#I just want to see them now I don’t even really care how it turns out

[moonstruckme]

Hello there! I was wondering if you would be willing to write a request that I thought up? No pressure of course. I'd love to read your rendition of it but if you don't want to that is absolutely and of course fine.

So I am a pretty emotional person, and especially when I am pmsing or on my period its a very common sight for me to be silently crying over a sad reel or a photo of a puppy or sobbing loudly if I re-read my comfort angsty fic. I really crave physical affection and coddling during my period which sucks cause I live with 2 dormmates who sleep 2 steps away from me and aren't very touchy but are very loving. Like today my friend showed me a photo of her holding a puppy who was nuzzling into her sweatshirt, claws out and hooked in her sleeve and all and ofc I started crying. My other roommate was like don't show it to her she's on her period, she will cry. But then she was like, on second thought do, I enjoy her tears 💀.

On to my actual request now, sorry for rambling 😅

So I was wondering if the reader had a similar tendency with her emotions and hormones around her cycle, how the marauders would deal with it you know? Would they be used to it, asking if its just a leaky faucet to let some emotional pressure out (that happens a lot with me lol) or actual crying. If they would be freaking out no matter how often it happens. Or how they would coddle her.. very curious to see if you pick this up! Thanks for reading nonetheless <3<3

Haha thank you for your request angel <3

cw: reader who menstruates, mention of animals in televion industry, Sirius is not good with tears

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 644 words

You try not to make a spectacle of yourself. You really do. You hide in the corner of the couch, feeling the burn of your sinuses and eventually letting a couple of tears roll down your face without lifting a hand to wipe them. Your throat squeezes. Your temples ache. 

Despite your best efforts, all it takes is one tiny sniffle to get the attention of your boyfriends. 

James’ arm tightens around your shoulders. His cheek squishes into your head, voice heavy with sympathy as you both look at the TV. “I know, angel. It ends alright, though, yeah?” 

“All he does,” you choke out, watching the dog on the screen through blurry vision, “is wait for his owner to come home every day. That’s his whole life.” 

“It’s an advert for dog kibble!” Sirius protests. 

You shrug, weeping, and Sirius gives a short laugh tinged with anxiety. Remus sets a hand on his knee. 

“Sweetheart,” Remus says gently, “I’m sure that in real life, that dog is very well taken care of. He probably gets plenty of attention and time with his owners. He’s famous, right?” 

You nod, though you can’t help a tiny sob as the on-screen dog sits straight up at the sound of a key in the door. “Right.” 

“Right.” Remus gives you a kind look. “You okay? Not upset about anything else?” 

“Yeah.” You sniffle weakly. “M’okay, just. My head hurts.” 

James makes the sort of syrupy pitying sound that has your throat contracting all over again. “Do you think it might be the crying, lovie? It’s not the first time that commercial’s been on today. You could be dehydrated.” 

“I don’t know,” you say, quietly. “I don’t think so.” 

“I’ll fetch you a paracetamol and some water to be sure.” Remus stands, patting Sirius’ thigh consolingly when the other boy shifts off his lap with the movement. He touches the top of your head as he walks behind the couch, and James kisses the spot as though to second it. 

“Baby.” Sirius turns to you with a stern look. “First the Lorax last night, and now this? The ad’s not even on anymore; it’s finished.” 

“It’s just…” You swallow, fighting to keep your voice solid. “Do you think all pets feel like that? When their people leave to go to work?” 

“No, honey,” James consoles you. “I think they’re happy to amuse themselves while we’re gone.” 

“They’re perfectly fine,” says Sirius, not unkindly. “Stop crying.” 

“Don’t be mean.” James gathers you closer. “She’s on her period, she’s entitled to some crying.”

“It’s like the hiccups, James. You’ve got to scare it off.” 

“That’s barbaric.” 

“What’s barbaric is the television industry that keeps making our girlfriend burst into tears at random points in the day!” 

“You guys.” You’re nearly laughing now. With tears still wet on your cheeks, Sirius hardly looks comforted. “Don’t fight.” 

“We’re not fighting.” James is quick to mollify you. 

“Oh, dovey.” Remus returns with your painkillers, bending to wipe your face with a put upon frown. “Are they upsetting you?” 

“God, no.” Sirius reclines back against the cushions, blowing a breath up towards the ceiling. “What chance have we of doing that, when there’s wealthy dog actors to do it for us?” 

You take the water Remus has brought you, downing the painkiller. “Do you really think the dog gets decent money from the advert?” you ask as he pets your hair dotingly. 

James ponders this. “Even if it’s not very much, I’d bet his owners put as much of it back into him as they can. He probably sleeps on a memory foam dog bed.” 

Sirius is watching your face distressedly. “Baby,” he nearly pleads. “It’s okay.” 

“No, that’s good,” you manage, voice a quiet squeak as your eyes fill again. “I just think that’s a really nice life for him. He deserves it.” 

[redroomreflections]

With The Roses - Her Best Secret 2

1950s Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and R are having an affair. - they get to spend a night together

Note: I wrote this after watching Mother's Instinct with Anne Hathway and Jessica Chastain. I needed to make it gay. I don't know what this is truly but it's here.

Warnings: Smut and fluff and angst - there's a bit of panic =)

w/c: 7k

The sun was high, and the air was humid as you walked down the street toward your neighbor's house. Claire was having a girl's day with your mother, and Sam and Steve were away on one of their fishing trips. The house felt too big and quiet, so your feet naturally led you to Natasha’s. The sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks. There she was, Natasha Romanoff, tending to her rose garden in the front yard, utterly absorbed in her work. She was sporting a crisp white blouse tucked into her black slacks. A sun visor perched on her head as she leaned down to inspect a blooming rose. She snipped away at the stems with small pruning shears.

