#<- does that count as one? I’m not sure

[gloomwitchwrites]

may I request a what-if with the 141 where reader pranks the members by buying a fake military knife that isn’t dangerous and hands it to their baby? Like this: https://youtube.com/shorts/aQGZTdYRX6c?si=pX7ja8U4VGL2dATi

(I’m bad at explaining things so I hope you don’t mind the video link for an example)

The video link is totally fine! I appreciate you sending that in for a reference! And you didn't do a terrible job explaining, anon. I immediately knew what you were talking about! Now, this is all in good fun, but I don't recommend you doing it in real life. Can you guess who has the calmest reaction of the four?

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, married life, dad!141, girl dad! 141, pranks & shenanigans

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

John is in his office. It’s the perfect opportunity.

With as much stealth as you can muster, you creep into the living room. In the center of the room is an enclosed space were your daughter crawls around on their stomach. When you approach, she babbles, and you grin down at her.

“Here,” you whisper, placing a prop knife next to her.

The thing is made of rubber and plastic. It won’t cause any actual harm. She immediately reaches for it, tiny fingers unable to completely wrap around the handle.

Backing up slowly, you call out to your husband. “John! Can you check on the baby?”

A pause. “Course, love,” he replies.

You hurry back into the kitchen just as you hear the squeak of his chair. John emerges, rubbing at the back of his neck. His head is down, gaze lowered, and when he notices his daughter, John grins.

“Hello, sweet girl,” he coos. “What do you have—” John’s gentle tone because one of sharp concern. “The fuck.”

John lunges, disappearing beyond your line of sight. He reappears seconds later with his daughter tucked in one arm and the pretend knife clutched in his opposite hand. With the pointy end pointed away from the precious cargo he carries, John slowly walks over to the wall and presses the blade to it.

The rubber surrenders, bending in on itself.

John sighs heavily, and then slowly turns his head in your direction.

You give him your best shit-eating grin as your daughter giggles manically.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“What are you doing? What’s in your hand?”

Simon sounds…calm. Why does he sound so calm? He should be stressed right now. Panicking.

“Is that a knife? That’s dangerous. Want to give it to me?”

Sure, the knife is fake. Made of flexible rubber and plastic, it won’t harm anyone. But at a glance it appears real enough. Did Simon see you hand it to your daughter? Is he aware of the joke and just playing along?

You creep closer, not wanting to give away your hiding spot.

“Very good. Hand that to daddy.”

Your daughter coos, and then Simon appears from thin air.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. “You scared me.”

“Really?” he deadpans, holding up the prop knife.

Your daughter comes waddling out after him wrapping her chubby arms around his leg while she happily mumbles “daddy.”

“I thought it was hilarious,” you mutter as he tosses it at you.

Simon bends at the knees and scoops up his daughter. As he passes, he leans down, lips almost pressing against your ear. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on it. Didn’t fool me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He grins, and winks. “Comes with the territory of the job, love. I’d spot a fake anywhere.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your daughter sits in her high chair, chewing on the end of the fake knife you’ve handed her. It’s just a prop, made to not cause any actual arm. She chews on the pointy end, drool dripping on to her tiny fingers.

Slowly, you back away, poised to dart down the hall to hide.

“Can you watch her?” you call out.

Kyle answers a few seconds later. “What?”

“Can you watch her?” You move out of the kitchen and into the hall.

“Where is she?”

“In the kitchen,” you shout back. “She’s eating.”

You hear Kyle’s voice soften. “What are you eating, love? What—oh. What the fuck!”

With the rise of surprise in his tone, you return to the kitchen. “Something wrong?”

Your daughter giggles and coos, arms outstretched as she reaches for her father. Kyle holds the knife in two hands, an unamused expression on his face.

“Did I get you?” you ask with a grin.

The annoyed expression melts, becoming a soft smile. “You did.”

He bends forward and places a quick kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. As he draws away from her, he reaches for you, grabbing your waist to pull you in. “And you’re a bloody menace.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You bend at the knees, holding out the prop knife to your little one. It’s made of rubber and plastic, but it looks real, and that’s the point. With a gleeful giggle, she takes the fake knife, completely unaware of the part she’s about to play in pranking her father.

“Go find daddy,” you coax, pointing in the direction of the living room.

She coos softly, pivots, and begins to walk forward. Each step is stilted as she wobbles toward the sofa. Johnny is on the game with the boys. His entire attention is on the television.

As your daughter approaches him, she lifts her little arm above her head, holding the fake knife high in the air like she’s a tiny Jason Voorhees. From her mouth comes nonsense, just a long breath of babbling, sounds, and the occasional word.

Johnny might be on the game, but he senses her nearness, leaning in her direction. As she rounds the sofa, her tiny body disappears. The only thing you can see is the occasional glimpse of the knife point. She screeches with glee and Johnny’s attention shifts. It’s a brief look, one intended to simply make sure she’s okay, but then he’s doing a double-take.

“What the fuck!”

Johnny launches himself off the couch, the game controller flying. Your daughter points the knife at him and Johnny immediately raises his hands in surrender.

“Where’d you get that? Find it on the ground somewhere?”

You nearly snort. He’s trying to sound calm but you hear the bite of panic.

Your daughter’s reply is to charge him. Johnny sidesteps her pathetic swing before plucking the knife right of her hand.

“How—” He stops. Frowns. And then places his entire hand around the blade. He releases it. Repeats the gesture.

Johnny glances up and chuckles, locking eyes with you. “You’re bloody well having a laugh at me, aren’t you?”

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[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 20

This one is a bit shorter than the last 🫠

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 20 >>next(TBC)

The interaction between you and Nolan was still awkward. It was weird to see him this soft and you still felt on edge like you couldn’t quite believe all it took for him to try and do better was some talking to- Bruce didn’t even let you say more than a sentence in his presence, let alone get emotional about things and try to have a conversation about it.

Overall, the past week you’ve been kind of disassociating while working on rebuilding, occupying your time with that and helping Andressa take care of the baby, occasionally texting Debbie anything from updates to “I miss you”, to “I miss your food”, to cute pictures of the little menace being funny, kept you somewhat present-minded.

Your eyes drifted to Andressa, who has been aging more and more. Her movements were slowing down, she was getting more tired, and she was having more problems with her joints. You noticed that with everyone. The kids who helped you sometimes were now teens, the babies were slowly becoming toddlers, and yet your little brother was still in the baby range.

Andressa calling your name brought you back to reality. Your eyes meet as she sighs, sitting on an armchair while you keep playing with her baby’s hair, twirling it into spikes and horns. “I… I need to ask a big favor out of you and your family.” She starts softly, her finger tapping nervously. You stop and give her all the attention as she continues speaking.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Debbie’s day has been… better. It’s all getting better. Slowly, but she’s getting there. She wanted to be petty and give Nolan’s things away, but she had a feeling he’d be coming back with you and Mark, so she did the next best thing and moved his stuff into the smallest bedroom. Well, it was more of an office with a beat-up couch; he didn’t deserve an actual bedroom.

And in hindsight, she was glad she did. “Well… he is cute.” She concedes while smiling softly as the toddler cooed up at her, all coddled up in her lap. Her hand gently ran across his small back. Andressa just smiles. “Thank you. And thank you for wanting to hear me out and for letting me into your home. I know I’m asking for a lot, for way too much even considering everything- but Nolan isn’t exactly the best at being present enough for a kid.”

Debbie laughed at that. “Yeah, I know. Can’t count the times I had to step in for things he promised Mark.” You smiled softly as the two women got along, laughing at Nolan’s actions and awkwardness towards raising the babies. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve gotta go back and make sure the men don’t find us plotting against them.” You joked while opening a portal.

“Bye, sweetheart, make sure your brother eats lunch! Oh, was Nolan scared of holding him? Because he was terrified of holding Mark as a baby- you should have seen him- I think I have some photos-“ You snickered, finally leaving the two to their gossiping.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mark and Nolan were too busy helping rebuild buildings to notice you and Andressa being missing. Granted, some men are the biggest gossipers known to mankind. “Yeah, so your dear daughter took a plate of these mini cakes and just smashed it across Bruce’s face- mushing it around. Lex was having a field day. It was so weird to see him so genuinely happy.”

“Is there video footage of it? I would love to see that.” Nolan laughs along. “Dude, there’s so much footage- Lex has like fifteen to thirty cameras in a room, he made compilations of it!” Mark looks at the smiling man. “He even had a camera in the buttons of his suit. He gave that first-row view of the cake smash to the highest bidder.”

“And he still shares the memes on his social media.” Your voice cut through their laughter, making the young man snort. “No! He still does? Is he set on never making Bruce forget that?” Nolan looks at his cackling son. “Would you let the man forget that?” His smirk only gets wider as his son beams with a no.

Nolan gently nudged you away as he told Mark to take a break. “We need to talk.” You pouted at his words while landing on a rooftop. “We talked.” Your grumble was met with a raised eyebrow. “No. We fought, and then you interrogated me about the Justice League.” He chides. “We need to have a serious talk.”

The old Viltrumite could see the nervousness and doubt in you. So, he wanted to make sure you knew where you stood. “I know my actions hurt you in ways I don’t think will be fully salvageable. I won’t try to justify myself, I won’t try to tell you that you’re wrong for feeling any negative sentiments towards me. You have every right to because you are correct in your points. I was a coward, I should have gone to the guardians and faced their ire. I should have trusted that you and Mark had my back.”

“No matter what, if you hate me, if you don’t want to see me again, you’ll always be my daughter, my baby.” The hand he put on your shoulder was warm and slightly shaky, betraying how nervous he actually felt. “I’ll always be in your corner, no matter what, no matter how hard you try to push me away. I’ll make sure to repent for my mistakes towards you, Mark, and Debbie for the rest of my life.”

“Stop it.” You sniff. “You’ll make me cry again. And damn right you’ll repent for what you did. I’ll make sure of it.” He smiles as you gently slap his arm. “I’ll hold you to it.” His eyebrows furrowed, asking if you had seen Andressa since she hadn’t come to check up on them in a while. “She’s taking a nap. Don’t disturb your baby mama, ass.” You roll your eyes while lifting off the ground, flying away as the man pouts.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Harvey Dent raised an eyebrow at the message he received, a shit-eating grin overtaking his mug. “Looks like our little magic girl is coming back to the planet in a few days. With a few stowaways.” Two-Face shows the message to Jason. “How mad do you think Bruce will be?”

Jason just gives the man an evil smile. “Very.” The young man almost purrs as he begins giggling, laughing as if he was snorting Joker Gas. Roy Harper just looks at the scene with a shaky smile. “Ok… I think I need someone to spill some tea about what’s happening.” Harvey just scoffs. “Take a seat if you really want to know. It’s a long story.”

Roy just shrugs, pulling the chair out and dropping into it. "I think you're just exaggerating there, law man." That seems to only make Jason laugh harder, creating doubt into the young father. "Oh- you'll regret saying that by the time we're done." Our favorite crime lord counters, snickering as he pours his friend a glass of whiskey.

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[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

You Protect The Marvel Comics Characters By Punching Someone Who Speaks Badly About Them

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

- Peter Parker has been insulted more times than he can count. He’s been called a menace, a failure, a joke. He’s used to it, laughs it off even when it cuts deep. But when he hears the sharp crack of your fist connecting with someone’s jaw—when he realizes that you did that for him—his world tilts on its axis.

- “Oh no. Oh no no no.” His first instinct is to grab you, to get you out of there before this turns into something worse. You just punched someone for him. He’s supposed to be the one protecting you, not the other way around. His heart is hammering—part fear, part something softer, warmer.

- He rushes to your side, hands hovering, unsure if he should scold you or kiss you right there in the street. The person you hit is groaning, cradling their face, and Peter is torn between feeling bad for them and wanting to tell them they deserved it. (Because they did. They did.)

- “Okay, that was… something,” he says, eyes darting between you and the stunned crowd. “Not that I don’t appreciate the backup, but—y’know, punching people usually gets me into trouble.” His voice is light, joking, but there’s something else in his gaze—awe, affection, something deeper than words.

- Later, when he’s patching up your knuckles with the gentlest hands, he murmurs, “No one’s ever fought for me like that.” And when he finally meets your gaze, soft and unguarded, you see it—the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most incredible thing in the universe.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

- Tony Stark has heard it all. The insults, the backhanded compliments, the jealous jabs from people who will never be him. Normally, he drowns it out with charm and a drink in hand. But then—then—your fist connects with someone’s face, and the world stops.

- For a moment, he just stares. Blinking. Processing. Did you really just punch someone for him? Then, slowly—a slow-spreading, wicked smirk. Because holy hell, that was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

- “Well, well, well.” He steps forward, slipping an arm around your shoulders like you’re some kind of victorious gladiator. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” He’s eating this up, reveling in it, in the way you didn’t hesitate, in the way you stood up for him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

- The guy on the ground groans, and Tony glances down, unimpressed. “Next time, try using words, buddy. Or, y’know, just accept that I’m better than you.” Then he turns back to you, tilting his head. “Not that I’m complaining, but—what was that? You got a thing for defending handsome billionaires, or am I just lucky?”

- Later, when the adrenaline fades, he brushes a knuckle over your bruised hand, voice quieter. “No one ever does that for me.” And it’s not teasing anymore, not deflection—just something real. Something raw. And for once, Tony Stark is at a loss for words.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

- Steve Rogers has always fought his own battles. From the alleys of Brooklyn to the battlefields of war, he’s used to standing his ground—used to taking the hits for the people he loves. But this? This is something else entirely.

- One second, he’s turning the other cheek, trying to walk away from the insult. The next, there’s the sharp, unmistakable sound of impact—your fist driving straight into the jaw of the person who dared speak ill of him.

- “Hey—!” His hands are on you immediately, pulling you back before things escalate, before this turns into something worse. But his heart—his heart is a drumbeat against his ribs, because you fought for him. He should tell you it was reckless, that you didn’t have to, but all he can do is stare at you, his throat tight with something he can’t name.

- “That wasn’t necessary,” he says, but there’s no scolding in his voice, only something soft, something incredibly fond. Because no one ever fights for him. Not like that. Not without hesitation.

- Later, when you’re sitting together, nursing your sore hand, he finally murmurs, “Thank you.” And when he looks at you, there’s a warmth in his blue eyes that says more than words ever could—a depth of feeling that leaves you breathless.

Thor aka. God of Thunder

- Thor is used to insults. They roll off his back like rain on a battlefield, drowned out by the thunder in his veins. But when he hears the crack of your fist colliding with flesh— when he realizes you have struck someone in his name— he does not laugh. He is in awe.

- “By the gods!” His voice is both a boom of delight and a whisper of reverence. He steps toward you, eyes shining with something almost worshipful. You are fire, you are fury, you are glorious.

- And then he throws his head back and laughs, loud and full of joy. “A mighty warrior indeed! You honor me, my lady.” He clasps your hand, ignoring the bruises blooming on your knuckles, lifting it as though you have just won a great battle.

- The fool who insulted him scrambles away, but Thor does not spare them a glance. No, his attention is entirely on you. On this magnificent, fearless mortal who would strike in his name. And suddenly, the air around you feels different. Charged. Alive.

- Later, when the revelry has died down, he turns to you, voice softer. “You are… remarkable.” And when he looks at you, it is with the kind of devotion that only gods can give.

Loki aka. God of Mischief

- Loki is no stranger to cruelty. Words have been his weapons, his shields, his burdens. But when someone speaks ill of him— when they dare to drag his name through the dirt—he expects only one thing: to be alone in the aftermath.

- And then you hit them. Hard.

- He blinks. Once. Twice. Shock flickers across his face, unreadable and raw. He watches as you stand, fists clenched, gaze burning with something primal, something protective. And for the first time in centuries, Loki does not know what to say.

- “You—” His voice is different. Lower. There is no mockery, no amusement, only a sharp, jagged edge of something he does not let himself feel. You have fought for him. Him. And the realization shakes him.

- Later, when you’re alone, he traces the bruises on your knuckles with something dangerously close to reverence. “You are a fool,” he whispers, but his fingers linger, his breath unsteady. “A reckless, maddening fool.” And then, softer—so quiet you almost don’t hear it—“And I think I am doomed to love you for it.”

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

- Clint Barton is used to being underestimated. People see the bow, the lack of powers, and assume he’s less. They talk about him like he’s a joke, like he doesn’t belong among gods and super-soldiers. He lets it roll off his back—until you don’t.

- The sound of your fist cracking against a jaw cuts through the noise of the bar, and suddenly, the air is electric. You did that for him. Not because he asked, not because you had to—but because someone insulted him, and that was unacceptable to you.

- “Whoa—hey, hey, hold up!” Clint is beside you in an instant, half-laughing, half-terrified. His hands hover near yours, concern flickering in his sharp blue eyes. You’re pissed. It’s kind of the best thing he’s ever seen.

- The guy on the floor is groaning, but Clint isn’t paying attention to them anymore. No, his focus is on you—on your clenched fists, the fire still burning in your gaze. You’re beautiful like this, fierce and unwavering, and he’s absolutely, irreversibly doomed.

