#“now youre being mean:(” “be grateful youre getting away with just 'mean'”

[comesatimecomesashadow]

Hey hey! Could i request a shadow x college student who took him in and try’s to encourage him to be more outgoing/friendly with the others? I keep thinking about how cute it would be to sorta babysit the whole bunch for Maddie and Tom, and Shadow get roped into the friendship. He deserves the best support system☹️❤️!!

tonight, tonight *ೃ༄

pairing *ೃ༄ shadow the hedgehog x reader [can be read as platonic or romantic]

fic type *ೃ༄ one-shot, reverse-comfort

cw *ೃ༄ nothing !

summary *ೃ༄ you help shadow come out of his shell.

note *ೃ༄ sorry this took so long anon! i've been busy these past couple weeks.. | I had fun writing this especially after watching sonic 3, he deserves the world !!!

masterlist *ೃ༄

   Being a college student was no easy feat. Assignments and deadlines filled up your time and often left you feeling burnt out, but you always managed to pull through. If there was anything you’d learned from being at school for this long, it was that you couldn’t give up because you’d always make it in the end anyway. It was just the process of getting there that you hated. 

   Shadow was about the only one who could allow you to escape the stressful confines of your dorm. You had met him on one of your nightly walks to de-stress after the hectic events of the day. Hour-long lectures and energy drinks for breakfast weren’t exactly the most desirable position to be in. As you were planning out your week, calculating how much time each assignment needed and what instructions were given, you bumped into an unfamiliar creature : A Hedgehog. 

   It struck you as a peculiar happenstance, given that he was on college grounds. He didn’t seem like he was a student. Of course, you could have just ignored him and went on with your night, but something in you wouldn’t let you. Since that day, the two of you have been inseparable. You weren’t exactly startled by his existence given that before you met him, Tom and Maddie asked you to ‘babysit’ Sonic and the others while they went out. Though your schedule was a bit stressful because of your college work, you always accepted. 

   And now, since Shadow had become part of your life, he sometimes tagged along when you went over to the Wachowski residence. Sonic, Knuckles and Tails behaved fairly well for the most part (you were thankful for that), but there was always one thing that nagged at you : your black and red quilled hedgehog friend who always seemed to be off in his own world despite being in the same room as the others. 

   Shadow had told you about his past after about a year of staying with you, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to feel isolated when everyone else was having fun. You weren’t exactly the best at comfort, but you couldn’t just leave him like that. So you decided to address it before heading over there.

   Shadow was munching on a handful of coffee beans when you entered the kitchen. You were dressed casually and ready to go out. “Shadow,” you spoke as you turned on the stove to boil a bit of water for a cup of coffee. 

   “What is it?” His eyes drifted to you, he was sitting at the small kitchen table. Your apartment wasn’t big but it was something at least. Shadow was grateful. 

   “Do you want a cup of coffee?” You asked while you leaned on the counter, your arms crossed. You weren’t sure how to approach it, you couldn’t exactly just tell him to socialize. In your experience, that never worked on you so it definitely wouldn’t work on him. So how..? 

   “Yes, I’d appreciate that.” Shadow nodded and kept eating away at his coffee beans. You’d gotten used to his short answers but sometimes, they weren’t the best for serious conversations like these. 

   “Are you going to come with me to Maddie’s?” you inquired, your voice a little softer than usual. 

   Shadow nodded, “Yes, I will be accompanying you tonight. Someone has got to keep those dimwits in check.” You chuckled at his insults and a small smile tugged at your lips. The time wasn't right, it felt too abrupt to just bring it up out of nowhere. So you made a note to bring it up later, at the right moment. After a cup of coffee with your hedgehog companion, the two of you were off to the Wachowski household. 

   The afternoon was calm. It was accompanied with the soft caresses of the wind and the warm beams of sunlight. You knocked on the door and waited for an answer, continuing your conversation with Shadow until Maddie answered the door. 

   “You’re right on time, come on in!” Maddie greeted, opening the door to let the two of you in. You thanked her and greeted the ever-energetic hedgehog who whizzed up in front of you in a matter of seconds. 

   “We’ll be back around ten-thirty, alright?” Tom told you. You nodded, “Yep, I promise to keep everyone on their best behavior.” The couple smiled in acknowledgement and told Sonic and the others the usual ‘behave or you’re grounded’ spiel before disappearing into one of Sonic’s rings. 

   “You guys wanna have a movie marathon or board games?” you asked the four of them, Shadow was still at your side with his arms crossed. 

   “How about, Board games first n’ then a movie marathon?” Sonic suggested, his hands on his hips. 

   “That sounds great!” Tails chimed in, “Agreed.” added Knuckles. 

   Sonic went to go get the board games out of the cabinet while everyone else cleared the table, Shadow was quiet as always. “You’re joining right?” 

   “Do you want me to?” Shadow helped you carry some cups to the sink. 

   You nudged him, “I’m asking what you want.” 

   He pondered for a moment. “I am unfamiliar with the games.” He didn’t seem sad about it but a little ..lost? This did not deter you though. 

   “I’ll teach you, I promise it’ll be fun.” you beamed. 

   “.. Are you sure?” Shadow asked, avoiding eye contact. It was a thing he did when he was uncertain of something. But you only nodded and guided his gaze back to you. You knew he was unsure about how the others would react to his participation. 

   “I’m more than sure.” 

   After the table was cleared, there was a mountain of games at the side of the table; Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Shadow and you sat at the surrounding edges of the table, seated on the couch. “Since Shadow’s joining this time,” You began as you reached for the deck of cards on the table. “I was thinking we could play uno first, how's that?” 

   “Shadow’s joining?” Sonic asked with a surprised look on his face, “This’ll be fun.” Shadow only huffed and crossed his arms. Shadow only acted as if the blue hedgehogs remarks meant nothing because on the inside, he was grateful that they weren’t opposed to having him in the game.

   “I look forward to winning against all of you,” said Knuckles while donning a determined expression.

   “That’s ambitious.” said Shadow, “Dream on!” chimed Tails. Everyone seemed pumped and the environment felt warm. You were glad to see Shadow stepping out of his comfort zone. You split the cards while you explained the rules of the game to Shadow as well as the purpose of the different cards. Shadow listened intently and admired your expertise at card-shuffling. 

   “Alright, everyone count if you’ve got seven cards.” you said as you looked through your cards. 

   “Are we betting anything?” Sonic asked playfully. 

   “No, we are not betting anything, this is a game not gambling.” You rolled your eyes, “Plus, I'm a broke college student — the most I can give is like ten bucks.” Sonic and the others laughed at your half-joke. You reached for the deck and turned a card over, a six and the color blue present on the card. 

   After a long round of rock, paper, scissors, it was decided that Tails would start first and it would go clockwise. The game, despite being a practice round, went on for quite a long time — Though that was to be expected, given that it was the five of you who were playing. Tails ended up winning and the night went on smoothly. 

   Shadow was quite competitive and he ended up winning the two rounds afterwards, much to Sonic’s dismay. You were happy to see this side of Shadow, he seldom went out of his way to interact with others. It was your influence on him and your encouraging nature that allowed him to step out of his comfort. 

   It was about eight in the evening when Shadow was helping you make snacks for the movie marathon. Sonic, Tails and Knuckles were bickering over which movie to watch but you didn’t pay much mind to it. “You were great at Uno, I was surprised. It was your first time right?” You mashed the avocados with the mortar and pestle; Everyone had agreed on guacamole as the snack of the night. 

   Shadow nodded in response to your question, “I’m a quick learner, the game was relatively simple.” 

   Shadow added the minced tomatoes into the avocado mix. “I’m proud of you, y’know.” you spoke quietly but your words were warm. It was an exchange just between the two of you. Shadow began chopping up the cilantro as you spoke. “I know it isn’t easy, but I’m proud of you.” 

   His chopping slowed, “.. I’m not a social being, But..” He inhaled slowly before sighing. “Your efforts in encouraging me to engage with others were helpful.” You smiled at his words and listened earnestly, mixing in the ingredients he poured. “Playing board games with everyone today.. It reminded me of Maria.” 

   Your smile was one of understanding as you gazed down at the black hedgehog. He was reserved most of the time, but today he did something he wasn’t usually comfortable with. Your warm nature helped him creep out of his shell and enjoy himself. It helped him remember the lost moments with the person he held dearest to his heart. 

   “I remembered the joy I felt with her.. It was so easy then.” He spoke, a sorrowful smile on his lips. 

   “It might not be easy now, but it isn’t unreachable. Okay?” You washed your hands and dried them before bending down to give him a hug. He let go of the knife and accepted your warm hug. He closed his eyes before enclosing his own arms around you. Even though both of your lives were stressful, he had you and you had him. 

   No matter what, the two of you helped each other up when the other was down. The support you’d given him these past two years — he’d remember it and cherish it. 

   He decided then that he would do the same for you too.

[moeitsu]

for the ask game :)

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon. But could you give us more on your chubby Arthur HC? I need more of that! Like right now! (But no rush, I just love big boy Arthur as much as you do)  🙏❣️

Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh I would absolutely love to dive into more chubby!Arthur HC's. He is so dear to me.

I got carried away with this, and sorta poured my heart into it. It’s basically just a love letter to my favorite husky cowboy <3

WC: ~3k

TW: self-esteem issues, body dysmorphia, ED, alcoholism, some NSFW at the end so minors beware.

I also want to add, these are all just personal self-indulgent headcanons. So some might seem ooc. Take it up with the council if that bothers you :)

When I say chubby/fat Arthur I mean that with my full chest. I'm talking a big boy— a soft curved belly, thighs as big as tree trunks, and a smooth jawline.

I want to point out, muscle and fat are not mutually exclusive. He can be fat and incredibly strong.

Standing at 6'0", Arthur is already an imposing figure. His healthy weight in the game is around 210-220 lbs, but let’s add 30 more—making him a solid 250 lbs (give or take).

Even in the game, his healthy weight would still be considered a giant of a man for that time period. So keep that in mind.

Most of that weight? Pure muscle. Beneath his soft exterior are abs of steel, and those biceps could crush skulls and give the best hugs.

He is simply just a very husky man.

Deeply, deeply insecure as all hell about his weight though. Especially with you.

Especially in the bedroom.

Arthur knows he is strong and muscular, but he fixates on the “softness” of his body. Believing it makes him less capable and less desirable.

But more personally, it serves as a constant reminder of his failures and guilt.

The gang’s comments about his appetite and size don’t help. He pretends not to care, but every jab chips away at his confidence.

He’s often seen as the "muscle," a human shield, or an intimidating force, hearing terms like “big oaf” and “dumb brute” far too often.

Absolutely hates the way his presence fills a small room.

These insecurities run so deep that Arthur refuses to take his shirt off in front of others. Always making excuses to keep it on.

His body is marked by lots of stretch marks. They trace around his sides, under his belly, thighs and shoulders. He’s grateful that his body hair covers most of them.

Some are so deep they’ve become scars.

Hyper aware and very self-conscious of them. He thinks they’re a sign of weakness and being too “soft”.

Always avoids looking at himself in the mirror. He struggles with feeling undesirable as it is, and his body only adds to that torment.

Arthur has an unhealthy relationship with food and struggles with control. His eating habits are tied closely to his emotions.

He tends to overeat to cope with intense stress, loneliness and guilt. Food is used as a comfort in these moments—but he doesn’t enjoy it.

Trying to fill an emotional void rather than physical hunger.

At other times, food feels like a reminder of his lack of control. And he deprives himself of a meal or two. Using hunger as a punishment.

Alcohol has played a part in his weight too.

Often seeking its numbness to drown out the hunger and the noise of his own thoughts.

The heavy drinking dulls his appetite and gives him an excuse to skip meals.

Though he’s known to engage in binge cycles when things start to get really bad. Overindulging in both food and alcohol to the point where he’s physically sick and emotionally raw.

