, completely oblivious to the crime lord’s suffering.

Sevika completely lost it. She threw her head back, laughing in a way Silco rarely heard. "He likes you, boss!"

Silco leaned around the massive dog to fix her with a flat stare. "That is not reassuring."

At that exact moment, the door swung open, and Y/N stepped inside, taking in the sight before her—

Silco, half-buried under Goliath, looking utterly done. Sevika, doubled over in laughter.

Y/N grinned. "Aww, he chose you!"

Silco slowly turned his exhausted, soul-deep stare on her. "Take. Your. Dog."

Y/N only snorted, reaching out to scratch behind Goliath’s ears. "You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?"

Goliath thumped his tail, utterly unbothered.

Sevika grinned. "So, boss, what’s next? You taking him on walks? Maybe getting him a matching coat?"

Silco let out a long, suffering sigh. "I’m never forgiving you for this, Y/N."

Y/N, still grinning, scooped Goliath off him—though it took considerable effort. "I knew you'd be fine."

Silco muttered something about putting a bounty on his own head, while Sevika wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling.

The Next Morning

Y/N knocked on Silco’s office door, a bright smile on her face. "Hey, Silco, I need another favour—"

The door creaked open just a fraction.

Silco’s mismatched eyes met hers through the gap, dark circles underlining his exhaustion.

His voice was flat. "No."

The door shut.

Y/N blinked. Then she looked down at Goliath, who panted happily beside her.

"You really did a number on him, huh?"

Goliath wagged his tail, looking far too pleased with himself.

JINX/POWDER

/N sat on the worn leather couch, the rhythmic motion of her sewing machine filling the room with a steady hum as she worked on patching up one of Jinx's pants. The soft flicker of the lamp above cast a warm glow across the space, contrasting the chilly air that had settled into the small room. But it wasn’t the lamp's glow that kept her attention. It was the large, powerful figure of Thor, the Alaskan Malamute, who lay sprawled out beside her. His thick, snowy fur was tousled in places from the day’s adventures, and his calm, steady gaze rested on her as she worked. Thor’s size was impossible to ignore, yet his presence was so gentle, so comforting. He had become a quiet anchor in her life, always nearby when she needed him most, just as he had always been for the kids.

The sound of scuffling boots approached the door, followed by a voice that immediately lifted the atmosphere in the room.

“Y/N! Is Thor in there?” Jinx’s voice rang out, full of energy and excitement. Her high-pitched, almost sing-song tone was unmistakable. A wild grin appeared in the doorway as she bounced in, a whirlwind of unpredictable energy. Her wide blue eyes locked onto the massive dog, and without missing a beat, she practically flew towards him.

“Thor!” Jinx squealed, her voice full of pure joy.

Thor, ever the gentle giant, stood from his resting place with slow grace, his massive paws thudding softly on the floor. His wide, expressive eyes softened as they found Jinx. She didn’t even wait for him to fully stand before she threw herself at him. The moment her arms wrapped around his thick neck, Thor’s tail began to wag, creating a low thrum in the room as it hit the floor.

“Who’s my good boy, huh?” Jinx cooed, her face practically buried in his fur. She pressed her cheek against his massive, soft coat, laughing as she felt the warmth of his body radiate against hers. The Malamute’s thick, plush fur seemed to absorb all of her chaos and return it with unwavering affection.

Y/N smiled softly as she watched them. It always amazed her how easily Jinx, with her unpredictable and fiery personality, had found such a calm, soothing companion in Thor. There was a bond between them, one that was built on trust and the kind of wild, unconditional love that only an animal like Thor could offer.

“You two are inseparable, aren’t you?” Y/N mused, pausing her work for a moment, her hands resting on the worn fabric of the jacket. She looked over at the pair, her lips curving into a fond smile as Jinx continued to giggle, curling herself up against Thor’s enormous frame. The dog’s thick tail thumped the ground in approval, his dark eyes soft and relaxed.

“Yeah! He’s like... my giant fuzzy teddy bear!” Jinx exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement. Thor seemed content to just let her cling to him, his massive body completely still as he absorbed the affection.

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. The dog was built like a powerhouse—strong, robust, and as imposing as any beast could be. Yet, he was as patient and tender as a pup when it came to Jinx. There was something about him that grounded her. Perhaps it was his quiet, steady presence, or maybe it was his ability to see past the chaos of her nature and simply offer her a moment of peace.

After a few moments, Jinx’s face lit up again.

“Hey, Y/N, can I take him out for a walk? Please?” she asked, her eyes wide and filled with innocent pleading. “I promise I won’t make him run too fast. He deserves a little freedom, right?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “You know how strong he is, Jinx,” she warned gently, knowing well how hard it could be for anyone to keep up with Thor when he was on a roll. “Don’t let him drag you around, alright? And don’t go anywhere too dangerous.”

Jinx pouted playfully, giving Y/N her most exaggerated, pleading expression. “I’ll be fine! Thor and I are practically invincible together!” she declared, already bounding towards the door, grabbing his leash.