- Later, when he’s wrapping your bruised knuckles in an old bandana, he grins, soft and lopsided. “You know, I usually do the whole reckless, getting-into-fights thing. But I gotta say—kinda nice having someone in my corner for once.” And the way he looks at you then? Like you hung the goddamn stars.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

- Natasha Romanoff has been called a monster, a traitor, a woman who can never be trusted. She’s lived a life of whispers behind her back, of sideways glances and careful distance. She’s learned to endure it. But she never expected you to lash out in her defense.

- The impact of your punch is sharp, decisive— a clean, perfect strike that she would have been proud of. And yet, it startles her. Not because you hit them, but because you lost control for her.

- “You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice is smooth, but there’s something unreadable in her expression—something unfamiliar. She’s used to people fighting beside her, but no one has ever fought for her. Not like this.

- She grips your wrist before you can throw another punch, thumb grazing the pulse point there. “Look at me,” she murmurs. And when you do, she sees it—the fire in you, the defiance, the unwavering loyalty. And it does something to her, something she can’t quite name.

- Later, in the quiet of a dimly lit room, she traces the bruise on your knuckles with the barest touch. “You’re dangerous,” she murmurs, lips curving slightly. And for the first time in a long time, she thinks—maybe she wants to be protected, too.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

- Bucky Barnes knows what people say about him. A killer. A weapon. A man who should have died decades ago. He doesn’t argue. He knows what he’s done. He doesn’t expect anyone to defend him.

- But then—you do. And not with words. With fists.

- The moment your knuckles connect with skin, he’s there. He’s fast, instinctive, grabbing you by the wrist before you can swing again. His heart is pounding. Not out of fear—but something deeper, something he can’t afford to name.

- “Why did you do that?” His voice is rough, almost accusing. But you don’t waver. You stand your ground, breathing heavy, eyes blazing with defiance. It hits him then—no one has ever done this for him. Not Steve, not anyone.

- Later, he sits beside you in the quiet, his metal fingers ghosting over your bruised knuckles. “You don’t have to fight for me,” he murmurs, voice almost broken. And when you reply—“Then who will?”—he feels something shift in his chest, something old and aching and terrifyingly new.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

- Matt Murdock hears the insult before it’s even fully formed—the venom in the voice, the disdain dripping from every syllable. He’s heard it before, about his blindness, about his law career, about the devil that lurks beneath the surface. He expects to ignore it.

- What he doesn’t expect is the sharp, sudden sound of your fist connecting with someone’s jaw.

- His head tilts slightly, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He felt you coil before the strike, heard your heartbeat spike. You didn’t hesitate. And God help him, that does something to him.

- “That wasn’t very lawyerly of you.” He steps close, voice low and teasing, but there’s something else there too—something reverent. His fingers brush against yours, light as a whisper, like he’s memorizing the shape of your defiance.

- Later, in the sanctity of his apartment, he takes your injured hand in his own, running careful fingertips over bruised skin. “I don’t need saving,” he murmurs, though the way his breath hitches when you squeeze his hand says otherwise. And when you reply—“Too bad. You’ve got me anyway.”—his world tilts, just a little.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

- Frank Castle is a ghost, a monster, a cautionary tale. He’s used to people spitting his name like it’s a curse. He doesn’t care. He’s beyond caring.

- But then you punch someone in the face for speaking ill of him—and everything stops.

- The guy drops like a stone, groaning, and Frank… laughs. It’s not a soft sound. It’s dark, rough, something almost dangerous. He steps forward, crowding into your space, looking down at you like you’re something holy and terrible and his.

- “You got a mean right hook, sweetheart.” His voice is low, amused, but there’s something else there—something molten, something raw. He doesn’t say it, but he’s never had someone do this for him. Never had someone choose him so recklessly, so violently.

- Later, when you’re both alone, he leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes dark. “You don’t fight my battles.” His voice is a growl, but there’s no real anger behind it. And when you meet his gaze, unyielding, he exhales sharply. Because if anyone in this world deserved someone like you fighting for them—he knows it sure as hell ain’t him. But he wants it anyway.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

- Marc Spector is used to being called insane. A broken mind, a fractured man, a violent, unhinged vigilante. The whispers follow him everywhere, behind his back and to his face. He doesn’t defend himself—because what would be the point?

- But then, you do. And not just with words. With your fists. The impact is sharp, the sound of bone on bone cutting through the murmur of the street like a gunshot. The moment is frozen. And Marc? He stares.

- He should pull you away, should tell you not to waste your breath, should laugh it off like it doesn’t matter. But he can’t. Because no one has ever done this for him. Not for Marc Spector. Not for the man beneath the mask.

- “You really shouldn’t have done that.” His voice is low, but there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it. His gloved fingers graze your bruised knuckles, and the moonlight catches in his dark eyes—like he’s seeing something holy.

- Later, he watches you from across the room, arms crossed, jaw tight. You stood up for him. You fought for him. And now, all he can think about is how much he wants to fight for you.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

- Johnny Storm is used to the attention. The praise, the criticism, the headlines that reduce him to nothing more than a pretty face and a flame. He shrugs it off. Pretends it doesn’t sting.

- But then, he hears your voice—furious, unwavering, like a flame catching oxygen. And before he can turn, you swing. The guy stumbles back, clutching their jaw, and the entire room erupts.

- “Oh. My. God.” Johnny is somehow both horrified and absolutely delighted. He stares at you like you just set the whole world on fire. Because you did. And you did it for him.

- “I didn’t know you had that in you,” he grins, stepping closer. There’s something in his voice—something deep, awed, almost breathless. Because no one has ever burned quite like you.

- Later, when the adrenaline wears off, he’s grinning like an idiot, watching you ice your knuckles. And when you catch him staring, he just shrugs. “What? It’s kinda hot when you punch people for me.”

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

- Reed Richards has heard every insult in the book. Detached. Cold. Unfeeling. They don’t understand how his mind works, how his thoughts stretch beyond the present moment, beyond normal comprehension. He’s used to it.

- But you? You aren’t. The second someone spits out something vile, dismissive, cruel, your fist is already flying before Reed can even process what’s happening.

- “Oh.” That’s all he says at first, blinking as if recalibrating. He hadn’t expected—this. You. Your anger, your unwavering defense, the fire in your eyes. It’s an equation he hadn’t considered. And now, he can’t stop solving for it.

- “Violence isn’t necessary,” he murmurs, but he’s already taking your hand, stretching his fingers around your bruised knuckles, memorizing the shape of your loyalty.

- Later, he watches you—studying, calculating, analyzing. But for once, the question isn’t why. It’s how he ever lived without you.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

- Felicia Hardy doesn’t need protecting. She’s spent her life clawing her way out of trouble, slipping through shadows, dodging every snare. She laughs in the face of danger, purrs at the edge of chaos.

- But then—you hit someone. For her. And everything stops.

- She should be amused. Should smirk and tease and call you reckless. But instead—she just stares. Because no one, not once in her life, has ever thrown a punch for her. Not like this.

- “Darling, you really are full of surprises.” She steps close, a slow, predatory movement, her fingers tilting your chin up. There’s something wicked in her smirk—but her eyes? Her eyes are soft.

- Later, she finds herself watching you more than she should. Running a gloved hand over your bruised knuckles, feeling something dangerously close to devotion. And for the first time, Felicia Hardy wonders what it would be like to be caught.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

- Stephen Strange is used to arrogance. His own, and the world’s. He’s used to people whispering behind his back, questioning, doubting, scoffing. He doesn’t care. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

- But when someone speaks ill of him in front of you? You react before he does. The crack of your fist against their jaw is startlingly satisfying. And suddenly, the entire universe shifts.

- “You—” He stops himself. Adjusts his cloak. Exhales sharply. He should be chastising you, telling you to hold your temper, to rise above it. But instead, he’s looking at you like you just rewrote the laws of reality.

- “You didn’t have to do that.” His voice is careful, but his fingers are gentle when they brush against your bruised knuckles. He’s spent a lifetime mastering control—so why does it slip when you’re around?

- Later, he finds himself summoning bandages with magic, hands lingering longer than necessary. And when you smirk, teasing—“Was that a thank you, Doctor?”—he only hums, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips. Because maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind needing you.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

- Namor is used to disrespect. The surface world dares to look down on him, on Atlantis, on the very ocean that sustains their miserable existence. He tolerates it only because he must. But when someone speaks ill of him in your presence, they are met with something he does not expect—your fist.

- The blow lands sharply, flesh against bone, a declaration of war in its own right. Namor watches, silver eyes narrowing, his body rigid with something unnameable. It is not anger. No, anger is familiar. This? This is something else.

- “You strike for me?” His voice is velvet over steel, laced with the kind of dangerous curiosity that comes before a storm. His people have fought wars in his name. But this? This is different. This is you.

- He moves toward you, slow, deliberate, fingers tilting your chin up. There is no hesitation when he speaks next. “You are worthy of a crown.” And the way he says it—it is not a compliment. It is a fact.

- Later, the sea sings your name. And though he will not say it outright, he watches you differently now—like a king who has found the one thing worth more than his throne.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

- Johnny Blaze has been called many things. Freak. Monster. Hellspawn. He doesn’t care—not anymore. He’s spent too long carrying his curse, dragging his soul behind him like a dying star.

- But then you hit someone. For him. Your knuckles split skin, the sound echoing in the dim light of the bar, and for the first time in a long time, Johnny forgets how to breathe.

- “Shit.” The word is barely a breath. You turn to him, fist still clenched, shoulders tight with fury, and Johnny? Johnny just stares. Because no one, not in his entire damn life, has ever thrown a punch in his name.

- “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters, but there’s something dangerous behind his voice—something that flickers like an ember waiting to catch. He should stop this, should tell you he’s not worth it. But instead, his fingers brush over your bruised knuckles like a prayer.

- Later, he watches you from his bike, the engine growling beneath him, his heart doing the same. And when he finally speaks, voice rough, almost shy, it’s only to say: “Next time, lemme do the hitting.”

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

- Eddie Brock has heard it all before. Loser. Washed-up. Parasite. He grits his teeth and lets it slide, because what else is new? Venom, on the other hand, is far less patient.

- But before either of them can react—you do. Your fist cracks against the jaw of the one who dared to insult him, and suddenly, everything goes still.

- “Did you just—?” Eddie’s eyes go wide. Venom, however, purrs with delight.

- “They are ours,” the symbiote rumbles, voice sliding through Eddie’s skull like liquid night. “They fight for us.” Eddie wants to argue, to tell Venom to shut up, but he can’t, because he’s too busy watching you, heart pounding, something terrifying and warm curling in his chest.

- Later, he doesn’t bring it up—but Venom does. “We like them,” the voice whispers, thick with amusement. Eddie doesn’t respond. He just glances at you, hands tightening into fists, and thinks: Yeah. We do.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

- T’Challa has faced enemies greater than words. He has fought battles with his hands, his mind, his heart. He does not concern himself with petty insults.

- But you do. The second you hear someone speak his name with disrespect, your body moves before your mind does. The punch lands with precision, trained and true—a warrior’s strike.

- He should chastise you. Should remind you that his reputation needs no defense. But when he looks at you—fire in your eyes, your breath sharp, your hands still clenched—he feels something stir beneath his ribs.

- “Impressive,” he murmurs, stepping closer. He does not touch you, not yet, but the space between you hums with electricity. He sees you differently now—not just as an ally. As something more.

- Later, as he watches you spar in the Wakandan training grounds, his mind drifts back to that moment. You fought for him. And T’Challa? T’Challa is not used to losing battles—but he is certain he is about to lose this one.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

- Elektra is used to being hated. She does not care. She exists between life and death, between shadow and steel. She does not need protection.

- But then, you hit someone. For her. And Elektra? She does not know what to do with that.

- She watches as the body crumples to the floor, watches as you shake out your fist, anger still radiating from every inch of you. Something slow and dark unfurls in her chest.

- “Foolish,” she murmurs, stepping forward. But her voice is soft. Her fingers graze your wrist, her eyes searching yours for something she refuses to name. “But… admirable.”

- Later, she finds herself lingering near you more than usual, watching, waiting. You fought for her. And Elektra Natchios has spent her entire life surviving—but now, she wonders what it would be like to be worth saving.

[l1tw1ck]

Consummation

Bottom!FTM Mydei x Top!Masc Reader

☆ Word Count: 1,370 ☆

Mydei finally fulfills his duty after his marriage to you

AFAB Language Used | Royalty AU

CW: Dubious Consent, Aphrodisiacs, Cunnilingus, Virginity Loss, Riding, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing

“Don't forget that our union is merely for the benefit of the people.” Mydei pulls away from your ear and closes his eyes, giving you a small peck on the lips to fulfill his duty as a husband.

“Don't worry.” You turn your head and smile at the crowd of people.

“Now that you've been crowned, don't you think you should spend more time here? You have other things to prioritize over your bloodlust.” You watch Mydei remove his clothes. He doesn't feel any embarrassment about you seeing his naked body, he doesn't have any fear that you’ll touch him.

“Your job is to take care of those things for me.” He ties his hair up.

You follow him into the bathroom. “There's still a lot you need to do yourself, Mydeimos.” You stare at him as he bends over to adjust the water temperature. “One of those being, the consummation of our marriage. You’ve been stalling.”

It's true. He’s been going out to avoid that. “Does it matter? It's foolish to have children now.”

“The purpose isn't necessarily to have children, you know. Our marriage will be voided otherwise. You know it's the only reason you’ve been crowned. Am I the only one who has to care about our people?”

He growls and steps into the bath.

“It’s just one night. What are you so afraid of? I’m sure you’ve had plenty of time to practice.”

He growls again. “Fine. Just get it over with.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, now.” He crosses his arms and turns to you. “Hurry.”

You quickly remove your clothes and enter the bath. He stares at your cock with his brows furrowed. He turns and presses his hands against the wall as he bends over. You gently touch his cunt. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure it doesn't hurt.”

“It's not going to hurt.” He says, protecting his ego. “Do it.”

You sigh and slowly pump your length before entering him. He bites down on his lip. You gently rub his back. “You're too tense, I can barely move any further. I told you–”

“You're not trying hard enough.”

“Just relax your body, okay? Take a deep breath for me.”

His ears tinge red. He moves himself away from you. “We’ll do it tomorrow. You're annoying me.” He doesn't make eye contact.

“Okay, if that's what you want.”

“Mydei?” You walk into the room, surprised that he's laying in bed instead of sleeping against the corner of the wall. He's only wearing a robe.

“Do it..” His voice sounds soft. He moves the robe apart so you can have access to his body. “Hurry and get it over with.”

“You sound different.”

“My aide…gave me….” He sighs and spreads his legs. “Come on, you HKS…!”

“He gave you an aphrodisiac? Seriously?” You chuckle. “You know, it wasn't my fault. You didn't let me do anything.”

His cheeks flush red. “Then do it now.”

You climb onto the bed and bring your face close to his cunt. “You're already so wet, were you touching yourself before I got here?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Calm down, sweetheart. You should've been. I can't imagine how needy you must feel now.”

“I’m not needy—Fuck~!” He moans from the feeling of your tongue sliding up his folds. He bites down on his lip and looks down at you as you start to eat him out. You look like you're enjoying yourself. He subconsciously wraps his legs around your head. He does his best to not crush your skull. “I– wait—” He throws his head back as he orgasms, his walls fluttering around your tongue. He shoves you away with his foot.

You get off of the bed and wipe your face. You watch his body subtly twitch and his chest slowly rising and falling. His eyes are wide. “Tell me when you're ready.” You remove your clothes.

“When I’m ready?” There's a slight growl in his voice. “I'm always ready!”

“Mydei–”

He shakily gets up and shoves you onto the bed. He crawls on top of you and positions himself above your cock.

“Wait–”

“Look who's scared now.” He grins, lowering himself onto you. He throws his head back as his pussy stretches to fit you. It feels a little easier now but it's still painful.

Mydei lets out a sigh as his cunt fully absorbs you.

“Mydeimos..” You gently rub his thighs. “Don't move.”

“Why not?” He slaps your hands.

“Because I want you to. Your duty as my husband is to listen to me, right?”

“I’m the king. You're just a consort!” He tries to raise his body but gasps as his sudden movement causes him to realize why you didn't want him to in the first place. Having something inside him is too foreign and you seem to know your stuff. “Fine. I’ll listen to you. Only for tonight.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You gently stroke his cock.

“I didn't— mmh- give you permis—iuh~” His eyes roll back as he comes again. “Again–”

“Yeah? You want me to make you come again, sweetheart?”

“Don't toy with—” He shudders as your hand returns to his cock. “Yes— yes~!” He groans, rolling his hips. Having your cock inside him feels amazing now. His pussy just keeps fluttering around your cock. He grabs your wrist and forces you to keep touching him.

“Does that feel good?” You coo. “I feel good.”

“Of course you feel good, I’m amazing.” He moves your hand away and calms down. “Is that it?”

“Technically, no, but I’m sure all the servants outside our quarters can attest to our consummation.”

“Then what is technically it? I finish what I start.”

“May I show you?”

“Fine.” He allows you to hold his waist. His mouth hangs open in surprise as you lift him upwards. He didn't think you were strong enough. You slowly move him up and down before ascending to a faster pace. He starts moaning again as your cock hits all the right places inside his sensitive, creamy walls.

His lips curl into a smug, blissed out grin. He already feels his peak approaching.

“Huh?” He furrows his brows as you lift him off of you. “What do you think you're doing?”