Moments like this tend to isolate him from the gang. He’s unwilling to face questions and judgement so he withdraws and wanders off.

Sometimes he feels more confident after having a drink or two, the alcohol dulling his self consciousness. He hates himself for needing it, and when the false confidence fades he feels exposed.

Okay goddamn those were really sad, moving on now!

Arthur worries that his size intimidates women. Some admire his strength, while others hurl insults, leaving him to quietly fear his body might never be truly loved.

He’s too big, too rough, too much.

Sweats a lot too, he can’t help it. He’s hyper aware of his odor when he hasn’t had the time for a proper wash. And feels immensely embarrassed when other people comment on it or make a face.

Spends a lot of time comparing himself to other men. Especially ones more “acceptable” in the eyes of a woman.

Because of his size and his looks he goes out of his way to be gentle and soft-spoken around women.

(^^^this especially is so so so canon to me. He is ALWAYS respectful and gentle with women)

Constantly aware of his own strength, and oftentimes has to reel himself in so he doesn’t unintentionally hurt somebody.

Arthur is

without a doubt

the sweetest gentle giant when you get to know him.

It will take time, but when he finds a woman who accepts his body, he can be a very loving partner.

He sees you as something he can protect and comfort and care for. Someone who needs him not for his size, but for his heart.

Feeling comfortable in his own skin around you is one of the greatest things you could ever give him.

Very touch starved (ill talk more on that later) and loves to give you the softest warmest hugs.

Regardless of his reputation, he has very tender hands. Whether he’s sketching you in delicate strokes, petting his horse’s neck, tracing his thumb over your cheek, or holding your baby.

The same hands that safely cradle you every night.

Despite his relationship with food, cooking and eating are still things he genuinely enjoys.

Love to hunt and cook over an open flame. Nothing better than the taste of woodsmoke in fresh meat.

He also loves to share his food. He will always make sure you have enough to eat, and even offer his own plate if you are still hungry.

It brings him great joy to be able to provide for you.

Let’s move on to some silly sweet and smutty ones shall we? ;)

The fastest way to this man’s heart is when you cook for him.

Especially baked goods. Bake him a sweet homemade apple-pie with a thick vanilla cream on top and he's getting you pregnant. going to marry you.

You could literally be an idiot sandwhich in the kitchen and he would still praise your cooking through the roof.

Why? Because he’s already head over heels in love with you for making the effort.

He also has a huge sweet tooth. Peppermint candies are his kryptonite.

Arthur’s laughter is a full-body experience. His chest trembles, his belly shakes, his voice booms. It’s impossible not to smile and laugh along with him. His eyes crinkle in the brightest way, making his joy contagious.

His real smile is rare, but when it comes it makes your heart flutter because he is so unguarded and in the moment you can glimpse the man beneath the hardened outlaw.

Man is the ultimate heater!!!

He makes the best personal blanket. His body runs hot, and he’s the fastest way to warm your freezing hands—though he might grumble when you tuck them under his shirt, directly onto his soft chest.

Your fingers feel like damn icicles. But he just adores the way you melt into him.

Loves when you ask him to warm you up. Like yes please, let this man just hold you in a big hug and rub your arms, your legs, your back. Everywhere.

Until there isn’t a trace of your body left that hasn’t felt his loving touch.

On this topic ^

Arthur loves physical affection with you. He is so so touch starved, and he craves it more than he'll ever admit.

With others he tends to flinch away or shrug off their touch. It’s not necessarily a distrust, but more of a defense.

Freezes up the first few times you do touch him. Always afraid of ruining the moment.

You have to be patient with Arthur, touch means trust. And physical affection becomes a deeply emotional act for him—things he rarely felt in his life.

Every hug, kiss, touch (and sex) is very sacred to him.

Smell gestures mean everything to him, especially in the camp. He is not a big fan of PDA, mostly due to his own insecurities. But he is not afraid to hold your hand, kiss your temple, or playfully flick your hat.

Protective gestures when you’re out in public.

Such as resting his large hand on your back as you walk. Positioning himself so he’s always close to you. Moving you behind him when strangers approach. Holding you tightly at night.

Completely melts under your touch.

Loves when you play with his hair, kiss his forehead, run your fingers through his beard, and oh god please please touch his belly.

Tracing slow circles on his chest and down the soft curve is a surefire way to get this man on!top!of!you!

The first time your fingertips trail down his stomach he’s caught off guard by how sensitive it feels. He might be soft, but your touch sets his skin on fire.

Something about it makes him nervous yet excited. The way your hands glide over him with such care and adoration makes his doubts disappear.

For the first time, Arthur feels comfortable being shirtless. It takes him awhile to work up the courage, your words and reassurance helps enormously.

But ultimately he just craves the feeling of your hands on his bare body.

It feel like a sanctuary.

Where a woman praises a man.

Because she loved him something holy.

He loves to be skin to skin. Didn’t realize how much he needed it until you offered it to him. He finds himself seeking it out whenever he can.

Adores the feeling of your bare chest against his. The way your nipples peak and harden when they brush over his chest hairs.

Your warm breath against his neck puts him at ease and helps him relax.

SMUTTT!!!

This man is easily aroused.

He’s often overwhelmed with desire, feeling like a lovesick teenager. (He just wants to be loved so goddamn bad)

Whether it’s watching the curve of your ass as you bend over, eyes lingering on your lips while you talk, or catching the scent of your hair as you lean in to kiss him, Arthur is hopelessly smitten.

There’s really nothing you can do that won’t stir this man's cock.

Just watching you ride a horse makes the blood flow.

Arthur is nervous and very insecure about his size when it comes to sex. It would take awhile for him to work up to it. But these doubts can be kissed away with gentle patience and praise.

Personally, I think the ‘first time’ with you would be very hard for him. He is not a sex god (yet) and he’s a nervous wreck when it comes to being intimate.

I wouldn’t blame him if struggled with losing an erection when his doubts and insecurities became too loud. He would be so embarrassed and apologize a million times.

If he’s had any alcohol it only makes things worse.

Compliment him, tell him how much you love his body. How his arms make you feel safe, how his chest feels like home against your cheek.

Remind him that you accept and love every inch of him.

He loves to be praised. Arthur needs to be praised. It is his weakness and it makes him feel cherished and confident.

The love language he wants to receive is words of affirmation 1000000%

But don’t let him fool you, for as much as he loves it he will always out praise you. In the bedroom, in the kitchen, on a job. It never ends. That deep soft spoken timbre of his voice never fails to make your knees weak.

This boy is putty in your hands. Mold him into whatever you need him to be, as long as he’s yours.

When he feels your lips trace down his chest and stomach he is gone. He is completely owned by you.

His breath quickens. Cock twitching helplessly, thick and dripping with arousal. Just aching to be inside.

Once Arthur gets you below him it’s suffocating in the best possible way. Your body is completely consumed by him, like nothing exists beyond the two of you.

It's like he’s trapped you in his world and every mewl, moan and whimper you make below him is for his ears alone. When he groans into your neck you feel it in your soul.

You thought he was a big man?

Wait till he’s rubbing his cock along your folds and prodding your entrance. Wait till he’s breathing sharply through his teeth as he pushes the thick swollen head inside. Letting out a long, low groan as he carves out a space for himself within your body.

It burns white hot as he pushes in. The pain mingling with a pleasure that was born from an aching need for connection and trust.

A kind of fullness that just feels so right.

Oh but he’s kissing you and praising you and stopping to make sure you’re okay. Arthur studies your face, for any sign of discomfort. But when you give him the ‘ok’, he loses himself in your embrace.

Eager to show you the same love and devotion you’ve so freely given him. Sex is divine. It’s a moment of surrender. He lets go and he lets himself just be.

He’s not an outlaw, a gunman, a survivor—he’s just a man. Deeply in love with a woman.

Arthur spent his whole life putting up walls to protect himself. Being intimate with you means tearing them down, letting his darkest parts be seen. Scars and all.

Sex with a big man can also be awkward if you let it. Arthur is large, he takes up a lot of space. Certain positions can be hard. And softer body parts tend to move more during the act.

And that’s okay! Because you love every moment of it.

Every time you moan, kiss his neck, tug on his hair, rake your nails down his back, tighten your walls, cry out his name—he’s reminded that he is worthy of love.

Arthur never rushes through sex (unless absolutely necessary) It’s a time for him to show his adoration, to dote on you. To bring you to the edge of euphoria again and again until nothing else matters.

Those ocean blue eyes will tell you everything. His love, his fear, his gratitude. Holding his gaze is not only a huge turn on but very emotional.

You can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, and simultaneously his lip curls. Learn to read his face and you’ll know exactly when he’s about to come.

Not only will you feel it, you’ll see it in the way he loses control.

His cock hangs heavy between his legs, and his length has a lot to show for it. Arthur knows this, and he’ll spend his time getting you ready for him with his tongue and fingers.

Let the man eat you out as!much!as!he!wants!

There is no such thing as taking turns. Sit on his face, ride his goddamn nose. Squeeze his head with those beautiful thighs. Let him get drunk off that pretty pussy. The man fucking needs it.

Arthur is also a natural giver, but we all know that.

Big fan of slow, rough sex. Watching his cock slide out of your tight pussy, leaving just the tip before snapping his hips back into you.

Intoxication with how it steals your breath away with each thrust. The creamy sounds of your arousal mingled with your shaky moans make him go absolutely feral.

He has to grip the head board just to keep himself from breaking your spine with his strength.

Favorite positions are the ones where he can watch your face contort with pleasure. Often missionary or cowgirl. Sometimes doggy if he can put you in front of a mirror and make you watch.

Arthur’s vocal in bed, but only when there is little chance of being heard. He’ll sing for you when you’re alone in the wild, or cozied up in a hotel, he throws caution to the wind when you finally have your own home.

He whimpers too, and he stopped fighting them once he realized how much your cunt tightened around his cock in response.

Hear me out, after things are established between you and you’re both comfortable in bed. Sex becomes a very fun activity as much as it is a vulnerable one.

I’m not saying y’all would tell jokes in the middle (I think Arthur would be very serious) but the act itself is just fun.

Arthur’s watching your face twist in pleasure as you ride him. Sapphire blue eyes gleaming in the firelight, full of lust and hunger and something more playful. He’s gripping your bottom, initially helping your pace but now you’ve taken complete control. Using his body for your own pleasure, setting your own rhythm. Getting off on his cock.

“Yeah, you like that, huh sweet girl?” He coo’s, smacking a hand against your ass and gripping the flesh as it pillows beneath his fingers. “Like ridin’ my cock huh?”

You can only nod, and whimper out a broken “y—yes” mind too focused on not losing that pressure that’s steadily building in your belly. Rising with every bounce of your hips. Threatening to spill over at any moment.

“Yeah?” He repeats. A wicked chuckle escapes his lips. His large hands run down your chest and over your thighs, before crossing an arm behind his head. One hand still kneading the soft flesh of your waist. A smug grin tugging at his lips as he watches his cock disappear inside you. “Well go on darlin’, have your fun with me.”

Every deep groan rumbles freely from his chest as he watches you panting above him. Eyes full of love and adoration, he can feel you getting close. Gripping him so deliciously. “Fuck—Keep going baby. Keep fucking my cock with that tight pussy. You gonna come for me?”

Those words open the floodgates, your vision going blank as pleasure and stars exploded behind your eyes. Crying out his name. You hear Arthur’s stained voice as he finishes in you with a needy groan. “Th-that’s it. That’s m-my good girl.”

Aftercare king!

Arthur will wait for your breathing to slow before disturbing the peace. Letting you rest your head on his chest as he strokes your hair. He can feel your heartbeat in his belly and the feeling grounds him more than anything.

Will get you food, water, wet cloth, whatever you need. He knows you’ll be sore and exhausted the next day. It’s also his way of saying thank you for trusting him with your body.