You didn't call out to her immediately, enjoying the rare moment of seeing her so at peace. Her hair was tied back into a neat bun, with a few loose strands sticking to the nape of her neck with sweat. She hummed softly, a tune you couldn't quite place, as she moved to the next bush.

"Staring's rude, you know," She finally said, without even turning around.

"Well, I'm just enjoying the view," You said without thinking. Natasha smirked, though you couldn't see her face. "The roses are beautiful."

Natasha straightened up, turning to face you with an amused expression. Her cheeks were flushed, likely from the heat, and a faint sheen of sweat was on her brow. Even in the humid air, she looked as effortlessly composed as ever.

“They are,” she agreed, arching an eyebrow. “Though I have a feeling that’s not all you were looking at.”

You felt your face heat up, and you tried to play it off with a laugh. “Guilty as charged. But really, the roses are stunning.”

She smirked, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “Nice save.”

You stepped closer, leaning slightly against her yard's white picket fence. “You’ve got quite the green thumb, huh? I don’t know how you keep them alive in this heat.”

Natasha shrugged, slipping off her gloves and tossing them into her wicker basket. “Patience. A little care goes a long way.” Her gaze flicked over to you. “Kind of like friendships.”

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Is that your subtle way of telling me I don’t visit enough?”

She chuckled, pulling the sun visor off her head and running a hand over her hair. “Maybe. But you’re here now, and I’ll take what I can get.”

“Well, I was feeling lonely,” you admitted, looking down at your feet for a moment before glancing back up at her. “Claire’s with my mother today. They've gone down to do a little shopping and to get tea."

Natasha’s expression softened. She gestured toward her house with a nod of her head. “Come on inside. I just made some lemonade. The perfect excuse to take a break from this heat.”

She turned and headed toward the front porch. You followed behind her, admiring the way her slacks hugged her shapely legs and backside. Your mind drifted to the first time you had seen her in her pants. You had been unable to stop your eyes from trailing over her body, her curves barely contained by her tight clothes. Natasha was a modern woman. She was everything you wished you could be. Not too long ago, you couldn't tell whether you wanted to be with her or be her.

In the kitchen, Natasha handed you a glass of lemonade, the ice clinking as it settled. You murmured a quiet “thanks” before taking a sip. The tartness was perfectly balanced with sweetness, and it helped you cool down. Natasha leaned against the counter, her gaze casually following yours as you scanned the room.

It was quiet there too. Your attention snagged on the stack of books on the table. The covers were worn, and the spines creased from countless reads. Titles like East of Eden by John Steinbeck, Peyton Place by Grace Metalious, and The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger caught your eye.

“You read a lot,” you said, gesturing toward the books as you set your glass on a coaster.

Natasha followed your gaze and smiled. “Guilty as charged. It’s how I unwind.”

You picked up East of Eden, running your fingers over the aged cover. “These are good choices. Heavy, but good.”

“I like a story that makes me think,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “But I also like a little drama. Something juicy enough to make me forget about the world for a while.”

“Peyton Place fits that bill,” you quipped, flipping through its pages.

Natasha chuckled, her voice warm and rich. “It does. Small-town secrets and scandal? What’s not to love?”

You glanced up, catching her watching you with a soft smile. Her red hair was coming loose from the bun, a few strands framing her face. Her tight white blouse clung to her form, and you could not resist letting your gaze linger for a moment longer than it should.

Natasha noticed—of course, she saw—but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she walked over, brushing past you to pick up another book from the pile. Her perfume lingered, a mix of roses and something earthy, grounding.

“You should borrow one,” she offered, holding the book out to you. “Unless you’re more of a magazine person.”

You smirked, taking the book from her hands. “I think I can handle a real novel, thank you very much.”

Natasha held up her hands in surrender, chuckling. "Alright, I’ll behave."

You glanced at the book she’d handed you, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. Your fingers traced the embossed title on the cover, appreciating the texture of the paper.

"What a striking title," you murmured. "You do have an eye for fine books, Nat."

She smiled, her green eyes sparkling. "It’s a favorite of mine. You’d enjoy it, I think."

"How’s little Claire-bear?" Natasha asked, shifting the conversation with ease.

"She’s quite the spitfire," you replied, unable to hold back a smile. "Though she’s been picking up words, I’d rather she didn’t. I told her I’d wash her mouth with soap if she tried them again."

Natasha chuckled, her laugh as soft as the breeze. "Children do have a way of testing boundaries. I imagine Sam isn’t much help with discipline."

You rolled your eyes, though your tone was fond. "He’s utterly hopeless. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger. ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ and all that."

"Well," Natasha said, raising a brow, "it sounds like you’ve your hands full."

You hesitated, tracing the condensation on your lemonade glass. "I’ve been glancing at the classifieds lately," you admitted your voice a touch hesitant.

Natasha leaned forward slightly. "Oh? Are you considering a position somewhere?"

"Yes, though Sam doesn’t see the point. He keeps saying we’re managing fine, but it’s not about the money. I just... I feel as though I need something of my own."

Natasha frowned, her lips pressing together briefly. "And what’s his argument, exactly?"

You sighed. "It’s still the 1950s, Nat. No matter how modern things are becoming, people expect women to keep the house running while their husbands provide. It’s not as though I don’t understand it—it’s just..."

"It’s just not what you want," Natasha finished for you gently.

You nodded, the tension easing slightly under her understanding gaze.

"You deserve more," Natasha said firmly. "If there’s one thing I know, it’s that a woman who follows her heart is never truly out of step with the times."

You chuckled, her words both comforting and inspiring. "Thanks, Nat. You always know what to say."

"Anytime," she replied with a warm smile. "If Sam needs a nudge in the right direction, just say the word."

"Do I seem ungrateful?" You questioned. "Sam provides well; he is good to me, and I have everything a woman could ask for."