Thor’s large, dark eyes shifted from Jinx to Y/N before he bounded towards the door, his powerful frame moving with an energy that surprised anyone who didn’t know him well. Jinx was already tugging at the leash, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Alright, alright,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile as she watched them head out. “Just... don’t let him get too carried away.” She stood up and followed them to the door, a look of playful concern crossing her face.

As Jinx led Thor out into the crisp air, Y/N couldn’t help but smile, watching them disappear into the street. It was moments like these—quiet moments of calm after chaos—that reminded her how much Jinx had grown and how she had come to find her own sense of peace, even if it was in the form of a giant, affectionate dog. Thor was her companion, her protector, her furry confidante—and Y/N knew that, with him by her side, Jinx had a little piece of comfort, just like everyone else who had come to love the big dog.

Y/N returned to the couch, picking up her sewing once more, the gentle sound of the machine filling the room again. Despite the temporary stillness in the house, she knew that in their own way, they were all home.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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homestylehughes · 11 months ago

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18.

pairing(s): jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack proposing to his girlfriend, the girl he knew he would marry since he was 18.

warning(s): absolutely none. pure fluff, and cuteness :)

word count: 1.4k

authors note: hi loves!! my inner directioner came out when writing this fic! this fic is loosely based off of 18 by one direction (I listened to FOUR, the album, the whole time while writing this. 11/10 would recommend). this was so much fun to write, it kinda gives me romcom, or romantic movies vibes? I love writing jack all soft and cute. I hope you guys enjoy, like and reblog if you do! I hope you are all happy and healthy. much love as always <3

“I have loved you since we were 18, long before we thought the same things.”

Ever since Jack laid eyes on yn at 18 he knew she'd be the person he'd spend the rest of his life with. Jack can remember the day he met her, like it was yesterday. He had just got drafted by the New Jersey Devils as the number one pick, which threw him into a new life of superstardom.

In the midst of being the 1st overall draft pick, the Yankees invited him to a game, having one of the best seats in the stadium, he couldn't help but smile over the fact that this was now his life. As the fifth inning came to an end, Jack decided to make his way to the bathroom. As he walks through the busy crowd, weaving in and out of groups of people. Finally making it to the bathroom, doing his business before quickly heading out.

As he walks out of the bathroom, his phone dings from a text, pulling his phone out of his pocket to see that it's from his mom. Just as he begins to type out a response, he feels himself bump into someone. bringing his head up to see the prettiest girl he's ever seen in all 18 years of his existence, with a hot dog smashed into her chest. He's so close to her that he can see the red and yellow stains from the ketchup and mustard littered across her white as snow Yankees jersey.

“Oh my gosh” the girl says, her head hanging low as she looks at the hot dog stained jersey.

“Shit. I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.” jack embarrassingly rambles out

“It's..okay. It's nothing, it's just a jersey and hot dog. No biggie” she says, now looking at jack.

“No it's a big deal, it's my fault. Here let me help you clean up.” Jack offers, as waves of guilt run through his veins.

“Are you sure? You don't have to, don't want to waste any more of your time.” the girl says

“If anyones wasting your time it's me, come over here” Jack says, taking the hot dog from her, throwing it in the trash, before turning around to look at her jersey.

“It's pretty bad isn't it?” she asks him

“It is.. How about this, how about I buy you a new one?”

“I can't accept that, it was an accident. Plus i dont your name.” the girl says, holding her ground as she looks directly in his eyes.

Jack can't help but get lost in her eyes as they look at each other.

“Yes you will, and my names jack.” flashing her smile before grabbing her hand

“Now come with me, we're going to go get you a new jersey and a hot dog, and anything else your heart desires, got it?” Jack says, briefly looking at the girl, who sends him a nod in approval. Turning back around, as he continues walking them through the crowd.

“Yn!” she says loudly behind him

“What?” Jack asks, turning back around, confused by what she said to him.

“Yn, my name is Yn. Only fair if you know mine now” yn says with a small smile

“Well yn, what size jersey are you?” Jack asks, looking at yn, who has a slight smile on her face as she looks over all of the different jerseys.

“Umm..medium? Can I get the white one?” she asks

“Of course” Jack sends her a smile as he talks to the worker, quickly getting the jersey for the girl.

Sending the guy behind the counter a thank you, picking up the bad before handing it to yn.

“Jack..thank you so much”

“You're very welcome, now on to a hotdog” he says with a smile

“Okat only on one condition.” she says

“And that is?”

“You let me buy them. I can't let you buy me anything else today.” yn says, looking at him sternly.

“Yes ma’am”

“And so help me god if you get mayo on your hot dog, i will break down in tears.”

“Mayo? On a hot dog?” he questions

“Yes. it's sick and people actually do it.” she laughs

“ well no, mayo on my hotdog for me” he smiles to her

“Good. That's what I like to hear,” she says, lifting her head up, sending him a smile before getting in line.

Jack looks at her for a second, and in that moment he knew, hed just found the person he'd spend the rest of his life with.

–

“Quinn. I'm freaking out." Jack says as he paces on the dock.

“Jack calm down, she's going to say yes. Take a deep breath "Quinn says as soothing as he can, in an attempt to calm his brother's nerves.