Sex with Arthur comes with a great deal of emotion and trust. It’s one of the only moments he truly lets his guard down and lets the vulnerability’s surface.

It’s deeply personal, and he craves that connection more than anything. It’s his sacred right, his holy devotion.

Arthur loves being close with you, and he just loves you.

Over time he begins to see himself differently. He’ll never seem himself through your eyes. But instead of looking in the mirror and seeing a large, ugly, and broken man. He’ll see one worthy of love.

Instead of looking at his body and feeling shame, he’ll look at his belly and remember the tingling feeling of your lips. The soft pads of your fingers as you traced his sides, sending shivers that reached the base of his spine.

When he sees those stretch marks he’ll be reminded of how easily he can carry you. How he can provide food and shelter for you. How you’ll never have to worry because he will always shield you from the storm.

With time, he begins to take care of himself more. Drinking less, eating more regularly, and finding solace in his lover when he feels like he is slipping again. Trusting her to let him be broken and held.

Falling in love with you teaches him that healing isn’t a linear path. But your loyalty, love and kindness guide him far better than when he had been on his own.

Arthur’s finally found a place where he belongs.

And it’s with you.

That’s it folks, as you can see I’m very passionate about this subject. Ahem, if anyone would like a part 2 I would be much obliged :)

I touched on some of these HC’s in my Arthur x oc fic, if anyone is interested. I didn’t have time to dedicate the entire work to his body and self esteem issues. So this was very enjoyable for me!

[capsiclecevans]

"come to bed with me"

Warnings: fluff, a little emotional, AU where Jacob did die at the end of Defending Jacob

Summary: Andy and Reader are reeling from your first major argument after moving in together and try to deal with the issue together.

Word Count: 1,291

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

⭐︎ ashleigh’s masterlist ⭐︎ | ☾ ashleigh’s taglist ☽

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It had been going on for hours now, the screaming and fighting. You and Andy had argued before this, but not this much. You had never seen Andy this angry before, over something he hasn’t even told you about yet. He was in a foul mood when he had gotten home from work, probably a run in with Neil (again), but he hadn’t told you what it was about. He had scolded you for even being near him when he was in this mood which you pushed back, making his anger rise more than you have ever seen it rise before. 

You were sat on the couch quietly, wiping your silent tears away as you stare at the fireplace, trying to listen to where Andy was in the house. Hoping that you won’t have to speak to him until tomorrow, when his mood might have improved and he has realised that he took his anger out on the wrong person. Heck, if it came to it you would even sleep on the couch or in the spare bedroom if you really had to avoid him and his temper. 

It was the first major argument you have had with Andy since you have moved in with him. You didn’t expect that you would have one that would be blown out of proportion just because Andy was in a bad mood from work. You knew that he didn’t mean to take his anger out on you but you were the only one in the house for him to do so. Maybe, this is what happened when he was with Laurie, maybe this is how she felt? But they were a happy family, weren’t they? Until she ruined everything after Jacob’s trial, killing him because she didn’t believe that he was truly innocent, making Andy leave her and in turn fall in love with you. 

He went out for a run to “calm down”, hopefully he will be in a bit of a better mood but that hadn’t happened as he slammed the door when he walked in, stalking upstairs to have a shower as you made dinner for you both quietly. That was 20 minutes ago and he is still to appear downstairs.

You sigh a little to yourself, moving off the couch to go and grab a blanket, wanting to alleviate the chill you felt from his mood. Usually Andy always tried to cuddle with you once he was back from a run as a joke, knowing that he was sweaty and needed a shower first. But, for the first time since living together, he didn’t. 

You weren’t even sure what was playing on the TV as you were just thinking about the shouting match you both had when he arrived home, you were so inside your own head and thoughts that you didn’t hear Andy walk downstairs slowly to come and find you as it was later than expected and you were usually getting ready for bed by now. 

You finally look up at your boyfriend when he sits next to you slowly, his hair still damp from his shower and the most guilty look on his face. His anger seems to have evaporated whilst he was in the shower. You hadn’t been able to stop crying since he left for his run and the look on his face just breaks your heart as he can see the tears in your eyes. 

“Oh baby…” He murmurs before cupping your cheeks in his hands to wipe away the tears away with his thumbs slowly “I am so sorry that I made you cry…I am sorry that I shouted at you…I am so sorry…” He whispers as he focuses on your tears. 

You close your eyes as he takes gentle care whilst holding your face in his hands. Taking a deep breath before opening your eyes to look at him, you melt into his touch slowly. Your Andy was back and you were eternally grateful as you knew that you would not have been able to not join him in your bed. 

“I have never seen you that angry…” You whisper as you look back at Andy and he nods slowly. A frown graces his face as he remembers how he treated you when he arrived home from the worst day at work he has had in a while. 

He lets a long breath before nodding slowly, his eyes flicking back to yours and he pulls you into his arms. His embrace was comforting, even though he was the one who made you feel like this. “Neil wants to look at Jacob’s case again, the Rifkin’s still do not believe that Jacob is innocent in Ben’s murder…” He says as he holds you close. You could hear the anger in his voice, his son was dead because his own mother didn’t believe him when he said he was innocent, and now the case was going to be looked at again to put the blame on a dead 14-year-old when he was found not guilty originally. 

Andy’s anger earlier was completely justified now you know why he was kicking off. He was going to have to re-live one of the most traumatising parts of his life again, and his son’s death because no-one believed that his son was innocent. Apart from the two of you. When Andy opened up and told you about those traumatic months of his life, you knew that he had fought for his son’s innocence with every fibre of his being, and you believed him when he said that Jacob was innocent. You just knew. You knew that Andy wasn’t lying when he said that Jacob was innocent. 

“Oh Andy…” You say and you look at him sadly, stroking his cheek gently as you watch his reaction carefully. He seems to relax a little as you stroke his cheek, like you were his rock, his support system. “I am so sorry that you have to re-live everything that happened to you and Jacob again, to prove his innocence yet again…that isn’t right what they are doing…” 

Andy sighs and nods before pressing a light kiss to your head as he holds you closer to him, neither of you knew what to say now. Andy’s life was going back under the microscope when it shouldn’t be. 

“Come to bed with me…” 

He said it so softly that you wouldn’t have been able to catch the five words out if the TV wasn’t muted and you weren’t cuddled up to him in his lap. A small smile plays on your lips as you realise that he does still want to share a bed with you tonight, even after the argument you had when he arrived home. 

You look up at him through your lashes before pressing a kiss to his stubble. “Of course I will…I would go anywhere with you…” You whisper against his skin in a promise that you would not be looking at breaking any time soon, since you were deeply in love with the man that you were sharing this house with. 

Andy’s smile is small when he looks down at you, his eyes glistening with tears before he nods and stands up from the couch, holding his hand out for you to take and head up to bed with him. 

You look at him before taking his hand, standing up with him and walks up to your bedroom, knowing that the fight wasn’t over, but you were glad the fight wasn’t between you and Andy anymore. It was against the two of you and the rest of the world who want to contest Jacob’s innocence when he is no longer here to fight himself. 

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

taglist:

andy: @kimberlydyan | @siriuslyslyslytherin | @sushiinmidnight | @bval-1 | @x0xchristine | @coffeebooksandfandom | @sherd-nerd | @titty-teetee | @bellaireland1981 | @tinylumpiaa | @rosalynshields | @lharrietg | @stillmanicc | @sohoseb | @patzammit | @livstilinski | @rogersdrysdalebarber | @wydtrina | @leyannrae | @dontbescaredtosingalong | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @graciehams | @mansaaay | @fdl305

To join my taglist, just fill out this ☾ ashleigh’s taglist ☽

[haydenigmatic]

First of all, a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all! 🎄✨

I want to thank everyone who has been reaching out about the situation with Dashingdon. Don’t worry—I already have plans to move the game to cogdemos. Your messages and support mean a lot to me, and I truly appreciate your patience.

It’s been quite some time since my last update, and I do apologise for not keeping you all better informed. As I mentioned before, I needed to take a step back to rest my eyes. I’m delighted to share that my vision has now recovered about 95%! I’ve also resumed work on the game, but I’m being mindful not to rush myself by setting deadlines—I want to deliver something that meets both your expectations and my own standards.

In addition to this, I’ve just finished my latest semester and am now only one term away from completing my degree—nearly there! 🎉 I’ve also been hard at work on my final paper, which has added to an already busy schedule. That said, please don’t lose faith in me. Progress may be slow, but I’m fully committed to getting things done.

This week, I finally have some time off, so I’ll do my best to be as productive as possible. I’m incredibly grateful for your continued support and understanding, even when I haven’t been as active as I’d like.

Thank you again for sticking with me, and I promise to keep you updated as I make progress.

Wishing you all the best!

-Hayden

[moth-related-inquiries]

I would screech for some aged up Professor Chaos! Could I request something where maybe he falls for a hostage he kidnapped and vice versa? Could be fluff, NSFW, anything I just wish there was more Chaos out there 😭

Fem! Reader x Professor Chaos (part 1)

A scenario in which the despicable Professor Chaos kidnaps you, a young journalist, in hopes of capturing your main source of superhero Intel, Mysterion. After months of being captured and saved over and over, you find that you're actually starting to enjoy being around Professor Chaos a little too much.

I hope you enioy! I will be posting the smutty part soon :) but for now this is the fluffy part.

The first time you were kidnapped by the despicable Professor Chaos, it was nothing but maddeningly tense. You weren't sure what he was going to do to you and you most certainly didn't want to figure it out. Millions of thoughts thundered through your mind like a stampede of wild horses.

Over the past few hours, you had learned that not only had Professor Chaos targeted you specifically due to your background in journalism, but he also targeted you because he knows how close you are to one of the most important members of the Freedom Pals. His arch nemesis, Mysterion.

He kept you locked up in his secret lair and forced you to spill everything you knew or he'd shock you till you did. You tried your best to hold out, you really did, but it was impossible. Every time you turned your head away or spat in his direction, he'd just let out a sinister laugh and rub his hands together. Your heart nearly dropped to your ass when you realized he was making more and more electricity with his gloves. 

Finally, when you were just about to spill the beans, Mysterion came to save the day! You returned home unscathed, got back to your job, and all was well. 

Well, all WAS well. 

You see, the only thing Professor Chaos learned from the situation was that Mysterion would always take the bait. So he kept doing it. Over and over and over. You'd get kidnapped, he'd psychologically torture you, and then Mysterion would come and save you.

He'd never once hurt you before, which you were grateful for, but the dynamic was beginning to grow tiresome. It got to the point where even Mysterion was getting fed up with it. This weird game the Professor liked playing was getting to his head. He began growing distant. Your interview offers were being declined. He stopped showing up at your spot everyday. You were losing him.

At first, you thought it was because he was annoyed with you. Okay, yeah, you needed an escort everytime you walked to and from work. So what? It isn't your fault that you're particularly vulnerable during those times. And the whole kidnapping thing? How were you supposed to prepare in advance to be kidnapped twice a week? It got so bad that you straight up confronted Mysterion, when he was off duty of course, about how neglected you felt. 

The actual reason was far from what you thought was happening. Mysterion, being the angel he is, considered that your friendship with him was putting you in danger. He didn't want to break your heart or hurt you, but it destroyed him to see your days wasted and your eyes tired because of him. All because he'd enjoyed your interviews a little too much. 

That wasn't the only reason though.

His main problem was that Professor Chaos was beginning to like you. And you were beginning to reciprocate. You didn't understand what he meant at first. I mean, the guy is your kidnapper for goodness sake! Mysterion argued that it had become a game between the three of you. Now that you think about it, it was obvious. I mean, these last few times you'd been kidnapped it was like you looked forward to it. It had become an exciting and surprisingly useful new part of your schedule.