“You don't want kids yet.” You look at his pissed off expression. “I’ll finish on my own..”

“What?!” He gets up and grabs you. “Do you think I’m not good enough at this?”

“Calm down. This isn't a competition or a display of strength. I'm just respecting your dislike towards me.”

“I…I don't dislike you.” He tugs you closer to him. He stares at your throbbing length. “Just…Just tell me what I have to do.”

“Well…are you gonna hit me if I tell you what I’d prefer you to do?”

“I won't.”

“Promise?”

He sighs dramatically. “I promise. But if it's weird you have to do that again. Deal?” He points at his cunt. It's still tingling.

“Deal. So…can you get on your knees?” You ask sheepishly. He raises an eyebrow but kneels anyway. You comb your fingers through his hair. “Can you open your mouth?”

His ears turn a fiery red. It’s a good thing it blends in with his hair, his pride is still intact. He opens his mouth and lets you slide your cock inside it. He pushes aside his embarrassment and maintains eye contact.

“You're so pretty..” You mumble, slowly thrusting into him. “Just a little more..”

He feels the heat from his ears travel to his cheeks. Heat from a different source fills his mouth.

“You can—” You’re interrupted as he swallows your cum.

“Eh.” He isn't sure how to feel about it. He stands up. “C’mon then.”

You smile and kneel, once again flipping your positions. Mydei stares down at you with curiosity and soon understands as your lips wrap around his cock and your fingers slide into his cunt.

“Fuck yes-” He groans. “Good boy.” It only takes a couple seconds for him to come again. He shivers as you clean up his thighs with your tongue. “You're not so bad.” He crosses his arms.

“I’m honored to be not so bad, my king.”

[anniebeckcalla]

you're always there...in my sleep

resting with the dreamies

(bf! dream x reader) ◦ ₊ wc: 858 ◦ ₊ cw: fluff, light skinship. lowercase on purpose! ◦ ₊ navigation

ღ calla's note: hope you enjoy this !! thank you so much for your support !!

mark

the room was warm, comfy, and filled with a soft illumination from the night lamp that was kept on through the night at your request. it obviously worked wonders, as you were asleep now, your face in a peaceful smile as your breath came out in small snores. mark lay next to you, but he wasn't in slumber. instead, he watched your eyelashes flutter as you steeped further into limbo. gently, he reached out his hand and used his finger to outline your eyelids, nose, and lips, deliberately taking his time to appreciate every scar and mole. at last, he cupped your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “i’m so glad that i get to call you mine, y/n,” he whispered.

jeno

“still can't sleep?” jeno rubbed his eyes, hair tousled from being under the duvets. you shrugged, tears in your eyes. “it's no use. i've counted sheep, rubbed behind my ears, and sprayed lavender on the pillows. i’ll never get a good night's rest!” jeno sat up, throwing back the duvet. “let's go on a walk.” you stared at him, not sure whether to laugh or continue crying. “a walk? are you just trying to be funny?” jeno crossed over to your side of the bed, and held out his hand. “the night air will do you good, i promise. it's full moon tonight as well, don't you want to enjoy that together?” sighing, you took jeno's hand. “i'll admit that you haven't had a bad idea yet.”

calla's note: I feel like this is slightly ooc because jeno does NOT like going out :( anyway i hope that segment was nice

chenle

“see the way that draymond dodged the opponent?” chenle laughed as he reached for more popcorn from the bucket that you two were sharing. chenle had managed to get you to watch an nba match with him instead of a film that friday night, but instead of enjoying the match, all you two had done was laugh at the players' every move. chenle frowned when you didn't respond. ��y/n?” he turned his head from the television to see you fast asleep, head lolled on his shoulder, your blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “oh, y/n,” he laughed softly. “let's get you to bed.” gently, as not to wake you, he lifted you in a blankety heap and carried you to your room.

renjun

your heart thudded loudly in your chest, your eyes wide in the pitch black. your limbs flailed, sending the duvet to the floor. “renjun,” you whispered. “renjun, where are you?” you reached out for him, but all that met you was the expanse of the mattress. stretching out for what felt like miles. Just then, the bedroom door opened and the room was flooded with light as renjun shuffled in with his phone torch. “ i was just using the toilet,” he began, but stopped when he saw your face. “why do you look so terrified?” he said. “i was scared that you'd just disappeared,” you muttered as renjun pulled the duvet back over the two of you. “you say funny things sometimes,” he chuckled as he pulled you close. “I wasn’t joking,” you mumbled, your eyes closing as you nestled in the crook of his neck.

haechan

it was a light spring afternoon, the sunshine streaming in through an open window. you stroked haechan's chestnut hair as he slept, his head on your chest, body nestled comfortably between your legs. there was a drama on the television that you'd been meaning to start a while ago, but you were distracted by haechan's soft snores and sweet-smelling hair. you bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and he stirred slightly, nestling his head down further into you.

jisung

“...but ron gasped, ‘get away from me, werewolf!’” jisung had one arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other holding the book. “your turn to read, love.” you shook your head, tightening your arms around his waist. “keep reading. it's nice.” “jisung sighed. “we're taking turns, y/n. it's not fair that i have to do all the reading before bedtime.” you frowned. “your voice is the only one that gets me to sleep at night, though! wouldn't you just do me that favour?” jisung sighed. “fine. i'm only doing this for tonight, though, okay?” “thank you, dearest,” you smiled. jisung rolled his eyes in response, but hugged you a little tighter as he resumed the story.

jaemin

the doorbell rang, cutting through the silent peace of the apartment. you jolted from your sleep, rolling over to compose yourself. as you rubbed your eyes, jaemin's voice came from beside you. “what was that?” he muttered, his eyes closed. “someone's at the door, you replied, sitting up. “were we expecting any visitors?” jaemin opened his eyes slightly. “no,” you shrugged. “then there's no reason to get up,” jaemin replied. “just ignore them. he took your arm and pulled you towards him, but then the doorbell sounded again. “i have to get it,” you said. “no you don't,” jaemin said. “just stay here. you know you want to.” you slid back under the covers, giggling when jaemin dipped his head to press his lips to your neck.

♡

comments and reblogs greatly appreciated !! (Ф��Ф)

masterlist

taglist: @cigsaftersuh @jenoleeaesthetic @pl4netx1a @jeonghansshitester @herjaemin @chenlezip

click!

[hivemuthur]

It’s been like, ten months since I last had my period cause I keep forgetting to take my birth control pills to regulate them properly, but I just got mine this month, and I feel so sore and in pain (it happens every time yet I don’t learn) aaAHHH, the conquenses of my own actions 😭😭

Anyway, can I request a little something where viktor takes care of reader during a painful period? That is, only if you’re comfortable with it, I know some aren’t doing so, so if you don’t, feel free to ignore!! Thank you for listening!!

Hi Anon, belated congratulations on your period coming back, it has been exactly a month since you sent your request so I can only guess it's back again (I hope not or that if yes, it doesn't rip you apart). Here's your fic!

Someone Barricade The Gates Of Hell

viktorxfemale!reader Viktor attempts to take care of you on your period, just fluff!

word count: 1,4K

author's note: I was not supposed to upload today, but guess what, I got my period, heh. Title from Heavy Flow song by Alex Biron, my bf plays it loud around the house whenever I become the worst version of myself :v But it does cheer me up, so give it a listen!

—

Darkness envelops you. The pain is so intense, it feels like your uterus is hosting a battle royale. Every cramp hits like a freight train, and you’re convinced you’re about to give birth to a Rosemary’s baby. You curl up under your blankets, wishing you could just time travel to a world where cramps don’t exist. Maybe one where you’re a queen, lying on a bed of roses, and no one ever expects you to do anything besides eat snacks and watch bad reality TV.

You’re fairly sure your body is a medieval torture device right now, no ransom in sight to make it stop. You whimper, clutching your stomach like it’s your last lifeline and your own brain mocks you with images of rivers of blood from The Shining and the bed vomiting blood in Nightmare on Elm Street. You’ve never craved death more.

And then, just as you’re about to text your best friend to complain about God giving you a womb, the mattress dips beside you. A warm, reassuring presence hovers near, and you feel a gentle touch on your shoulder. You peek an eye from under the bed covers, half-expecting it to be a figment of your imagination, but no, it’s Viktor.

His voice is quiet but firm, the kind of tone he uses when he’s trying to convince you of something totally unnecessary but well-meaning. “Baby, you should eat something.”

An angel coming to your salvation, in your delirium you are convinced he is bathed in holy light and in a moment his wings will spread to shield you from this atrocity of an organ that is the uterus. As soon as you scramble up to a pathetic half-sit, the illusion shatters, and you nearly whine with disappointment to discover that the nutrition comes in the shape of healthy sandwiches.

“Please, let me be,” you plead weakly, trying to be as polite as you can while sliding the plate away from yourself with a face that screams disgust. You probably look like you're about to faint, but you're definitely too stubborn to give in.

“Ah, no such option is available. But I come prepared,” Viktor only smiles, reaching under the bed beyond your sight, and you catch the glint of something suspiciously indulgent.

“But I’m so gross,” you whine before you can see it. You can't help it—he's still looking at you like you're some otherworldly beauty, and you feel like a crumpled tissue in comparison.

“You are never gross,” Viktor reassures you, his voice warm, and you nearly giggle and the way gross sounds in his mouth. “And here,” he grins and presents you with the bucket of ice cream, “this is far more appropriate.”

“Fine. You’ve got my attention.” You snatch the bucket from him like a victorious conqueror, your mood lifting just a little. “This is more like it,” you mumble, suddenly all too aware of the aching throb that’s still going on inside you.

“There is more where that came from,” Viktor continues, shifting in front of you. He taps the ice cream bucket. “I also bring… more sustenance,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “a film,” and then, “And a hot water bottle.”

“These can actually cause more harm than good,” you mutter, glancing at the water bottle suspiciously. The last thing you need is something that could make the heavy flow, well... heavier.

“You will forgive me, but what kind of scientist do you think I am?” Viktor’s smile widens, smug and playful. “I have done my research, and they are only harmful when heated up to the point of burning. This one is the exact right temperature.” He gestures to it, clearly very proud of himself.

“Viktor, respectfully, but you have no idea about periods,” you counter, eyeing him like he’s just suggested you try eating fire.

“I know they are,” he starts, clearly excited to demonstrate his new-found knowledge, “a monthly occurrence where the uterus sheds its lining and can cause discomfort, cramps, and—”

“Now you are gross,” you cut him off, wincing slightly at the accuracy of his overly scientific description. You can't help but roll your eyes.

“Then it seems we fit together well, no?” Viktor teases, raising an eyebrow.

You swat at him playfully, laughing despite yourself, before adding, “You forgot the pain factor and the fact that my insides are being slashed across with a barbed wire, but yes, congratulations on your thorough research.” You let out a dramatic sigh, just for the effect, though the ice cream’s starting to calm your mood.

His expression grows thoughtful for a moment as he takes the bucket from you, cracking it open with a smooth gesture, and scooping out a generous bite. “Remember, I am no stranger to pain,” he murmurs, bringing the spoon to your lips, his eyes softening. “But of course, I can only imagine how horrendous this feels.”

You blink, a little startled by the unexpected tenderness in his voice. The heat starts to gather in your eyes as you realize how insensitive you’ve been to his kindness. You cover your face with your hands, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Fuck, I’m such a wanker. I’m so sorry,” you mutter, unable to look at him.

Viktor just chuckles softly, lifting your hands from your face gently. “There’s no need for apologies,” he says, offering you a soft smile. “I’d never mind taking care of you. Even if you’re a little dramatic,” he adds with a wink.

You discard the bucket to the bedside table with a huff, deciding the warmth of Viktor is worth more than the cool of ice cream. It’s the way he sits next to you, his presence somehow soothing the chaos inside you. Viktor strokes your hair gently, and in that moment, he becomes an angel once more in your delirious, cramp-riddled mind—or, better yet, a knight who’s somehow lulled the roaring dragon between your legs into a contented snooze.

“And what’s in the repertoire today?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, though it’s clear you’re only half aware of your surroundings.

Viktor smiles down at you, his fingers still working through your hair as he leans back and reaches for his laptop. “Ah! Something romantic,” he declares dramatically, presenting the screen with flair.

You blink at the title and nearly burst into laughter. “A documentary, I should’ve known.” You can’t help but giggle, despite the drama of your situation. “Because nothing says romance like volcanoes, right?”

Viktor looks at you with a small, knowing smile, as if he’s been waiting for this moment. “Oh, but it’s not just any documentary,” he says, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s Fire of Love—about a couple of volcanologists, deeply in love, exploring the most dangerous and awe-inspiring natural forces on Earth. You see, just like us, they’re scientists, driven by passion for their work, and by each other. It’s... rather romantic, really.”

You stare at him, completely dumbfounded. "How are you so ridiculously brilliant?" you say weakly, no longer sure if it’s your uterus or your heart bleeding now.

Viktor raises an eyebrow, clearly satisfied with himself. “I take it the film choice has been endorsed?”

You let out a small sigh, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Everything you do is endorsed from this point forward."

A wicked smile plays at Viktor’s lips as he puts the film on, his fingers drifting to gently rub at your aching belly. “Careful with such promises,” he teases, his voice low and smooth. “I can think of a million ways to hold it against you.”

You roll your eyes, the warmth of his touch soothing you even as his words send a playful shiver down to your toes. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though you can’t suppress a smile tugging at your lips. “But I guess I’m stuck with you now.” You watch the two scientists trotting between the gates of hell spilling out lava in a fiery rage, while another gate to hell lingers open within you. But somehow, your brilliant boyfriend, the knight that he is, manages to tug them slightly less open. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless, as the warmth of his hand against your stomach soothes you in a way that makes it feel like maybe, just maybe, the worst of it is behind you.

[gold-onthe-inside]

with love, from reid

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: after a case ruins spencer's carefully planned valentine's date, he does his best to make up for it. but all you needed was him. and all the gifts in the world are nothing compared to yours. word count: 3.3k based on: Valentine’s Day Request - Spencer and his partner are separated for Valentines Day (maybe he went to go visit his mom or he was on a special assignment like in Minimal Loss and a storm grounded flights) but he uses every method possible to give his partner the most amazing Valentines Day ever. a/n: i'm so sorry for sitting on this request forever, but inspiration struck today i guess. hope you like it anon.

Spencer’s not like other guys. It’s the mantra you have to keep using to keep your head on straight. But being cheated on by someone you had been about to marry changes your whole perspective on things. Makes it harder to trust, even the most angelic man you’ve ever met. You have to take a deep breath every time he gets a call from JJ or Penelope, have to remind yourself that there’s a valid reason for every missed date, every morning you wake up without him. Because it’s scary how much you like him, how often you think about him.

The scarce amount of time you both get makes the little moments more important, and he knows it. In his head, he’s been building it up, down to the cardigan he would wear on the 14th. He’s calculated the exact amount of time it takes to get from Quantico to your hospital, chosen a restaurant within walking distance — something right up your alley with exotic food and a quiet atmosphere. He knows how many footsteps it’ll take to get there, how many topics you can cover, all of it, down to miniscule details. The flower arrangements that would wait for you both. The menu he had memorised in his head, knowing exactly what you would order. The average time it would take for you both to finish eating while talking. The train back to his apartment, where your favourite movie would be waiting.

If only he could control this unsub the same way. But they were no closer to finding the unsub on the 13th as they were two days ago. He’d been putting off the call all day, staring at his phone until Alex had pointed it out, unravelling the first stitch of his sealed lips. The seam split and he told her everything — the date he’d planned, the flowers he’d bought in advance, the reservation that was waiting for you. He receives the pat on the knee he’d been expecting from Alex, the promise that you’d be understanding (who would know better than her, really?), and her stern voice telling him to call you.

You can hear the regret in his voice when he calls, the tired fatigue that makes you smile sympathetically. “Did you get home okay?” he asked, scuffing the back of his sneakers against the floor, standing right outside the precinct, stars glittering above him, much brighter in Tennessee than in DC. It’s a whole nother date on his bucket list — going star-gazing with you.

“Yeah, just now,” you replied, and he can see you in his mind’s eye, taking off your boots and neatly arranging them in your rack, keys in a clay dish that an 8 year old had made for you, the crick in your neck that he wants to massage for you. “How about you? Any closer to finding your strangler?”

“No,” he huffs, leaning against the railing. There’s a slight chill in the air, but he can’t feel it, not right now. He just wants to hear your voice. “But that’s not important — I just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”

You huffed a small laugh, and he can hear you bustling around over the call, maybe changing into your pyjamas, or hunting for ingredients to make a quick dinner for one, and a frustrated ache builds behind his eyes. He wants to be there, with you, listening to old jazz music and making dinner and small talk. “I think I’m in less danger than the FBI agent hunting down a serial killer, honey.”

“You’re always in less danger than I am,” he grumbles, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lip. He closes his eyes, tilting his head back and picturing the dimly lit kitchen in your apartment, the scent of spices and the warmth of old vinyl records. “I miss you,” he confesses in a soft, almost broken tone.

He hears you pause, a palpable beat passing before you murmured, “I miss you too.”

“I wish I could be there,” he says. He wants to run a hand down your back, trace his knuckles over your cheek to feel the softness of your skin. “I had a whole night planned for us tonight.”