“You don't know that” jack snaps at him

“Yes I do, you guys have been inseparable for the last 5 years. You two are the same person, and can share the same brain cell. She will say yes.'' Quinn says. walking over to Jack, bringing him into a hug, hoping to help calm down.

Jack pulls back after a few moments, murmuring a soft thank you, before taking a deep breath, straightening his back before turning around to look out at the lake. The calm water seems to calm his nerves for a few moments.

“She's on her way” quinn says, laying a hand on jacks shoulder giving it a squeeze before turning around heading off the dock, leaving jack alone with his thoughts.

A few moments later he can hear the sound of the footsteps on the dock behind him, turning slightly to see her walking towards him in the prettiest white dress, the bottom of it flowing in the wind as she walks.

“Hi, pretty girl” jack says while grabbing her hand pulling her to stand in front of him

“Hi” she says breathlessly like she'd been holding her breath the whole way here.

“I don't really know where to start but I'll start by doing this,” Jack says before slowly dropping down to one knee. Yns hands quickly move to cover her mouth, as she looks down at Jack with tears welling her eyes.

“Yn. you've been my rock, my best friend, my biggest supporter, and most importantly the love of my life for the last 5 years.”

Yn lets out a choked sob that causes Jack to pause for a moment, to regain his breaths he can feel his eyes beginning to water, as he continues.

“I knew you would be the person I'd spend the rest of my life with the moment I crashed into you, spreading mustard and ketchup all over you. Even at that moment I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. Thank you for always making me feel seen and loved, I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without you. I love you, and I promise I'll love you forever, until my heart gives out. So would you do the greatest honor of being my wife?”

“Yes. yes. A million times yes, jack.” she says as she struggles to hold back her tears as she launches herself onto jack. The both of them wrapped in each other's embrace, tears of joy falling from both of their eyes.

Jack pulls back enough to slide the perfectly cut, sized ring onto her hand. the ring going on perfectly, as if it was the last piece of the puzzle, laying perfectly on her hand.

“Jack it's beautiful” yn beams at him, tears still falling, hitting her cheeks like raindrops on a window.

“Not as beautiful as you” Jack says, bringing his fingers under her cheeks wiping them away.

“I love you” she says

“I've loved you since we were 18, '' Jack says softly before pulling her into a kiss.

“I wanna love like you made me feel, When we were eighteen”

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #new jersey devils #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagine #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes

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cosmica-galaxy · 2 months ago

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Yapping about Cookie Run and Humans

So, I just wanna take a moment to yap about the cookies from Cookie Run and humans. We know that there are some obvious differences between humans and cookies, such as humans having flesh/blood/bones/and apparently a very strong form of magic. Also, humans are HUGE in cookie run.

For example, I was talking to a friend who also plays cookie run and they stated that the cookies are around 8.75 in height.

This is a visual of that.

Humans are pretty big and they are bigger than the dragons even. My friend said that Pitaya in his dragon form would only be as big as a small dog or a medium/smallish dog in height in comparison to humans. Also, apparently the Witches don't leave their dwellings? Because they don't wander around in the overworld. Any cookie that escapes the witches are not pursued and are allowed to run out into the world to do whatever they want, the witches don't chase them down or hunt them. So, that makes me wonder if the witches are either confined to their dwellings or take on a different form if they do leave their homes. (As walking at that size would be enough to cause tremors and break environments, like trees and such) Another thing that I think is pretty neat is that humans are probably eldritch horrors to cookie kind. Being made of material that isn't sugary/savory/foodish in appearance would probably be unsettling to look at. But, it also makes me think of a story that was about a human eating the flesh of an eldritch god and gaining forbidden knowledge and senses by doing so (and being driven mad as a result of this). I wonder what would happen if a cookie tasted witch flesh or drank a drop of witch blood...? Likewise, I also wonder what would happen if a human WAS wandering around in the overworld. No doubt their path would be obvious and they would 100% be the top predator in ANY environment they are traveling through. Imagine an ecosystem that is usually so noisy with life being so disturbingly silent because a large predator is in the area. Like some Jurassic Park level shit. And if a cookie manages to befriend a human? They would easily be either the most respected cookie or the most feared.

Befriending an eldritch being that isn't made with the materials your world is made from, has an appetite for your fellow cookies (arguably, their human companion can also completely abstain from eating any cookies and it's just the cookie friend that is saying that shit), and is capable of powerful magic/attacks? While being bigger than a dragon and having acidic saliva that can break down sugar and sweets with ease? A true terror. The Order of the Fork would definitely have an interest, that's for sure. I'll probably write something like this because the short "lone giant" stories from a certain tumblr user is giving me brainworms. Thanks for reading my rambles.

#haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #crk x reader #crk #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x you #crk x y/n #humans and cookies #rambling

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quirekey · 6 months ago

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TFP autobots as Cats/kittens

[ headcanons ] + [ Lmao i had fun ]

[ includes: Optimus, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Arcee, Ratchet, Smokescreen and Wheeljack ]

—•—•—

Optimus Prime:

Optimus would be a pretty large kitten. A vibrant blue, red and white coat with larger and tall ears. Pretty big and seemingly cute-serious eyes. Medium amount of fluff!

