#stealing from the vending machine

[zarla-s]

not good numbers, gaster

[index] [patreon] [comicfury]

[cuepickle]

Mr “this is the last time I ever-“

[phantomrev]

Uhhh ninjago-sona / oc or whatever bc I’m silly and full of whimsy

They’re broke and like to draw whatever they find cool

[pickaropoprocks]

Day 47!! Chiikawa!!

[the-knife-consumer]

Had a dream last night about a gravity falls game where you play as young Stanley having to sneak around and lie to stay out of trouble with Filbrick. It wasn't really a horror game but it had a lot of horror game-like mechanics and there was a general sense of discomfort the entire time.

The only quest I can remember is one where Stanley gets a bad report card while Stanford gets a good one. Filbrick is out doing business until tomorrow so you have until the morning to try and make it look like you got good grades. There's an option to use white out on Stanford's card while he sleeps and write your name instead.

You could also get future readings from mom, who would give hints on what will happen to you next so you can start setting up lies and stealing in advance instead of scrambling to cover yourself last minute. (If you could figure out what the readings were hinting at. They got progressively more vague as the game went on, going from "I hear" and "I see", to "I feel")

You didn't get to see what happened when Filbrick caught him, it just cut to a game over screen. You could be caught and sent to your room three times before this happens (which ends the quest you're on. Because you failed to lie well enough). There is no way to win. The game would just keep going with scenarios until you lost or gave up

There was a vending machine on the board walk that had warped reflections in the glass that corrected itself when you looked at it head-on

[tessiex17]

SMILING AND KICKING MY FEET THIS IS SO CUTE

Performance and talent

This is a sequel to this comic

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 .    (  a collection of  mixed action prompts.   adjust phrasing as desired.   potentially mature content within.  )

[ 1. ] sender steps between receiver and an aggressive stranger, voice low and steady: "walk. away."

[ 2. ] sender teaches receiver self-defense, hands firm on their hips as they adjust their stance.

[ 3. ] sender presses their forehead to receiver's, voice breaking as they murmur, "i don't know how to fix this, but i'm not leaving."

[ 4. ] sender shoves receiver out of the way of a projectile.

[ 5. ] sender combs their fingers through receiver's hair in the aftermath of a traumatic event, whispering words of comfort.

[ 6. ] sender whispers, “i’ve thought about this all day,” before pinning receiver against a wall for a searing kiss.

[ 7. ] sender wipes away the receiver’s falling tears with their thumb and whispers, “i’m here."

[ 8. ] sender patches up receiver's wounds, hands trembling as they whisper, "you can't keep doing this to me."

[ 9. ] sender shoves receiver into a hiding spot, hissing, "stay here or i’ll kill you myself."

[ 10. ] sender finds receiver drunk at a party, sighing. "let’s get you home."

[ 11. ] sender is discovered sleepwalking by receiver.

[ 12. ] sender steals receiver’s weapon and presses it to their own chest, daring: “go ahead. prove me right.”

[ 13. ] sender ‘accidentally’ flashes receiver while changing, purring, "see something you like?"

[ 14. ] sender whispers, "you’ll ruin me," before biting receiver’s lip hard enough to draw blood.

[ 15. ] sender takes over while receiver is giving themselves stitches, promising to handle it.

[ 16. ] sender frantically grips receiver by the shoulders, "don't you dare close your eyes."

[ 17. ] sender fixes receiver’s crooked [ tie / jewelry ], teasing, "nervous?"

[ 18. ] sender shakes receiver out of a nightmare, comforting them in the aftermath. "same nightmare again?"

[ 19. ] sender brings hot tea and medication to a [ hungover / ill ] receiver.

[ 20. ] sender invites receiver to dance with them, insisting, "what? this song's perfect."

[ 21. ] sender leaves a single rose on receiver’s windshield with a note: "you’re being followed. smile."

[ 22. ] sender pins receiver’s wrists during a sparring match, grinning, "yield."

[ 23. ] sender playfully steals something from receiver, initiating a chase. "come and get it, then."

[ 24. ] sender drapes a blanket over receiver, accidentally waking them. "sorry, go back to sleep."

[ 25. ] receiver returns home only to find sender already there. "finally."

[ 26. ] after a pleasant night out together, sender asks: "can i kiss you goodnight?"

[ 27. ] sender wipes the blood from receiver's face, murmuring, "let's get you cleaned up."

[ 28. ] sender shoves receiver against a vending machine to dodge security, breathless. "act natural."

[ 29. ] sender wakes receiver in the throes of a nightmare, reassuring them, "it's okay, it's not real."

[ 30. ] sender purposefully antagonizes receiver, hurling insults; "what are you gonna do about it?"

[solaceseven]

high school sweethearts

pairings: gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, sukuna x reader

summary: jjk characters as high school boyfriends

genre: fluff

SATORU — steals your notebook just to doodle silly hearts and stars in the corners, grinning when you notice. sends you selfies with dumb captions like, “thinking of u during math :)” always ends up next to you, even if it means switching seats without permission. buys your favorite snacks from the vending machine. drapes his jacket over your shoulders when you forget yours. always has to be touching you in some way—holding your hand, resting an arm around your shoulders, or tugging you closer by the waist as you walk. playfully tugs at your hand in the hallway until you finally hold his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly. steals kisses when no one’s around, his laughter soft and warm against your skin. is the class president but lets you get away with anything, flashing you a cheeky grin whenever someone calls him out on it.

“satoru, i have to go,” you mumble against his shoulder as he traps you in a loose hug, swaying both of you gently in the empty hallway. “five more minutes,” he says, voice muffled as he presses his face into your neck. “you said that five minutes ago.” “exactly, so one more won’t hurt,” he grins, pulling back just enough to steal a quick kiss. you laugh softly, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “i’m seriously going to be late.” “nooo, wait,” he whines, tightening his arms around you for a second before giving you another kiss, slower this time. you sigh, smiling against his lips. “you’re impossible.” he grins, leaning his forehead against yours. “yeah, but you love me.” “unfortunately,” you tease, finally breaking free. “hey!” he calls after you with a pout. “at least say it back!” you glance over your shoulder, rolling your eyes playfully. “i love you too, now go to class, dummy.” he chuckles, watching you leave.

SUGURU — always waits outside your class, no matter how far his own is, greeting you with a soft smile and a quiet “ready to go?” ties your scarf for you when it’s cold, his touch gentle and thoughtful. listens patiently to every rant, every story, every little detail about your day. lets you nap on his shoulder during study sessions, brushing his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. helps you study, sliding his notebook toward you with the answers already written out, whispering, “i’ve got you, don’t worry.” if you get frustrated, he chuckles softly, resting his hand over yours, “relax, you’re smarter than you think.” soft smiles across crowded hallways and even softer glances when you’re not looking. and if you don’t like someone? he doesn’t either—no questions asked. “if you’re not a fan, why would i be? i’m on your side. always.”