You recalled how many times you'd been excused from work or saved from awkward blind dates because of it. What was most concerning is that you began putting yourself in the position to be kidnapped. You'd walk through the town at night, through dark alleyways, and wait at abandoned buildings all for the chance to feel that thrill again. I mean, it was the role you played. You were always the damsel in distress, the victim in peril, the one that either side seemingly wanted most. But, hey, you just wanted more time off of work.... right? 

Truthfully, deep down in your heart, you knew that it was because you enjoyed the thrill of the chase. You savored the game between you, Mysterion, and Chaos because it made you feel special. That's when it hit you. Out of everything in your life, every job, every boyfriend, every birthday you've had, nothing has ever brought you more joy than your little game with Professor Chaos. The suspense excited you like no other. 

Which is why you're now sitting in Professor Chaos' evil lair, arms cuffed behind your back. You'd been bound by ropes and tape so many times before that you'd began complaining about the scarring it left, so he eased up on it quite a bit and started using a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs. The plush velvet of his loveseat felt nice beneath you and made you feel more content compared to the dirty metal chair he usually puts you on. 

He sat in front of you, armor and helmet still on of course, eating from a plate of warm cookies while explaining his most recent shenanigans. "It was a little tough setting up the website, ya-know, but I did it! Making the drawings were the best part, too, (y/n)!" He said, voice light and giggly. He leaned forward, chocolate chip cookie in his right hand while his phone was in the other, and showed you his phone screen. Bright and colorful ponies of all different shapes and sizes danced on the screen, shooting sparkles, hearts, and stars, riding on rainbows, partying, gardening, anything you could think of. 

You nodded lightly as he pulled the phone away. "They're really cute, Chaos, but I don't see how this is gonna help you take over the world," you uttered, leaning back to sit more comfortably on the loveseat. He ruffled the curls on his head, seemingly excited. "That's the best part, baby," he leaned in, helmet gleaming in the low lighting. "Nobody will expect it. Not even you. I've told you what I'm doing, and you won't even see it coming!"

For the first time in months, you felt your skin crawl. He grabbed your shoulder gently and let out a sinister cackle. The hairs on your neck stood up once he got out of his seat. "Oh, geez. Mysterion is sure taking his time. Longer than usual," he spoke softly, a sharp contrast to his previous manner of speech. His hand went to scratch the back of his head, but he quickly fumbled when he realized he was still wearing his helmet. 

"Oh, right," he mumbled, turning around and walking through a nearby hallway until he disappeared around the corner. He was right. It had been nearly an entire day since Chaos had kidnapped you. Mysterion was taking longer than usual. Had he forgotten about you? Surely not. Even if he did forget about you, Professor Chaos always made it annoyingly apparent to everyone when he'd kidnapped you.

You distinctly remember the Human Kite whining incredibly loudly about the "Chaos Alarm" ringing nearly constantly in the Coon and Friends base. 

The sound of heavy pairs of footsteps followed by a delicate pair of heels pulled you out of your thoughts. "I-I told you sir, they're not picking up-""Not picking up??? What could possibly be more important right now!?" Professor Chaos shouted in disbelief. 

The skittish man to his left, whom you came to know as General Disarray, cringed at the outburst. He was Professor Chaos' most loyal ally, despite their differences, and you'd grown to know him as well. Now his other accomplice, the confident young lady to his right, you weren't too familiar with. She was an almost carbon copy of Professor Chaos, except she looked more like a princess than anything. 

Something stirred in your heart when you watched them interact. He always regarded her with sensitivity. Care. It made you sick watching him smile at her. "Excuse me?" You asked quietly, feeling some sort of satisfaction once everyone turned to look at you. Chaos smiled at you and practically sped walk to your side. "How much longer is this going to be, Professor? I have an urgent appointment tomorrow," you bluffed. He gently grabbed your side to turn you around, waves his hand to signal for his subordinates to buzz off, and unlocked your cuffs.

You rubbed your wrists gently, watching the young woman carefully from the corner of your eye as she left, feeling slightly annoyed when she had practically no reaction. "Well, it doesn't seem like they're coming anytime soon. General Disarray says it's something about a crab people attack," he frowned, "as if the crab people are a serious threat. I could light a tissue on fire and those goddamn things would go running." Professor Chaos returned to his previous seat and ran his hand over his face. 

You stayed put and relaxed into the softness of the loveseat, watching his every move. Looking for something within him. A want. A need. All thoughts halted as you realized what you were truly looking for. "Well, am I free to go? I'm sure if you-""Free? Why? You want to leave so soon?" There it is. 

You shrugged, resisting the urge to give yourself away. "Well, no, you- you can't go! You're my hostage, silly," He shot up, quickly crossing his desk and making his way over to you on the loveseat. You leaned back, squishing yourself into the cushions as he towered over you. Your heart pounded in your chest once he leaned over and placed a hand on your cheek. "I wouldn't look intimidating if I just let you go! I mean, I like you a lot, (y/n), but I have a reputation to uphold," he mumbled.

[voidcat]

At the beginning it was Narumi's impulsive and impatient ass that'd rush to any yamazon order he sees delivered to the base and grab them all for himself before checking for the possibility that some of them might not be his...

But after one too many times getting scolded by your, getting his ear pulled or getting into a heated argument with you- right in front of many people no less- He sees the fruit garden of an opportunity as it is, and decides to use it for his advantage.

Especially when the orders /are/ delivered to his person by accident.

Who can blame the poor delivery guys though? They are giving the boxes to him by muscle memory at this point- sick of coming back to the base doors day after day and always the same darn name on the papers: Narumi Gen

Meanwhile Narumi enjoys seeing the growing frustration on your person when the telltale message of "orders delivered" has arrived yet there is nothing in sight. Some orders have you worried more than the others, piquing his interest and going as far as to try his chances every once in a while when he's feeling bold: "Oh? You want these so badly? Then beg"

(It results with a hardcover book of yours meeting with the crown of his head every single time. Always a different book and the current one always heavier than the previous...)

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[daemonbrain]

Part 2

1.8k, cw: ghosts a pervert, smut, readers husband is piece of work, not proofread.

Simon Riley who first saw you at the butcher's shop on the phone. 

You were a pretty thing. Wearing a pink little yoga set, one arm holding your mat and the other holding your phone to your ear as you wait for the butcher to bring out your cut of meat.

Which was taking a long time

Simon would’ve had it chopped and packed to go by now. Though, he can’t complain with the view he has of your ass- you. The man was touch starved. He hadn’t been back home in a while, back-to-back deployments keeping him occupied. His only company being his calloused and scraped hands roughly jerking himself until he came, bordering on unpleasurable. Not what some could consider enjoyable, but try being in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere for weeks on end and see if you care so much about gentle.

The borderline perverted look you were blissfully unaware of was tracking down your form. He stared at the way the material tightly clung on to every bit of you in a welcoming way, a second skin. The sweat on you from your little session.

Just how flexible does yoga make a bird like you?

It was only when he heard a grating sound come from your phone that he snapped out of his trance. Even with his bad ears from all the bullets whizzing past him, bombs going off within meters of him, and the usual shit show he did for a living he could hear the voice which bled through your phone's speaker.

"Get me a steak this time. Nonna that nasty shit from last time!"

You hurriedly turned your volume down as it blasted in your ear, startled by the voice. Chewing on your lip you pivoted towards the counter to see if your order had been brought out; the motion to no avail as the employee continued chopping away in the back room.

It was only when your other hand came into full view from the motion he noticed the absolute rock on your finger.

"Honey, I thought the salmon was pretty good." That prick clearly firing something back as you winced away from your phone once again. Gritting your teeth as if biting back your arguments, looking around to occupy your time as the man on the phone continues to speak. "I know... I'm sorry. Don't worry, it'll be ready by 7." You placatingly cooed.

"Listen, I have to go. I love y-" You began, but the moment the words tumbled from your lips you pulled the phone fully from your cheek to see a blank screen with the time staring back on you. The asshole hung up!

What a fuckin tosser.

Simon hears the butcher finally call your name with familiarity and with a sigh you step towards the counter. 

He leaned on to the wall further as he had been the entire time. Silent. Unsettling. A stark contrast to your bright appearance in the shop, the larger man brooded in his corner waiting his turn.

“See ya’ next Friday!” You still managed a bright smile at the butcher who handed you your meat.

A mild thing like you really shouldn’t be talked to so thoughtlessly, some guys are fuckwits though. He never liked the type. Why lock a bird down with a ring if you were gonna be mean to her?

“S’cuse me sir, i’m just gonna push past you here” You asked. With widened eyes, Simon gruffly mumbled a “Yeah,” out before creating a stupidly small space.

Maybe he really did want you to push past him. Or just push up on him but oh well.

Sweeping past him, you give him a toothy smile as you had so sweetly done to the butcher, as if you hadn’t got yelled at less than five minutes ago. God you really have no common sense, beaming up at the lurker in the corner at least twice your size. A girl as pretty as you should really stick to herself.

From that interaction on, Simon found himself being guided by the memory of you back to the butcher shop the next Friday.

And the next…

And the next.

Every week progressively standing closer and closer to you as you picked up your usual order. One day you had taken the liberty of starting small talk with him after recognizing his unmistakable stature. After all, there were only so many people you had seen in this shop and none so… large.

You could not deny you found this mystery man disquieting. Always dressed in dark colours, not so much as a word coming from him. Like clockwork you would come in after hot yoga, greet the butcher, he would come in, silence would ensue as you both waited for your meat, and you would leave with a quick smile.

It was rude. He had never even said a simple hello to you! Though, you suppose that it could be due to your own curt exits. The thought of the unkindness you might’ve exhibited subconsciously sent your mind into a spiral, leading to your abrupt introduction.

After all, who were you to judge! Kindness is and should always be the response in your books.

At this kindness, Simon swore he had to take a breath in as you politely outstretched your hand and spoke your name casually. Tilting his head down to your face he raises a brow skeptically, and then firmly shakes your head.

He failed to hide the shudder which wracked his body. The way your hand effortlessly slipped into his. Soft and manicured engulfed in his.

“Simon.”

“Well it’s good to meet you Simon” With the twinkly little smile you would grace him as you hauled it out of the shop. He felt the shiver go down his spine a second time when you spoke his name for the first time.

And then- it happened.

You giggled. A soft thing, no doubt intended to be small. It wasn’t to Simon though. It reverberated throughout the room, rang so prettily in his ears. Fuck. He would remember that sound later on tonight.

“Are you cold? You keep shivering. It’s pretty harsh out there right now.”

“Nah. Not really.” His accent thick as he shrugged.

Letting out a little “mhm” you nod and look back to the counter.

“I was freezing outside! Usually I walk home-” Simon already knew that “-but today I called my husband to come grab me! Way too cold!”

That visibly made him stiffen. Of course. Perfectly normal that guy is coming to get you, he’d be an idiot to leave you walking home alone in the cold.

If you were his girl, Simon wouldn’t have let you out of his sight. Fuck sakes you practically had “come mess with me” written all over you. There were creeps all over the place nowadays, (thought the creep).

He would’ve carried everything for you, scarfed down whatever the hell you had taken the time to prepare him. That husband of yours doesn’t like your salmon? Simon would. Hell if he didn’t, he’d cram it down his throat with gratitude anyways. He doubted anything could be worse than some of the rations he’s eaten on duty. 

That train of thought is pretty redundant when he takes note of how you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed to make anything.

Maybe you’d cram something of his down your throat in gratitude.

Shaking his head subtly, he hears the bells of the store door opening. He watched your face fall as you step away from him and it’s when he sees your husband's look of complete irritation he understands why.

You had grabbed your order swiftly and with a quick wave goodbye you were on your way back to your husband. Simon could only register your husband's whisper-yell as he disapprovingly glared his way. “The fuck are you doin talking to him?”. And with that you were hurriedly ushered out.