"I know, lovely," you murmured, leaning on the kitchen counter, phone pressed to your ear. "There'll be other nights."

He sighs. He hates having to cancel on you, especially now, when they’re already so rare. “Not like this one,” he mutters, and he knows you can probably tell by his tone that he’s pouting like a child.

“Why, because tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day?” you asked, talking while making a quick pasta.

He’s quiet for a second. Then — “Yes,” he admits in a near-whine. “It was going to be a special night.”

"Spence... Every day is Valentine's Day with you," you said, knowing exactly how cheesy you sound and running with it anyway.

Spencer’s just grateful you can’t see his face right now, because he knows he’s blushing a little, that he has an adorably smitten smile on his lips and he’s sure it would only embarrass him if you could see. “Sap,” he accuses lovingly.

"Said the man who collects ticket stubs of every movie we see," you retorted, grinning into the phone.

He sputters. “That’s — that’s — you’re not supposed to know about those,” he complained. “I keep those for myself, they’re a private collection for a reason.“

“Wow, what happened to what’s yours is mine?” you teased him, watching the pasta boil, and Christ, you felt like a lovestruck teenager right now, like those sickly sweet couples in Hallmark movies.

“That’s — there’s exceptions to that rule,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t you dare touch those. I’ve sorted them in chronological order, by the way — if one is out of place, I’ll know it was you messing around, looking over my things.”

You laughed into the phone, bright even with how tired you felt, because he brought it out of you, a glowing feeling in your chest that made the ache in your feet hurt a little less. It’s a sound that never fails to make his heart skip — the softest, most wonderful noise he’s ever heard. “I wish I was there,” he says again, his voice suddenly quiet and heavy with want.

"I know," you said quietly, watching the water grow cloudy as your pasta cooks. "But those women need you more than I do right now, Spence."

“Stop using logic on me,” he says, only half-joking, his expression serious even though you can’t see it. “I want to be selfish with you tonight.”

"Sweetheart, you don't have a selfish bone in your body," you replied affectionately.

“It’s not fair,” he complains, still playing the part of the pouting child in his mind, just whining and grumpy because he wants to be with you. “I was going to give you flowers, and take you out to dinner, and I was going to drive you home and kiss you so much—”

"We can still do that," you said, cutting him off before he could fill your head with ideas and then you could say goodbye to sleeping peacefully tonight.

“Not tomorrow,” he says. He’s almost definitely pouting right now, staring down at the pavement, his eyes dark under his lashes. “And it’s only Valentine’s once a year, I wanted it to be perfect.”

You fretted as you turned the gas off, putting off straining the pasta as you turned into the phone. “Why’s this so important to you, angel?” you asked softly.

It’s one of the things he loves about you — the gentleness with which you handle him, the way you ooze with care and curiosity instead of coddling concern. “This is our first Valentine’s,” he replies, slightly petulant. “And I wanted it to be good. Something you could look back on. I had it all planned out.”

Christ, you could cry with how much Spencer cared about you. You couldn’t remember anyone, boyfriend or not, who loved you this much. “You know it would’ve been perfect, regardless, right?” you asked gently. “You and me, that’s all I need. Even if it’s over a phone line.”

He’s quiet for a moment, just listening to you speak. “You deserve the best,” he says eventually. “You deserve flowers. And an elegant restaurant. And a movie. And a home cooked meal.” And me, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. “Not a phone call and the knowledge that your boyfriend is across the country.”

"Sweetheart, I get all of that from you even when it isn't Valentine's," you said, in that same gentle tone. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were here when you could be catching a killer."

“Why do you have to be reasonable?” Spencer groaned, rubbing a hand over his face again because you’re being entirely too logical for him to fight with right now. “That’s not fair.”

You chuckled, crossing your arms and leaning on the counter. "We'll have a make-up date, I promise," you said. "Just how you planned it."

That seems to pacify him a little bit, because he lets out a soft sigh. “Okay,” he agrees, slightly begrudgingly. “But I’m in charge of planning. You don’t get a say in the matter.”

You fake a tsk, as if planning mattered at all to you. "Fine. Whatever you decide."

That makes a soft, contented sound form in his throat — one bordering on possessive. “That’s what I thought,” he says, and you can all but envision the smirk on his lips.

"Go find your killer," you chided him, grinning stupidly, but there's no bite in it.

He lets out an amused huff. “Yes ma’am,” he teases, before his tone softens again. “I miss you. I’ll try to come home as soon as I can, okay?”

"Okay," you replied. "Stay safe, please."

“I will,” he promises, because he knows how much the thought of him getting hurt scares you. “Don’t worry about me.”

You snorted quietly, like it was possibly to not worry about him on cases. "Bye."

“Bye,” he responds quietly, and he wishes he could kiss you goodbye, trace the line of your lips with his fingers and feel the pulse in your neck against his fingers. “Sweet dreams.”

"You too," you whispered before hanging up. Spencer stands there for another moment after the call ends, his phone still in his hand and his heart heavy, and he wonders if it’s possible for someone to actually ache from missing someone this much.

And then Morgan’s calling him inside with his newly minted nickname since dating you — ‘lover boy’ — to adjust the geographic profile and he’s unwillingly dragged back into the vortex that is his job. And he has to shove any thoughts of you to the back of his mind for the time being, the lingering ache at the edge of his chest a constant, nagging thing that he has to continuously push past to focus on the case.

The whole team is working hard to try and solve this, but progress is slow. Somewhere between analysing blood spatter patterns and doing his own research to figure out their unsub’s deal, he does his best to plan your make-up date, paranoid that someone would see him looking for places to take you and make his day worse. Eventually, tired of having to look over his shoulder, he bites the bullet and calls Garcia for help, even if it would no doubt get back to Morgan and the rest of the team.

And then he has to deal with Garcia’s excited squealing, her incessant questions about you both, her comments about how cute he is and how she needs to meet you. He keeps his head down and grits his teeth, because he knows she means no harm, and it’s a small price to suffer through just to have this night be perfect.

The first thing to arrive was a bouquet of tulips with your morning paper waiting outside your door, a pretty arrangement of red and pink that matched the outfit you were going to wear to work — the whole department had agreed to come in red, white, and pink colours — and you can’t stop smiling as you go to put in a vase with water.

He gets the picture texted to him in the middle of a briefing with Hotch and the team, barely able to restrain his smile as he checked his phone under the table.

You: They’re beautiful, thank you.

He’s oblivious to Morgan giving him an odd look as he texted you back:

Spencer: Only the best for the most beautiful girl in the world.

Spencer tucks his phone back into his pocket when the meeting ends, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Morgan. He knows he’s going to get bombarded with questions he doesn’t feel like answering, and for once he’s glad they have a case to work on so he can use that as an excuse not to interact with him.

The second arrival was a package sent to your office, because of course he had your shift schedule memorised, and you signed for it, grasping the brown paper package that was obviously a book back to your desk. There’s no reason for you to hide it, not in the sanctity of your own office, but it’s as if you’re back in school, your crush sending you a note that you unfurl under your desk, finding a hardbound copy of Persuasion, arguably your favourite Austen novel.

You do your best not to blush, picking up your phone to text him, chewing on your lip before flipping to the right chapter and sending him a direct quote.

You: There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.

Spencer’s in the middle of examining a body when you sent him the text. But as soon as he feels his phone vibrate, he pulls it out without a second thought, uncaring of the fact that Morgan and Rossi are looking his way. He has to hold back a smile because no, he won’t give Morgan any ammunition.

Spencer: You have my whole heart.

“You two are sickening, I hope you know that,” Morgan told him, a smirk on his lips.

Spencer’s head snaps up in alarm at the sound of his voice, and he quickly drops his phone in his pocket, face flushing. He’s silent for a minute, trying to regain his composure and come up with something to defend himself. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he replied weakly.

"Uh-huh," Rossi replied, masking a smile. "Can we look at the body now, or does your girlfriend have more input?" He wouldn’t be surprised if you did, to be honest, but he’d rather keep you out of this part of his world. He just shook his head, stepping closer to the slab.

Your last gift came in just as Valentine’s Day was about to come to an end, Spencer silently tracking into your apartment, 5 minutes away from midnight, cringing as he opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. You’re asleep, your breathing soft and deep, the soft, soothing sound filling the room. He kneels by your side of the bed for a moment, just looking at you: all loose-limbed and relaxed, your face soft and sweet against the pillow. He can’t help the little smile that tugs the corner of his mouth up, and he wonders how he got so lucky. Softly, he reaches out, fingertips gentle as he brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You flinched, startled awake, until you recognise Spencer's eyes blinking back at you. "Jesus Christ, you scared me," you breathed out. "You should have told me you were coming."

“I was trying to be quiet,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so only you would hear. His hand brushed the curve of your jaw, a soft, almost reverent motion. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You sink back into your pillows, shifting inside so he can sit on the edge. "I would have waited up for you if you'd called first," you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hip right against your knee, his fingers still trailing along your face, then resting on your thigh over the covers. “I tried to get home earlier,” he said, and he sounded exhausted, the stress of the case weighing on him. “But the team was debating something. And then paperwork...”

"You don't have to explain," you said softly, shaking your head, making a mess of your hair.

He watches you, his gaze lingering on the mussed locks on your head, the sleepy bleariness to your eyes, the pinkness to your cheeks, and he feels a surge of longing so strong it borders on painful for a moment. He loves you like this — soft and sweet and rumpled with sleep, and he wants nothing more than to curl up next to you right here and now. “I hate being away from you for so long,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you so much.”

"Should've caught your guy faster then," you said, shifting up to meet his lips with yours. "Happy Valentine's."

He returned your kiss, his fingers trailing up to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Happy Valentine’s,” he murmured against your lips, before he was kissing you again, harder this time, and you could tell he was tired by the urgency with which he held onto you.

"I realised something when you were away, you know," you murmured against his lips.

He pulled back slightly so he could look at you, his fingers still trailing along the back of your neck. “Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and studying your face with those sharp, intelligent eyes of his.

You nodded, looking at him with your own fond gaze. "I love you," you said softly. Plain and uncomplicated.

He had heard those words plenty of times in his life, but he’d never tire of hearing them from your lips. He felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he moved his hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Say it again?” he whispered.

"I love you," you repeated, your smile glowing in the dark, streetlights dancing over your ceiling.

He felt something in his chest settle at the words, at the reassurance that you really were here, and you were his. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your nose, the. corner of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “God, I love you so much.”

Your arms winded around him, his face burying itself in your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin, his arms wrapped around your waist. His hands slipped up under your sleep shirt, his touch warm and soft against your back, and he practically sunk into you, needing the closeness, needing to be surrounded by you.

"I know the day didn't go to plan," you murmured, "but this is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had."

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, like he couldn’t get enough of having you pressed against him, and he pulled his head back from your neck so he could look at you properly. “Me too,” he said, then reconsidered. “Well, the whole day was hell, but this… this is perfect.”

"Yeah?" you asked, pecking his lips.

He chased your mouth, kissing you again, lingering on your lips for longer. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “Being with you is all I need.”

[jobean12-blog]

Starving

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Word Count: 643

Summary: Javi has been so busy at work so you stop by the office to check on him.

Author’s Note: Just because I love him so❤️ thank you so much for reading! Much love always❤️❤️❤️ divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: softness, tension, implied smut, a curse lol

You lightly knock on the door, hearing nothing more than a grunt of recognition from inside his office and it prompts you to turn the knob and slip inside.

At first he doesn’t even look up from the papers sprawled haphazardly across his desk, his eyebrows drawn in with steely focus.

You walk over to his desk and place down the brown paper bag. He looks up.

“Angel,” he blinks and let’s out long exhale.

Rounding his desk, you cradle his face between your hands and kiss first one cheek and then the other before softly pressing your lips to his. When you pull away his eyes are still closed.

“Have you eaten anything today?” you ask.

He opens his mouth, but you press a finger to his lips.

“And coffee does not count Javi.”

When you release his lips he doesn’t bother with an answers and you frown.

“I know you’re still busy, so I won’t take up too much of your time. Just promise me you’ll at least eat what I brought you.”

He nods and grabs your wrist, sliding your hand from his cheek to kiss your palm.

“I will angel. Thank you.”

You start to pull away, but he doesn’t let go of your wrist, dragging you closer for one more kiss.

As you pass by Steve’s desk you whisper, “make sure he eats that…and you too,” you add looking at the bag in front of Steve.

“I will and thanks babe.”

You nod with a smile and head for the door.

Javi’s on you before you get very far, his hand closing around your arm and tugging you away to a hidden corner of the office.

It’s a dark space behind the tall file cabinets and when he spins you around and presses you against the cool metal it disrupts some long-standing dust.

His body is firm and warm against yours and he’s so close, you can smell his skin, your deep inhale filling your senses with spice and smoke.

With his eyes fastened on your mouth, he slowly drags his tongue along his bottom lip. The breadth of his chest dips and swells and your pulse flutters at the base of your neck.

His expression is strained as his eyes wander over your face and you hear him swallow loudly.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” you ask, trying not to sound breathless.

“You…” he starts, bracing a hand on the file cabinet above your head, “you’re very distracting.”

He leans in, movements unhurried, his mouth stopping a hairsbreadth away from yours. He stares, shifting against you like some barely controllable wild animal, his right hand lifting to tilt your chin, his lips ghosting up the side of your neck.

You make a breathy sound.

“You need to work…and have something to eat,” you try again, even as your eyes roll back and your lashes flutter against your cheek.

His thumb caresses the hollow of your throat, his dark eyes studying your mouth with such fierce concentration your heart stutters.

“I know…but there’s something else I need first,” he murmurs as he brushes his lips to yours.

Your mouth parts and you feel his warm breath but before you can ask him what it is he needs, even though you know the answer, he tightens his hold on you and whispers, “you. I’m fucking starving for you.”

You gasp and he swallows the sound, his lips soft and tentative at first, drawing out every whisper of breath until he can’t control himself any longer and he kisses you like you’re a meal he wants to memorize every flavor of.

“Are you gonna let me have a taste angel?” he rasps against your mouth, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He traps your waist between his hands and holds you still as falls to his knees.

[monotonesmile]

Hi!!!!! Can you write a Jason Todd x reader where the reader is planning a surprise birthday party for Jason with Dick but Jason gets jealous and thinks the reader is cheating on him

Surprise!

[Jason Todd X GN!Reader]

[Word Count: 1946]

[Warnings: Accusations of cheating]

[Fic Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst]

[Notes: Goddamn, y’all just want to hurt this man, don’t ya? Well, I’m here to oblige. Enjoy.]

———————————————————————

They were taken out of their concentration while working on some papers when their phone started to ring on their desk, looking at the caller ID, they saw the name Dick Grayson, Jason’s older brother, confused, they picked up their phone and answered.

“Hello?” They were a bit confused as they answered the phone, waiting to hear why Dick was calling them during the middle of the night. Jason was out on patrol as Red Hood when this happened so they don’t know if he was calling for Jason.

“Hey! I’ve got a question for you.” Dick’s voice came through the speaker on the phone, cheerful as always, he definitely seemed excited about something, if they could see him, he'd probably be bouncing off the walls with excitement about this mystery question.

“Uh…sure? What’s up?” They raise an eyebrow as they look down at the papers they were working on, setting the phone down and putting him on speaker so they can continue their work, wondering what he is so excited about.

“Do you want to help me plan a surprise party for Jason’s birthday?” Dick enthusiastically asks, practically vibrating with excitement through the phone.

“Oh shit! Yes! Absolutely!” They were immediately infected by his excitement, they were more than happy to help plan a birthday party for their boyfriend, why wouldn’t they! They love him so much, they would be overjoyed to help surprise him for his birthday!

“Awesome, okay, so where do you want to meet up to go over this stuff?” They could practically hear Dick grinning through the phone, he was just so happy to surprise his brother for his birthday, it feels nice to act like a normal family sometimes.

“Oh! There’s this little coffee shop downtown that I go too, we can go there to plan something out if that works for you.” They chime in, offering one of their favorite little coffee shops to meet up at, it’s quiet and out of the way, perfect place to plan a surprise party.

“Perfect! Does Saturday at…maybe two work for you?” Dick hums, excited to start planning this thing, who else would he plan it with? Jason’s own partner is perfect for the job!

“That works for me, see you then! Stay safe, have a nice night!” They nod, writing the date in their calendar so they’ll remember before bidding him goodnight, hearing him say his goodbye before hanging up the phone. They’re smiling, excited to do something special for Jason, the man they love so very deeply.

———————————————————————

Multiple Saturday’s had passed around by now, Jason’s birthday slowly creeping up on them, but now they have to get ready, pulling on their socks before they run out the bedroom in some casual clothing, sliding past Jason as they gather different items to take with them to the small cafe. A small notebook, pen, stickers for the fun of it, just the things they’ll need as they had started planning the food that’ll be at the birthday, besides cake of course, that’s a given for a birthday.

Jason was watching them run around their apartment with a confused expression as he sat on the couch watching tv, his eyes tracking them as they grabbed seemingly different items for something he has no idea about, he didn’t even get a clue on what exactly they were doing, it’s obvious they were going out but he doesn’t know the reason why, they hadn’t told him anything, just leaving him a confused mess of a man as they slid on their shoes.