“and then—ugh—he just kept going on and on about how this assignment is ‘so simple,’” you huff, taking another bite of your food mid-rant. “like, maybe it’s simple for him, but some of us actually need time to process things!” geto hums softly in agreement, resting his chin in his hand as he watches you with an amused smile. “mmhm, sounds exhausting.” “right?!” you nod, waving your fork around. “and don’t even get me started on how—” he reaches out gently, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “you had a little something,” he says quietly, showing you the crumb he wiped away. your cheeks heat up as you blink at him. “oh… thanks.” he chuckles softly, eyes full of warmth. “keep going, i’m listening.” you pause, blinking at him for a moment before gazing at him softly, eyes filled with quiet affection. then, you lean in to press a quick peck to his lips. geto blinks, surprised, before chuckling softly, his smile growing. “oh! let me tell you about this girl in history,” you suddenly say, eyes lighting up as you jump into another story.

KENTO — always offers to help you study, even when you insist you’ve got it, sliding his notes toward you without a word. shares one side of his earbuds with you during breaks, quietly asking, “this song’s good, right?” and stealing quick glances at you while you’re not paying attention. remembers every small detail—your favorite snacks, the books you want to read, the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re concentrating. walks you home in comfortable silence, the kind that feels easy and familiar, occasionally asking if you’re cold and offering his blazer if you are. not big on pda, but his hand always finds yours when no one’s looking, squeezing gently like a quiet reassurance. when you’re overwhelmed, he gently scolds you for not taking care of yourself—“you need to rest,” he says softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles—but you know it’s because he worries. helps you solve the hardest problems during study sessions, leaning close to explain them in that calm, steady voice of his.

nanami finds you sitting on the library floor, textbooks scattered around you, and a tired pout on your lips. he sighs softly, crouching down beside you. “overwhelmed?” he asks gently. you nod, rubbing your eyes. “i’ve read the same sentence like ten times.” without a word, he settles next to you, close enough that your shoulders touch. “let’s go through it together,” he offers, opening his notebook. you smile, leaning your head against his arm for a moment. “you’re too good to me.” “i just don’t want you stressing yourself out,” he says, flipping through pages. “besides, someone has to remind you to take breaks.” you roll your eyes playfully. “sounds like you’re calling me a mess.” “not a mess,” he corrects, glancing at you with a soft smile. “just… someone I care about.” your cheeks flush as you nudge him lightly. “smooth.” “practical,” he counters, placing an earbud in your ear and pressing play. “now focus. and don’t fall asleep on me again.” “no promises,” you murmur, smiling as he rests his hand over yours while you both start studying.

SUKUNA — teases you endlessly, calling you ridiculous nicknames just to see you roll your eyes, but the moment someone else tries? his sharp glare is enough to shut them up instantly. only attends school events or the clubs just to spend more time with you, grumbling about how boring it is but never actually leaving your side. acts like he doesn’t care, but always waits for you to finish your school activities just to walk you home, carrying your backpack for you without a word, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. flicks your forehead when you’re being stubborn let’s you wear his jacket and grumbles, “don’t lose it.” casually holds your hand like it’s no big deal, but squeezes it just a little tighter when he thinks you’re not paying attention. tugs you away from your friends during lunch, finding a quiet corner to steal kisses from you,

“where are we going?” you whisper through a giggle as sukuna tugs at your hand, leading you away from your friends and down a quiet hallway. “you’ll see,” he mutters, finally stopping in a secluded corner where no one’s around. you smile up at him, slightly out of breath. “hi.” he grins, leaning against the wall with his usual ease. “hey.” for a moment, neither of you say anything, just smiling at each other like idiots. finally, you whisper, “i missed you.” his smirk softens just a little. “yeah?” “yeah,” you nod, cheeks heating up. he chuckles softly, reaching up to gently touch your cheek with his hand. “you’re so cute,” he mutters before leaning down to kiss you, slow and sweet.

[hellhouse-of-horrors]

i hate how much people mischaracterize nat.. she has possibly the strongest core moral system of all the yellowjackets. aside from laura lees, probably, but laura lee’s morals come at least in part from her faith, nat’s come from the fact that she is genuinely just a good person. she is verbally against icing anyone out of the group. she is against stealing (she only took the candy she paid for when she broke the vending machine). she worries about the group noticing jackie not pitching in so she wakes her up in the morning. she has to be talked down and held back because she tries so hard at first to save javi.

nat is a good person and just i feel like a lot of people just put her in the box of “chaotic morally fucked baddie” but that’s not rlly who she is..

[himasgod]

ACE X READER

Where he sleeps in your bed

Where he breaks a rule and hides from Riddle in Hearstlabyul, sleeping the night with you

This may be my favorite thing I've written about Ace in a long time so enjoy it

You’d just settled in—blanket pulled up, eyes heavy, the usual creaks of Ramshackle blending into your nightly routine—when there was a loud thump outside your window.

Another thump. Then a muffled curse.

You groaned into your pillow.

“If that’s another ghost dragging around, I swear I’m moving into Deuce’s closet.”

Then came the knock.

You didn’t even need to get up to know who it was.

The door creaked open before you even got there.

“Ace,” you deadpanned, arms crossed as you took in the sight: disheveled, slightly out of breath, and very much not supposed to be here.

He held his hands up innocently.

“Okay, before you say anything—”

“You broke a rule again, didn’t you?”

Ace grinned. “Technically, yes. But also technically… Riddle didn’t say I couldn’t charm the vending machine for extra snacks.”

You stared. “So you broke into Heartslabyul’s vent again.”

“I enhanced the student experience. Look, I just need to lay low tonight. Riddle's on one of his ‘I’ll string you up by your ankles’ moods, and I’m not risking it.”

You sighed, dragging him in by the sleeve before one of the ghosts decided to start interrogating him with a lantern.

“I’m not cleaning up your mess if he turns you into a lawn ornament.”

“I knew you loved me,” he said with a wink, plopping down onto your bed like he owned the place.

“Get off.”

“There’s literally nowhere else to sleep in this haunted shack.”

“I’ll take the floor.”

Ace caught your wrist before you could grab an extra blanket.

“No way. You get the bed every other night of your life. We can share.”

You hesitated. He was warm and annoyingly familiar, and… okay, maybe the idea of kicking him to the floor did feel a little heartless.

“…Fine. But if you hog the blanket, I’m pushing you off.”

“I accept your challenge.”

The silence was weird once the lights were off. Not uncomfortable, just… noticeable.

You were both facing away, careful not to brush shoulders. The bed wasn’t made for two. Your knees almost bumped. Your feet definitely did.

“This is weird,” you muttered into your pillow.