You deigned it necessary to continue greeting Simon, have little chats about the weather, any plans he had for the weekend. Tossing in your stupid jokes that he would laugh at. You interpreted it as something closer to a breathy snort-hopefully positive- and it went on as such for weeks

And every time he returned home Friday night, he came home with only one thought after. You.

As he laid in bed the same thought persisted as he slipped his cock out of his boxers, red and weeping for some sort of stimulation. He took to his usual harsh pace. You’d be so much softer.

You’d be so nice to him wouldn’t you? Coo some compliment as he lets you tug at him. Fuck he wouldn’t know what to take first.

Would you give him a blowie or a hand job? 

No. You wouldn’t be on your knees- not yet. If you’d let him have you, you’d be on your back in an instant. He’d rip the stitches of those leggings right down the middle, your panties next.

“Fuuuuuck” he moaned into the quiet of his room. He’d stick it in slow, he’d try. It would be torture not to ram himself right up to the hilt, but he’d do it for such a good girl.

That’s what you were, weren’t you? Always a nice word for someone? What would you say to him when he began to rut into you like a madman. When you would feel the pummeling intrusion, his head knocking into the deepest parts of you.

He’d be able bend you into so many different positions that you’d better hope that yoga has taught you well. Split your legs open to accommodate his imposing body size as he’d take purchase between them. Then you better hope your cunny can accommodate his other size when he spears you open on his cock.

Would you take it smiling? Would your tears roll down your cheeks, the prodding bordering too much? You’d take it either way, he knew you could. He’d rub at your clit with such tenderness he never afforded himself (as gentle as he could anyway). He’d make sure you begged to stay on his cock forever, fuck himself so deep you would be too stupid to pull away unknowing of where he ended and you started. Not that you’d have to care.

He’d flip you on to all fours and rip away your clothes entirely, pounding you from the back and instead of just his own labored breaths, the sound of skin slapping together would ring out.

In silent stoicism, he feels his balls tighten up at the thought of your perfect face stuffed into the pillows screaming your thank you’s. You probably were just as nice with someone stuffing themselves into your pussy.

At both his ruthless ministrations and boundless imagination, his release spurted all over his hand with a breathy sigh. When you were here he’d make sure to slam his hips to yours and keep them flush against you, coat your insides in hot cum better than your limp-dick husband ever could. That man wouldn’t be able to fuck you the way Simon knew he could. You deserve someone who could make you go stupid on his dick, not cry of frustration like you probably did everytime that knob who thinks himself a man rolled over after finishing himself off.

Not that you’ll have to worry about that soon

…

He wouldn’t be around for much longer anyways.

[satoruxx]

normally toji prides himself on being the perfect guard dog—not that he would ever tell you that. but you never have to worry about guys coming up to you when your hulking monster of a boyfriend remains at your side, continuously glaring down his nose at everyone he sees.

this usually works pretty well.

on adults.

but now, as you and him wait in line at the counter of the grocery store, he can only let out a huff of irritation as he watches the little brat in front of you both stare over his mother’s shoulder—big wide eyes locked on you.

at first you don’t really notice, too busy blabbering about something silly as you look around the store. but when you finally lock eyes with the child, you notice the way he seems to go shy, pressing his cheek deeper into his mom’s shoulder. his eyes flick away from your face for just a second, before timidly looking back. as soon as he does, you break into the sweetest, most giddy smile.

(toji would move mountains for a glimpse of that smile—and yet here this kid is just getting it without a shred of work.)

you tilt your head, raising a hand to gently wave at the boy, who flushes further under your attention, but lifts his cheek a little more. chubby fingers come up to meekly wave back, and you hold back a silent coo of affection, eyes filled with honey-like sweetness. with every little giggle and silly face you make at the boy, he seems to get more and more comfortable—toji watches you melt.

the unlucky little brat then quickly peeks at the giant man looming beside you, and toji can’t resist. his face pulls into a evil smile, teeth on full display as he wiggles his fingers sinisterly. the expression has its desired effect—the kid recoils, eyes going wide before burying his face into his mother’s neck. in a few minutes, the boy and his mom are heading out the store and you and toji start loading the groceries onto the belt.

“i saw that, you know?”

toji glances up, seeing your semi disapproving frown, and he cocks his head in faux innocence. “saw what?”

“you’re mean,” you shake your head, crossing your arms. “scaring little kids like that. quite literally the object of their nightmares.”

“ah, he’ll be alright,” toji grunts, taking the bags from the cashier in one hand and reaching for your palm with the other. “it’ll build his character.”

you snort. “he’ll have trauma.”

“like i said,” he grins, a canine display. “character.”

you roll your eyes as he tugs you out of the store—your grip on him unwilling to falter.

toji lives just like this, successful in scaring off any other person who considers giving you attention, whether that’s an adult or a little kid. and despite your exasperated complaints to at least lay off the children (they’re harmless), toji has known for a long time that he can be nothing but selfish when it comes to you.

so forgive him, if he quickly turns to this evil little tactic to scare away kids—it’s all he can really do. besides, it always works.

until now.

you’re sitting under a tree at a small park, working on some dumb assignment for one of your lectures. toji lays on his back next to you, arm draped over his eyes in a momentary respite from the normal danger of his life—eerily content.

the peace is broken by the rustling of tiny footsteps in the grass.

“here you go.”

toji pulls his arm away to peer at the owner of the voice. a boy stands there, hair tousled as he waits in front of you with his arm outstretched—in between his chubby fingers is a singular dandelion.

your eyes widen, cheeks splitting into a wide smile as you coo out your affection. “aw for me?”

the boy nods mutely, cheeks flushed as he thrusts the flower further into your view. you delicately pluck it from his hands, inhaling the fragrance with a grateful smile. “well thank you. it’s beautiful.”

he shyly kicks at a spot of grass, lips pulling up into a giddy smile under your sweet praise. “just like you,” he mumbles under his breath and you squeal softly, giggling at how adorable this kid truly is.

toji sits up before you can say anything else, lips pulled into a displeased frown as he crosses his bulky arms across his chest. “hey.” his voice comes out low and tense, even as he stares down his nose at the boy. “what are you doing?”

you turn to look at your boyfriend, at the exaggerated sneer that normally works wonders in scaring kids away, and you hold back an exasperated sigh. “toji—“

“who are you?” the boy frowns, sass appearing out of thin air as he looks toji up and down like he’s nothing but dirt under his colorful sneakers. you gape at him, eyes darting back and forth between the two as a smile threatens to make its way into your face. toji’s lips part in surprise, a tingle of heat crawling up his neck as he hears your hushed gasp of held back laughter.

“her boyfriend,” he grunts back, eyes narrowed in a way that’s oddly similar to the expression on the kid’s face.

“no way!” the boy huffs, pouting indignantly. his cheeks flush as he glares at toji—unfazed.

“uh, yes way.” toji realizes how petty he sounds, but he’s adamant—unwilling to stand down in anything that involves you.

the boy crosses his arms, mirroring toji’s pose. he rolls his eyes emphatically, lip curling as he sneers down his nose.

“isn’t she too pretty for you?” he asks bluntly. you smother another disbelieving gasp, and toji suddenly feels an unfamiliar thrill rush through his veins—this kid had guts.

“what do you know, brat?” there’s a smirk evident in toji’s voice now, and he uncrosses his arms to lean back on his palms, eyes shining with feral mirth.

“i have eyes,” the boy snaps back, putting both hands on his hips to appear more intimidating—it doesn’t work, he just looks cuter. “i can see her.”

“well quit it,” toji huffs in return. “not yours to look at.”

the kid narrows his eyes. “you’re mean!”

“and you’re nosy!”

“how am i nosy?”

“you’re comin’ over here and givin’ my girl flowers!”

“she deserves flowers!”

“of course she does! from me, you little brat!”

“you suck, old man!”

“what did you just call me?!”

a shout from across the park disrupts the heated bickering, and you all turn to see an older woman waving the boy over. he looks down at you, a sweet smile washing over his face as he tilts his head innocently. “that’s my mom. i have to go home now.”

“heh, sure thing. get home safe, okay?” you shoot toji an amused glance as you speak, and he sends a displeased glare back as he stubbornly crosses his arms again.

the boy nods, beaming at you. “okay! see you later!” he chirps. but just as he’s about to leave he turns back, eyes fixated on toji. “i hope your boyfriend learns how to be nice!”

and then he runs off.

you snort out another laugh, which only gets louder when you catch a glimpse of the way toji is practically sulking in the corner—scowling at the kid’s back with narrowed eyes.

the whole thing is so unbelievably endearing, and you can’t stop grinning as you pack up your things and stand up.

“let’s go home, toji.” you hold your palm out for him, and you’re rewarded with a pointed glance—he takes your hand anyway. even as you both exit the park, toji has an unamused pout on his face, glaring ahead.

you can’t resist.

“don’t tell me you actually feel threatened now,” you giggle, grabbing his bicep and pressing close. toji glances at you from the corner of his eyes, unamused—which only seems to make you laugh harder. “oh come on! he was so cute!”

“little brat,” he grumbles in return. “couldn’t take a hint.”

“you’re mad because the eight year old kid at the park didn’t want to believe you were my boyfriend?”

“the fuck do you think? of course i am. what do i look like if not your fucking boyfriend?”

you chortle, practically falling on him with the weight of your amusement. he sighs, disgruntled.

“it’s not funny, kid.” toji rolls his eyes at you—internally, he’s trying not to grin.

“it’s so funny, toji.” you straighten up, smiling at him with stars in your eyes. “you’re ridiculous and it’s so cute.”

he scoffs, giving you a sidelong glance before reaching up to tug at your cheek. “i’m definitely not the cute one.” he murmurs offhandedly before internally smirking at the way you seem to be caught off guard by his statement.

“whatever,” you mumble, holding his arm as you both continue walking home in relative silence. from the corner of your eye you can see toji’s expression as he mutely stares ahead, deep in thought. you decide not to disturb him, content on just feeling his warmth bleeding into your palm—always at your side.

toji replays the incident in his head multiple times as you head home. the bickering, the sass, and the unfiltered adoration that little brat seemed to have for you.

something clicks.

as you’re pushing open the door of your apartment, you hear toji quietly chuckle from behind you, and you turn to look at him over you shoulder. “what?”

he shakes his head slowly, eyes shut even as an uncharacteristically soft smile tugs at his lips. “just thinking…”

“about what?” you ask curiously.

toji grins at you, cocking his head fondly. “when we have a kid, i want the little brat to be just like that.”