"Except the right to choose for yourself," Natasha remarked.

"Yes," you sighed. "I can't explain it, but something is missing. Like a piece of myself that I've yet to find."

Natasha hummed, her eyes scanning over your features. You held her gaze for a moment before shifting the conversation.

"You know," you began, tilting your head, "you never talk about you and Steve."

Natasha’s brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by your remark. She recovered quickly, though, leaning back in her chair with a shrug. "There’s not much to say."

"Nat," you said pointedly, giving her a look. "That’s not true, and you know it. You’re always checking in on me, listening to my endless rants, offering advice, but you never let me return the favor."

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I don’t mean to keep things from you. It’s just complicated."

"That’s not an excuse," you countered gently. "You’re my friend, Nat. I care about you, just like you care about me. Why not let me in for once?"

She hesitated, her fingers brushing against the rim of her glass. "Steve’s a good man," she said finally, her voice measured. "But sometimes... sometimes I wonder if being with me is best for him."

You frowned, your heart aching at the vulnerability in her tone. "Why would you think that? Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Natasha let out a soft laugh, though it was filled with bitterness. "I’m not exactly the ideal woman, am I? I’ve got too many rough edges and too much baggage. Steve deserves someone uncomplicated, someone who fits neatly into his world. Someone feminine. I'm not a homemaker. I can't cook but a few dishes. The roses are the only thing I can keep alive."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Natasha shifted, the weight of the conversation settling between you both. She looked down at her glass, her fingers tapping lightly against the rim. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something but quickly closed again, unsure of how to continue.

"He's lucky to have you as a wife," you said, trying to break the tension. "You're smart, witty, and a great listener. You've got the sharpest tongue and a killer sense of style. Steve couldn't have asked for a better match."

"It's not the same," she insisted, her eyes meeting yours. "He doesn't need someone like me. He needs a woman to run a household and keep his parents happy. Someone who doesn't enjoy sex with women."

You blinked, startled by the last bit. Natasha was staring at you, her expression guarded. You felt the sudden urge to reach out and reassure her, but you didn't know how.

"I'm not sure what you mean," you said carefully. "Are you saying that you and Steve don't—"

"No," Natasha interrupted. "I'm not saying that. But our sex life is... complicated. I enjoy sex with him, but I also enjoy sex with other women. It's not something he can understand."

Your cheeks flushed as her words sunk in. The air seemed to crackle between you both, charged with tension. Natasha was still watching you, waiting for your reaction. You didn't know what to say. You'd never given much thought to other women before her.

"The postman is here," Natasha said, suddenly standing and heading to the window. It was her way of pulling away from the conversation. She tended to do that a lot. "Let's see if we've gotten anything interesting today."

She didn't wait for your reply before stepping outside, the screen door shutting behind her. You watched her walk down the front steps, her posture perfectly poised. She spoke to the postman briefly before heading back toward the house, a stack of envelopes in hand. You stood, clearing your throat as she came inside.

"Let's see," Natasha murmured, sorting through the mail. "Bills, bills, more bills... oh, and this must be the latest copy of Vogue."

She pulled out a magazine, its cover featuring a stunning model wearing an elegant evening gown. You glanced at the cover, admiring the sleek design.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who loves fashion," you teased, giving her a knowing smile. She stacked the mail on the foyer table.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to look good," Natasha said, a faint smile curving her lips.

You hesitated, the words spilling from your lips. "Do you want to go out?"

Natasha raised a brow, surprised by your suggestion. "Like a date?"

"Yeah," you said, shrugging. "We could get a bite to eat or go dancing."

"Oh, honey," Natasha said with a soft chuckle, leaning against the table's edge as she folded her arms. "You know it can’t be a date."

"I know," you said quickly, feeling a slight flush creep up your cheeks. "I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought..." You trailed off, fumbling for the words. "Well, I just thought maybe we could spend some time together. But if it’s too much, forget I said anything."

Natasha’s smile softened, her green eyes warm. "Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth," she said lightly. "I didn’t say no. I just think stepping out together might turn a few heads. Folks around here love a bit of gossip."

"True enough," you said with a small laugh, nodding in agreement. "The neighborhood grapevine’s quicker than a telephone line."

"Exactly," Natasha said, her tone playful but with a hint of caution. She paused for a moment, tilting her head thoughtfully. "But who says we can’t make a night of it here? I’ve got a good bottle of wine in the kitchen and more records than I can count. No need for all the hullabaloo."

You raised a brow, your lips curving into a smile. "So, you’d rather keep me hidden in your house than be seen with me in public?"

Natasha smirked, grabbing the stack of mail and heading toward the kitchen. "Something like that. Besides, I think you’d enjoy the songs I’ve been spinning lately."

"Oh, now I’m curious," you teased, following her. "What kind of tunes are we talking about?"

"Only the best," Natasha replied, glancing over her shoulder with a twinkle in her eye. "But you’ll have to stick around to find out."

"Fair enough," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you. Spending a quiet evening with Natasha, just the two of you, felt more inviting than any night out.

********

Hours later, you found yourself back at Natasha’s house, taking note of the sun setting as your cue. You’d taken your time getting ready, selecting an outfit that was comfortable and flattering. It wasn’t overly fussy—Natasha would never expect that—but you wanted to look your best for her.

You’d even dabbed on your favorite shade of lipstick, which always made you feel more confident. And for good measure, you pinned your hair up, remembering how Natasha once mentioned how much she liked the style on you. Her words had stayed with you, playing on repeat in the quieter corners of your mind.

As you climbed the steps to her porch, the soft glow of light spilling through the windows made the house feel welcoming, almost magical in the dusk. You smoothed your skirt one last time and knocked, your heart picking up a rhythm that felt both ridiculous and exhilarating.