“Only if you make it weird,” Ace said, voice low, like he was almost asleep already. “I mean, it’s just me. You trust me, don’t you?”

“…Yeah. I do.”

Silence again. But this time, heavier.

Then, quietly, like he wasn’t sure he should say it—

“You smell nice, by the way.”

You blinked into the dark.

“What.”

“Nothing. Shut up and sleep.”

But his back inched closer. You didn’t move away.

You woke up to sunlight… and Ace's arm around your waist.

His breath was soft on your neck. Your legs were tangled. His entire body was wrapped around yours like this was normal, like he always belonged there.

You froze.

He didn’t wake up. Just murmured something about “don’t steal my cards” and pulled you closer.

You hated how good it felt.

You also hated that this was definitely going to happen again.

You woke up to the sound of Grim shrieking.

“WHAT THE TUNA HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!”

You didn’t even get the chance to move before the blanket was yanked back—Ace groaned beside you, arms still around your waist, face buried in your shoulder like he didn’t realize what year it was.

Your brain caught up exactly two seconds too late.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no.

This looked so bad.

“Grim, it’s not what it looks like,” you croaked, voice barely functional.

“Oh yeah?” Grim snapped. “So it’s totally normal now for you to cuddle the tomato boy in bed like you’re in some kind of cheap drama?!”

You tried to sit up, but Ace just… clung tighter. His hand slid across your stomach, and you felt him grin sleepily against your neck.

“I’m not a tomato,” he mumbled, still 80% asleep. “I’m a hot horny tomato.”

You smacked him with a pillow.

He blinked awake, finally lifting his head—and froze when he realized where exactly his hand was.

His fingers tucked under your shirt, caressing your abdomen tbh.

There was a pause. Just a second. And in that second, your hearts were both screaming.

Then—

“Oh.”

“Get the fuck out of-”

“I’M NEVER UNSEEING THIS.”

After forcibly evicting Grim (who swore he was going to "call the headmage and then the exorcists"), you and Ace just sat there on opposite sides of the bed, knees pulled up like awkward kids at summer camp.

“…Sooooo,” Ace started, rubbing the back of his neck. “That happened.”

You stared at the wall. “Yup.”

“Not that, like—not that it was bad or anything. You’re just… warm. And you didn’t kick me. Which was cool. I thought you’d elbow me in the face, honestly.”

“I thought you’d hog the blankets. Or snore.”

“I don’t snore—hey, rude.”

You finally looked at him. And he was blushing. Actually blushing. Ace Trappola, king of smug confidence and shameless teasing, looked like someone had hit him with a confusion spell.

“I didn’t hate it,” you said, too quietly.

Ace blinked. “What?”

You shrugged, suddenly interested in the hem of your blanket. “I didn’t hate waking up like that. It was kinda… nice.”

He went silent.

Then—nervously, a little too quick—he said,

“Yeah. Yeah, same. Not that I wanna make it weird, or whatever, but… I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

You stared.

He panicked.

“Not like that! I mean—only if you’re cool with it, and only because the bed is warmer with two people, obviously. Strictly practical. Like a roommate thing. Totally platonic.”

“Right. Platonic. Yeah. Of course.”

He nodded. You both avoided eye contact like professionals.

The silence stretched.

“…Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re still wearing my pajama pants.”

“...Oh. Whoops.”

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, the GCPD and the Batfamily having a dysfunctional working relationship would be hilarious. Like, the cops know they need the Bats to help keep Gotham’s streets clean, but man, they are fucking troublemakers.

Take Dick, for example. He’s already naturally at home in a police station, so he’ll regularly waltz into GCPD headquarters to give pointers on cases, act as a translator, and will occasionally bring donuts for the night officers. But he’s also been trying to get them to unionize since 2009 and will also unabashedly steal things from the evidence locker. (He always returns it, usually with the adjacent case completed, but it’s a lot of red tape and that’s very annoying.) He also fucks up the coffee machine every time he uses it.

As for Jason… On one hand he is excellent at tracking down perps that have escaped custody or gone to ground. It’s not uncommon for him to pull up with a van full of criminals on the wanted list, which is great… expect for the fact that Jason is also on the wanted list. So whenever he shows up the GCPD cops have to put in effort (minimal as it may be) to try and “capture” the Red Hood so that they don’t get audited by Homeland Security. So now like once a month they have to chase the Red Hood across Gotham proper, because he handed the Penguin into their custody or something, and they have to look good for their bosses—it’s a waste of resources and really fucking annoying, but, hey, they got the Penguin?

Surprisingly, Tim and Stephanie are the most frequent visitors of the GCPD—and they are also the most dreaded. Because Tim is a plucky little know-it-all, but also he can and will update their entire database in a single night and will, at random, solve a cold case they’ve been sitting on for 20 years. The problem is that he’s just fucking annoying about it, and every other week he’ll break into the vending machine to steal the energy drinks—that shit is impossible to get replaced. And Steph? She’ll talk the ears off the night shift and get everyone off task, because they’re busy gossiping about the accounting department in the Manor’s office and planning a prank war on the fire department.

You would think Cassandra would be everyone’s favorite because she’s quiet and much less destructive then her siblings, but you’d be wrong—Cassandra is an absolute menace and the night shift workers have spent years trying to prove it. She will sneak up behind people, leave random pebbles in people’s shoes, and will put googly eyes on anything she touches. The day shift thinks the night officers need to chill because, “isn’t she the chill one?” (No. No she is not. None of the Bats are chill.)

And then there’s Damian. As Robin, the closest he usually gets to the GCPD is through Batman, via his consultations with Commissioner Gordon. But on the rare occasions he’s permitted inside the GCPD, he is dotted on extensively by the officers. He’s deadly and abrasive but they love him. They give him candy and head pats and let him use the sketch-artist supplies to do drawings, which they religiously pin to the break room refrigerator. Damian will pretend to despise this despite the fact that he so clearly loves it.

Lastly, there’s Duke. As the only day shifter, he’s widely considered to be the most well adjusted and relatable Bat. Half a year into his tenure as Signal, he’s on a first name basis with half the GCPD, has his own locker and fridge space for his lunchbox, a coffee mug with his logo on it is kept in the break room, and he’s already been nominated for Employee of the Year despite the fact that he does not actually work for the GCPD. The night shift refuses to accept that he is real.

[seumyo]

more dad!shouto content to cleanse my soul.

Truth be told, your 8-month-old son, Shuu, also loved hearing you monologue. He looked at you like you hung the moon and back, adoring you in the form of giggles and tiny screeches.

You sat on the couch with your legs thrown over the armrest, cradling a drowsy Shuu against your chest. He was in his favorite onesie—the one with tiny bears holding umbrellas—and he kept pawing at the necklace you always wore, his fingers clumsy but insistent. His head rested snugly beneath your chin, warm and soft, and every so often, he let out a quiet coo that melted your heart like butter on a stack of pancakes.