- Optimus probably meows a hella lot, yapping about some random stuff. He definitely sits on your lap and meows at you all day with those big ol’ eyes. You may be busy but then he spawns and just starts rambling about some sort of leadership stuff.

- He isn’t too affectionate when you're busy, but the second you start relaxing then he will just loaf on you. Your leg, chest or any available and empty spot on your body, it’s his favourite spot!

- He’s a very pristine and clean little boy, always licking to keep himself looking fancy schmancy! He will paw at you if you don’t clean yourself, pawing and leading you to the bathroom, it’s fair if you are offended.

- Honestly very agile and fast for a larger cat, but only running around outside. He doesn’t wanna make a mess. He loves to run around alongside you if you do exercises like jogging.

- He does get along with others, being a charming little cat that talks a lot definitely would charm any human but not too many cats, silly boy. He would want to get along with every cat and kitten.

—•—•—

Bumblebee:

Bumblebee is a furry little fella with folded ears. A yellow and black striped coat that is full of fluff! Puffy and long tail and black lil’ paws that are grippy and adorable. Smaller than the average cat also.

- He definitely chats a hella lot, no matter where and no matter what. You will hear him talking to your half-sleeping body, pawing at your face as he mewed at you.

- He may as well be a dog due to how attached and clingy they are compared to other cats. Bumblebee always is just clinging onto you with his claws on your pants, meowing until you stop and pet him, and he’s very persistent when he does it too.

- Has a habit of being clumsy. He would try to jump onto a counter and slam his face into it instead, crying after. He would slip off tables and accidently break glasses.

- He’s just a bit skittish, just a bit. He will see anything and either run at it with full force or jump and run off, it’s just a 50/50. He’s very random when it comes to being either skittish or aggressive.

- Loaf all day, no matter what. Loaf in cup, loaf on bed, loaf on couch! He would mostly wanna loaf on your lap, loud purrer too. He likes to just turn into a loaf in the most random spots too, it’s honestly strangely cute.

—•—•—

Ratchet:

Ratchet is a fuzzy cat, not a fluffy one. He doesn’t like the big coat type of look and prefers a simple one. Little ears that are always down like he’s grumpy 24/7. Medium sized body and tail. Red and white coat.

- Always is away watching some sort of interaction or thing. He is loafing at the window seal, watching birds. He’s sitting on the counter, watching you clean the dishes or just watching the trees move in the wind. He does get into things very easily.

- He isn’t too playful and is pretty sleepy. He’s an old cat that isn’t too active so he’s just laying around. He is just curled up in a ball in his bed all day and never will play with a toy.

- He will demand attention if he wants it and demand you to go away if he doesn’t. He sometimes gives mixed messages but you just pet him anyways because he’s cute.

- He hisses a hella lot, a little feisty boy. If you do anything that he doesn’t like, hissing. If you pet him too much, hissing. If you pet him too little, hissing.

- Ratchet seems like the type of kitty to not care too much about pats until you start actually petting him. He will show that he doesn't want any pets but once you start petting him then it’s game-over.

—•—•—

Bulkhead:

Bulkhead is a large and bulky looking cat. Fuzzy and furry. He’s a round fella with a round, mini tail. He has smaller feet and small ears that twitch a lot. Chonky kiki with a dark green coat.

- Absolutely grateful!! Give him any toy and he is forever grateful, playing with it every single day. Get him cat food and he will meow at you so much with a cute, big-eyed expression.

- Bulkhead is very affectionate. He’s always head-butting you for pats, pawing at you when you're just sitting around and nuzzling onto you whenever he wants. He always wanted to sit on your shoulder but he’s too bulky to :(.

- He loves to squish himself into things. He’d try his best to squish into a mug a lot, happy and unaware. He absolutely loves boxes that perfectly fit him and is like liquid when you hold him.

- He’s very very aggressive and messy. He may just start running around and dropping your items onto the floor, having fun while being messy. You sometimes call him a little wrecking ball but also yell at him a lot.

- He’s a little troublemaker, loving to make a mess to just tease you for fun. He will only not scratch up the couch and make a mess if you yell at him a lot, because he’s afraid of you when you're mad.

—•—•—

Arcee:

Arcee is a tiny kitten. She has light pink and tall ears that are filled with white fur. She has a half fuzzy and half fluffy coat that is coloured blue. She has big eyes that always look like she’s concentrating, diluted quite often.

- Arcee enjoys hiding in little and dark places. You’ll find her oftenly sneaking around and snuggling into smaller places. Under the draws or maybe just in a pile of clothes. She enjoys the small and dark places.

- Arcee loves being a squishy girl. When you pat her, she wants you to squish her and hug her in your hands, meowing for squishy hugs.

- She loves being a shoulder buddy. What I mean is that she wants to sit on your shoulder and adventure with you, everywhere! Observing what you see and being your little partner.

- She’s a fighter, she’s definitely a fighter. She will attack you and hiss and scratch if you yell at her or just make a sudden move that scares her. She always is on guard and will hiss at anything that somewhat frightens her. She may see someone that's playfully attacking you and start scratching them, though she’s a tiny little kitten.