When the door opened, Natasha stood in a simple yet elegant outfit—a soft sweater and slacks that looked effortlessly chic. She gave you a once-over, her lips curving into a small, approving smile.

"You clean up nice," she said, stepping aside to let you in.

"You don’t look so bad yourself," you quipped, though your tone betrayed how much you meant it.

The house smelled faintly of roses, and the faint crackle of a record player filled the air with a familiar melody. Natasha led you into the living room, where a small table had been set with two glasses and the bottle of wine she’d mentioned earlier.

"You didn’t have to go to so much trouble," you said, taking it all in.

"It’s not trouble," she replied, her voice warm. "I just figured if we’re staying in, we might as well make it nice."

You couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling a little flutter in your chest. Natasha always had a way of making the simplest moments feel extraordinary.

"Here," she said, holding up the bottle. "I think it's best to start with a toast."

She poured the wine, and you each took a glass, clinking them together before taking a sip. The wine was smooth and rich, warming your throat as you swallowed.

"Good choice," you murmured, admiring the deep red color.

"Only the best," she repeated, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"So," you said, glancing around the room. "What song did you have in mind?"

"Ah," Natasha said, nodding. "Let me put on the record, and you'll see."

She crossed the room, and as the music began to play, your eyes widened.

"Oh, I love this one," you exclaimed. "Billie Holiday is a gem!"

Natasha smiled, the look in her eyes softening as the music filled the room. "She's a favorite of mine. This particular song always reminds me of a dear friend. A girl, actually. We used to dance together when we were younger."

Her voice was full of affection, and you imagined a young Natasha swept up in the arms of a girl, their bodies pressed close as they moved together to the music. You swallowed, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy in your belly.

"Did she mean a lot to you?" You asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Natasha laughed, her eyes sparkling. "We had some fun times. Truthfully, she was always a bit too wild for my taste."

"Oh," You nodded.

"Are you jealous?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. "Just surprised.”

Natasha grinned, her lips parting slightly as if she was going to say something, but instead, she walked over and held out her hand.

"Dance with me."

You stared at her, surprised. You didn't know what to say, and your heart was racing.

"Dance with me," Natasha repeated, her voice softer now.

Slowly, you took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. She drew you close, wrapping her arm around your waist, and you followed her lead. Your bodies swayed to the music, the rhythm guiding you both. You and Natasha had never danced this close before. You'd never had this moment of intimacy with her. All of your meetings before this were guided by hurriedness and practicality. There was always a purpose—a reason—for your time together, whether it was helping with her garden, sharing a quick cup of coffee, or catching up about your families. But this moment was different. There was no rush, no task to complete, no excuse to look away.

The world outside her cozy living room slowly faded, leaving just the two of you. Natasha’s hand rested firmly but tenderly against the small of your back, her touch grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

"You’re a natural," she murmured, her breath brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft laugh, a little embarrassed but unable to tear your gaze away from her. "I’m just following your lead."

Her lips twitched into a faint smile that softened her typically sharp features. "You make it look effortless."

You couldn’t tell if she was talking about the dancing or something else entirely, but the weight of her words wrapped around you just the same. The space between you was almost nonexistent now, and you were hyper-aware of every place her body met yours—the press of her breasts against yours, the warmth of her breath, the brush of her thighs against yours. You knew it was wrong to feel this way, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt.

You couldn’t deny how much you wanted her.

As the song ended, you remained close, neither willing to break the spell.

"This is nice," Natasha muttered. "Being here with you like this."

You hummed in agreement, her words sending a shiver down your spine.

"I can't believe you've been here this long and I haven't kissed you," She said.

"Natasha," you whispered.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Kiss me."

She didn't need to be told twice.

Her lips met yours, her kiss tender and firm, and you melted into her. It was unlike any other kiss you'd experienced, and you wanted more. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss, and she responded in kind, her tongue meeting yours in a slow, languid rhythm.

You were lost in the sensation, the taste of her, the scent of her perfume, the softness of her skin. You couldn't think straight. Your whole body was buzzing with desire, and the only thing you could focus on was her.

"You always taste so sweet,"

"Mmm, it's just my lipstick," you said with a soft laugh.

"It's more than that," she countered, her fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. "It's you."

Her words made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel yourself getting flushed.

"Nat," You murmured.

"Yes?" She asked, her gaze locking with yours.

"I love being here with you.” 

Her expression shifted, a mix of emotions playing across her face. Surprise, desire, and something else, something softer. Somehow, she figured that’s not what you were going to say. 

"I love being here with you too.” 

And with that, she captured your lips in another searing kiss. You both knew there was no turning back now. You were each other's, and nothing could ever change that.

"We haven’t had dinner," She whispered. "I cooked for you. Um, brisket. It's in the oven."

"It's perfect," you breathed, the two of you stumbling to the couch. "Everything's perfect."

"Well," Natasha said, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Take a compliment," you replied, a playful edge in your voice.

She smiled, leaning in to capture your lips once more. As the kisses grew heated, her hands began exploring your body, her touch igniting a fire within you. You were burning up with need; she was the only thing to quench the flames.

You couldn't resist reaching for her, pulling her close as your kisses became desperate and hungry. The heat between you was undeniable, and you were both lost in the moment.

"Can I touch you here?" Natasha asked as her hand raised to rest along your breast. It was an interesting question, considering she'd touched you in far worse places. You nodded.

She was careful and gentle, as if afraid to scare you away.

"Don't stop," You said, breathless, as she cupped your breast and rolled your nipple between her fingers.

You could feel yourself getting wet, the ache between your legs growing more intense. Natasha was relentless, her touch firm but tender, and you were drowning in the sensations.

"Please, Nat," you begged, not sure what exactly you were asking for, but you needed her more than anything.