Todoroki was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, flipping pancakes like he was born to be domestic. Those cooking classes you encouraged him to take were finally paying off. The sun made his two-toned hair glow, and the sight of him wearing a pastel-pink apron with little strawberries on it—your favorite apron—shouldn’t have made your heart flutter, and yet here you were, contemplating the absurd luck of it all.

“…Mhm,” you hum to yourself, your voice light with disbelief. “I really did that.”

Shuu babbled as if agreeing with you, patting you collarbone with a tiny hand.

“Yes, baby. I mean, look at him,” you continued softly, speaking in that conversational tone one uses when there’s an audience of one infant. “He’s gorgeous. Objectively. Like—did you see those cheekbones? And the whole broody, mysterious hero thing? I bagged that. Me. Charisma? Carried. Humor? Came in clutch. This face? Okay, she helped, but bub, she needed backup.”

You gently kissed the top of Shuu’s fluffy head, then glanced toward the kitchen again, eyes trailing over the quiet, graceful way Todoroki moved. He plated the pancakes with care, added a few slices of fruit on the side, and dusted it with powdered sugar like he was on a cooking show.

Yummy.

The pancakes and your husband the fruits.

You could only blink.

“Your dad used to make girls stammer just by looking at them. Real stoic, jawline-of-the-gods, tragic past and all. And then here I come, tripping over my own shoes, telling jokes about haunted vending machines and crying over animated penguins in documentaries, and somehow—somehow—he looked at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the room.”

You adjusted Shuu slightly, mindful of his tiny head as it lolled sleepily against your shoulder. You pat his back softly, knowing once he burped, he’d be off to dreamland.

“I still remember our first proper date. I had spinach in my teeth the whole time, and he didn’t say a damn thing until the end of the night, and then just—‘You have something green in your teeth, but it was cute so I didn’t mention it.’ Who does that? Who says that?”

Oh, the horror of that memory.

Shuu blinked up at you, eyes slowly drifting closed.

“Your dad. That’s who,” you said with a half-laugh, booping his nose. “And I married him anyway. Because even when he says the weirdest stuff, he means it. He really means it.”

You rested your cheek against your baby’s head again, humming softly.

“You’ve got my eyes, you know,” you whispered. “And his pouty mouth—god help you. That pouty look on your face is going to let you get away with most things. I’m so sorry in advance, and you’re welcome—in a way.”

Todoroki chose that moment to walk over with two plates, setting one down on the coffee table and handing you the other. “Sorry I took a bit longer,” he said, glancing at the baby nestled in your arms. “Did he fall asleep?”

“Almost,” you replied with a warm smile, accepting the plate. “He likes hearing me monologue about how your genetics were blessed and how I saved our child from mediocrity with my superior charisma.”

Todoroki blinked at you.

“Is that what that was about?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” you teased, lifting a forkful of pancake to your mouth. “You were towally into me from day one.”

“I was,” he admitted with zero hesitation, sitting beside you and stealing a bite from your plate—which made you quietly gasp, swatting at his arm softly. “You were very loud.”

“I was confident.”

“You called my scar mysterious and then compared it to a toasted marshmallow.”

...

“In my defense, it is very marshmallowy in vibe. And you know, I ran my mouth like crazy back then.”

Todoroki hummed noncommittally, then leaned in to brush a kiss against your temple. “You were funny,” he murmured. “Still are.”

You raised your brow.

“Were? You think the material’s gone downhill?”

“No,” he said with a faint smile. “I’m just used to it now. Doesn’t catch me off guard anymore.”

You gasped, scandalized, but Shuu made a tiny distressed noise at the sudden jostle, so you immediately shifted back into Mom Mode and soothed him with gentle rocking.

Todoroki watched you with the kind of adoration that made your heart skip a beat, and then, without needing to say anything, he took over—slipping his arms around Shuu and lifting him from your chest with all the care in the world.

“Come on, little guy,” he said softly, resting Shuu against his shoulder. “You’ve been glued to Mom all morning. Let’s give her a break.”

Shuu snuggled right in, immediately settling down. He even yawned, so cute and soft with his rounded cheeks—like a dumpling. You melted.

“Okay, yeah,” you murmured. “You’re still totally out of my league.”

Todoroki looked over his shoulder. “Good thing I chased you until you let me in your league.”

You let out a helpless little laugh, covering your face with your hands. “Ugh, you’re so smooth and pretty. Shuu, I hope you inherited my charm, because if you inherited both your Daddy’s looks and his mysterious aura, the world’s not ready.”

“I think he got the best of both of us,” Todoroki said simply, brushing a hand over Shuu’s soft hair.

And you couldn’t argue with that. Not when their little boy had now fallen asleep peacefully against the chest of a man who never once asked for perfection—only presence, only warmth. Somehow, your bad puns, big heart, and late-night rambles had been enough.

More than enough.

Yeah. You really did that.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[wonubby]

my boyfriends...? A CAT ?! - K! BAKUGOU

a bakugou birthday special

wc - 4.6k

skipping some classes to help fight villains wasn't something new to bakugou; in fact, it's become a routine. he'd heard the news that there were some villains in the area and would join the pros with a couple of his classmates.

however this time, the only thing different was that the villain was someone new, and their quirk? a mystery. none of the heroes at the scene could figure it out, as the quirk kept changing! it was truly mind-boggling.

"how the hell is that bastard doing this? he must be a quirk stealer," bakugou muttered to the boy beside him.

kirishima could only break out into a smirk at his friend's claim, "yeah? then we better test that out. i say we charge at him; if he's a quirk stealer, he might steal only one. you in, dynamight?"

"tch, you challenging me, red?" that was all the confirmation the redhead needed to set off with an attack.

the pair worked well together, always meeting each other halfway. whether it be with studying, sports or fighting, the duo complemented each other; everyone could see how well their dynamic was.

bakugou on one side and kirishima on the other, the villain was cornered. just as they were about to attack, their nemesis mummbled something under their breath, blasting an attack at the hot-headed hero, causing him to disappear.

kirishima gasped in shock, quickly tackling the villain down. around him, chaos erupted; the pro heroes were jumping around trying to find bakugou.

the villain was taken from kirishima, immediately put in handcuffs and questioned on what happened to bakugou.

"where did dynamight go?" one of the civilian onlookers said in shock.

the red-headed boy glanced around in search of his best friend, his eyes hopping from place to place. just as he was about to turn around, kirishima caught sight of some movement under bakugou's hero suit.

"huh...?" he slowly crept towards the suit, ears catching a strange sound.

'is... is that a cat?'

as kirishima inched closer, the sound got louder. oh yeah, it was definitely a cat.

lifting up the black pieces of clothing, kirishima was greeted with the unexpected sight of a cat hissing at him with a scowl.