He was going to ask where they were going but he didn’t get the chance as they pulled on their coat, saying a quick love you and goodbye before the door shutting echoed through the apartment. Well…that was a very fast exit. Now he’s even more confused about what they were doing, something in his gut telling him to follow them, so he slowly got off the couch, grabbing his keys and following out the door.

Jason quickly put on his helmet when their car left the parking lot of their apartment complex, got onto his motorcycle as it revved to life, pulled out of the lot and followed from a distance, sometimes his training as a vigilante is really helpful in everyday life. He followed them through different streets before they got to downtown Gotham, seeing their car park, he had parked a few blocks down to keep his cover and distance, silently following them as they headed into a small coffee shop, he could recognize it as one of their favorites.

He is just even more confused now, why were you here? Are you meeting with a friend? Studying maybe? Is that why you came out here? He can’t blame them if that’s why they were here, it’s a nice place, and for a moment he was tempted to go inside before he spotted an all too familiar face from behind the window, his older brother, Dick Grayson. His eyes had widened in surprise, his mind doing backflips on trying to think of a reason he would be here, until they had sat down across from him. So that's why you were here. He watched as the two spoke, smiling and talking excitedly, although he can’t make out what either of you are saying.

Jason didn’t know how to feel about it, while he was more than happy that they got along with his family, it was always something he loved about them, but this makes his stomach churn in jealousy, his mind racing with confusion and concern, and a thought he wished never crossed his mind came into though. Had you been cheating on him with his own brother? It was something he didn’t want to believe, but he could see how ecstatic they were when with Dick, and it hurt more than he thought it would.

He didn’t want to believe what was in front of him, oh how he wished this was just a nightmare or Scarecrow's fear gas, but no, this was reality, and it hurt him more than anything else could, he wanted to barge in and confront them, but he couldn’t, he can’t deal with that pain right now, he could be wrong about all of this, he hopes he’s wrong. So, he turned back to his motorcycle, getting on, and driving home in complete silence, his mind running wild, giving him a headache.

———————————————————————

The door shut behind him with a thud, Jason had his breathing heavy as he entered the living room, pacing around as his arms crossed, his fingers gripping tightly onto the fabric of his shirt, he mind was running completely wild with theories, none of them comforting or good, the longer he paced, the more he feared that they were actually cheating on him, he doesn’t think he could handle that kind of pain and betrayal.

But of course they’d cheat with Dick, why wouldn’t they? He’s everything Jason can’t be, he was charming, flirtatious, he could actually give them the life they wanted, a stable life with a vigilante, something Jason could never give to them due to his own demons and past. It hurt to admit that he truly thought they were too good for him, maybe they’d be better off with Dick, they’d have a good life with him.

Jason’s thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and closing, how long had he been pacing? He doesn’t know, but he knows that they’re home now. He glanced over to see them tugging their shoes off with a smile on their face, he had to take a moment to catch his breath and calm his breathing before he walked over to them as they were shrugging off their coat and about to put it away.

When they spotted him walking over they were quick to greet him, “Jason!” They had chirped, smiling up at the larger man, usually hearing them call his name and cheerfully greet him would make his heart flutter but this time it made him feel sick to his stomach due to prior thoughts and his fears.

It hurt seeing their smile but he took a deep breath before asking the very question he dreads the answer to so much.

“Are you cheating on me with Dick?” Jason tried to conceal the pain on his face by keeping a stern look and his head up but it was obvious how much hurt he felt, his eyebrows twitching as his eyes told the entire story, they were sad, glossy eyes, filled with pain.

“Wh-what!? No! God no!” They sputtered as their response was almost instant, they whipped around, dropping their coat with their surprise at his question, their face was a complete look of shock and confusion, they had no idea why he would even think that!

“Hold on! Before you say anything else! Here, you can look through our texts!” They were quick to pull their phone from their pocket, practically shoving it into his hands after unlocking it, they had wanted to prove their loyalty, confused but truly wanting to dispel his suspicions and fear,

Jason hesitated but looked down at the phone, afraid of what he’ll find, slowly scrolling through the many messages the two had sent over multiple days, their activity had spiked as of recent, and he still has no clue why.

“I swear, I would never cheat on you! Me and Dick were…we were just meeting to plan a surprise for you, I’m so sorry Jason…” They sigh quietly, fidgeting with their hands as they look down, feeling bad as they admit the reason for their many disappearances over the few weeks.

“I hadn’t realized I was ignoring and neglecting you, I never meant to do that, I was just so excited to surprise you.” They felt so guilty for their oversight, they should’ve just told him that they were going to talk to his brother rather than say absolutely nothing at all to him about where they were going, they can’t blame him for his worries, they made a mistake and are owning up to it.

Jason practically deflated when he confirmed their words with the texts, they had just been talking about the former surprise and what they were planning for it, it made his entire body relax so much, he was so glad that his fears and suspicions were incorrect, they weren’t cheating, they were trying to do something sweet for him.

“God…I’m sorry.” Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair as he handed their phone back to them so they could put it away. “I shouldn’t have just accused you of that, I should’ve trusted you more…” Well now he felt bad for a completely different reason, he just accused his loving partner of cheating on him.

“No! It’s fine, I understand, I should’ve known better, probably should’ve told you where I was going…” They cut him off with a hug, feeling his strong arms wrap around them in response, holding them close as he sighs again, happy to have them in his arms after such a confusing and stressful day.

“So…what exactly is the surprise?” Jason hums, now curious and a bit cheeky as he asks, he wants to know what they’re planning since they had already told him that the reason they were meeting his brother was to plan some kind of event.

“Jason no, it’s supposed to be a surprise!” They huffed in response, hearing him laugh at their grumpy reply, he knew they wouldn’t spill, a pity.

“Yeah yeah…love you, Doll.” He chuckles, kissing their forehead gently.

“Love you too, Red.”

———————————————————————

[Requests are open!]

[deswhomst]

See You Again (Will I?) — @black-brothers-microfic — WC: 1366 | Warnings: implied (sacrificial) suicide

Hogwarts circa June, 1978.

“Regulus,” Sirius said, the name foreign on his tongue, the sound wrong in his ears.

The younger boy gave a short nod. “Sirius.”

Oh—his own name sounded wrong, too.

It was a well-established fact that Sirius hated the Blacks and that included the hollow shell of a brother he once knew—who was now staring back at him with a razor-sharp gaze.

Regulus used to be such a soft kid—annoying and snobbish, yes, but polite and sweet, too. It was like Sirius had blinked one day and Regulus had shattered into a mosaic of broken glass, all jagged edges that threatened to leave the deepest cuts. A part of Sirius knew that he had missed out on his brother’s life by his own choice but he couldn’t help the wound that opened up in his heart at thought.

Sirius decided to speak up. “I’m leaving.”

Regulus raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“I mean—” Sirius grimaced at the wording. “Hogwarts. Seventh Year done and whatnot.”

“A bit surprised, if I’m being honest,” Regulus said. “I always imagined that you would get expelled.”

Why did he speak like that? Absolutely zero emotion on his face. He had changed so much in the last two years—him arguing with Sirius and being a little bitch was much better than … whatever this was.

“Yeah, well,” Sirius shrugged, passing him a toothy grin. “Came close once. Or ten times.”

“I’m sure.”

Usually, Sirius would be mean to Regulus. He would look at him and turn away in pure contempt. Today, however, with all the goodbyes and a war looming ahead, Sirius found himself overcome with a fondness for his brother that hasn’t been there in … six years? Longer?

Sirius has heard the rumors about Regulus already becoming a Death Eater. He knew that even if it wasn’t true, yet, that was still the path Regulus was heading down. That has always been his big goal in life. The thought of it brought back some bitterness but the more prominent cloud in Sirius’ mind was a heavy reminder that he would be on opposite sides of a war with his own brother.

He had no confirmation that Regulus had actually taken the Dark Mark and as long as he didn’t, Sirius reasoned, he had one last chance to say the goodbye they had put off for two years.

Sirius didn’t think much about it. Words were failing him, anyways, and so he moved forward, bringing his arm around Regulus in a hug that neither of them were prepared for.

Regulus went rigid instantly, his entire body locking up as if he had been petrified. The hesitation, the instinctive recoil, it all vibrated through Sirius’ own body, but then—slowly, stiffly—Regulus started to return the embrace. In all honesty, it was not much at all. There was no warmth—in fact, even under the glare of the summer sun, Regulus felt colder than ice. But it was there, he was there, and Sirius decided that this would have to count. It would have to mean something, and it does.

Sirius exhaled through his nose, gripping the fabric of Regulus’ robes for just a second longer before pulling back. His hands lingered on his brother’s arms, giving them a brief squeeze before letting go entirely.

“This is the last time,” Sirius said, voice not as steady as he had intended.

Regulus blinked, something flickering across his face but it was gone before Sirius could place it. “Hmm?”

“This is the last time,” Sirius pressed more firmly, “we will ever see each other.”

Regulus did not argue. He only nodded, paused for one second, then promptly turned on his heel and walked away.

This time, Sirius watched Regulus leave.

Knockturn Alley circa August, 1979.

Regulus stepped out of Burkin and Burkes, the replica of Slytherin’s locket safely tucked into his pocket. Time was moving slowly for him tonight, which probably made sense since he was quite literally on his way to trade his life for the real locket.

For someone who was about to die at eighteen, Regulus didn’t have much that he wanted to do. He wished that things had been different but, honestly, even without the war, Regulus Black would not mean anything to anyone. That was his reality, it was his burden, and he will rot the water with it soon.

Perhaps the universe wasn’t done punishing Regulus, though, because as he turned down an alley, he came face to face with his brother. The estranged, disowned brother he hadn’t seen in a year. The brother who was actively fighting against him.

Where the light bled into the dark, where the flickering streetlamps didn’t reach, that’s where Regulus saw Sirius again.

One last time.

“I don’t want to fight,” Regulus found himself saying, immediately, voice small. He was exhausted—bone-deep and soul-deep. There was nothing left in him to give anymore. “Please, Sirius.”

Sirius was accessing him carefully, jaw clenched tightly, but Regulus caught the hint of concern in his unforgiving gaze. He must look like a special brand of shit for Sirius to put aside his hatred.

“You look like hell,” Sirius muttered, confirming that theory.

Regulus huffed. “Don’t we all?”

Sirius didn’t smile. Regulus hadn’t expected him to. With that, a silence settled over them, and calling it uncomfortable would not do it justice.

None of it mattered, anyways.

Regulus was already dying.

He was dying, and Sirius hated him.

He was dying, and no one loved him.

“I know we’re on opposite sides,” he admitted, keeping his gaze fixed on the cold stone wall behind Sirius’ shoulder. “And I know what that means.”

“Do you?” Sirius’ voice was sharp, edged with something dangerous. Something awful, something hateful. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here.”

Regulus shook his head, a bit desperate. “I do,” he hesitated, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “I don’t expect you to understand, but this—this is something that I have to do.”

Sirius’ expression twisted, frustration flickering across his face. “You’ve never had to—”

“Listen,” Regulus cut in, digging crescents into his palm. “I meant what I said about not wanting to fight. Please, Sirius, don’t be mean to me today.”

It was unfair. It was pathetic, too, but again—Regulus was dying so nothing mattered. What was Sirius going to do? Leave him again? Kill him more?

None of it mattered.

Regulus didn’t matter. He never had, never will.

“Reggie—”

And maybe it was simply the fear of dying alone or maybe it was the use of the nickname the Regulus hadn’t heard in years that made him pull Sirius into a hug in that moment.

Regulus had never initiated an embrace with anyone before—and he never will after this. This had been his last chance to do so and he has done it. Now, at least, Regulus can claim that in the eighteen years he got, he had given one hug.

It was warm despite his own inherent coldness. Unlike Regulus, Sirius didn’t hesitate before retuning it, arms circling around his shoulders. It was then that Regulus realized that he had grown taller than Sirius. The older Black seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his response being a tight squeeze.

In another life, Regulus would have teased him about this. In another life, Sirius would have been annoyed by this.

Regulus didn’t let go of his brother for what felt like an eternity. He wished that Sirius would ask him to stay, but how could Sirius know where he was headed? Would it change anything, Regulus wondered? If Sirius knew that Regulus was going to give up his life to bring down the Dark Lord, would he stop him?

Will he mourn him?

Will anyone?

“Alright. Alright,” Sirius sighed. He was the first to pull away and it had to be him because Regulus wasn’t brave enough to face reality again. “Stupid question but … are you okay?”

Regulus supposed that’s something he hasn’t done yet. Be okay. He pulled back further, shrugging.

“You were wrong, Sirius,” Regulus muttered. “This is the last time we will ever see each other.”

Sirius had left once, so Regulus had to be the one who left at least twice.

And for good this time.

Edit: Moodboard I made inspired by this

[jungshookz]

taehyung’s gotten really beefy and y/n feels like a hormonal teenager 

➺ pairing; roommate!taehyung x roommate!y/n 

➺ genre; roomie!taehyungiverse!! honk honk humour!! a little sprinkle of smut because it would be illegal to write about beefy taehyung and not talk about his bulging biceps WOOF WOOF y/n is a lucky girl i need himbo gymrat taehyung so bad 

➺ wordcount; 2.5k

➺ summary; over the last few weeks, taehyung’s noticed that you’ve been particularly jittery and nervous around him and he can’t figure out why… after one of his usual morning workouts, he decides to finally confront you about it and your answer is more than satisfying to him. 

➺ what to expect; “wait, so you’re telling me the only reason why you’ve been acting so strange these last few weeks is because you think i’m… sexy?”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; hey daddy (daddy’s home) — usher 

»»————- 🏋🏻‍♂️ ————-««

you’re not sure when taehyung decided to go on a new health journey, but it feels like you’ve blinked and watched your boyfriend go from just some handsome guy that you’re in love with to this muscular, gym-crazy man who loves protein shakes and asking for extra chicken at chipotle (who you’re still very much in love with, let’s be clear that nothing’s changed about that) and suddenly has the ability to do like 100 pull-ups without getting tired 

“ugh, fuck-“ taehyung grunts as he does his last push up (this is his fourth set, so technically he just did 300 pushups with no problem), getting up from the ground and twisting his upper body from side to side before putting his phone in between his lips, peeling his damp wife-beater tank off and tossing it on the ground 

lately he’s been working out in the morning before starting his day and it’s honestly been such a great change — he feels super pumped for the day ahead and completely reinvigorated 

and getting his workout done in the morning means he doesn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day! 

he went for a run around the neighbourhood early this morning, and then came home to finish off with some calisthenics 

and now he’s gonna do a little cool-down stretch and hit the shower

he hums to himself as he adjusts his wired earbuds, usher’s hey daddy (daddy’s home) making him bop his head — maybe it’s a little douchey of him to be listening to this song while he’s working out but he can’t help that it’s a good ass song 

he slips his phone into the back pocket of his grey sweatpants before reaching for the bottle of water, twisting the cap off and lifting the bottle to chug half of it down 

“…good lord.” you mutter to yourself, staring at your boyfriend shamelessly from the kitchen as your jaw goes slack 

oh yeah — you’re here, too, by the way 

you’ve been here the whole time

you watched him do all 300 pushups and you counted 

and now your coffee is cold because you can’t multitask and you couldn’t focus on gawking at your boyfriend and drinking your coffee at the same time 

taehyung didn’t notice when you slipped past him earlier to head to the kitchen (and honestly, you didn’t want to bother him mid-workout because you know that you hate it when people interrupt your flow) and you’re pretty sure he still hasn’t noticed you, but you’re fine with that because you’d rather he be unaware of your presence than know that you’ve been creeping on him for the last twenty minutes or so 

you don’t mean to stare, you really don’t, but… how can you not stare at him in his shirtless, sweaty glory like that?

your mouth goes dry and you swallow thickly when he turns around, his back muscles flexing slightly 

and since when did he have such bulging veins in his biceps?! 

your eyes trail down the wide expanse of his glistening back and you immediately get flashbacks from the other night when you had your nails digging into his shoulder blades, your hands sliding down to his lower back as he pushed himself into- 

“good morning, sexy-“ you’re snapped out of your thoughts when tae delivers a slap to your bare ass as he passes by and you immediately grip onto your mug harder, letting out a nervous chuckle, “you’re finally up!”

“yeah, i-“ your voice cracks and you clear your throat before shrugging, reaching down to pull your shirt down a little to cover your ass, “it’s whatever, i’m cool.” your brows immediately furrow in confusion at your own words 

…what?

what are you even saying? 

see, something else you’ve noticed that’s happened since taehyung decided that he wanted to go on a run every morning at 5am and come home completely JACKED is that you’ve started feeling nervous around him and you have no idea why 

the both of you have been together for five years (and seven months) and somehow you’ve reverted to some lovestruck teenager who giggles at everything

in fact, you feel like how you felt when you first met taehyung when he came to see you about your open roommate application — very intimidated by how handsome he was and hoping that he thought you were cool enough to hang out with 

“did you want some of my smoothie, baby? i can already tell this batch might have a little more than usual…” taehyung hums, his tongue poking out from in between his lips as he measures out his double chocolate protein powder, dumping two full scoops into the blender, “could you get the blueberries from the freezer for me?” 