"Shhh," She cooed. "Let me take care of you."

She began kissing down your neck, her tongue tracing the line of your collarbone. You gasped, your body responding to her touch as if it was made for her.

"I'm glad you wore a dress tonight," She said, her voice low and husky. "It makes things so much easier."

Before you could respond, she was lifting your skirt, exposing your thighs. She traced a path with her fingers, slowly making her way up. She took note of your lack of stockings and garter.

"Oh, no undergarments?" She teased. "You naughty thing."

Your face was hot as she slid her hand between your legs, her fingers teasing at your entrance. You couldn't hold back a moan, the pleasure too intense.

"Is this okay?" She asked, her touch light and deliberate.

"Yes," You gasped, your hips rocking against her hand.

She bit her lip, watching your facial expressions and chest heaving.

"I want to try something," She bit her lip. "If you're okay with it."

"Anything," You moaned.

She smiled and removed her fingers, placing them in her mouth. You could only stare, transfixed, as she licked them clean.

"You taste even sweeter down here," she said, her tone full of mischief. She dropped to her knees and, without another word, buried her face between your legs.

"Oh," you whimpered, feeling her tongue lick a long stripe over your sex. She hummed against your skin, sending vibrations through you.

"You like that?" She asked, looking up at you with hooded eyes.

"Yes," You breathed, barely able to form the word. Based on your responses, she could tell this was your first experience with a person's mouth there.

She was unrelenting, her tongue finding every spot that made you cry out and then some. The sounds coming from her were positively sinful, and they only added to the pleasure building within you. You were lost in the feeling, unable to do anything but let go and surrender to the waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

Your orgasm hit you hard, and you cried out, gripping the cushions beneath you. Natasha's grip tightened on your thighs as she helped you ride out the aftershocks.

"How was that?" She asked, a self-satisfied grin on her face.

You could only stare at her, completely speechless.

"That good, huh?" She chuckled, licking her lips.

"More," You demanded, your voice hoarse.

Natasha was happy to oblige until a distinct smell came into the air.

"Something's burning," You said, alarmed.

"Shit," Natasha exclaimed, leaping up and running toward the kitchen.

You followed her, quickly taking the pan out of the oven and opening a window.

"Damn it," Natasha cursed, looking down at the charred brisket. "I was so distracted, I forgot about dinner."

"It's alright," You reassured her. "The important thing is that we're together."

She smiled, the expression warming her features. "I couldn't agree more."

"We should eat something," You said.

"I'm not sure there's anything edible left," she joked.

"I can make some sandwiches," you suggested, not wanting the night to end. You looked over at Natasha's face. Her lipstick was smudged, and her hair was a mess. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"What?" Natasha asked, looking at you.

"Nothing," you said, grinning. You reached across you to wipe her mouth. "Was it enjoyable for you to do that? It seemed awfully one-sided."

Natasha blushed. "I enjoyed it."

You gave her a coy look, feeling brave.

"Do you want me to... um... return the favor?"

Natasha swallowed hard, her gaze locked on yours. You could see the desire burning in her eyes. She leaned forward to kiss you, but you hesitated.

"What?"

"Is it proper for us to kiss after?" You asked. "I mean, you did just..."

Natasha grinned, shaking her head. "Nothing about what we did is proper. "

"Then why do we bother doing it?" You asked.

"Because it's fun," Natasha replied, her voice low and seductive. "And because I'm selfish. I want to see how far we can go before the neighbors start to gossip."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, your heart racing at her boldness. You leaned in and kissed her, the taste of you on her lips sending a thrill through you.

"To the bedroom," She said, standing and pulling you with her.

"But what about the sandwiches?"

"Screw the sandwiches," Natasha said, her expression dark with desire. "I want to fuck you."

You felt a flush spread across your cheeks, and a rush of heat flooded your core.

"Then take me," you breathed, wanting her more than anything.

The two of you made your way to her room, an unfamiliar room. You'd never been in her bedroom before. There was no reason to be, considering. She was a very private person. But now, you were both ready to take this relationship to the next level.

Once inside, she wasted no time in pulling you close, her hands exploring your body as she kissed you deeply. You could feel her urgency, her need, and it fueled your own.

"Let me undress you," she murmured, her breath warm against your ear.

"Natasha, let me spoil you," you insisted, wanting to repay the favor. "You deserve."

She didn't protest this time. Instead, she simply nodded, a small smile curving her lips. You stepped back, allowing her to watch as you slowly stripped off your dress.

"Beautiful," she breathed, her gaze lingering on your bare breasts.

You blushed, feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny.

"Don't be shy," she said, her tone soothing. "You're perfect."

You couldn't help but smile at her praise, and you were suddenly filled with renewed confidence.

You stepped toward her, reaching for the hem of her sweater. You lifted it slowly, exposing her smooth skin.

She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts were just as perfect as the rest of her. You couldn't resist running your hands over them, feeling her nipples harden beneath your touch.

"You're amazing," you whispered, kissing her.

She responded eagerly, her lips parting to allow your tongue entrance.

The kiss quickly heated, and you pushed her back toward the bed. You both fell onto the soft sheets, your bodies tangled together.

Natasha was the one to break the kiss, her green eyes dark with lust.

"I want to do what you did to me in the den," You blushed. "I've never done that before. Will you show me how you like it?"

Natasha was more than happy to oblige. She lifted to remove her pants and underwear. Then, she laid back and spread her legs, allowing you to get a good look at her.

She was glistening with arousal, and the sight was almost enough to make you come right then and there.

"Go ahead," she encouraged, her voice low and husky. "Taste me."

You bit your lip, leaning in and pressing against her center. It was a simple kiss, one that garnered a weak expression. She was being patient with you. Her scent was intoxicating. Musky and uniquely her.