"aw, what a cute kitty! what're you doing under bakugou's clothes, hm?" kirishima cooed, grabbing the cat.

unfortunately for him, the second he lifted the cat towards his face, he was attacked by scratches.

"what the hell — ack!" the cat growled, yowling at the boy.

kirishima pulled the cat away from his face and met the icy stare of its vermilion eyes. oh.

bakugou was the cat.

"THE FUCK?"

cat bakugou scratched the boy again, letting out an aggressive 'mrrowr. the heroes and civilians stopped their actions, glancing at the two boys with dropped jaws.

"wait, is that... dynamight?!" a young girl called out from the crowd, invoking havoc.

all might jumps in, quickly saving kirishima from the assault.

"young bakugou... or cat bakugou? I'm not sure, but stop attacking red riot!" now it was all might's turn to receive a beating from the sharp claws.

a sigh escaped your lips as you patiently waited against the wall for your boyfriend, who was late. bakugou was never late, but because he had been roped into a sudden villain attack, you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

your eyes trailed around the area, swinging from the wall to the vending machine that finally had your favourite drink.

"i guess one wouldn't hurt," you mumbled to yourself.

just as you punched in the code for the drink, the phone in your pocket started vibrating intensely. turning your attention away from the machine, you grabbed your phone, opening it to see messages from the class-1a group chat.

'what nonsense are they talking about now?'

the chat loaded, immediately bombarding you with cute pictures of a fluffy, persian cat with what might've been the softest fur you've ever seen. all the pictures came from kirishima and sero, causing everyone to gush over the cute bundle of fur.

letting out a small 'awww' at the kitty, you quickly type back a response.

Y/NNIE awww kiri, where did you find the cat? ROCK HARD um.. you see, that's kind of what i need to talk to everyone about... IZU-KUN go ahead kirishima! CUM SQUIRTER (MINA) can we save whatever u wanna say for later? rn js come back to the dorms with the kitty!! im sure momo could make some cute clothes for her!!! ROCK HARD ykw sure, but its a boy and he scratches so be careful KIRBY (uraraka) im sure we'll be okay we deal with bakugou on a daily basis YNNIE speaking of kats... where is he? he was supposed to spar with me after the villain attack ROCK HARD he's here with me now, but it's a bit confusing. i'll explain better when we reach the dorms. YNNIE okiee, I'll head back up and meet everyone in the common room!

kirishima didn’t reply after that, which only made your curiosity spike. something was off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. quickly grabbing your drink, you headed towards the common room.

the walk wasn't too long, but the thoughts of the cat and your boyfriend clouded your mind. thinking of the way the two of you could look after it and play with it! just the thought of your big, burly boyfriend playing with such a small animal had you blushing.

you couldn’t help but imagine him as a dad, married to you, holding your kid with that same grumpy face softened just a little.

the train of thoughts ended when you had finally reached the common room door, and it wasn't exactly quiet in there... i mean, when was it ever?

upon entering, you could hear screams coming from denki, accusing the cat of biting him. 'the cat might be dangerous,' you thought, entering the chaos. the couches that once sat in the centre of the room were now standing upright on the walls, the coffee table was tipped over and everyone looked a mess.

"what the fuck happened?" you questioned, appalled by the state of the room and everyone inside of it. your eyes darted to the feline, taking in its appearance. it was a blonde persian cat, with vermilion eyes glaring at every individual. the moment the cat heard your voice, it let out a loud wail, darting towards you, pawing at your clothes.

nervous, you leaned down to pick up the cat, mentally praying that it doesn't attack you. the moment your arms wrapped around the animal, you felt it nestle into you, softly purring, shocking your classmates.

"huh- wha- ... HOW?" denki cried, arms flailing around dramatically.

"we've been trying to calm him down for so long! kirishima, where did you get the cat from?!" momo's question made you turn to the redhead, suddenly noticing your blonde boyfriend was missing.

a frown washed over your face. now you were really worried. what had happened to your boyfriend?

almost as if it could read your thoughts, the cat in your arms meows softly, nipping at your neck. giving the cat a small smile, you moved your hand to caress its soft fur.

"i'd also like to know where katsuki is," you piped in. you stared angrily at kirishima because he wouldn't get to the point.

kirishima let out a sigh. "bakugou got hit by the villain's quirk-"

"what?! is he okay? where is—"

"he's fine." kirishima grumbled, clearly overstimulated from this whole situation. "as i was saying, bakugou got hit by a quirk which ended up turning him into a cat."

'huh?' now you were super confused.

"if bakugou's a cat, then where-" you paused, looking down into your arms and at the cat. "oh?"

suddenly, a crash was heard.

you fainted.

BAKUGOU'S POV

being a cat was so fucking annoying; first off, everyone wanted to touch me, and second off, i wouldn't even speak! all i could let out were aggressive hisses and stupid meows; don't even get me started with those god-embarrassing purrs. i felt like a fucking freak.

it's even worse that i scared my girlfriend so badly that she fainted. god, what if she hates me or, worse, breaks up with me? i'd kill myself.

initially, when she took me down to the floor with her, i was pissed, but when i noticed she wasn't moving and shitty hair was picking her up, i started panicking. which, obviously, the others took as me being jealous.

fucking idiots. in what world would i, bakugou katsuki, future pro hero, be jealous of that red-haired freak?

as i collected my thoughts, i felt y/n start shuffling on the nurse's bed under me. quickly, my hands paws kneaded at the soft, plush skin of her stomach.

she let out a groan at my movements, fingers slowly coming to pat my fur.

fuck, this was so weird.

"katsuki what are you doing?" her mumble slowly turning into a giggle as my teeth nipped her fingers.

"meow." was the best answer i could let out, and it pissed me the fuck off.

her hands cupped either side of my furry frame, pulling me up so i was resting on her breasts. thank god i was a cat; otherwise my 'embarrassment' at the current position would be clearer than day.

my cat nose infiltrated with the sweet aroma of her perfume. it was my favourite, the one that always had me on my knees. the woody fragrance had my tail swishing, tickling her skin, eliciting more giggles from her.

i could listen to her laugh every day. hearing it made me feel like i was a prince, lying in the flower garden on a warm sunny day with the love of my life beside me. it was the epitome of perfect.

this cat shit made me sappy as fuck, holy shit.

"oh you're up! the cause of your sudden fainting is nothing too serious; it's just a result of surprise by bakugou's current situation. would you like me to call in kirishima to help you get back to the common room?" recovery girl blurted out, kind of intimidated by bakugou's glare.

i hissed at the mention of kirishima. like hell id let him help her.

almost as if sensing my unease, y/n picked me up, cradling me in her arms. "i think im okay, thank you!" and with that, we were off.

BACK TO SECOND PERSON POV

finally nestled back into the poster-covered walls of your room, you collapsed on your bed. the sudden action caused the cat in your arms to yelp, flailing about.