“smoothie?” you clear your throat, nodding and setting your mug down, “uh, yeah! blueberries.” you turn around, pulling the freezer drawer open and pulling out the large ziploc of frozen blueberries before shaking your head to yourself to snap out of your funk 

smoothie? uh, yeah, blueberries! you mock yourself internally — you are literally incapable of forming full sentences, it feels like you’ve got a bunch of marbles rolling around in your mouth 

and he needs to put a shirt on or something because he’s starting to get those toned v-lines that taper down nicely when he wears his sweatpants low on his hips 

you didn’t even know those muscles existed 

“so did you want some? it’s okay if you don’t, i guess i could drink it all, the extra protein will be good-“

“uh, yeah! i’ll have some.” you nod, setting your mug down and turning to get a cup for yourself 

taehyung turns the blender on and the kitchen is immediately filled with the obnoxious, grating sound of ZZzhzhhZHHZHHHHHhHhZHzh but you’re actually glad the space between you is being filled up with that 

otherwise you’d have to make conversation with him 

and in your current state, you are completely helpless 

you watch as he reaches up to slick his damp hair back, leaning back a little to check and make sure all the ingredients are being blended up nice and smooth  

it just feels like he’s moving in slow-motion and you… you… 

see you just lost your train of thought 

THAT’S how bad it’s been 

taehyung glances up at you briefly from where he’s standing at the opposite end of the kitchen island, noticing that you’ve seemed to space out again 

he has no idea what your deal has been for the last couple of weeks — he doesn’t think anything is necessarily wrong between the two of you, and if there’s a problem he knows you’re more than capable of bringing it up with him and talking it out 

but at the same time, something is wrong because you’ve been unusually quiet and every time he tries to make conversation it feels like you don’t know how to speak like a normal human being 

like earlier when he said good morning and that you were finally up and you responded with “it’s whatever, i’m cool”

it’s whatever, i’m cool

what the hell was that?! 

or the other night when he asked you if you wanted to join him in the shower and you let out the most nervous, high-pitched laugh before practically sprinting away to the kitchen and saying something about needing to wash the dishes 

…is it him? are you not physically attracted to him anymore? 

that can’t be it, either… you guys had sex the other night and you were very vocal (you guys actually got a noise complaint from a neighbour but he never told you because he knew you’d be embarrassed and never want to have sex ever again, and to be honest, he’s just planning on putting his hand over your mouth the next time you fuck — easy fix!) 

“okay, what’s wrong with you?” taehyung asks as soon as he turns the blender off, and you look up from the counter with wide eyes, “you’ve been so jittery with me for the last few weeks and i cannot figure out why, for the life of me. if you’re up to something shady, you might as well tell me now and-“

“what?” your eyelashes flutter in surprise and you let out a snort, his crazy accusation immediately sobering you up, “i promise you i am not up to anything shady, in fact, i’m kind of offended you even had that thought-“

“oh, thank god. you’re speaking like a normal human being, i finally fixed you-“ taehyung sighs, blowing a puff of air out as he pops the blender lid off, dipping his finger into the smoothie before bringing it up to his lips for a taste

“you have got to be kidding me.” you murmur to yourself, watching as some of the smoothie drips from his finger onto his toned abdomen

he swipes it off before sucking it off his finger with a satisfied hum

“you’re a freak!”  you blurt out, “oh my god, you are such a freak and it’s like you do these things that i feel like are on purpose but-“

“what are you talking about??” 

“i’m talking about- i just-“ you stumble over your words, letting out a groan when you find yourself being unable to form a sentence again

you pause for a second, shaking your head before composing yourself and painting a nice, pleasant smile on your face, “you… you… are you… are you aware of how ripped you’ve become?” 

“what?” taehyung laughs in disbelief, his eyes flickering off to the side, “i mean… i know i’ve definitely bulked up a little, i wouldn’t say i’m ripped-“

“you have no idea how hard it is to not throw myself at you every single second of every single day — i mean, i love you and i’m attracted to you no matter what you look like but there’s just something so satisfying about biting into your firm, firm bicep,” you make your way over to taehyung before jabbing a finger into his arm, “like, are you telling me this is all muscle?!”

“i mean-“ taehyung looks down before flexing his arm, making his bicep pop out, “yeah, i guess so. wait, so you’re telling me the only reason why you’ve been acting so strange these last few weeks is because you think i’m… sexy?” 

“you have been walking around all shirtless and sweaty with grey goddamn sweatpants so low on your hips that you’re basically naked, this is not on me!” you gawk, eyes widening when taehyung suddenly rounds the corner to get closer to you, “what are you- what are you doing?”

“nothing! we’re having a conversation, aren’t we?” the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk as he continues walking you back until you’ve found yourself bumped up against the counter, your hands immediately fumbling to grip onto the edges to keep balanced, “oh, what’s wrong, baby? do i make you nervous?” he coos, using his pointer finger to raise your chin and forcing you to look at him before setting both his hands down on the counter and effectively trapping you in 

“you-“ your voice cracks and you feel your face getting hotter (again, not sure why because you’ve been dating this man for five years, but maybe it’s a good sign that after all this time you still get super hot and bothered being around him — the spark is still very much alive!), “you don’t make me nervous, that’s ridiculous.” 

“oh, don’t i?” taehyung tilts his head, sliding a finger up the side of your bare thigh and smiling to himself when he feels goosebumps starting to prickle at your skin, “you know, it’s funny that you’re scolding me for walking around shirtless in my own home when you’re the one constantly walking around in skimpy little g-strings. how do you think i feel, having to keep myself from bending you over every single surface in this apartment and just pushing your panties to the side?” he asks, voice light as he uses his pinky to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes  

“i imagine you probably feel… not… good…” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest and keeping your chin raised in an attempt to appear as calm and collected as possible

“you don’t have to be nervous around me, honey,” taehyung leans down, and you’re as still as can be when he brushes his lips over yours before starting to plant light kisses along your jaw, “you know i love you and for the record, i think you’re incredibly sexy all the time…” he takes your hand and places it on his firm abdomen before sliding it down, and your thighs squeeze together upon feeling the ridges of his abs 

and maybe now isn’t a good time to be thinking this but you can’t help but feel good about the fact that taehyung still thinks you’re sexy — it’s giving you the little ego boost you’ve been needing and- I NEED TO SUCK HIS DICK

okay JESUS 

your eyes shoot open at the sudden uncharacteristically graphic intrusive thought and you immediately push taehyung away from you, keeping him at arm’s length 

“wh- what’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “did i say someth-“

“i need to suck your dick.” you interrupt, staring at him with a neutral expression on your face

“what?” he lets out a laugh, “i mean, yes, obviously i want that but-“

“you need to be quiet now.” 

taehyung swallows thickly when he watches you drop to the ground in front of him, staring at him in a way he’s never seen before 

oh, jesus.

»»————- 🏋🏻‍♂️ ————-««

“tae-“ you whimper, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as he presses himself into you, a shaky breath slipping past his lips when he feels you clench up around him, “a-agh…” 

“jesus, your pussy always feels so good…” he mutters under his breath, looking down to watch himself pull out slightly before pushing back in all the way, smiling to himself when you whimper and ask him to please, please fuck me-

(needless to say, you guys ended up with another noise complaint. whoops.) 

🎙️ ask taehyung for the recipe to his 70g protein smoothie (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like this!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[midnightsnyx]

come back home - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x reader warnings: angst with a hint of fluff word count: 879 requested: yes / no author note: i have like a million other projects i need to write but i just need to get my sad feelings out so yeah, sorry lol masterlist requests are open

It’s quiet when you step in to the apartment you and Jack shared which wasn’t unusual in the past few months. Quiet was how the two of you lived lately. Tip toeing around each other as if you were walking on egg shells.

Part of you was tired of it and asked yourself if it was really worth it. But the other part of you wasn’t sure if you knew how to live without him anymore and that thought alone scared you. It made you realize how much you had grown to depend on him.

You hear his voice before you see him.

“You’re home.”

His voice is hoarse and you know that he just woke up from a nap. His ruffled appearance confirms it when he meets you in the living room.

“Yeah,” you whisper, staring at the floorboards. You hadn’t been home for days - not since the fight the two of you had. Your best friend let you crash at her house after you told him you needed space which explains his next question.

“Why?”

Truthfully, you aren’t sure what made you decide to come home. Your friend had told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed and had even put her two cents in on the whole situation.

Her words stuck with you since you broke down and told her everything that had been going on.

“He may love you. He probably does… or at least he maybe thinks he does. But that’s not what matters, sweetie. What matters is what he is doing to show you that he does and right now… he isn’t doing anything.” She squeezed your hand and smiled gently. “You deserve someone who goes out of their way to show you how much they care about you.”

The worst part was that she was right. When was the last time he had went out of his way to do something for you? It made you think back to the beginning of your relationship when he treated you like you were the most important thing in his life. But you suppose that all new relationships begin like that.

You realize that he’s still staring at you intently and you try to come up with some reason you came back rather than the truth, which was that you were too dependant on him and you felt like you needed him as much as you needed air to breathe.

“Can you at least tell me one thing?” he asks after you’ve been silent for so long and all you can do is nod.

“Why did you leave?”

You don’t have to think about the answer to this question because it was something that had been haunting you for quite some time.

“I guess I started to feel like I needed you more than you needed me,” you tell him quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly.

“Look at me,” he says and you let your eyes meet his. “I love you.”

You want to believe him but your friends words keep coming back to haunt you. Did he love you or was he drunk on the idea of it? Something your mom told you a long time ago was that there is a distinct difference between loving someone and being in love with them. It’s easy to lie to yourself about loving someone but you can’t lie to yourself about being in love with them.

“How are you so sure?” you ask him.

“How could I not?” he says and you’re about to tell him that his answer isn’t good enough but he doesn’t stop there. “Baby, you’re the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I’m falling asleep at night.” He slowly walks over to you and reaches out with one hand, letting his thumb run across your cheek. “I think about your smile and your laugh and about how you are the only person I want to come home to.” You watch as he looks away from you and stares at a picture of the two of you. It’s from a trip the two of you took last summer during break. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit. You’re scared that if you let things go back to how they were before, you’ll end up back here in this exact situation. “I’m afraid that this will become a cycle and I can’t do it, Jack. I physically can’t handle that.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just looks at you as if you’re the only thing in the world, his world, that matters. It makes you weak in the knees and this is the Jack you fell in love with. 

“Just come home,” he whispers. “We can figure everything out. Together.”

It’s a risk, deciding to give everything another shot. To put your heart on the line. But you remember something else your mom told you once.

“The right people are worth staying for”, she had told you.

You take a deep breath and nod, hoping that you’re making the right decision.

“All right,” you tell him and he grins, kissing you for the first time in months and it feels like coming home.

[sevsgiirl]

— show her what you’re all about.

sevika x jealous!reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: sevika didn’t think bringing you to one of her meetings with the chembarons would go south. then again, she probably should’ve mentioned that one of them happens to be her ex. something you didn’t take lightly when you found out.

word count: 4k words.

tags: jealousy, established relationship, margot is sevika’s ex, overstimulation, sub!sevika, top!reader, strap-ons, explicit sexual content.

note: this was inspired by lana del rey’s jealous girl hence the title reference, and also because I got a req from a reader requesting jealous sevika and although I’ll be coming back to that I wanted to do jealous reader first because I’m insane <3

it took a while for you to convince her to have you tag along at work.

it’s not that sevika was against it. if she could have an excuse to bring you with her wherever she went - whether it was to run one of silco’s collections or to ensure that some of his shipment got transferred smoothly - just as long as you’d be safe no matter what, why not?

but considering her job isn’t the safest, she’s had her doubts about letting the people in that part of her life know about her relationship at the risk of endangering you, and she’d rather be the one who gets harmed before anyone even touched a single hair on your head.

nevertheless, you persisted. telling her that people at the last drop were likely aware that she wasn’t single anymore. with her nights of gambling, drinking, and visiting the gardens becoming less frequent, they’ve probably begun to speculate that something, or rather someone, had snatched her away from her usual proclivities.

plus it’s not like you two have been discreet. on nights when sevika stayed out too late, stressed from the missions silco assigned her and where she felt the need to drink her problems away until it was well past midnight - you’d always be the one to go and fetch her from the bar.

even if you tried to convince yourself that no one had seen the two of you stumble out of the last drop together, chances were a wandering eye lurking in the shadows still managed to catch a glimpse or two.

fast forward to earlier this morning, sevika tells you that she’ll be the one taking over the assembly with the chembarons as silco had other matters to attend to.

knowing him, she already knew he was either off to make sure the enforcer who kept an eye on jinx’s sister was doing his job right, or to deal with jinx himself. as the girl couldn’t be left alone for more than five minutes without causing trouble.

and he would’ve brought sevika along hadn’t the chembarons insisted on doing a meet-up to discuss trade, shipment or stocks. which honestly, was something you didn’t bother knowing too much about.

it was common knowledge between you two that sevika’s way of living isn’t something that you agree with. it was a cesspool of violence but she’s disputed many times that the ends justify the means. that what she does for silco only works to propel zaun’s liberation and at that point, you could only keep your mouth shut because if there was one thing both of you could agree on is that the city deserved better.

for sevika, if that meant working under silco, no matter how questionable his strategies were, then sure. but it’s not like it was easy for you to let go of your lover every single day, dreading whether or not she’d come back home from work or not at all. that’s why you insisted on tagging along.

ever since the two of you met, sevika’s been the one to provide for you and that’s given you the luxury to stay at home. she’s given you the freedom to do whatever it is you want to do with your time while she’s gone, just as long as you don’t stray further away from home. but you’d be lying if you said that after a while, just being by yourself worrying if she’s okay while at work hadn't become isolating.

so you’ve been asking her for a while if you could come just to keep a watchful eye, which she turned down. even going as far as to laugh at the suggestion.

“baby,” she cooed “I don’t need you to keep an eye on me. I’m capable of looking after myself.”

you huffed “I know you can. it’s just that… it gets lonely sometimes, okay? and when it does I can’t stop myself from thinking about what weird crap silco’s put you through and if you’d be able to come out of it unharmed.” you explained “it doesn’t help that you come back some days so beaten up.“

“we’ll, you should’ve seen-“

“-the other guy. I know.” you sighed, cupping her cheek “I just get worried, vika.”

sevika couldn’t deny her heart squeezed at your words. no one’s expressed that much concern over her. she’s always been expected to bite the bullet in almost all situations - her left arm, or rather the lack thereof, being a prime example of that.

no one’s felt the need to offer anything beyond the usual ‘are you good?’ whenever she got herself into a dilemma, so to say it was hard to accept that your constant fussing stemmed from a place of genuine love and worry, would be an understatement. it felt disorienting. she wasn’t used to it.

but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel flattered. so after a while, she had finally caved in and brought you with her to the assembly. walking alongside her hand in hand as you strode through the eerie corridors of the last drop’s headquarters, walking into the elevator as sevika opened the heavy metal doors for you to step through.

she gripped your hand tightly on the journey up to the assembly room “if it gets overwhelming or uncomfortable, you tell me, okay?” she said in a soft but commanding voice.

you nuzzled closer to her and kissed the underside of her jaw “yes, boss.” you replied playfully.

she scoffed and rolled her eyes, but when you looked, the slight curve of a smile teased at the corners of her mouth.

you were glad that she brought you on this specific day where silco was absent because although you’d never admit it, that man scared the living daylights out of you. you’ve had your fair share of interactions and as far as you know, he was the only one out of the people sevika worked with who’s always known about your relationship, he just never commented on it.

he’d briefly acknowledge you whenever he’d see you at the last drop but that was about it. aside from that, you had no intention of knowing more about the notorious drug lord and even though sevika told you he’s the last person you should be afraid of, you found it hard to believe.

but as you arrived at the top and walked into the assembly room where the chembarons were all gathered, perhaps sevika was right when she said silco wasn’t even the worst one out of all of them. when your eyes scanned the room, you could only squirm from where you stood as the scrutinizing gazes of the chembarons shifted between your partner and you.

one of them a grotesque, wrinkly rodent with a ridiculous top hat and sharp claws eyed you and chortled “who’s this, magpie? your new arm candy or something?” he gestured to you, his words degrading “where’d you find her? at the gardens? you can only get a pretty little thing like that from down there.”

you scowled at the implication and before you could give him a piece of your mind, sevika beat you to it “fuck off, smeech. we’re here to discuss business. not so you could run that mouth of yours talking shit you don’t know about.”

you felt her flesh hand squeeze your waist and you quickly relaxed, her protectiveness never failing to soothe you.

she turned to look at you and cocked her at the corner “you can sit there for me, baby. this won’t take long.” she muttered and you nodded. your hand stroking her forearm one last time before you let her go and made your way to the side of the room where a dusty velvet couch was situated.

you sat silently as you watched sevika start the meeting. all the while, you felt a hot, piercing gaze drill holes into the side of your head and when you looked up, you caught one of the chembarons watching you. her elbow on the table and her chin prompted on her knuckles, she stared at you with a heated glare that made your skin prickle because really, what the fuck was she looking at you for?

she was a petite, pale-skinned woman with blonde hair that had green dye at the tips. four metal piercings could be seen on her forehead along with a clasp around her nose and two more piercings below her lips. her outfit was revealing, a black sleeveless top that showed off the deep plunges of her neckline that was only accentuated by the choker around her neck.

she wore black eye shadow and you couldn’t deny that the baroness exuded a seductive aura, her thin lips forming into a mocking grin when she noticed the way you ogled at her appearance.

you quickly turned away, uncomfortable by the unwanted attention and no wonder sevika didn’t want to bring you along to these things. the atmosphere was too unsettling and you couldn’t help but fidget from where you sat, wanting the hours to pass by already and it seemed as though sevika felt the same.

with an exasperated look on her face, the chembarons kept probing her about silco’s absence, specifically the hideous rodent from earlier “how are we even supposed to take this shit show seriously when he let one of his goons do his dirty work for him?” he said, his tone condescending.

sevika’s jaw clenched “I could care less if you want to listen to me or not, smeech. silco’s already made it clear that the lost inventory is going to be replaced and that you’ll get your money back. for now, we’ll just sign over an agreement with a deadline ensuring we’ll get the stolen cargo back.”

smeech took a hit from his cigar, the purple smoke billowing through the room and you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at him “you better make sure, hot shot. silco’s been slipping lately and we all know it’s because of baby blue. who was the reason the firelights even got hold of the previous cargo that was misplaced, by the way.”

you remembered that incident, sevika came home that day the angriest you’ve seen her, your thighs involuntarily clenching at the memory of the rough sex that ensued when you offered to take her mind off it.

sevika grunted at the reminder “we told you that was the first and last time. jinx lost her shit. end of story.”