- She actually doesn’t load too often, it’s a pretty rare occurrence. She’s normally just sitting down or curled in a ball, she just dislikes the loaf. There is only one place she’ll loaf at and that’s in your lap.

—•—•—

Smokescreen:

Smokescreen is a pretty medium sized cat, probably just the average one. He has more fuzz than fluff and a pretty long tail. He has pointy ears that point straight up. He has a pretty clean red, blue and white coating.

- Smokescreen is one childish kitten. He’ll do a lot of dumb stuff that even a dumb cat wouldn’t do. He would maybe attack a lamp because he looked at the bright part of it or just attack a foggy reflection of himself. Yes, he ran into glass before.

- He literally copies everything you do. Jumping on a trampoline? He will join you like a little goof. Talking way too much to him? He’ll do it back, meowing like crazy. He’ll do anything you do because he admires you and sees you as his parental figure, because you are.

- The boy sometimes gets too eager or rowdy and tries to parkour a lot. He would jump onto a counter and try to jump onto the fridge, failing miserably when he actually tries. He doesn’t cry but is definitely upset.

- Smokescreen is 24/7 curious about what you're doing. He will knead and paw at you when he sees you, waiting for you to tell him what you're doing. He’ll jump onto you and meow at you relentlessly until you get him involved too.

- LOVES chin scratches. His favourite part when you give him affection is when you itch his little chin. He will purr loudly when you do this, wanting to make it as obvious as possible to show you that he enjoys the scratches.

—•—•—

Wheeljack:

Wheeljack is one tall kitten. He has big ears that are very twitchy and animated. He’s pretty fluffy and has an even fluffier coat around his neck. He has a white coat with red and green streaks.

- Wheeljack is a rambunctious kitten. Always making a mess no matter what you do. He will shove glasses off, scratch up your couch and kill all of your plants. He does it for fun and is very active.

- Wheeljack loves being independent. He will always want to do things himself and lovingly fail. Sometimes you may try to grab something off the shelf for him but he just jumps up to the shelf and knocks it off himself. Usually it’s a toy so it won’t break (unless you get unlucky and he starts going into that little rampage of his again.)

- He is very aggressive when you start loving him. If you pat him too much, he will start biting and kicking you aggressively but not to the point where you’ll draw blood. He just likes to fight you playfully and it does sting but it’s adorable!

- The boy is a massive rebel when coming to house-rules. You yell at him and he will not listen at all. You may literally tell him the same thing over and over but he will pretend that you aren’t even there and just walk off.

- Surprisingly he’s really quiet and chill once he burns out of his rebellious moment, just cuddling with you and barely meowing at all. Sure he may just paw at your face but not often at all. He does purr really quietly.

#transformers #transformers prime #arcee #tfp arcee #tfp #tfp bulkhead #bulkhead #wheeljack #tfp wheeljack #smokescreen #tfp smokescreen #bumblebee #tfp bumblebee #optimus prime #tfp optimus prime #ratchet #tfp ratchet #headcanons

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a-leg-without-fear · 9 months ago

Note

hello my love lovely mutual!

congrats on 200 followers leg 🦵 you are an actual rockstar!!!!

can i maybe order a medium mocha with my papi Logan. that man needs some soft in his life

LOVE YOU BABES

- Sybil

I love you too, Syb!! Thank you so much, lovely :) <3 One medium mocha coming right up!!

"I made this for you..."

You looked up from where you sat at your desk, research essays on Pablo Picasso stacked on top of the paint-stained surface. The last bits of sunlight leaked through the drawn curtains in your art classroom. Streaks of oranges and pinks illuminated the drying pottery your students had worked on that morning.

Logan stood next to your desk. Flannel sleeves rolled up around his elbows, white tank top splotched in red clay, jeans dusty around the hems. An apprehensive, almost nervous, frown stretched at his face. You glanced down at what he held in his hands.

A small, rough-around-the-edges, clay whale sat in his outstretched palm. It was a little uneven in its proportions, the flippers too big for its head, but it was absolutely adorable.

"Oh my God, Logan!" you gasped. You gingerly plucked the thumb-size figurine from him and cradled it in your palms. This was the most perfect gift you had ever received from anybody.

"You don't gotta lie if you don't like it," Logan grumbled, hand rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck.

"Shut up, grump," you breathed. You gently set the whale on your desk, on top of the papers you needed to grade, and threw your arms around Logan's shoulders. The sudden movement was met with an "oof!" and Logan tentatively placing his hands on your hips. You pulled back to look him in his hazel eyes, "I fucking love it. You're gonna need to make me more. I want a whole pod!"

Logan groaned, shrugging your arms off and stepping away from you as you giggled. You leaned back on your desk.

"I ain't making more. One and done," Logan groused. You laughed at his reluctance, taking one of his large hands in both of yours.

"At least one more? So this one isn't so lonely?" you pleaded, sticking out your bottom lip to really sell it. Logan groaned again while rolling his eyes. You kept up the puppy-dog face until he looked back to you.