"mm, sorry katsu," you said, softly grazing his head. 'woah he was so soft'

katsuki just stared at you, face softened and eyes bleary. "you know, i don't think i'll ever get used to seeing you as a cat. but you gotta admit, it's nice having you like this."

at your confession, he let out a quiet, but mean, meow. nipping at your shoulder blades.

"ouch! c'mon you know what i meant."

the two of you laid in silence for a few minutes, with the occasional sounds of purrs coming from the cat.

katsuki eyes slowly started feeling heavy, body relaxing on the comforter of your bed as he slowly drifted off to sleep. however sleep never came, the sound of a camera flashing jolted him wake.

quickly sitting up, he pounced on you, attempting to grab your phone. fortunately for you, you were faster. moving out the way, you used your quirk and let out pheromones, which made the cats actions slower.

"kats," you whined, feeling his rough tounge lick at your neck. he hissed, pawing at you as if to telling you to delete the photo. "i'm only keeping it for myself... and maybe for your mom- aak!"

the blonde persian cat continued fighting with you for the phone until he eventually gave up, realising he couldn't do anything while he was a cat.

you glanced at your cat/boyfriend/whatever-he-was, watching him pout and sulk. your heart couldn't help but melt as his appearence. he was so cute, even as cat.

as much as you loved being able to talk with your boyfriend, you found youself loving him as a cat even more. the irritated wails, the soft purring as you stroked his fur and the quiet nips of affection he'd randomly give. but it was also weird, you missed him. the real him.

sighing, you got up, placing him in your arms as you left your room to venture into the kitchen. "come on kitty, lets get you some food."

you received another nip at the nickname.

the trip to the kitchen was fairly quick, but what you hadn't expected was the others also being there. at the sight of you and katsuki, mina shot up immediately running towards you.

"y/n, you're okay!" she squealed, embracing you in a quck hug, crushing the blonde cat between the two of you.

"yrowl," bakugou whined at the sudden compression. you quickly moved away from mina, checking to see if katsuki was alright.

mina gave a sheepish smile, "oh... i forgot about him... sorry bakugou!" she chirped, before continuing. "actually, the girls and i were just talking and thought it'd be pretty cool if we could put bakugou in some clothes, momo already made a few." she rambled.

"oh, um... im not sure mina. i mean, i dont think katsuki would like that." the cat backed you up, letting out a quick meow, glaring at the pink girl.

"c'mon please~ it'd be so cute! we have an allmight cat shirt made for him." she pressed.

katsuki was now getting aggitated, maybe it was the cat hormones but he had the urge to run off and hide. he did not want to be here. and so, he did what he did best.

he leaped out of your arms, scratching mina's legs before running off. "ah, katsuki!" you exclaimed, running after the feline. "sorry mina, ill be right back," you yelled as you continued running.

that damn cat really knew how to run. he turned ever corner until he was at the door of his dorm room, scratching at it, desperately wanting to be let in. he heared footsteps behind him, quickly turning around and baring his teeth, only letting up once he saw that it was you.

sighing in relief that you had finally found your boyfriend, you picked him up, leveling his eyes to yours.

"katsuki, what the hell was that! you can't just run off randomly, you scared the hell out of me." you scolded, watching as his ears flopped down. "i get that this is new for you and you're struggling but come on; so am i. i'm trying my best to make sure you're comfortable so please, don't run off like that again."

to your words, katsuki let out a soft whimper, feeling bad that he caused you to feel this way. he slowly lifted up a paw, reaching out to ur face. you smiled at the action, no matter what body he could be in or what animal your boyfriend was; you were always able to read him.

"i know, i know. i'm sorry for dragging you with me to the kitchen, i didn't know the rest would be there, but for now, lets relax and maybe get you some sleep." you smiled, opening the door to his room, settling him on his bed.

for the next hour, the two of you basked in each others presence. you showed him funny tiktoks (to which he just meowed at), took pictures of him and sending them to his mom and of course, petting him.

turning to katsuki to show him another tiktok, you realise he'd fallen asleep beside you. a small smile crept it's way to your face as you looked at the kitty.

"cat or not, i love you so much katsuki." you whispered, placing a kiss onto his face, letting sleep take over you.

the following morning came quick as you shuffled in bed. you let out a small whine at the sun shining over your face. turning onto your side, your hand slapped something hard and hot.

"stop moving so damn much." the body besides you muttered, trapping you into his arms.

the voice made your eyes flutter open, staring at the boy with your mouth agape.

"kats, you're back to normal look!" you squealed, slapping his bare chest to wake him up.

a groan escaped his lips that made you feel things you probably shouldn't be feeling. "what are you talking about woman." he snarled.

giggling, you push yourself on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "kats, you were a cat for the whole day yesterday and now you're finally back to normal." sleepy katsuki was truly a cutie, he could barely even remember his own name.

katsuki finally opened his eyes, glancing down at his body and yours before letting up a huff. "fuckin' finally, i was getting sick and tired of being a dirty cat." he grumbled, but you knew he was just saying that.

"i'm glad you're back, but i'll miss being able to coddle you like a little baby." you whined, playfully pouting.

"damn woman, you already do that enough." he muttered, cheeks flushing at the memory of how you treated him.

you pressed a small kiss to his cheek, smiling up at him. "well i do love you more as a human, so a win is a win." you placed a soft, innocent kiss on his lips, to which he replied with wrapping his arms around your waist.

as the kiss began to get more heated, you felt something hard and wet poke onto your thigh.

"uh kats...?" you questioned, breaking away from his lips.

"what," he whined, chasing after you.

"um... are you naked?" silence filled the air at your question.

"..."

"..."

thats when he felt it too, the hard-on pressing onto both of your thighs.

"oh what the fuck!" he scrambled up, accidentally throwing your body off of the bed. "shit- sorry!" he yelled, wrapping his sheets against his waist, trying to save face after he'd just popped one out infront of you.

a roar of laughter filled the air at his expression. you just couldn't help it! he looked so ashamed of himself it had you rolling on the floor.

"okay, i get it. now shut the fuck up and get out so i can deal with this," he grumbled, a wave of heat flowing over his body at the situation.

"pfft- katsu, you're so easy." you laughed, getting up and placing another kiss on his sweet lips. "i'll leave you to deal with katsuki jr. if you need me, i'll be making breakfast." you teased.

"oh fuck off." he yelled, throwing a pillow at the door as you left.

katsuki might be back in his human form and you might miss his doting cat-self, but you knew, no matter how rough he was, he really loved you. and that was all that mattered.

© 2025 wonubby— All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[elswhore]

۫ ꣑ৎ . hopkins! paige having a crush on you headcanons

𖹭 She “forgets” her hoodie in your class and tells you to keep it for a bit, secretly loving the idea of you wearing something with her name on the back.