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”

[readwritealldayallnight]

You know the woman in line behind you is getting impatient, hearing her not so subtle exasperated sigh as you continue to search through your bag, your cheeks burning a deeper shade of crimson when you catch the barista’s tight lipped smile in your direction, her attempt at reassuring you as part of her job, though you can tell she wishes you’d hurry up as well

As if your debit card declining a mortifying four times hadn’t been enough, but then your attempt at using your credit card was just as unsuccessful, the sound of the failed transaction on a stupid 6£ drink sounding out for everyone in queue to know how broke you really were

Embarrassment coursing through your veins, already thinking about how you’ll never have the guts to come back to this cafe again as you desperately search for enough spare change at the bottom of your purse to cover this morning’s coffee, your scrambling comes to a pause when a large shadow suddenly eclipses the overheard lighting above you

In the midst of your frantic searching, a tall figure has come to stand just next to you, their gloved hand stretching past your figure to tap a card against the machine, the happy beep of the teller confirming the transaction’s been accepted this time

“I’ve got tha’ for ya.” A deep, gravelly Manchester accent mutters low enough for only you to hear, before the figure tries to retreat back into queue unnoticed

You eyebrows shoot up in shock, the barista equally appearing surprised but not displeased as she finally gets to hand you your drink and quickly wish you a good day before she’s already trying to help the woman waiting behind you

You step aside out of the queue, swinging your head around to try and spot your mystery saviour who stepped in and helped you out without even needing so much as a thanks in return apparently

You spot him instantly, the absolute size of him easily giving him away. No one else in the small cafe could have created such a large, intimidating shadow, let alone spoken in such a deep voice that sent chills down your spine

He stands a head above anyone else in queue, currently last in the line after he stepped out to pay for you. He’s wearing a simple black medical mask on the lower half of his face, a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head offers you only a small glimpse of his eyes, which are noticeably pointed at the ground at the moment

You’re walking towards him before you even realize it

“Th- thank you. I don’t-” You’re cut off when those same eyes glance up to meet your own, stealing your breath away. He seems almost as surprised that you’re speaking to him as you were when he stepped in and paid for you, his eyes betraying his shock for only a fraction of a second before he’s steeling himself and his eyes darken. You get the vague impression that he isn’t someone who’s used to being caught off guard

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.” You say to him, wanting to express just how grateful you are to him for his random act of kindness, but he says nothing in return, hardly blinking once as he simply stares back at you

“I can’t understand why my cards weren’t working today. I promise I don’t like- this isn’t a thing I do. Go into coffee shops and pretend I can’t pay, hoping someone else will…” You awkwardly laugh to yourself, beginning to ramble in an effort to fill in the silence

“Anyways I just, really wanted to say thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re scrambling now, attempting to save face as this man just looks at you, an arm beginning to swing your purse off your shoulder in hopes of maybe finding enough change to appease this guy

“Not necessary.” The deep voice finally says again, his eyes leaving yours to scan you from top to bottom and then back up again, almost examining the sight before him. You almost feel like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, seeing the mask moving along with the sound of that gravelly voice an enrapturing vision

“Oh- well I- I mean that’s really nice of you, but I swear I can pay you back.” You recognize that feeling beginning to swirl low in your stomach, familiar with the warmth gathering in the apples of your cheeks; your body realizing it a split second before your brain catches up. You’re kind of into this guy. You can’t see much of his face, but the sliver you do see certainly isn’t unattractive, his height and build speaks for itself, with a voice like that and the fact that he’s just saved your butt and expected not even a thanks in return, you’re wondering if he’s too good to be true

“Do you come here often?” You’re asking him before you can stop yourself, watching a single one of his eyebrows arching ever so slightly. “I just mean that- I come here a lot- sometimes. And if you’re here next time I’m here, then maybe I can pay you back, buy you a drink.”

You’re losing confidence the longer he stands there, not answering. What were you thinking? This guy was just trying to be nice, get the annoying girl holding up the line out of the way so that people can order their drinks and go about their day, and here you are holding him up even longer-

“If it’ll make ya happy.” He’s suddenly answering, snapping you out of your downward spiral. If you could see the grin that slowly creeps upon your face, you might be otherwise embarrassed, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Oh okay, amazing. I mean- yeah that would- that would be cool. Okay.” You reply, glancing at your watch. “I’m not sure for you, but um, I’m almost always here each Sunday. Around this time.”

“I’ll be here next Sunday. Around this time.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Next in line please.” The barista at the corner calls out, interrupting the two of you. You glance back to see that it’s now his turn to order, feeling bad that you’re about to hold up the queue yet again.

“Great. I’ll see you Sunday then. Thank you again, seriously. I really owe you one.” You say, gripping the straps of your bag tighter as you offer him a sheepish smile before ducking out of the busy cafe, a small grin playing across your face.