He sighed, "Fine. One more. That's it."

this is very silly and cute. hope ya like <3

#logan howlett #wolverine #hugh jackman #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine fanfic #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fluff #wolverine fluff #murdock tuna team #200 followers celebration #writing prompt #request fulfillment

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muiitoloko · 2 months ago

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Operation Dog Flap

Summary: Frank Benson, once feared on the battlefield, meets his greatest foe yet: the family dog door. Recovery comes with butter, bruised pride, and a bit of tenderness.

Pairing: Frank Benson × Fem! Reader & OC

Warnings: None

Author's Notes: I don't know why, but I like to write about Frank being domestic. 😅 This story is based on "The Barber, the Boy, and the Bloody Disaster," but you don't need to read it to understand this one.

Also read on Ao3

It was 1:56 a.m. when Frank Benson, retired Lieutenant General, former pillar of the British Army, and current drunken idiot, staggered down the quiet street toward his house.

He was overdue. By hours.

He’d told you—promised you—that he’d be home by eleven sharp. “Just a poker night with the lads,” he’d said. “I’ll be back before you know it. No fuss.” And you, being far more generous than he deserved, had even packed him a flask, kissed his cheek, and warned him not to drink too much.

He had, in fact, drunk too much.

He had no bloody idea how much he paid the cab driver. Could’ve been fifty quid. Could’ve been his bank card and the deed to the house. He didn’t care. Not in that moment. Not with the cold air biting at his face and his coat clinging half-open because he’d forgotten how to button it.

He shuffled up the steps of the porch, boots thudding heavily on the wood. The light above the door was off. No lamp in the window. No flickering telly glow from the sitting room. You’d gone to bed. Of course you had.

Frank reached into his pocket, then frowned.

He patted his coat, then his trousers. Then checked his other coat pocket—only to pull out a crumpled receipt from the kebab place near the base and a cigarette lighter he didn’t recognize.

“Bollocks,” he muttered, his baritone roughened by cold and whiskey. “Left the damned key... somewhere.”

He stared at the front door. It stared back, unyielding and proper. Frank rapped on it with more force than necessary, his knuckles thudding against the wood.

“Darling!” he called, slurring just slightly. “Sweetheart! Open the bloody door!”

Silence.

He tried again, louder this time. “Thomas! It’s Daddy! I lost the key—open up for your old man, eh?”

Still nothing.

Frank squinted at the windows, scanning for movement. He spotted none. Not even Max, the scrappy mutt you’d adopted six months ago after he wandered into your garden and promptly stole Frank’s sock.

“Max!” Frank hissed. “Come on, boy! Help your bloody provider!”

Still. No. Answer.

He picked up a few pebbles from the garden and lobbed them at the upstairs window.

Clink.

…Thunk.

That last one had missed the window entirely and hit the gutter. Still no lights.

Frank groaned, turning in a slow, dizzy circle on the porch, arms outstretched in confusion. “She’s ignoring me. I’m locked out. In my own sodding house.”

He sat on the steps with a dramatic sigh, grumbling to himself about betrayal and dishonor and how, in his day, the enemy at least announced they were locking you out before leaving you to freeze.

The cold bit deeper.

Frank sniffed, crossed his arms, and stubbornly muttered, “Fine. I’ll sleep right here. I’ve slept in trenches colder than this.” He settled onto the porch like a man preparing for a siege.

Then—

A thought. A wonderful, horrible, drunk idea.

Frank slowly turned his head toward the side of the house. Specifically, to the dog door.

He squinted.

Then stood.

Then waddled—slowly, determinedly—down the side path until he stood over the small flap installed in the back door. It was just big enough for Max, a medium-sized mutt. Not quite a terrier, not quite a shepherd, not quite anything definable.

Frank studied the flap with the sort of tactical precision he had once reserved for military reconnaissance.

“…I’ve fit into tighter spots,” he muttered.

And then, without further thought—because thinking was a young man’s game—Frank dropped to his knees, hiked up his coat, and began to shimmy his way through the dog door.

It went poorly. His head passed through easily enough. So did his shoulders, just barely. But once his chest and soft belly followed suit? He got stuck.

Firmly. Utterly. Stuck.

Frank groaned, trying to push himself forward. The flap creaked. The frame protested. His hips did not budge. Half in and half out, his arse stuck outside and his chest mashed against the kitchen tiles, Frank let his forehead drop to the floor.

“Well done, Benson,” he muttered, his voice echoing in the dark. “Broke into your own home. Through a dog flap. Like a common burglar.”

A soft noise drew his attention. Pawsteps.

Then—

Lick.

Max appeared from the shadows, tail wagging and tongue lolling. He gave Frank’s face a long, wet lick, tail thudding against the cabinets.

“Oh, sure,” Frank grumbled, flinching slightly as the dog cheerfully assaulted him with kisses. “Now you show up.”

Max barked, clearly delighted by this midnight intrusion. Frank sighed again, long and dramatic, like a man who had fought valiantly and lost to his own foolishness.

“Fetch Mummy, would you?” he murmured into the floorboards. “Tell her her bloody husband’s stuck in the dog door.”

Max gave another bark, trotted in a circle… and then curled up beside Frank like it was all perfectly normal.

“…Traitor.”