𖹭 Before a big game, she tells you in a half-joking way “This one’s for you” then goes out and drops a career high, hoping you’re impressed.

𖹭 She offers to grab you something from the vending machine during breaks, memorizing your favorite snack and “randomly” getting it for you next time.

𖹭 During games, she steals glances at you in the stands, hoping you’re watching her hit those no-look passes or deep threes, maybe even winking if she nails a buzzer-beater.

𖹭 Paige slides into your lunch table with her tray, acting like it’s random, but she’s been planning to sit by you all week.

𖹭 She invites you to a late night park court session, just the two of you, shooting under the streetlights and talking about everything but basketball.

𖹭 She asks you to wish her luck before every game, claiming you’re her secret weapon for hitting those game-winning shots.

🔖 — @addl0vee @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream @gabbyygoo @bravemode @latenighttalkinqwp @avvwritesstufff @prettygirl-gabi @yailtsv @bebitts @heartsforari @usuallyshadowybasement @authentic-girl03 @private-but-not-a-secret @evanpeterstoe @destinybueckers44 @youmeandjennessey @starfulani @cherryswisherz @bueckersworld @paiges-1vur

[pomelace]

mouse and the red bull

pairing: frank langdon x afab!intern reader

content warnings: fluff, no physical desciptors used for reader, reader is an intern, doesn't take place during the shows timeline, medical imagery, blood (mention), suggestive tension, let me know if I missed anything!

magui speaks! : I’m such a slut for workplace slowborn romance, especially since I have a major crush on my much older coworker lol. I hope you all love this as much as I loved writing it, I may or may not write a part two. as always, j hope you enjoy!

word count: 2021

There’s a particular kind of panic that sets in when Frank Langdon walks through the door—like your brain short-circuits and your coffee sloshes over your knuckles before you even register the burn.

He always arrives at the same time: ten minutes to seven, just before shift change, with his black backpack slung over one shoulder and his sweater dangling from his hand.

The first time you saw Frank, he was arguing with a vending machine. You should’ve known right then he’d ruin your peace.

He’d punched E7 four times before realizing the machine had taken his money and offered no drink in return.

“You’re robbing me in broad daylight,” he muttered. To a vending machine.

You stood ten feet away, pretending to check your phone, pretending not to watch the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed under his black scrubs. How he cursed under his breath and hit the glass—just enough to make the machine rattle, not enough to get written up.

There was something about the way he stood there. Frustrated. Alone. Fighting something small because the big things were too much to name.

Minutes later, he knew your name. Two weeks later, you were his favorite intern.

“Morning,” he says, voice low, right behind you before you even hear him approach.

You nod. Try to answer. End up choking on lukewarm coffee instead.

He leans casually over the counter beside you, the scent of his cologne cutting straight through the sterile air.

“You’re quieter than usual, mouse,” he says, the nickname curling around your throat and making speech even harder.

Mouse.

He called you mouse. His excuse? You worked quietly. A person of few words, but always focused, always reliable. That’s why he kept you close—stealing you away from the other attendings, handpicking you for his rounds, his patients.

He liked you.

Liked the way you listened. No interruptions. No “buts.” Just quiet attention, steady hands, and quick learning.

“I know we’re not supposed to have favorites, but you’re mine, mouse,” he’d whispered once, bent beside you over a deep gash you were stitching, like it was a secret meant only for the thread and your trembling fingers.

“Just tired,” you finally manage, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze.

His blue eyes lock onto yours, sharp and unrelenting. You smile, like you always did when it came to him.

Then your eyes drop to his hand. Empty. No Red Bull, for once. He always had one in the morning—more times than you could count on your fingers.

“Vending machine’s empty,” he says, like he’d read your mind.

“No drinking yourself into cardiac arrest today, thank god,” you blurt out before your brain had time to veto it.

He chuckles, but you see something flicker across his face—surprise, maybe. Like you’d caught him off guard for once.

“You gonna start rationing my caffeine intake now?”

“Someone has to,” you reply, tone light, even as your pulse jumps.

He leans in slightly, like he might say something else—something to make your breath hitch.

“If my heart ever stops, I know I can count on you to start it again,” he whispers.

You freeze, cup in hand, half-turned toward him. It was nothing. Meant nothing. Just a compliment. A nod to your competence, your training. Textbook professional.

And yet your pulse flutters in your throat like it’s already preparing to fail.

“Don’t give me a reason to,” you say, quieter than you mean to. Steady, but barely.

He smiles. That same crooked, effortless smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, mouse."

You turn away before he can see what that nickname does to you—how it slinks under your skin, curls up in the hollow of your ribs like it belongs there.

The coffee’s gone cold in your hands, but you take a sip anyway. Bitter. Grounding.

Behind you, the silence stretches. Not awkward. Not quite. Just full.

“Good morning,” a voice cuts between the two of you, slicing clean through the moment. It gives you both an excuse to look away.

Dr. Robby walks towards you, coffee in hand, his gaze flicking between you and Frank with a hint of curiosity.

“Mind rounding everyone up for morning rounds?” he asks Frank, setting his cup down by his computer.

Frank gives a small nod, brushing past you with the faintest graze of his hand agaisnt your back. It could’ve been accidental. You both know it wasn’t.

“On it,” he says, already halfway past the nurses station.

You keep your eyes on the counter, pretending to study the steam curling up from Dr. Robby’s coffee. Anything but let your gaze follow Frank.

Dr. Robby takes a sip, watching you over the rim of his cup.

“Everything alright?”

You nod, too quickly. “Of course.”

But your voice doesn’t sound quite like your own.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

After rounds, just like always, Frank asks for you—claiming your time before any of the residents or even Dr. Robby could pull you into a case.

His hand rests lightly on your back as he guides you, steering you toward one of the rooms. As you walk, he explains the case in detail—his voice low, confident, precise.

You try to focus on his words—the vitals, the imaging, the differentials—but it’s hard not to feel the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of your scrubs.

“This one’s tricky,” he says, glancing sideways at you.

“Thought you’d like it.”

You hum in response, trying to sound neutral, professional.

“You mean you thought I could handle it.”

A small smile plays on his lips. “Same thing, isn’t it?”

You don’t answer. Not right away.

Inside the room, a patient waits—young, pale, anxious. A dinner fork juts out just above their collarbone, the prongs buried deep in soft tissue of their neck, surrounded by a bloom of dried blood. It’s an ugly wound, surreal in its domestic absurdity.

You slip into your role with practiced ease, letting your voice settle into something calm and clinical. You feel his eyes on you as you speak to the patient. Not in the way that makes you self-conscious, but in the way that makes you hyper-aware. Seen.

The patient shifts, wincing as you approach, and you take a steadying breath, refocusing. You reach out to examine the wound, careful, methodical. The metal feels cold beneath your gloved fingertips, the jagged edges of the fork pressing against the skin like it belongs there.