"Again," She urged gently. "But, harder."

You did as she said, putting more pressure behind the kiss. You could feel her body tense, her breathing growing heavier.

"More," she pleaded. "Use your tongue."

You obeyed, flicking your tongue against her, causing her to moan softly.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, her hips bucking against your mouth.

"Is that okay?" You asked, worried you were doing something wrong.

"More than okay," she assured you, her hand resting on your head. "Just keep going." She directed your head where she wanted it, and you happily complied.

"Yes," she groaned, her grip tightening. "Just like that."

Her sounds were intoxicating, and you found yourself getting more and more turned on by her reactions. Recalling where her tongue had taken you, you decided to try something new.

You puckered your lips and suckled the sensitive bud there, earning a loud moan from Natasha.

"That's it," she gasped, her back arching off the bed. "Keep going."

You continued the motion, alternating between sucking and flicking your tongue. Her taste was addictive, and you couldn't get enough of it.

"I'm close," she warned, her voice strained. "Don't stop."

You picked up the pace, wanting to bring her to the edge. You could feel her body tensing, her breathing becoming ragged. You appreciated the fact that she could tell you how she felt, as this form of sex was not a common practice.

Suddenly, her body went rigid, and a cry tore from her lips. Her release was intense, her muscles clenching and releasing in waves.

You kept going, wanting to draw out her pleasure for as long as possible. She was breathtaking like this, lost in the throes of ecstasy. You'd never seen anything so beautiful.

As her body finally began to relax, you slowed your movements, bringing her down from her high. You rested your head against her thigh and waited for her.

"Come here," she said, her voice shaky.

You crawled up her body, meeting her lips in a deep kiss.

"That was incredible," she murmured, a lazy smile across her face. "Not bad for your first time."

"I had a good teacher," you replied, returning her smile. You slipped under the sheets. 

"And a very willing student," she teased.

You settled into her arms, both of you content and satisfied.

"Sex with you is," You began.

"Incredible?" She smirked.

"It is, but also... it's just so easy," you explained. "Being with you is like breathing."

Natasha didn't speak but drew you closer, kissing gently on your temple.

"I'm learning so much," You continued. "Thank you for letting me explore with you."

Natasha's expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss you, slow and tender.

"You're welcome," she whispered, her voice full of affection."Why do you do that?" She questioned.

"Do what?" You asked, unsure what she was referring to.

"Hide from me," She said, her gaze trailing over your bare skin. "There's no need. Not here."

You swallowed, not knowing how to respond.

"I've had a child," You answered. "My body isn't as..."

"It's perfect," She interrupted. "Just like the rest of you."

She was right, you decided. Why should you hide from her? After all, she had seen you in all your naked glory. It was only fair that you returned the favor.

Slowly, you emerged from beneath the sheets, letting her look her fill.

"Beautiful," she murmured, her eyes filled with desire. "Absolutely beautiful."

"Come here," She instructed, holding out her arms.

You obliged, crawling into her embrace. Her lips met yours, and the kiss quickly grew heated.

You found yourself straddling her, her hands exploring your body, and the ache between your legs intensified. You wanted her, needed her.

"Please," you whispered, desperate for her touch.

"Tell me what you want," she said, her voice low and husky.

"You," you replied, unable to articulate more than that.

"Then you shall have me," she said, rolling the two of you so she was on top.

"How would you like to come this time?" She asked, her hands cupping your breasts.

"Whatever you want," You answered, eager to give yourself to her.

She chuckled, her lips curling into a devilish grin. "Then we're in for a long night."

And with that, she proceeded to show you exactly how many times a woman could orgasm in a single night.

By the end, you were utterly spent, your body exhausted and sated. You lay against the pillows, your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath.

Natasha was curled around you, her body pressed against yours, her head resting on your shoulder.

"I could stay here forever," She said, her voice sleepy.

"Me too," You agreed, your own eyes heavy. "I should probably go home soon."

"What if you didn't?" She suggested, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused.

"What if you stayed here with me?" She elaborated, her words slow and deliberate.

"It's risky," You sighed. "If anyone found out—"

"I know," She interrupted, her tone soft. "But we've been doing a good job keeping this a secret. No one suspects anything. Besides, I can't bear the thought of not having you by my side tonight."

You considered her words, your heart pounding in your chest. It was true; the two of you had been careful. And, you had to admit, spending the night in her arms was tempting.

"Okay," You finally said, making up your mind. "I'll stay."

Natasha's smile lit up her face, and she kissed you, her lips warm and soft.

"Good," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Because I can't get enough of you."

***********

You stood by the armchair, slipping back into your heels quickly. The soft sound of your dress fabric brushing against your legs filled the quiet room. Natasha sat on the edge of the sofa, still in her robe, nursing a cup of coffee that smelled rich and inviting.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, observing every movement you made.

You gave her a fleeting smile, smoothing out the creases in your dress. "Claire’s coming home soon. She spent the night with my mother, but you know how she gets—she’s practically attached to my hip.”

"Mm," Natasha hummed, sipping her coffee.

"They’ll be back soon, too," you said, avoiding her gaze as you adjusted your earring. The rush in your movements betrayed the careful calm in your voice.

Natasha set her cup down, leaning forward slightly. "You’re in a hurry," she noted, her voice softer now, almost teasing but edged with something more. "Do you regret our night together?"

You froze for a split second, feeling her words settle uncomfortably in the air. You knew you shouldn’t feel guilty. You hadn’t done anything wrong—or had you? Shaking off the thought, you reached for your purse.

"I just don’t want to raise any questions," you said, your tone light. "It’s nothing."

Natasha’s voice followed you, stopping you in your tracks. "Do you think about it?"

You turned to face her, her words catching you off guard. "Think about what?"