“oh come on, smeech.” the blonde baroness chimed in “you could tell darling sevika here is doing her best. so lay off her, will you? she’s more than just silco’s number two. plus she knows better than to be just some lost, kicked puppy who follows the big man around. not knowing how to be her own person.” her eyes were on you as she said the closing statement, and your eyebrows furrowed. excuse me?

however, sevika was oblivious to the subtle jab thrown at you. muttering to the baroness that sat near her “thanks, margot.” so that was her name.

you couldn’t help the ugly, prickly sensation that clogged your insides at the sight of them being friendly with each other. too friendly to be exact, given how sevika seemed to be fed up with the other chembarons.

meanwhile, her attitude towards margot held a stark difference that you just couldn’t ignore. it made you dig your nails on the sides of the couch, wanting to swallow back down the acid that suddenly churned in your throat. no, perhaps you were overreacting.

the assembly lasted for a couple more minutes until finally, sevika called it off. saying silco would be present in the next one and while the other chembarons got up to leave, margot lingered in her seat as sevika gathered the paperwork on the table.

standing up with a slight sway of her hips, your stomach twisted as you observed how she walked up to sevika and placed a tentative hand on her bicep. making your partner raise an eyebrow but making no move to shrug her off.

sevika wasn’t the type to make you jealous. she didn’t find any enjoyment in eliciting a reaction out of you by entertaining other people and you thanked her for that because although you’d never admit it, you were extremely prone to jealousy. so much so that the feeling swallows you whole and practically burns you alive. you hated the feeling more than anything.

which probably didn’t help that margot was relishing in bringing the green-eyed monster out of you. you stood up with your fists balled before you unclenched one of them to reach for the switchblade that was strapped to the holster just above your thigh.

it was something sevika gifted you on your birthday, a weapon to protect yourself with and although this wasn’t a situation you’d ever imagine you’d be using it, you couldn’t stop yourself. especially when margot dared to caress a finger over sevika’s arm, her intentions clear as day.

“how you’ve been sevika, my love? it’s been a while, no? I’ve missed you.” margot purred, grasping sevika’s bicep “I didn’t think you’d already moved on so quickly. especially since it wasn’t long since we, you know…”

your heart pummeled to the pits of your stomach. margot is her ex?

why the fuck didn’t she mention that to you? and it seems as though it wasn’t a big deal to sevika given how she only let out a tired breath at the baroness’s words “it was never serious, margot. I don’t know why-“

you didn’t even let sevika finish before your hand curled at the handles of your switchblade, your temper rising when margot didn’t cease with her invasion of sevika’s personal space and how sevika just didn’t make a move to fucking stop it.

without thinking, you grabbed the dagger in your hand and swung it across the room. the blade aiming directly between the small gap that separated the two as they jumped at the sharp object that suddenly flew past them and onto the wall, creating a noticeable dent.

your nostrils flared as sevika turned to you, her eyes wide but you dismissed her. you made your way towards them and glared menacingly at margot, but she seemed undeterred.

“I think the meeting’s already extended for far too long, don’t you think?” there was a bite to your tone that made her smirk.

margot’s gaze shifted between you and sevika before she let out a hum “hm, no wonder you chose this one.” she said before turning on her heel and walking out of the room.

your heartbeat was still pounding violently against your chest even when she left the room, the air thick with tension as you turned to sevika and she couldn’t mask her shock at the fiery look in your eyes. you look like you wanted to eat her alive and then spew her out.

“we’re talking about this when we get back home,” you said and sevika could only stay silent at the warning.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

the apartment had never been more silent.

you trudged your way inside with sevika following close behind, tossing the keys onto a nearby table while the sounds of your footsteps echoed in the small space.

once the door closed and was clicked shut, you let out a stuttering breath when you finally turned to look at your perplexed partner.

she only stared back at you “can you tell me what the fuck happened earlier?” she asked and you could only laugh at how painstakingly oblivious she was. but at the same time, it agitated you because really?

“it’s one thing not to tell me that one of the chembarons you regularly meet up with happens to be your ex,” you began and the light bulbs inside sevika’s head finally lit up “but for you to allow her to get that chummy with you is another.”

she cringed at the slight edge of your tone. she’s never seen you this pissed off before.

“baby, it’s not-“

“not what? that important? or is it because I’m just not that important to you?” you hissed and she took a step back at your words because really, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

margot didn’t mean jackshit to her. they had sex on a few occasions and even tried the whole relationship thing until sevika realized they just weren’t compatible. it lasted about a month until they decided to call it quits. sure, they’d still hook up every once in a while back then but it immediately stopped as soon as you came into the picture.

but of course that wasn’t enough for you.

“you know she doesn’t mean anything. if she meant that much to me I would’ve told you and hell, I wouldn’t even acknowledge her. and even if she did mean something to me it’s not like I would’ve tried anything with her. what do you take me for?” she was genuinely shocked you’d even feel mildly threatened at the idea of margot stealing her away because that was about as plausible as her growing her arm back.

nevertheless, you weren’t pleased by her explanation “do you know how much it pissed me the hell off seeing that wench cozy herself up to you as if you two were still a thing?” you scoffed “she’s lucky that blade didn’t cut through her fucking skull.“

she’d never seen you act this way before, what’s more surprising is not that it was out of character, but that the sudden switch in your attitude turned her on.

she’s always perceived you as someone gentle and nurturing, the complete opposite of her who oftentimes lets her anger the best of her. you were never like that. you always made a point to approach things cordially. never violent. so to see the way that you’re acting now, almost leveling with her hostility made her core clench.

an undeniable heat pooled at her insides at the way you were looking at her as if you were ready to maul her.

“baby…” she took a step towards you, and you didn’t miss the shift in her tone “come on, look at me. she doesn’t mean anything. you’re the only girl for me. you know that.”

you didn’t budge even when she started pressing kisses down your throat, palms grabbing the meat of your hips as her tongue darted to lick your neck.

“hm… fuck. I never thought you’d be the type to get so jealous.” she muttered.

you scoffed “I’m not jealous.” you pushed at her chest, creating some distance between you two “why would I be jealous of someone I know could never compare to me?”

sevika hummed at that, grinning “then why are you so angry?”

your eyes squinted as you pulled her by the collar of her shirt and tugged her closer “because it seems like you forget sometimes.”

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

sevika grunted, squeezing your sides so tightly you were sure she’d be leaving bruises on your thighs, but despite that you didn’t falter with the frantic bouncing on her strap.

the bed creaked in a violent back and forth as you threw your head back and moaned, placing your hands on sevika’s shoulders while you continued to grind against her. the ridges of her cock sliding deliciously against your tight walls “t-that’s it, baby…” she rasped, her pupils blown wide at the sight of you using her to get off “god, your pussy’s taking me so fucking well.”

you let out a chuckle, your breathing labored “no one’s gonna be able to fuck you as good as I can, vika. I hope you know that.”

she nodded, hypnotized by the way your tits bounced in front of her face while the wet squelching of your folds filled the room.

the back of the strap continuously hitting her clit and she couldn’t suppress the groans that slipped past her lips when you showed no signs of slowing down “b-baby, I’m gonna cum, holy f-fuck.”

with that, you slid off her, not being able to contain the grin on your face at the way her eyes popped open when she realized you had suddenly stopped.

“w-what are you-“

“I don’t think you deserve to cum, actually,” you said as you glowered at her, fingers reaching down to play with your clit and sevika was about as close to losing her shit when you decided to play with yourself instead.

thumbing the hood of your clit before you slipped one to two fingers in, grinding against them while sevika desperately tried to pull you back down.

you jerked yourself away from her prying hands, shaking your head at her attempts to get you to ride her again “after the stunt you pulled today, not telling me about margot-“

“she doesn’t fucking mean anything!-“

“-and not stopping her when she flirted with you in front of me?” your tone was patronizing as you observed her panicked stricken face “what makes you think you deserve to cum?”

sevika didn’t know whether to lash out or cry at this point, but knowing you, you wouldn’t succumb to her pleas unless she gave you what you wanted.

“baby, p-please. I’ll never do it again. fuck every other girl who isn’t you, okay? I only want you. you and your tight fucking pussy. I don’t want anyone else. shit. the way you squeeze around me and the way you bounce on my cock, I’d rather fucking die than lose that.” she babbled and you bit your lip at how nonsensical she sounded.

you leaned down and slipped your tongue inside hers. humming as you kissed her slowly and her eyes fluttered shut at the taste of you while you drank her moans in.

without warning, you sank down on her once more and she immediately detached her mouth from yours to let out an obscene moan when you resumed riding her.

your pace frenzied and you stared at the way her heavy breasts moved with the speed of which you rode her. her fingers clawing at your hips as she aided you with your bounces.

“you feel so good f-fucking, vika. cock so big.” your eyes rolled at the back of your head, the build-up of your orgasm approaching meanwhile sevika took in the view of your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

she then started frantically bouncing you on her strap, making you scream while your juices dripped down from your thighs.

“v-vika, I’m gonna cum!-“

“that’s it, baby. cum for me. cream all over my cock.” she groaned as your body started trembling in her hold.

your orgasm hitting you like a punch in the gut and you couldn’t stop the cries that spilled out of you when sevika didn’t stop with her relentless thrusts.

practically using you as a fleshlight and your nails dug into her forearms when you started to feel overstimulated “v-vika, please, oh my god. b-baby stop, I c-can’t…”

“a bit more…” she stuttered, her pace never faltering “I’m so sorry, b-baby. you just feel s-so fucking good.”

after a few more minutes she joined you as she came, body shaking. you fell in her arms and hugged her loosely, her cunt gushing behind the harness around her hips, humming when you started leaving little bite marks around her jaw.

you two stayed like that for a while, just relishing in each other’s presence.

“I know I said I wouldn’t pull the same shit I did with margot earlier…” she mumbled in the crook of your neck “but I’d be lying if I said seeing you jealous didn’t turn me the fuck on. not to mention the sex. jesus.”

you could only let out a snort at her fucked out state “don’t push it. next time I might actually not let you come.”

“take back what I said then,” she said quickly, making you laugh as you held her close.

[loves1ckmoth]

NEW TATTOO

Non-WLF!Abby x Reader

Warnings ♡: fem reader, they tease and argue in the beginning, reader has an attitude, they cuddle at the end, reader gives Abby a stick and poke, Abby gets her dad's birthday and name tattooed, my babies

Word count ♡: 1169 (heh)

Your day had been long, and with the storm outside, you were sure the night would be even longer. Abby sat beside you like she always did before bed. Tonight, she was sorting through everything you had gathered from the town you ran across today. She frowns as she takes out a plastic bag of ballpoint pens.

“Did you need to grab these?” She grumbles, inspecting them. “Of course I did! How else am I supposed to cover your arms with tattoos?” You say jokingly, but the way she eyes you tells you that she does not take it as such. “How the hell would you tattoo me with these? Don’t they use a different ink? And a whole gun?”

You roll your eyes and snatch the bag from her, pulling one out. “You take out all the ink from these and put it into something. I like to use those old bottle caps from sodas. Then, you take a needle or something of the sort and stab a pattern onto yourself.

She looks disturbed, shooting you a weird look. “That doesn’t sound right at all. Isn’t there ink poisoning and infections from the needles? I wouldn’t trust you within five feet of me if you were going to do that.”

You groan, leaning over and falling into her lap. You press the back of your hand to your forehead, whimpering in faux pain. “You wound me… Implying I would hurt you… You’re so awful to me.” Once you’re finished whining, you peek up at her to see her reaction. She’s not amused.

“Are you quite done?” She says snarkily, and you sit up. You roll your eyes and she wants to smack you upside the head for your attitude, but the way your mouth quirks up and she can see your smile lines after teasing her makes it bearable. “Why can’t you be fun? I’d only do something simple. I’ve done it to myself before and I turned out fine.” She raises a brow and looks you over as if to say, ‘Did you?’ “I did, dammit!” You shout.

She finally grins, grabbing her stomach as she starts to laugh. It stuns you. All you can do is watch and stare. Her eyes crinkle at the corners and her nose scrunches. Her hair flies over her shoulder as she leans back. Was it that funny? As her laughter dies down to soft heaves and she rubs tears from her eyes, she looks back at your starstruck expression.

“‘M sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I shouldn’t laugh at you.” She says as she finally manages to recuperate. You frown finally, leaning back against the wall and studying the pen that’s still in your hands. “So you won’t let me do it?” You ask softly. She leans back with you, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m just wary. I don’t want to get sick or hurt from it. But where would you put it? What would you put?” You also take a moment to think before tilting your head to face her. You like it when it’s quiet like this. Despite your fear of the storm taking down the house you’re staying in, you like the way her nose looks against the dark, rainy window. You wanna reach out and touch it? It’s not like it’s normal for you to poke her randomly but this time would feel too intimate.

“I’d like to put something on your arms. They’re so big and bulky and empty. I don’t want to do your stomach, That hurts a lot more. As for what… I’m not sure.” She hums quietly, messing with her arms as your gaze drops down to them. They might be your favorite part of her. The way they’re so huge, the way the muscles underneath ripple when she chops them, the way they feel around your neck and you start getting lightheaded… Yeah. You like it all.

“Do you have any quotes from books you like? Or maybe a name or a date?” You ask softly. A strange haze drops over her eyes and her brows furrow. She looks concentrated. “A date and a name. On my arm. Would you do that?” Even if you weren’t over the moon about doing it, you know you wouldn’t be able to tell her no. Not when that familiar mournful look takes control of her face.

“Of course, I would. Is it him and his birthday?” She nods solemnly. You don’t need to say his name. You both know. You’re sure if you said her dad's name aloud she’d finally break down in front of you. Out of all the walls she erected, most have fallen except that one. You want to see her finally surrender it all into your hands, but you’ll wait patiently for it. It feels better like that.

“I saw a soda bottle outside earlier. I’ll clean it up in the rain. You can use that spare needle from the sewing kit in my pack.” She says as she gets up and you’re quick to follow orders. Her bag is a maze to navigate and it frustrates you every time you have to look in it. You’re convinced only she can navigate it.

Once she’s back with the bottle, you’ve managed to find the needle. She sits in front of you as you get the ink from the pens into the cap. She rolls up her sleeve for you and places it in your lap. You gently draw out the date and her father's name with one of the pens that’s still intact.

You hum quietly, offering a gentle hand as you get to work on her. She likes the way your brows furrow as you concentrate and watching you stick out your tongue manages to distract her from your arm. It begins to come out nicely and she’s pleasantly surprised.

You pull back after a while and stretch, your body trembling. She bites the inside of her cheek as your shirt rides up, barely constraining herself from grabbing your midriff. “You done?” She asks quietly. When you nod, she takes her half-asleep arm off your lap and looks it over.

You study her face, waiting for a response. “Is it any good?” She huffs, barely holding back tears. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” You smile brightly, incredibly proud of your work. You clean up the space as a bright flash floods the house. She holds up a finger to silence you as she counts the time until the thunder comes, making the house shake. She sighs in relief once it passes. “It’s a ways away. We’ll be fine for the night.”

She moves with you now, helping set up a pallet on the floor next to the dying fire. Once it’s all laid out, she grabs you by the hip and pulls you into her. “Lay down and rest. Let me help you sleep.” You let out a soft breath and melt into her, finally collapsing for the night.

Hi everyone!! Back with Abby again because I missed her ૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა ♡♡ reblogs and likes are the most appreciated ♡

[honeyhour]

“i see, so now the truth comes out… out of curiosity, what’s your method? are you like a ghostface guy with a weapon or are you more hands on? i feel like i deserve to know if i’m going to be next on your list.” he does have a point — it could be considered idiotic to go galivanting around with a relative stranger in the middle of the night — but in her defence, stopping at a store to buy her snacks first doesn’t seem like the sort of move a killer would make. then again, she’s no expert. “the immersion? you’re supposed to be proven wrong by the whole thing, not imagining that you’re involved somehow. you should be devastated that i’m about to win again. that’s what it’s all about.” or it was at the beginning, but once again, este finds that their conversation has somehow taken on connotations that nobody else in their position would be allowing. surely it doesn’t count as a true misdeed if it’s not actually going to happen though, right? “oh… i mean, i was having a good time too. obviously. the dinner might have ruined the vibe, but that wasn’t your fault. if anything, you were the one who made what would have been a completely miserable night a little nicer for a while, so… thanks.” taking a bite of another pretzel is a good excuse to stay quiet for a beat so she can gather her own thoughts. “and thanks for checking in. i don’t want to ruin the reputation you’ve built for yourself as an asshole so i’ll stay quiet, but you’ve actually been pretty sweet.”