“Stay still,” you murmur, your tone soothing, even though your mind races through protocols and possibilities.

"We should get her to X-rays," you say to Frank, your voice steady, before turning back to the patient.

"From there, we can figure out the next steps."

You meet the patient’s anxious gaze, offering a reassuring smile.

"The X-rays will help us check for any underlying damage—nerves, blood vessels, anything important that might be caught between the fork. We just need to be cautious."

You remove your gloves slowly, methodically, your movements deliberate as you step aside to give Frank room to take the lead. His words fade into the background, your focus narrowing to the way his lips move, the steady rhythm of his hands as he works.

It’s almost like you're watching him in slow motion, and for a moment, nothing else exists except the quiet hum of the room.

"Hey," Frank's voice cuts through, pulling you back to the present. You meet his gaze, steady and intense.

"Get her line in for the X-ray, and everything else looks good. If you’re up for it, I might just let you pull this one out," he says, his tone casual.

A smile tugs at your lips, excitement flickering in your eyes as you nod, barely containing the rush of adrenaline.

You walk away, the tablet pressed close to your chest as you make your way toward the nurses' station.

The X-ray comes back clear—no major damage, no vessels hit. The fork is safe to remove, and Frank’s words bring excitement to your face.

You stand over the patient, gloved hands moving automatically as you adjust the patient, positioning her on her side.

The fork is lodged in the side of her neck, gauze wrapped around the area, the injury fully exposed under the bright light overhead.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Frank says, standing across from you, his eyes focused, though his posture tenses slightly.

You nod, wiggling your fingers inside the gloves, shaking off the rush of adrenaline. You take a steadying breath. You move closer, fingers gripping the fork carefully as you prepare to remove it.

Slowly, you ease the fork out, steady and controlled, until it slips free. You drop it into the metal tray with a soft clang. A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance at the patient.

“It’s out,” you say gently, already reaching for gauze to clean the wound.

You move with practiced care, cleaning the area and checking for any sign of bleeding. Once you’re done, you step back and peel off your gloves, your eyes finally lifting.

Frank’s already watching you, a faint smile on his face.

He doesn’t say anything—but he doesn’t need to. You can tell. He’s happy with your work.

After checking in with the patient one last time, you both step out into the hallway.

“So, how did that feel?” Frank asks, his tone casual but curious.

“Great,” you say, unable to hide your grin.

“Really great.” The excitement still buzzes in your chest, warm and electric.

He watches you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes—then he looks away.

“Good. Now get the prescription written and the discharge papers ready,” he says, his voice shifting—firm, all business again.

That familiar sharp edge returns to his expression, like the moment between you never happened.

You follow his instructions without hesitation—talk the patient through her prescription, explain the aftercare, hand her the discharge papers.

Once everything’s done and she’s officially discharged, you walk her out of the room, offering a kind goodbye as a nurse takes over and escorts her down the hall.

Frank’s at the nurses’ station when you spot him, hunched slightly over a computer, his focus locked on the screen. You hesitate for a beat, debating whether to approach.

But you do.

“She said thank you,” you offer, stopping beside him.

He doesn’t look up. Just hums, eyes still glued to whatever’s on the monitor.

“You did a good job,” he says, flatly—no warmth, no real inflection. It lands wrong, and you feel it immediately.

A small twist in your gut.

You turn to leave, footsteps already starting to shift away, but something keeps you rooted. You pause, then glance back at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask quietly, not sure if you're overthinking or missing something important.

He finally looks at you.

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, frustration, maybe even regret—but it’s gone before you can name it. He straightens up, pushing a hand through his hair.

“No,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You nod, unsure if that settles it or not. The air between you still feels off. You glance at the counter, then back at him.

“I, um…” You reach into the pocket of your surgical pants and pull out a cold can of Red Bull.

“You said you couldn’t get one this morning and I guess I want to support your unhealthy relationship with caffeine today.”

He blinks, then actually smiles—small, real, the kind that barely lifts the corners of his mouth but feels like more than any words he’s said today.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, but he takes it anyway, his fingers brushing yours for just a second too long.

“I know,” you say simply, trying not to let the warmth in your chest show on your face. “But I wanted to.”

He looks down at the can, then back at you, like he’s trying to say something without saying it.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

And for the first time today, it feels like he actually means it.

©pomelace 2025

[lilazooo]

Didn’t See You Coming

Jason Todd x Reader / fluff, comfort (soft), slice of life

3:17 a.m., Gotham, shitty 24-hour diner

The diner lights are way too bright for this hour. Flickering fluorescents, humming vending machines, the smell of burnt coffee and fried eggs clinging to the walls.

Jason’s hoodie is damp from the rain, knuckles bruised, helmet stashed in the duffel at his feet. He hadn’t planned on stopping anywhere, but something—some impulse he doesn’t bother naming—pulled him in off the street.

He’s not looking for company. He never is.

Then she walks in.

Hoodie zipped halfway up, mascara smudged like she’s rubbed her eyes one too many times. She pauses just inside the doorway, scans the nearly empty room, then heads straight for him. Not to the counter. Not to the empty booths.

To him.

“Mind if I sit?” she asks, nodding at the seat across from him.

Jason blinks, caught off guard. “You sure you wanna sit with a stranger in the middle of the night?”

She shrugs. “You don’t seem like the stabbing type.”

He snorts. “I hide it well.”

That gets a laugh. She slides into the booth without waiting for permission and offers her hand across the table and her name.

He looks at her for a beat, then shakes her hand. “Jason.”

They sit in silence for a moment. The diner hums around them—cutlery clinks, a fridge buzzes, rain taps against the window like it’s got nowhere else to be.

Then she starts talking. Not loud. Not nervous. Just enough to fill the space between them. About how her night went sideways. How Gotham feels different after midnight, like the whole city’s holding its breath.

They don’t talk about why they’re both out so late. Or why her sleeves are soaked. Or why he glances toward the door every time someone walks past. Instead, they talk about nothing. Stupid things. Childhood cartoons. Favorite cereals. The worst pizza place in the city (they agree it’s the one on 8th that puts corn on everything). She says she’s still in school. He stays vague.

She talks with her hands. Orders pancakes. Steals one of his fries without asking. Doesn’t flinch when he goes quiet. Doesn’t try to fill the silence—she softens it.

Jason doesn’t say much. He watches her. Listens. Wonders why the hell this random girl feels like a break in the static.

And somewhere between the coffee cooling in his mug and her smiling at something he didn’t mean to make funny, it happens.

Not lightning-bolt love. Not the dramatic kind.

The quiet kind.

The oh kind.

The kind that sneaks in slow, soft, certain.

He watches her laugh, easy and unguarded, and it hits him all at once:

Shit. This is gonna matter.