Her green eyes stayed on yours, steady and unflinching. "What it would’ve been like if things were different. If we were different."

You blinked, caught in her gaze, the question hanging in the air. "Natasha," you began, trying to find the words. "I—"

"It's alright," she said, her lips quirking up. "I understand. We have our responsibilities. And, besides, some things can't be changed, no matter how hard we wish they could."

Her words cut through you, and you felt a wave of sadness.

"I'm sorry," You sighed. "I enjoyed my night with you. I really did."

"I know," She reassured. "So did I. We should do it again sometime." She opened her arms for a hug.

"I would love that," You answered. She breathed in your scent, smelling herself all over your body, and hummed.

"The idea of him touching you makes me crazy," she murmured. "But I also love smelling my scent on you. I bet he wouldn't be able to do a quarter of what I did to you last night."

It's the first time you've heard her be so possessive. Your breath caught in your throat at her words.

"It's only fair," She continued. "You should have let me mark you."

You felt a surge of arousal course through you at her words but also a flicker of unease. It was dangerous territory, the two of you getting so attached.

"We have to be careful," You warned, though it was the last thing you wanted. "Someone could find out."

"Would it be so bad if they did?" Natasha knew she was being reckless, but she didn't care. All she cared about was you. She nuzzled her nose into your neck.

"Natasha," You protested, your resolve weakening. "We can't."

"Yes, we can," She said, her voice low and seductive. "Just think about it, being with me every day, sharing our lives."

It was tempting, but you knew it was impossible. "It would never work," You said, trying to sound firm, but the words came out sad.

Natasha’s brows furrowed as she pulled back slightly, her piercing gaze locking onto yours. "Why wouldn’t it work?" she challenged, her voice steady, though there was a hint of frustration beneath it.

"Because it’s not just about us," you admitted, your hands trembling as you stepped away, needing space to think clearly. "I’m scared, Natasha. Scared of what this... of what you make me feel."

"Scared?" Natasha repeated, her tone sharp now, almost incredulous. "What’s there to be scared of? Isn’t it scarier to stay in something that doesn’t make you happy?"

You shook your head, your voice cracking as you tried to explain. "It’s not that simple. I love Sam. He’s a good man. And I don’t want to hurt him—or Steve."

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, she looked away, exhaling deeply. "You should have thought about that before," she said quietly, her words cutting like a knife.

"I know," you replied, guilt heavy in your chest. "And maybe... maybe that’s why we need to cool down. This—whatever this is—it’s too much, Nat. It’s moving too fast, and I... I could lose Claire."

Natasha blinked, clearly taken aback. "Lose Claire?" she repeated, her voice filled with disbelief. "That’s ridiculous. Sam would never take her away from you."

"You don’t understand," you said, your voice rising as panic bubbled. "You can’t understand because you don’t have children. You don’t know what it’s like to have your entire life revolve around them, to know that one wrong move could take them away from you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and biting. Natasha’s face hardened a flicker of hurt, crossing her features before she masked it. "You think I wouldn’t understand?" she asked, her voice quieter now but no less intense.

"I didn’t mean it like that," you said quickly, regret pooling in your stomach.

"But you did," she countered, stepping closer, her gaze uncompromising. "You think because I don’t have children because I can’t have children, that I wouldn’t understand what it means to love someone so much it scares you?"

You froze, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut. "Natasha, I—"

"Don’t," she interrupted, her voice thick with emotion. "You’re scared, fine. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t understand love? That’s the one thing I do understand."

The room fell silent. Natasha’s breathing was steady but labored, as though she was holding back everything she wanted to say.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just... I’m trying to do the right thing."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "The right thing? For who? For Sam? For Steve? When do you start doing the right thing for yourself?" Natasha sniffled. "You're right." She said. "You should go home and prepare for Sam."

"Natasha," you started, but she held up her hand.

You stood there, conflicted, unsure of how to proceed when she moved towards you. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to say something more, but instead, she reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that surprised you.

"You're a good friend," She murmured. She placed a final kiss on your lips before pulling back. "I suppose you can see your way out."

She turned and walked down the hall, leaving you alone.

You stared after her, feeling the ache in your chest grow, and tried to ignore the sense of loss that was settling in.

You told yourself that you were doing the right thing, even as tears spilled down your cheeks. It was the right thing.

And yet, as you walked out the door and headed home, you couldn't help but feel like a part of you had stayed behind.

[revelboo]

YOU 🫵 AGAIN HAVE FORSAKENED ME

I went to Walmart and saw THIS and was like, yeah I need that 😭 THEY HAD SO MUCH TF:ONE STUFF TOO?? My bank account is crying already 😭😭

Sorry for shit quality. I was excited 😅

All the figures! 🤣 Do it, do it, do it

Everything Is Alright Pt 104

IDW Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• “Problem?” Megatron growls, tempted to reach and touch you just to antagonize Starscream, but something about the expression on the Seeker’s face is almost dangerous. Furious and desperate and barely in control. “You should be gentler with your mate,” he says instead as Starscream’s optics narrow. Remembering those ragged sounds of grief you’d made and the way they'd twisted through his spark. You're only human and he shouldn't even care, but those sounds had bothered him. Never wants to hear them again. Sliding off the berth, he towers over the Seeker, ignoring as Starscream flares his wings. “Don’t make our pet cry again or I’ll take it out on you.”

• Gritting his denta as he stands his ground, Megatron shoulders past him, unconcerned with his anger. Not seeing him as a threat. Turning when the door closes behind Megatron, he mass shifts and grabs Soundwave’s shoulder, trying to pull him away. Hissing through his denta when the communications officer loops a possessive arm around you. Refusing to let you go from where he has you in his lap. “You left,” Soundwave growls in warning and his wings droop.