He lay there for what felt like a small eternity. Long enough for the whiskey to fade into a dull headache. Long enough for the shame to settle properly.

It was going to be a long night.

It was just after eight o'clock when you padded barefoot down the stairs, a warm robe wrapped around you, your hair still tousled from sleep, when you caught sight of something strange in the kitchen doorway. You stopped. Squinted. Then blinked.

There, half-inside the house and half-outside, was your husband—Lieutenant General Frank Benson, retired, decorated, terrifying to half the military world—wedged firmly in the dog door, arms flat on the tiles, arse up to the heavens, coat rumpled, and muttering to himself.

You stared for a beat.

Then burst out laughing.

Frank groaned without lifting his head. “Go on, then. Get it out of your system.”

You staggered into the kitchen, one hand clutching your stomach, the other bracing against the wall as you gasped through your laughter. “Frank! What—what the bloody hell happened to you?”

“I got locked out,” he grumbled, his baritone muffled against the floor. “Forgot my key.”

“And naturally, the dog flap seemed the logical solution,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes.

Frank scowled sideways. “Didn’t exactly have options, woman. I knocked. Repeatedly.”

“Oh, I bet you did.” You leaned closer, hands still trembling with the effort not to fall into another fit of giggles. “You could’ve used the spare key.”

Frank went still. Slowly, his hazel eyes lifted to meet yours. “What spare key?”

You stared at him. “The one in the ceramic vase beside the door. The one I told you about when we moved in.”

A beat. Silence.

“…We have a spare key?”

You blinked again. “Of course we have a spare key. I told you about it three years ago, Frank!”

“No, you bloody didn’t!”

“I absolutely did! When we moved in—”

“I thought that was a metaphor!”

You blinked. “…What the hell kind of metaphor would ‘the spare key is in the vase’ be?!”

Frank huffed, his white hair sticking up wildly in every direction, his hazel eyes peeking up from inside like a guilty dog caught chewing a slipper. “Well, how was I supposed to know it was literal? You say a lot of things, woman.”

You sighed dramatically, crouching down and trying not to laugh outright. “You absolute idiot,” you muttered fondly, tugging at his coat. “Alright, come on. Let’s try and get you out of this mess.”

You grabbed his arms and began to pull gently. Frank groaned dramatically. “Ow. Ow. That’s my shoulder. Woman, if you rip something, I’ll haunt you.”

“Stop complaining,” you muttered through clenched teeth, tugging harder. “If you weren’t shaped like a stubborn badger, you’d be free by now.”

He grunted as his chest scraped against the threshold. “I knew I heard the postman laughing earlier. I’m sure of it. You’ll have to kill him, darling. No witnesses.”

You groaned, laughing breathlessly. “You’re not even sorry, are you?”

“Deeply humiliated,” he said solemnly, “and completely wedged.”

You sat back on your heels, frowning. “Right. We’re not getting you out this way.”

“I’m beginning to gather that, yes.”

You stood and wiped your hands on your dressing gown. “Alright, two options.”

“Do I want to hear them?”

“Too late. Option one: I call the fire department.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Option two,” you continued, ignoring him, “we butter you.”

There was a long silence. Then Frank let out a sound of pure, aged despair and pressed his forehead to the floor again.

“Oh, for the love of—please don’t make me choose between public humiliation and being basted like a Christmas turkey.”

You smirked, reaching for the butter dish. “Your call, love.”

And that was precisely the moment Thomas decided to wake up. He padded into the kitchen in his little dinosaur pajamas, rubbing one eye with a tiny fist. “Mummy? Why’s Daddy lying on the floor?”

You froze. Frank groaned louder.

Thomas blinked, then stepped closer—slowly, cautiously—until he got a better view of the scene. The dog door. The butter in your hand. His father’s large, undignified form halfway through the wall.

And then he laughed. Loud and free and delighted. “Daddy got stuck in the doggy hole!” he sang at full volume. “’Cause he’s too fa-at, he’s too fa-at!”

You burst out laughing again, unable to help yourself. Thomas was now dancing in little circles, chanting, “Fat Daddy! Fat Daddy!” like it was the best song he’d ever invented.

Frank lay very still, expression unreadable. “This is the end,” he muttered. “This is how I go.”

“Thomas,” you gasped through your laughter, placing the butter down before you dropped it. “Thomas, darling—stop that, it’s not kind.”

Your son paused, frowning. “But it’s true…”

Frank groaned. “Tell him I fought in five conflicts and received three commendations for valor. Tell him I once negotiated a ceasefire with six armed insurgents.”

You grinned down at him. “Sweetheart, right now you couldn’t negotiate your way past a house pet flap.”

Frank closed his eyes. “I’m divorcing you.”

You bent down and kissed the top of his white hair, your smile soft despite the tears of laughter still in your eyes. “You can try. But you’ll need to get inside the house first.”

From beside you, Thomas giggled again, now lying on the floor with Max, gently poking his father’s arm. “Can we still butter him?”

Frank groaned. Loudly. “For the love of all that is holy—someone get the bloody olive oil. We’re out of butter.”

It took the better part of fifteen minutes, two kitchen towels, half a bottle of olive oil, and one exhausted child for the operation to succeed.