"that's a pretty bold claim to make when you're in the middle of nowhere in a stranger's car. there's still time to revoke the thought though, if you value your life..." but none of this offing nonsense she touched on earlier at the dinner table. that's not allowed. at the mention of filming, his interest piques, the smirk on his face growing and brows crawling up to his hairline. "holy shit, yeah i'll accept that. anything to prove to me that you're not only the greatest on the ice but also in bed, right? just... do me a favor and leave the other person's face out of it. really ruins the immersion for me." to that, he snickers quite loudly, tempted to turn away but unable to do so given his position in the driver's seat. sending her grunts for a sex tape in return? absolutely a no-brainer. carefully, jesper reaches over slide his hand into the bag this time, feeling around for one of the candy bars he plucked from the shelf and pulls it out like an expert crane machine. if they're going to go through the hard-hitting questions, he'll need the energy. "i could ask you something similar, right? why did you choose to say yes when the dinner should've ruined this vibe between us? i guess i... wanted to make sure you were okay. not in a pity sort of way. you looked legit uncomfortable at that table and didn't really touch your food. plus," he shrugs, tearing at the wrapper, "i was kinda fucking bummed when everyone finally arrived. i was having a good time gooning with you." and kissing, but he'll skip over that for now.

[sosa2imagines]

Hi! Can I please request a Lloyd x fem!civilian!shy!reader where takes Lloyd takes Six’s younger sister captive alongside Claire (she had been living with Donald Fitzroy and Claire and Fitzroy treated her and protected her as if she were his own daughter, becoming basically family ever since he recruited Six). The reader and Lloyd have clear chemistry and he 100% loves making her all flustered & shy and loves the effect he has on her. (He definitely plans to keep her 🤭) She also has an effect on him, having him basically wrapped around her finger and is the only one who can ground him. She promises that she’ll stay with him forever if and only if he lets Fitzroy, Claire, and her brother Six go (he’d begrudgingly agrees, he can’t say no to his girl🤭). I’m sure Six would be hesitant to leave his sister with Lloyd though (he has nothing to worry about though because Lloyd would spoil the reader absolutely rotten and be so loving and soft and affectionate with her)

Warning- Little angst, fluff, kidnaping situation, etc

You wake up to the rough texture of rope biting into your wrists, the dim light overhead casting eerie shadows on the walls. Panic flutters in your chest, but you force yourself to stay calm. Claire is beside you, still unconscious, her small form curled up on the cold floor. 

And then you heard it.  

The sound of footsteps, confident and unhurried, accompanied by an infuriatingly smug whistle. Your stomach twists as the door swings open, revealing the last person you want to see.

Lloyd Hansen.  

“Well, well,” he drawls, stepping into the room with that ever-present smirk. “Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake!”  

Your cheeks heat under his gaze, and you hate how easily his presence flusters you. Lloyd notices, of course he always does and his smirk deepens.  

“Aw, sweetheart, you’re blushing,” he teases, crouching in front of you. His fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his sharp blue eyes. “You like when I talk to you like that?”  

You bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.  

Lloyd chuckles. “Shy little thing. It’s adorable, really.”  

Your heart pounds, a mix of fear and something far more dangerous settling in your chest. You should be terrified, he’s the enemy, yours and Claire’s captor, but there’s something about the way he looks at you, like he enjoys unraveling you, like he could devour you if he wanted to.  

And the scariest part? You think he just might.  

“You gonna keep ignoring me, sweetheart?” Lloyd tilts his head, mock offense playing on his face. “That’s not very nice. I went through all the trouble of bringing you here.”  

You press your lips together, determined not to react, but it’s impossible with the way he’s watching you, like he’s having the time of his life just teasing you. His thumb brushes against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze again.  

“Bet your brother’s losing his damn mind right now,” he muses, his tone almost sing-song. “Six is probably running around, trying to find his precious little sister. Must be exhausting.”  

Your stomach clenches. “He’s going to find me and Claire!”  

Lloyd grins like you just said something cute. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m counting on it.”  

Behind you, Claire stirs with a soft groan, and you immediately shift your focus to her. “Claire? Are you okay?”  

She blinks up at you, confused but unharmed. Relief floods through you. At least for now, she’s safe.  

Lloyd sighs, like he’s already bored of the interruption. “As touching as this moment is, I didn’t come down here just to watch you two bond.” He stands, dusting imaginary lint off his perfectly tailored slacks. “Here’s the deal, princess. I need leverage. And you? You’re the perfect little bargaining chip.”  

Your hands curl into fists. “So what, you’re going to use me to lure my brother here?”  

“Ding, ding, ding!” He claps his hands together mockingly. “See? You’re smarter than you look.”  

You glare at him, hating the way his words make your skin prickle. “And then what? You kill him?”  

Lloyd hums, tilting his head in faux consideration. “Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on my mood.”  

Your chest tightens. “You can’t…”  

“Oh, but I can.” He crouches in front of you again, his voice dropping into something softer, almost intimate. “Unless, of course, you give me a reason not to.”  

You swallow hard. “What do you mean?”  

Lloyd smirks, like he’s been waiting for you to ask. “I mean,” he drawls, running a finger along your jaw, “if you agree to stay with me, permanently and I might just reconsider this whole 'killing your family' thing.”  

Your breath catches. “You want me to…”  

“Be mine?” Lloyd answers for you smoothly. “Yeah, sweetheart. That’s exactly what I want.”  

Your heart pounds in your chest. He can’t be serious. But when you look into his eyes, there’s something dark and possessive lurking there, something that tells you he’s dead serious.  

You glance at Claire, then think of Fitzroy, of Six. If you stay, if you agree to this insanity, they’ll be safe.  

You take a shaky breath. “If I promise to stay with you forever… you’ll let them go? All of them?”  

Lloyd’s smile softens, just a little. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll let them go.”  

You exhale shakily. He’s dangerous, he’s a monster, but right now, he’s offering you the only way to keep the people you love alive.  

“But...how can I trust you?”  “Trust is earned, Sunshine. Guess you'll have to find out...” 

You force yourself to meet his gaze, because what other choice do you have? this feels the only logical way, “Then I’ll stay.”  

Lloyd’s grin turns predatory, “That’s my girl.” 

The moment Six storms into the compound, it’s chaos. You knew he’d come for you. You knew he wouldn’t leave you behind, but now, as you stand beside Lloyd, watching your brother fight his way through the guards, your chest tightens with dread.  

“Aw, look at him go,” Lloyd muses, arms crossed, watching the carnage like it’s entertainment. “He’s got that 'big brother' fury. Cute.”  

You glare at him. “You promised.”  

Lloyd exhales dramatically. “Relax, sweetheart. I keep my word.” He nods toward his men. “Tell the others to back off. We don’t want to upset my girl, do we?”  

Your heart stutters at the possessiveness in his voice, but there’s no time to dwell on it. The second the guards step back, Six barrels into the room, gun raised.  

“Get away from her!” he growls.  

You take a step forward. “Six, wait…”  

His sharp eyes flick to you, scanning for injuries. “Did he hurt you?”  

You shake your head quickly. “No, I’m fine.”  

Six doesn’t lower his gun. “Then we’re leaving. Now!”  

Lloyd snorts. “Oh, buddy. You really think that’s how this is gonna go?”  

Six aims at his head. “I will put a bullet between your eyes, Hansen.”  

Lloyd smirks, utterly unfazed. “You could try.”  

You step between them before things get worse. “Six. Listen to me.”  

His gaze snaps to yours. “What the hell are you doing?”  

Your hands tremble as you grip his arm. “I made a deal. He lets you, Claire, and Fitzroy go, and in return… I stay.”  

Six’s grip on his gun tightens., he narrows his eyes in disbelief, “What?”  

Your throat feels tight, but you hold his gaze, “It’s the only way to keep you all safe.”  

“No!” His voice is sharp, final. ��No fucking way!”  

“Six…”  

“I’m not leaving you with him., do you understand me?”   

Lloyd sighs, clearly bored. “Jesus, it’s like I’m not even here.” He leans down, brushing a hand against your cheek, just to rile your brother up. “Tell him, sweetheart. Tell him how much you want to stay with me.”  

You shiver at the touch, but you refuse to let Lloyd make this worse. “Six, please.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “I need you to trust me.”  

Six’s jaw clenches. He looks at you, really looks at you, and you can see the war raging inside him. He’s your brother, he’s always been the one protecting you. And now, you’re asking him to walk away.  

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he exhales sharply. “You don’t have to do this.”  

“I do.” Your voice is steadier this time.  

Six’s hands shake, his entire body tense, but when he looks at you, there’s a flicker of understanding. He knows you’re stubborn. He knows you wouldn’t do this unless you were sure.  

Lloyd, smug as ever, claps his hands together. “Great talk, boys and girls. Now, time to say your goodbyes.”  

You ignore him and step forward, wrapping your arms tightly around your brother. “Take care of Claire,” you whisper. “Make sure Fitzroy is okay. And… don’t come back for me.”  

Six grips you so tightly it almost hurts. “I swear to God, if he hurts you…”  

“He won’t.” you say, surprising yourself with how certain you sound.  

Six pulls back, his expression unreadable. Then, with one last burning glare at Lloyd, he turns and walks away.  

You exhale shakily, the reality of your decision sinking in.  

Lloyd chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Well, sweetheart, that was emotional. But don’t worry, you’re not gonna miss them too much.” His voice drops into something softer, almost affectionate. “I’ll take real good care of you.”  

Your stomach twists, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.  

Because somehow, you believe him.  

Lloyd's estate is nothing like you expected.  

You thought it would be cold, sterile, just another high-security compound. Instead, it’s luxurious. Ridiculously so. Expensive leather furniture, grand chandeliers, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a sprawling property.  

It feels more like a billionaire’s private getaway than the home of a ruthless mercenary.  

“You like it, sweetheart?” Lloyd’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. He’s watching you with that ever-present smirk, hands tucked casually in his pockets. “I know it’s not exactly the prison cell, you were picturing.”  

You fidget under his gaze. “It’s… nice.”  

Lloyd chuckles. “That’s the understatement of the year.” He steps closer, tilting your chin up with his finger. “But if there’s anything you want, anything at all, you just let me know. You’re mine now, and I take very good care of what’s mine.”  

Your cheeks warm, and you hate how easily he gets under your skin.  

Lloyd notices, of course. He always does. “God, you’re adorable,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You get all shy when I talk to you like this. Drives me crazy.”  

You swallow hard, refusing to meet his eyes.  

Lloyd grins. “C’mon, let’s get you settled.”  

He leads you upstairs to a bedroom that looks straight out of a luxury hotel, massive bed, soft lighting, a closet already filled with designer clothes in your size.  

You turn to him, confused. “How did you…”  

Lloyd winks. “I did my homework, sweetheart. A guy’s gotta be prepared for his girl, don’t you think?”  

Your stomach flutters at 'his girl', but you push the feeling down.  

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this?” you admit.  

Lloyd sighs dramatically, flopping onto the bed like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Sweetheart, have you seen yourself? Of course, I’m keeping you.”  

Your face burns. “That’s not…”  

He laughs, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down beside him. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. Well… mostly.” He props himself up on one elbow, his gaze softening. “Truth is, I like you. A lot. And I don’t do liking people, so congratulations, you’re special.”  

You blink at him, thrown off by his honesty.  

Lloyd smirks at your stunned expression. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m obsessed with you, sweetheart. And trust me, you’re gonna love being spoiled.”  

He proves his point almost immediately.  

Over the next few days, Lloyd makes good on his promise to take very good care of you.  

Your closet is stocked with the finest clothes, shoes, and jewelry. Your bathroom is filled with expensive perfumes and skincare products you never would’ve bought for yourself.  

But it’s not just material things.  

Lloyd makes sure you’re always comfortable, adjusting the temperature if you’re cold, making the chef cook your favorite meals, bringing you little gifts just to see you smile.  

And the affection? That’s the most overwhelming part.  

Lloyd is always touching you, making you blush.  

A hand on the small of your back when you walk past him. A teasing brush of his fingers against your cheek when you’re flustered. Pulling you onto his lap just to hold you while he talks about his day.  

And every time he catches you getting shy about it, he just grins. “God, you’re cute when you get all flustered.”  

It should be infuriating, but the worst part?  

You don’t hate it.  

And that realization is the most dangerous thing of all.  

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that Lloyd Hansen, the most arrogant, smug, and insufferable man you’ve ever met is also the softest when it comes to you.

You see it in the way he looks at you, like you hung the damn moon.

In the way he brings you coffee just the way you like it, even though you never asked.

In the way he lets you fuss over his injuries, despite grumbling about it the whole time.

Tonight is no different.

Lloyd returns from handling business, which, in his world, means doing things you don’t want to think too hard about. There’s a fresh bruise along his jaw, and a small cut above his eyebrow.

He expects you to ignore it, like everyone else does. Instead, you’re on your feet immediately, reaching for a cloth and the first-aid kit.

He groans. “Sweetheart, it’s nothing.”

You ignore him, standing between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bed. Gently, you dab at the cut.

Lloyd watches you, unusually quiet.

“You don’t have to do this...” he murmurs.

You glance at him, “I want to please…”

His expression shifts, something unreadable flickering across his face. For once, there’s no teasing, no smug remarks. Just silence.

You run your fingers lightly over the bruise on his jaw. “Does it hurt?”

Lloyd huffs out a soft laugh. “Not when you’re touching me.”

Your heart stutters, warmth blooming in your chest.

You don’t know what compels you to do it, but you lean in, pressing a featherlight kiss against his jaw, right where the bruise, making Lloyd freeze.

You pull back, embarrassed, “S…Sorry, I just…”

He grabs your wrist, stopping you. His fingers curl around your hand, holding it against his chest.

His heartbeat is fast and it catches your breath.

Lloyd shakes his head, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. “Lloyd…”

His forehead presses against yours, his grip tightening like he’s terrified you’ll slip away. “You said you’d stay forever,” he murmurs. “Did you mean it?”

You swallow hard.

When you first made the deal, you thought it was a sacrifice. But now… now you’re not so sure.

Because when you look at him, when you see the way he needs you, the way he softens just for you...

You realize you don’t want to leave.

You cup his face gently. “I meant it.”

Lloyd exhales shakily, and for the first time, you see it, his vulnerability. The part of him that no one else ever gets to see.

The part of him that belongs to you.

And when he kisses you slow, deep, devoted, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

One Year Later-

You never expected to find happiness in the arms of a man like Lloyd Hansen.

But here you are, wrapped in silk sheets, his arms around you, his face buried against your neck.

He’s insufferable, constantly teasing, always smug, never shutting up about how perfect you are.

And yet, he treats you like you’re his entire world.

“You know,” he murmurs sleepily, pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder, “this is the best deal I’ve ever made.”

You smile, threading your fingers through his hair. “I thought I made the deal?”

Lloyd grins against your skin. “Oh, sweetheart.” He pulls you closer, voice dripping with satisfaction. “I had no intention of ever letting you go.”

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Few days later, you never expected to see your brother again.  

It’s been a year since you made the deal with Lloyd, since Six walked away, trusting you to make your own choices, even if he hated them.  

But today, as you sit in the private lounge of an upscale restaurant, sipping a ridiculously expensive cocktail, you feel him before you even see him.  

That familiar, tense energy, the weight of his stare.  

Lloyd notices first. “Well, well,” he drawls, swirling his drink lazily. “Look what the cat dragged in.”  

You turn slowly, your breath catching as your eyes meet Six’s.  

He stands just a few feet away, arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning you like he’s searching for something, some sign that you’re not okay, that he should grab you and run.  

But he doesn’t find it.  

Because you are okay. More than okay.  

You stand, smoothing down the silk of your dress. “Six.”  

His jaw clenches. “You look… good.”  

You smile softly. “So do you.”  

Lloyd leans back, utterly unbothered. “Aw, a little family reunion. I love this for us.”  

Six ignores him, eyes locked on you. “Are you really happy?”  

You don’t hesitate and proudly tell him, “Yes.”  

Something shifts in his expression, after all he has always been protective about you, “And you’re safe?”  

Lloyd chuckles. “Oh, sweetheart’s more than safe.” He tilts his head, smirking. “She’s spoiled rotten.”  

You roll your eyes, but… he’s not wrong. Six studies you for a long moment, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. Finally, he sighs. “I still don’t like this.”  

“I know,” you say softly. “But it’s my choice.”  

Lloyd grins. “And let’s be real, she’s not going anywhere.” He winks at you, “She loves me.”  

You glare at him. “Do you have to be insufferable right now?”  

“Always, sweetheart.” He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “It’s part of my charm.”  

Six groans, running a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ.”  

You laugh, and it’s genuine. Because despite everything, this is your life now.  

And you wouldn’t change a thing.  

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