Ghost watches your figure through the large windows as you walk out of the shop, across the street, disappearing into the crowd of morning goers strolling about. Only once he cannot see you anymore, does he walk up to the counter, slipping a 20£ note to the barista along with a slight nod of acknowledgement, before he himself is turning to walk out of the cafe, empty handed, intent on catching up to you from a distance.

~~~~~~~~~~

AKA Ghost has been stalking you for months and finally comes up with a way to have you approach him

[softbabybelle]

CORRUPTION𓍯𓂃 r ֶָ֢cameron 003.

rafe cameron x shy!reader

 𝜗𝜚 summary : rafe has been trying to get you alone for far too long and now that he finally has, he won't give the moment up for anything.

𝜗𝜚 words : 2.3k

𝜗𝜚 c!w : smut, humping, thigh riding, public!sex, finger sucking, risk of being caught, praise kink, kinda degradation kink.

part 1, part 2.

days had passed since the incident with rafe cameron and the boy who's name you didn't wish to remember.

this time, you hadn't gone out of your way to avoid the boy but instead went back to normal, almost as if nothing had happened between you two at all. you sat on the couch of tannyhill, giggling at something on sarah's phone with your legs crossed.

now, that simply wouldn't do.

rafe had been eager for a minute alone with you which seemed almost impossible when his sister was hanging off your side every minute you spent at tannyhill.

he was sitting on the living room couch, the one across from you both, scrolling on his own phone, a finger to his mouth as he gnawed at the completely bitten down nail.

his eyes kept travelling over to you, skimpy little summers dress clinging to your form while the skirt part began to ride up your thighs as you moved against the couch.

dirty thoughts swarmed his head, thoughts that shouldn't be repeated out loud. thoughts that shouldn't have been in his head to begin with.

he thought he was sure to be damned to hell for the things he was thinking.

and then, ironically enough, the gods seemed to smile down on him. it was as if all of his prayers had been answered and every beg and grovel had finally been listened to by an angel.

the angel who's name was wheezie, standing in the living room door frame. "sarah." wheezies hair was a mess, thrown into a bun with loose strands of hair sticking out every which way, she looked tired, so awfully tired and dreadful as she stared forward at her sister who's head instantly snapped up. "please help me. i'm trying clean out my wardrobe but it's too much."

a laugh fell from sarah's mouth. "no way. it's your mess, clean it yourself."

but that was when wheezie's arms crossed over her chest, cocking a brow. "I'm sorry, who covered for you and topper last night?"

"wheezie!" sarah exasperated, glancing out into the hallway. ward and rose were upstairs but sarah still didn't wish for them to hear about the late night activities she'd been getting up to with her boyfriend.

defeated, she turned her head back to you, who was sitting so sweetly on the couch, that same sickly sweet smile crawling up on your features. you liked watching the cameron siblings interact, even if it wasn't always so pleasant, there was something oddly homely about it. "'s okay, sarah, 'm fine down here."

"okay." she sighed, getting up from the couch. "okay, you just―just hang out for a while and i'll be down soon, okay?" she watched you nod. "okay, come on, let's get this over with."

and suddenly, tension ran thick through the air.

it was you and rafe, alone.

his legs were spread apart on the armchair he was seated on, eyes running up and down your body. you seemed to notice your dress riding up and instantly tugged it down with pink cheeks. you swallowed thickly. "I, uhm―i wanted to say thank you." your eyes finally looked up to reach his.

the minute he heard your voice, his phone was turned off and tossed away. his head cocked to the side. "what for?" teasing. for he knew exactly what for.

you squirmed in your place. "for everything you did with max."

"didn't seem too grateful when you ran away, hm?" he didn't mean the bitter words that slipped from his lips. he watched the way you hung your head low, eyes glassing over. instantly, a kind of guilt washed over him and he leaned back further into the chair. "c'mere." and he patted his thigh, watching your eyes flicker down. you glanced out to the hallway and he had to roll his eyes. "'s okay, nobody'll see you. they're all too busy."

you did as you were told, crossing the room and landing in his lap.

there was something so sensational about being in his lap again.

memories flooded your head, pictures and images of you and he, in this same predicament inside his bedroom, his lips tainting yours. you couldn't help but latch your eyes onto his lips.

"you wanna tell me why you keep runnin' away, hm?" you don't answer, eyes searching anywhere but his face. he doesn't allow it, turning you slowly towards him once again. "asked you a question, sweetheart."

you fought words inside your mouth, all threatening to come tumbling out. "was scared." is all he's met with.

"scared of what?" his head dips, his eyes trying to reach yours, trying to look in and gauge your emotions. "scared of me?"

you shook your head, fingers reaching out to trail across the fabric of his sweater. "i... liked it when you kissed me." you admitted and he watched as a blush fell across your face, red reaching the tips of your ears. "i liked it a lot but 'was scared that sarah would find out 'n i don't―"

"sarah doesn't need to know anything." he answers quickly. "besides, who you kiss..." his fingers trailed across your bottom lip, sucking in his own bottom one between his teeth as he gazed down at them, sweet like honey. "is none of her business, yeah?"

you nodded too quickly, too eagerly, too convinced by his words too quickly. "'m sorry, rafe, 'm really sorry."

"think i know how you can make it up t'me." his fingers left your lips and placed themselves against your hips. "you wanna make it up to me?"

"yes, please." came out too swiftly.

he couldn't help but smirk at your eagerness. "'m gonna kiss you again, okay?" and suddenly, you could feel heat pooling in the bottom of your stomach. he leaned in, his breaths falling hot against your face, his scent filling your senses. and just as his lips brushed against your own, he whispered. "you gotta promise me something first, 'kay?"

you licked your wet lips. "anything." wanting nothing more than for rafe to lean in and seal the kiss. you'd do anything he ever asked.

"no runnin' away this time." his fingers pinched at your jaw, holding it so your eyes could reach his. "you want this? you take it 'n you don't go pushin' me away again, alright?" a curt nod. "words, princess."

"promise." you spoke quickly. "promise, rafe, please."

his lips quirked.

but he didn't keep you waiting.

when his lips crashed into yours, you were very aware of the fact that you were sitting on the couch of tannyhill, the living room door wide open. all it took was for ward or sarah to come down the stairs and they'd see what you'd been up to.

they'd see that you weren't such a good girl after all.

but you couldn't seem to care.

you were too focused on his hot hot lips, tongue slipping into your mouth as he deepened the kiss, hands pinching at your waist, holding you in place.

your mind began to unravel, all you could think about was him. rafe cameron. you were sitting on his lap, kissing him, again. and you swore it was a feeling unlike any feeling you'd ever felt in your entire life. it was making you so desperate, so messy, so wet.

and you were sure he could feel it too. he tugged on your waist, rolling your hips against him.

you let a whimper be swallowed by his mouth.

his lips finally broke from yours for air but he didn't allow himself enough to fully regain his breath before they were latched beneath your jaw, sucking and kissing harshly.

again, he rolled your hips. you weren't sure if it was him moving you or you doing it by yourself now. you could feel him growing hard beneath you, you could feel him pressing himself up against your clothed pussy and all you could think about was how much you needed everything off.

you needed to feel him, skin to skin.

it seemed so close yet stretched so far away.

his hands ran up the skin of your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress up as he went. "r-rafe." you whimpered out, head turning to the door. "someone could see―"

"'s what you asked for, isn't it?" his hands were rough against you, tugging the dress upwards, not caring for the family who remained upstairs. "isn't it?"

you swallowed thickly. "yes." you stammered out. "b-but―"

"you still wanna make it up to me, don't you?" his brows knitted together in this false sense of sadness, as if you'd done something awful to the poor man. you'd felt suddenly guilty for even suggesting that you stop.

you felt yourself ease against him, your own brows pinching together. "'m sorry, rafe, swear 'm sorry. i'll do anything, jus' please don't be angry―"

"'m not angry." he assures you, fingers brushing up and down your thighs, inching too high. "jus' need you to do something f'me, can you do that, sweetheart?" you were nodding like a puppy, eager to do anything he would ask of you. he maneuvered you so you were situated on one of his spread thighs and not his lap anymore. "y'gonna rub yourself on my thigh like the pathetic good girl you are, okay?"

you'd never done anything like this before.

suddenly you began to panic. "rafe, someone'll hear 'n―"

"nobody'll hear you, baby, jus' gotta be nice 'n quiet, yeah?" you still looked hesitant, top teeth clamping down on your bottom lip. "would make me feel so good, princess 'n you jus' wanna make me feel good, isn't that right? yeah, baby, jus' wanna make rafe feel good, you're such a good girl, aren't you?"

and you don't know how, why, or when but suddenly, you're doing just what he told you.

your hips are stuttering as they move against his jeans, you can feel your panties growing wetter and wetter with every jolt of movement.

rafe doesn't appear to be doing much, hands skillfully moving your hips while he leans back against the armchair.

"there you go, good girl." his cock twitched in his jeans, watching your hesitant, shy face as you moved oh so slowly on his jeans. "lift your hips f'me, sweetheart." you did as you were told, pausing to lift yourself up from his thigh. his hand moved beneath you, tugging your panties to the side and rubbing gentle circles against your clit.

"oh." fell so sweetly from your lips that to anybody else, it would have appeared almost innocent. but rafe was well aware of how dirty you really were.

he landed you back on his thigh, letting you rub yourself against him, this time, it was your bare pussy that ran up and down his jean-clad thigh.

he groaned at the sight of you, free hand coming down to fix his situation that was suddenly growing in his pants. he pulled at the jeans slightly, trying to make his growing bulge less noticeable but there was simply too much to hide.

your eyes cast down to his hand, then to the bulge and you found a little whimper leaving your mouth.

his eyes studied your face, watching you lick your already wet lips and rubbing yourself against him a little quicker. sweet, poor, innocent, you was so turned on by his growing dick. and he could feel it by the dampness of his jeans turning wet hot

you really were filthy.

a particularly loud whine left your lips and rafe realised that perhaps it wasn't a smart idea to start this whole thing off while his whole family was home.

but he couldn't stop now. that'd be cruel. especially seeing how worked up he'd gotten you.

he trailed his fingers up to your lips and tapped on your chin.

you didn't even need to be told, you simply opened up. he stuck his digits right in, feeling your flat tongue against them and spit coating them.

"so filthy, baby." he uttered so softly, as if he were complimenting you. "what'll we do with you, huh?" you only whimpered around his fingers. "'s okay, sweetheart, gonna get that pussy stuffed jus' like you want. just gotta be patient, yeah? can you do that f'me?"

and you're sloppy against his thigh, sloppy against his fingers. you can feel juices rubbing against his jeans and dribble forming at the gaps between your lips and all you can do is not so dumbly.

a stutter of your hips.

a grin on his lips.

"you gonna cum, already, huh?" it didn't take long, but you were already approaching your orgasm. he wished now more than ever that he could take pictures with his mind. that he could frame this moment and pull it out every time his dick got hard. he slipped his fingers out from your mouth. "gotta ask like a good girl before you cum."

your hands pawed at his shoulders. "please, rafe." your mind was turned to mush. "please, please, please."

he shrugged so cruelly. "'m hearin' a lot of beggin' but i don't hear you asking me yet."

"p-please, can i cum?" your face was red hot, embarrassment flooding your features quickly. "please?"

he smirked, leaning back against the armchair and removing his hands from your waist. you were a big girl, you could finish yourself off. "go on, princess."

he watched as your hands pawed at him, hips stuttering and eyes rolling backwards, mouth falling open. it was such a pronographic, filthy scene. and yet, he knew by tomorrow, you'd be prancing around in the same little dress and everyone would see you as the same lovely good little girl that you pretended to be.

and rafe thought that was enough to make him cum in his own pants.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Would they or would they not catch you…

Dick: yes. 100% yes but he’s -no pun intended- a little bit of a teasing dick about it.

He will catch you but then act as though he’s going to drop you by loosening his grip, making you scream out of surprise and cling onto him tighter, all the while beaming that bright and beautiful smile of his as though he wasn’t about to willingly let you fall flat on your ass on multiple occasions.

‘I fucking hate you!’ You whined, smacking Dick on the bicep.

‘Oh do you now?’ Dick inquires as he slowly begins to losses his grip on you, smirking.

‘Did I say hate you? I meant love you, a lot! Please don’t drop me.’ You cried as you tightened your grip on his neck whilst struggling to keep your feet from touching the floor. ‘Awww I love you too gorgeous.’ Dick coos as he pressed kisses into your face as you could only glare at the cheeky bastard.

You hate him sometimes but you weren’t going to complain about the affection you were being given. So you guess you’ll suffer for now.

Side note: he might even try and see if you can catch him. 💀

Jason: He will catch you but makes it a big deal whenever he can. He loves holding you in his arms.

He could keep you in his arms forever if he could but knew that he can’t, so he settles for going about his day carrying you throughout the apartment instead.

‘You can put down any day now.’ You’d tell him but that only makes Jason tighten his grip on you as he moved in his makeshift library for a book to read.

‘No.’ He simply replied, scouring the many book titles in front of him in the hopes that one might speak to him. You pout. ‘What do you mean no?’ Jason then looks at you and says. ‘No means no. As in no I will not put you down because I do as I like and will not be told otherwise, so the cutie currently in my arms has to deal with it.’ He then smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead before looking back towards the bookshelves.

You end up falling asleep in his arms and Jason couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, even if you did look like the living dead.

Damian: says no but will in fact catch you without hesitation.

However if you do try to tease him about it, then he will drop you without a second thought. ‘You can catch yourself next time.’ He would say as he walks away, leaving you with a bruised ass. Titus -who saw the whole thing- would come up to you to make sure you weren’t genuinely hurt and encourage you to get up by nudging you with his head.

Don’t test him because he will do it and then act like the whole thing didn’t happen if you were to bring it up.

‘Dick.’ You’d say as you stood up.

‘I heard that.’ He’d call back, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘You were meant to.’ You reply. ‘And at least Titus came to check up on me to see if I wasn’t hurt.’ You’d add while scratching Titus behind the ear.

Needless to say you were more cautious when choosing Damian to catch you. However he does apologise for dropping you on your ass by gifting you something he himself drew by hand; He secretly doesn’t like it when you’re upset with him and will do anything to rectify it.

What a sweetheart.

Bruce: he’s too use to you pulling this type of shit that it’s basically muscle memory for him to catch you as you’re running towards him, all with a straight face mind you.

Be grateful because he risked a much needed bowl of Mulligatawny soup just to catch you in his arms, but then again the kisses you bombard his cheek is more than reward enough, a small almost missable smile appears on his lips as he then proceeds to carry you for the rest of the day as “punishment.”

( this only occurs when Bruce is feeling particularly affectionate or playful)

Much to your batkids -Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cass and Steph- dismay. They’d want to use this as blackmail, but they know that it will backfire as you’ll probably hang the photo on a wall somewhere in the manor, reminding them of how disgustingly their parents can be when given the opportunity.

[ofbatsandballads]

have this thing I wrote in a flash of pure, unadulterated love for Jason that I felt while doing my hair routine after my shower. never needed a fictional guy more in all my life and honestly this may be my personal favorite thing I’ve ever written.

Thinking about domesticity with Jason Todd. Building a home with him, a life. How ever so gradually mine and yours becomes ours.

You’re brushing your teeth one morning and decide to try out his toothpaste, the one he always buys from the bodega down the block owned by the little abuelita that loves him to death. It’s fresh and it’s minty and you swear it leaves your teeth whiter than the brand name stuff you buy, so you let your tube get used up and never buy toothpaste again. Jason, without question, simply starts buying it twice as often as usual.