You had circled around the back of the house, armed with determination and a level of amusement you tried—unsuccessfully—to suppress. There was your husband, Lieutenant General Frank Benson, half-wedged in the dog door like some ridiculous caricature of himself. His arms were limp on the kitchen tiles, face mashed against the floor in resignation, while Max lay beside him like this was the most entertaining morning of his life.

"Alright," you said, crouching down behind Frank's generously proportioned backside. "On three, I push. Thomas, darling, pull Daddy’s arms, gently. Not his ears this time, please."

Thomas, cheeks flushed with excitement, nodded solemnly from inside. “Yes, Mummy. I promise. Not the ears.”

Frank muttered something unrepeatable into the floor, but you ignored it. Instead, you slicked your palms with the olive oil and gave his hips a firm pat. "Ready, soldier?"

"No," Frank growled. "This is undignified. This is a bloody war crime."

"One," you said cheerfully.

“Christ alive—”

"Two—"

“You’re enjoying this far too much—”

"Three!"

You shoved. Thomas pulled.

Frank let out a noise that could only be described as a strangled honk, limbs flailing as his hips finally gave way. There was a slick, sudden pop, and Frank Benson—former high-ranking military officer, chub-hipped and olive-oiled—slid through the dog door like a greasy sack of potatoes, collapsing unceremoniously on the kitchen floor in a tangle of limbs and wounded pride.

You stumbled inside after him, barely able to contain your laughter, while Thomas cheered as if he’d just watched his father complete an Olympic feat.

"Mission accomplished!" the boy squealed, throwing his arms in the air.

Frank lay sprawled on the cold tiles, arms to the side, eyes closed as though contemplating his entire existence. You leaned over him, brushing back the mess of white hair that clung to his damp forehead. "Are you alright, love?"

He opened one eye. It burned with quiet betrayal. "I’m fine."

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you stepped back anyway, giving him space. He sat up slowly, wincing as he twisted his shoulders, his face tightening into a grimace that made your amusement falter.

“I’m going upstairs,” he muttered, getting to his feet with effort. “Just… give me a moment.”

You nodded softly, watching as he trudged up the stairs, the back of his coat still faintly stained with olive oil. Thomas tugged on your sleeve. "Can I have a sandwich?"

"Of course, sweetheart." You rustled his hair gently and moved to the fridge, pulling together a quick peanut butter sandwich, cutting the crusts off the way he liked. You handed it to him with a kiss to the crown of his head and a soft “go watch cartoons, darling,” before following Frank up the stairs.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar. You pushed it open quietly, peeking inside.

Frank stood near the bed, shirtless, his back turned to you. He was applying cream to the angry red marks on his sides, the skin slightly raw where the dog door had left its indelible insult. The lamplight painted a soft glow across the white of his hair and the slope of his shoulders, now broader with age but still strong. His skin, thinner than it used to be, bruised more easily these days, and as your eyes traveled over his frame—sturdy but weathered—you felt the swell of something tender rise in your chest.

You stepped inside and closed the door behind you. “You missed a spot,” you said softly.

Frank didn’t turn. His baritone, rough with fatigue, responded quietly. “Let me have a little dignity, woman.”

You crossed the room, taking the jar from his hand. “You’re allowed to feel humiliated. That was… a lot.”

He huffed, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “It was a bloody disaster. I used to lead troops across warzones. And today, I got stuck in a door meant for a dog.”

You gently smoothed cream over the red marks at his side, your fingers light but firm. He flinched at first, then relaxed under your touch. “You’re not twenty-five anymore, Frank,” you said, your voice soft, soothing. “Your body’s earned the right to protest a bit. You’ve spent most of your life putting it through hell.”

He was quiet for a moment, eyes cast downward. Then he muttered, “I used to be a soldier. Now I’m just… old. Soft around the edges. Getting wedged in bloody furniture.”

You stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at you. His hazel eyes met yours, tinged with frustration, with shame.

“You’re not just anything,” you said, firm now. “You’re Frank Benson. My husband. Our son’s hero. The only man I’ve ever met who could negotiate an international crisis one day and get stuck in a dog flap the next.”

That earned a ghost of a smile.

You cupped his jaw, thumb grazing the hooked bridge of his nose, the one you always teased him about. “You’re still handsome. Still strong. Still sharp. You just need to be a little kinder to yourself. This body of yours has done more than most. It’s earned a few quirks.”

Frank let out a slow breath, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look like a man who lived.” You leaned up, brushing your lips against his. ��And a man I still find unbearably attractive, by the way.”

He gave you a pointed look. “Even half-basted in olive oil?”

You grinned. “Especially then.”

Frank chuckled—really chuckled—and pulled you into his arms, his body still warm and solid despite the stiffness, the soreness. “I’ll never live this down, will I?”

“Not a chance.”

He sighed against your hair, holding you close. “At least the boy’s happy.”

You nodded, your voice muffled against his chest. “He thinks you’re a superhero.”

Frank kissed the top of your head, his voice low and fond. “Let’s hope he never finds out how much it hurts to be one.”

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #frank benson x reader #frank benson

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