You’re fresh from the shower together after a night off for both of you. You’re warm and you’re happy and you’re both so in love it almost hurts. You watch enraptured as he towel dries his hair, roughly scrunching the water from his inky curls. You don’t like how he lacks gentleness with himself, so you take the towel from him and gesture for him to lean down. Ever obedient to you, Jason complies and smiles softly as you dry his hair for him. You think suddenly that while his curls are always soft to the touch, they could do with being a bit more defined. They tend to get really frizzy and poofy by the end of the day. So you grab your curl cream and gel and just absentmindedly do your own routine on him. He raises his eyebrow in question only to quickly relent when he realizes it means you’re playing with his hair for longer. Your hunch is right; once his hair dries, his curls are so pretty you think you could get lost in the waves of them. Jason’s just happy cause now his hair smells like you.

The only clothes Jason has that are his now is his Red Hood gear. The rest of his closet has quickly become co-owned by you. His brain never fails to short circuit when you walk out in his hoodies, or his sweatpants, or his t-shirts, or his boxers. There’s not one piece of his civilian clothing that hasn’t been on both of your bodies at this point. Sometimes seeing you in his clothes has Jason blushing and his heart pounding with how much he loves you, how grateful he is to have this life with you. Other times seeing you in his clothes has him calculating the fastest way he can get them all off of you. You’re just disappointed that it can’t go both ways. But, alas, the struggles of having a massive boyfriend are that he’ll never be able to fit in your clothes. Whatever; it still does something for you when he finally wears the old Gotham Knights shirt that you’d stolen for months.

It’s also kind of funny sometimes. You two own a set of old, dark gray towels affectionately labeled “The Blood Towels”. The Blood Towels are only brought out after a really rough patrol or post-showering when you’re on your period. They came about after you’d nearly slipped while soaking wet from how quickly you’d tried to dry off to avoid bleeding on his good, fluffy towels. Jason just looked at you like you were a little ditzy, a flat “Do ya know how many times I’ve bled on these towels?” coming from his mouth. “I don’t care! I still don’t wanna ruin them!” you’d insisted. And thus, The Blood Towels were born.

Your bookshelf is never going to stop growing. You’ve actually had to go to IKEA more than once to get a larger one with how often you and Jay visit the old bookstore two blocks away from your apartment. Neither of you can resist a pretty cover, or a new annotated edition, or, heaven forbid, those rare, expensive first edition copies. At this point you’re not really sure which of the five copies of Pride and Prejudice first belonged to who, but really what does it matter when you’re both reading them anyways? And it’s always funny when you have to drag home a bigger bookshelf. You can never hold your laughter when Jason inevitably shouts “What the fuck! This wouldn’t be so goddamn hard if they actually gave you coherent instructions!” It’s also always nice to drag the old bookshelves to the apartment of the single mom downstairs whose kid loves reading. You both know she can barely afford the second hand books she gets him, so the shelves are happily given. You’re actually thinking of asking Jay if he’s willing to part with one of your first edition copies of Frankenstein for Christmas; the kid would freak.

All of this comes to a head with a cat. A big, fat, black cat that crawls up on your fire escape one night. You’d both been a little distracted–okay, a lot distracted by the feeling of being lost in each other's touch. You’d been making out for over an hour, just relishing in the intimacy of being together. It was definitely going to go somewhere until you heard the caterwauling of an animal outside your window. “The fuck is that?” Jason had asked as he pulled away from kissing bruises into your neck. “Sounds like a cat.” You’d begged, actually begged, Jason to let him stay. The next morning you came home with a grocery bag full of cat toys and bowls while Jason hauled a value-sized 40 pound bag of cat food on his shoulder. Atticus sits with you both while you watch TV now. Atticus still sometimes ruins the mood when he sees Jason sink his teeth into you and immediately swats his dad on the cheek. But Atticus is also undeniably your boy. And whatever, maybe you do start thinking about what Jason would look like with an actual baby in his arms when he’s cradling Atty as he shuffles around your home. But there’s time for that yet. You both know that. You know that beyond anything else, you’ll always have this life, this home together. It’s the best gift either of you have ever been given.

[soobnny]

my girl — jeongin x f!reader ; the boys find out their youngest has a gf

(1.3k words)

It’s a once in a while thing for the boys to be able to eat out together.

Challenges usually pose through schedule conflicts, one or the other being absent, and timing. They can never truly catch a break. So, when the first sign of a temporary alignment showed, they took the opportunity in a flash.

It was going to be their first dinner together in months, one of their off days.

Usually, the next challenge of indecisiveness would present itself. However, their youngest is quick to suggest a place.

Apparently, they had really good jjajangmyun.

(The boys didn’t know then, but it was because the faster they could decide where to eat, the faster he could go visit you.)

(They also didn’t know then that jjajangmyun was your favorite.)

A chorus of laughter echoes through the little corner store as they’re served their third plate of food. Jeongin didn’t lie about their food, and it was a safe enough space for them to celebrate the end of their latest comeback season.

“Seungmin, you’re getting really brave with your jokes about PD-nim.”

“I ran that contract renewal like the military.”

They spend the night joking, revisiting their past, and being hopeful for the future. A few grateful messages are exchanged after liquid courage is brought to their table. And while a simple night, the boys knew they’d remember this day for the rest of their lives.

There’s quiet pop music playing in the back—the kind you’d hear in the early 2000s. And Han Jisung orders another plate of jjajangmyun.

“Ayen, the food here is crazy good. How’d you find this place?”

Jeongin snaps out of his mental chant at the call of his name, fox-eyes trained on the older boy before the question reverberates in his mind. “My girlfriend recommended it.”

A pin drops.

Their youngest has a habit of lying, taken after his roommate, Seungmin. He usually does it with sneaky smiles and a few giggles. However, both signs indicative of lying are absent, and the boy has the audacity to refill his plate and keep eating as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his members.

“Girlfriend?” Hyunjin is the first to speak, asking the boy to reiterate what he had just said, even though he heard. Loud and clear, in fact.

“Uhuh.” Jeongin replies through a mouthful of food. “What?”

He looks curiously around the table. His friends’ eyes are glazed, and he’d expected the conversation to be over three minutes ago, but it doesn’t.

Jeongin is in the middle of another bite when all hell breaks loose.

“Girlfriend?!” It’s said even louder now, more amplified, and Hwang Hyunjin stands from where he was previously seated in pure disbelief. All the while, their eldest is having an existential crisis. “Innie, what do you mean?”

He perks his head up, pursing his lips slightly and tilting his head. “What’s the big deal?”

“You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us?” It’s Han’s turn to be perplexed, and it’s humorous the way his features mimic the dramatic shock on Hyunjin’s.

Seungmin simply keeps eating.

“Yah, Kim Seungmin. Why aren’t you as surprised as us?”

“I already knew.”

“Seungmin knew, but not us?!”

“Not my fault he trusts me with dating advice.”

That boy definitely knows how to add fuel to fire. Chaos erupts as the younger half harass Seungmin for knowing before them.

“How long have you been dating?,” Minho asks.

“Just around 3 months now.”

If Chan was out of it then, you wouldn’t know how to describe his state now. Felix sits next to him to comfort the poor boy.

“My baby has been dating for 3 months, and I didn’t know anything.”

“Sorry.” Jeongin responds bashfully, scratching the back of his head. He knew his hyungs would act this way, which had led to his decision of keeping it hidden for a while. He thinks he should’ve just told them right away.

Though, he thought they’d known by now. He wasn’t exactly the most secretive about it, and he was sure he’d mentioned you before.

And although shocking to suddenly hear that their youngest (and their baby) had a girlfriend, they will not have his head for it. They know he’s responsible enough to know what not to do, and it was a little touching to know the boy had enough time to fit romance in his life.

“Show us what she looks like!”

The boys get a selfie of you that’s set as his lockscreen, and it’s enough proof to have the boys cooing at how adorable you two would be together.

“Motherfucker, she’s really pretty.” Changbin comments.

“I know.”

Meanwhile, Han and Hyunjin are making up fake scenarios in the corner, scrolling through photos and videos. Then a message.

While their youngest is distracted, Han quickly taps on the notification.

(8:23pm) innie: I miss u

(8:30pm) ynie: miss u too!!!!

(8:31pm) innie: Wish you were here right now

(8:32pm) ynie: aren’t u celebrating with ur friends rnnn

(8:32pm) ynie: stop texting me and enjoy !!!

(8:33pm) innie: But i miss u

(8:33pm) innie: Call me later?

(8:36pm) ynie: after you spend time with ur friends let’s call

(8:37pm) innie: Wanna call now. Just for a second

(8:37pm) innie: Haven’t heard your voice in a while

(8:37pm) ynie: ok fine >:( give me like 10-15 mins

(8:51pm) ynie: i’ll call now

“Oh my god, she’s calling.”

That’s definitely enough to get Jeongin’s attention.

“Give me my phone back.” He reaches out to them, but Hyunjin is fast enough to swipe it.

“Answer it!” Changbin instigates.

Jeongin’s eyes widen in horror when he hears your voice go through his phone. “Innie? Oh—hello.”

You sound so shy, and Chan feels like he’s about to cry. “She calls him Innie.”

The youngest finally snatches his phone back when all Hyunjin could do was stare at you through the screen of his phone. You were real. Yang Jeongin actually has a girlfriend.

“Hi.” He mumbles, moving away from their table to talk to you privately. Though, before he does, he makes sure he leaves a threat to the boys not to follow him. “‘M sorry, did they scare you, baby?”

“It’s okay, I was just surprised.”

Jeongin visibly melts at the sound of your voice. “The boys know about us now.”

“I figured.” You laugh, and the service at the restaurant doesn’t do the warmth of your laughter any justice. He can’t wait to see you later.

“Can I see you later?”

“Mkay, but just… enjoy your time with the boys, okay? You told me it’s been a while since all of you were able to relax over a meal like this.”

“Fine.” He sighs, before a smile creeps on his face. “They liked your suggestion.”

“That’s good. Now go!” There’s a pout on his lips when you shoo him away. “Go have fun, go! I’m hanging up now. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

The wide, bright smile remains on his face even when he goes back to their table.

“Who has our Ayen smiling like that?”

“My girl.”

“Innie’s getting soft.” Minho teases.

Seungmin, on the other hand, fake vomits at his response, and another chorus of laughter bursts from their seats. The night continues through conversations over Jeongin’s sudden revelation, and the promise to let the boys meet you properly next time. He agrees if they promise not to scare you away.

And while he’d kept you a secret for a while, he can’t help but feel a tinge of happiness in his heart that the most important people in his life know about you now, are even eager to meet you. There is no better contentment than all of the people he loves aligning with one another.

The entire night, Jeongin itches in anticipation to hold you in his arms and hear your voice in person after his schedules had torn apart his much needed quality time with you. And when he asks to leave, they don’t need to know where he’s going.

One look at his face, and the only evident answer is you.

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'snow day' - logan x gn!reader

summary: logan hates the snow, hates that it reminds him of the past. but he soon finds that being with you gives it a whole new meaning. (1.1k) tags: fluffy, angsty cus he thinks about his past, established relationship, you play in the snow, logan realising he's in love with reader, kissing, gender neutral reader, blood mention (in reference to his memories), for the 'snow' prompt for logan promptober, + tagging @alsoprettyinpink - hope you enjoy!

snow. logan hated the snow.

it once held bittersweet memories of home, of those beloved mountains in canada, nestled away from the world. but those memories were tainted long ago. the snow greeted him that day he fled from alkali lake, droplets of crimson liquid dripping from his knuckles into the pure white flakes below, leaving a sickly trail of red behind him.

each winter, he'd wince at the sound of it beneath his boots, each grating crunch serving as a reminder of where he had come from, what had been done to him. reminded him of that frantic prey-like pitter-patter in his chest as he scrambled, alone in the woods.

yes, for years upon years, logan hated the snow.

that was, until you.

logan tries to suppress the blush rising in his cheeks as he observes you by the bedroom window, how you eye the falling flakes with such excitement. a smile tugs on his lips, betraying the signature steely mask he wears. but he can't help it, not when he's around you.

the snow fell overnight, a lot of it to his distaste. logan can't focus on the snow though, not now you're awake. and that smile, he loves it when you're animated like this, when you get that mischievous glint in your eye. he shouldn't be surprised when he sees you bolt for the door.

you're out there in a flash, coat half on, hat sitting precariously on your head, one glove in your hand as you hop in an attempt to pull your other shoe onto your foot. logan watches, mouth half open, yet he can't find himself to scold or call you back inside.

"look at it all!" you yell brightly, turning to face him with a smile that could bring a man to his knees. and it does, regularly.

logan steps towards the door with a sigh, folding his arms firmly and leaning against the doorframe. his eyes drift across the freshly fallen snow, eyeing it with indifference. but it's when he looks at you, the way you're practically glowing with almost contagious excitement, as though you'd never seen snow before in your life. . . logan can't help but smile fondly.

look at you, with your sweet grin and eyes full of wonder, kneeling down to oh-so gently cup a handful of snow in your delicate palms. he notes the careful nature of your actions, always able to admire your softness, how you're everything he's not.

because that's just how logan is, who he is. haunted, chasing ghosts or being chased. an act as simple as playing in the snow isn't so simple. those memories hurt, sure, but he can't let go of them, not again. he's so afraid of losing parts of himself that he holds on to any scrap he can remember, even the parts that make him feel like the animal he's told he is.

he's trying his best, he really is, for you. there's more to life than the past but what if that's all he has in the end? it's normally all he's left with. memories and -

thud.

a cold wet ball of snow hits his shoulder, tearing him from his thoughts as his eyes widen and land on you.

did you just. . . throw a snowball at him?

you're smirking, evilly, compacting another neat little ball into your hands.

"hey," he barks, eyes widening as he points his finger towards you scoldingly, "no, don't you even think about it-"

it's too late though, you're ready to throw before he even finishes his sentence. another ball hits his shoulder and he scoffs, feeling the coolness soak through his white t-shirt and settle against his heated skin.

"you little shit-" logan growls, but there's a clear smirk evident on his face as he barrels out the door after you.

squealing, you turn and begin to run though you know it's futile. but you already got what you wanted, he's having fun.

he's on you in a flash, snatching your hips as he grapples you to the ground with a grunt. you land, turning to face him as you both catch your breath. his hands find your wrists and pin them into the icy ground below as he hovers over you.

logan's panting, his breath puffing out in clouds against the cool air. but you're still smirking. "think that was funny, huh?" he challenges you with a smirk reflected at you.

you give a defiant nod and he chuckles, a low purr that has you smiling. not for long though. he releases one of your wrists to grab a fistful of snow and pushes it into your face. you scream playfully and attempt to escape his grip. "ah, not so tough now, eh?"

"enough enough!" you laugh, muffled by his large hand, "time-out! you win!"

he grins as he dusts the remaining flakes of snow from your features. it gives him time to admire you more closely, his eyes searching yours with a rare vulnerability. he commits this moment to memory - the gentle pink flush of your cheeks and nose as the cold works its way into your skin, the look in your eyes he feels he doesn't deserve, could never deserve.

you look at him like he's everything, like he's not all the things he's seen and done. you look at him, really look at him. and for the first time in a long time, he feels seen, he feels. . . at peace.

logan wants to say something, anything that expresses the depth of his affection for you. but talking has never been his strong suit, instead, he leans down to capture your cold lips against his, his heated presence a stark contrast to your freezing surroundings.

there's no words he could find that would fit the way he feels about you. those three little words echo at the back of his mind, aching to pour from his lips, to be spoken aloud to you, but logan tucks them away for later.

his lips move against yours in a fluid, languid motion, his fingers tilting your chin just slightly as his other hand squeezes around your wrist. pulling back slowly, his eyes flutter open, taking you in once more. gentle flakes of snow fall into his hair and along his shirt, coating him as he shields you from it above. his gaze remains steady, like he can see all those little parts of yourself you try to hide from the world. just like he does.

fuck, he loves you. like really loves you.

". . . you got some snow on you," you smile softly, pulling him from his thoughts with your mild teasing.

the fingers on your chin trace up to your cheek, the backs of his digits tracing a line down your soft skin almost reverently. a smile curls on his lips at your words, but he doesn't mind the snow. not anymore.

because the snow no longer reminds him of what he once had or once lost, it reminds him of what he has. . . right now, here, with you.