• “I came back,” Starscream mutters, optics sliding to you and expression softening. Kneeling beside Soundwave and offering you his hand. Asking you to come to him willingly. And you're not sure that you want to. Soundwave stayed and he didn't. “I’ll always come back for you.” But he still left you. Again. “Please?” That raspy whisper does you in and you reach for him, let him pull you to him and wrap his arms around you.

• “You keep hurting me,” you whisper and Soundwave’s spark constricts, hearing the unspoken ‘and I keep letting you.’ Knows you love the Seeker and he hates that fact right now. Hates Starscream as the Seeker rests his chin on top of your head, optics shuttering. Because he’s not sure the other mech understands how badly his rejection and denials hurt you. That alone convincing him that he needs Megatron tied to you. Someone that can force Starscream to be better. Because he won’t allow him to hurt you again. He can't. You'll forgive him in time. Realize that this was the only way. That it was all for you, to protect you.

• Grinding his denta at the pain in your voice and that you don’t sound surprised, like you expected him to hurt you. And that hurts him spark deep. Don’t you understand how much you mean to him? That you’re home and now a future? That you're the only spot of warmth and happiness in his life? Wings flicking as he tries to ignore Soundwave watching and listening, he tips your chin up and brushes his mouth against the corner of yours, nudging your forehead with his helm. "I was afraid," he admits, lips brushing yours, hating saying it out loud. Owning up to the fear and insecurity. Little, soft hands touch his face as you brush a kiss against him.

• "You think I'm not?" Because you're terrified and the one person who should have been there, ran away. Again. Really, you're the one in the dark here. Sparklings? You have no idea how this is going to work. Because the thought of actually birthing something like him, metal not soft flesh like you? There are so many questions, but you're half afraid if you ask them, he'll panic and bolt again. He's already so fidgety and uncomfortable. But he still loops his arm around you, holding you close. And you want to believe that he won't abandon you again, but you're not sure that you can anymore. Once is an accident, but twice?

Previous

Next

[fujoshirat]

Shouto Todoroki proposes with a fucking house (Be careful what you wish for ♡)

It was a Thursday night, chilly November air nipping at your nose as you walked out of the theater with your love. Shouto wanted to watch the new All Might movie, and who were you to say no to a date with your lovely boyfriend?

He seemed to enjoy it, the way his eyes lit up every time he saw his idol appear on screen. A boyish, childlike wonder present every time his eyes sparkled, he was so cute!!—wait a minute, that’s not the point!

The main point comes after this scene: after getting hot chocolate from a food stand with Shouto, you both sat down on a nearby bench. Sipping the much-needed warm drink, you let out a soft sigh.

“Isn’t hot chocolate so delicious, Shou?” Your boyfriend nods, small smile on his face as he watches your cheery expression. The cold brought a faint pink hue to his cheeks, making them rosy. He seemed contempt in the quiet moment, something you were used to with him.

But then, his gaze turned contemplative. Scooting a bit closer to you, he asked, “Can I ask you something?”

You look up at him curiously. “Sure, what’s up?”

His kissable lips pressed together firmly, like he was hesitant to say what was on his mind.

“How… do you feel about marriage?” The question caught you off-guard, and you nearly choked on your hot chocolate. “M-marriage?!?”

He nods shyly, though his expression was serious. “Yes, what do you think about it? I’ve been thinking, and… it’s something I want with you in the future—if you want that, too.” Your heart had melted at his honesty. You and Shouto have been dating for a while now, and sure, you didn’t mind marrying him, but you didn’t expect him to bring it up so casually.

Heart pounding in your chest, you turn your eyes from your drink and face him. Your breath hitches when you see his earnest expression. “Well, I wouldn’t mind marrying you, Shouto. And if we were to get married someday, I don’t want anything super fancy! I’m not into those huge diamond rings and over-the-top proposals, which all seem like a huge waste of money and a silly way to “show” that you love someone.” Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes widen at your statement, processing your words. “You wouldn’t want a ring?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, no, I’d want a ring. Just nothing extravagant, you know? I’d rather have something permanent.” Your boyfriend tilts his head confusedly.

“Permanent? What’s more permanent that a ring?” ‘Good question,’ you thought. Before Shouto brought it up right now, you never really thought about the specifics of marriage. Thinking for a moment, you decide to tease the boy and grin mischievously.

“A house,” you say proudly, half joking-half serious. No way was anyone in their right mind going to propose to you with a house oh how wrong you were babe. “I mean, it’s not something that sits on your finger until you break it or you lose it or you get too fat from aging or childbirth. It’s a place where memories are made, and…” You gently cup his right cheek with your hand, soft smile on your face, “hopefully if we do get married, it will be good memories.”

Shouto stared at you for a few seconds, as if you had just revealed the meaning of life itself. The man had already told you about his rough childhood a few years back, and you had already met his family a while ago. You knew what he feared, and you knew how to comfort him and make everything okay. Nodding slowly, Shouto gently touched the hand that was caressing his cheek. “A house,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You didn’t think of it much then. After all, it was just a silly, offhand comment that would never actually happen…

...right?

You had laughed off your “wish” not even a few minutes after you said it, and continued chatting about the movie and basking in your boyfriend’s company.

But Shouto? Shouto took it to heart. And everyone knows that Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki never does a half-assed job.

That’s why, exactly one year later, on another chilly November night, he drove you into a quiet, fancy neighborhood that you definitely had no business being in.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You both had just finished a pleasant, fancy dinner in the heart of the city and were driving back to your shared apartment. Perhaps Shouto was just taking a detour to tour the area. Perhaps Fuyumi-san was interested in moving out to a nice neighborhood with her boyfriend? As your mind drifted away in a daydreaming cloud, the black BMW M850i pulled up to the sidewalk and came to a stop. The warm hand caressing your thigh gently squeezed it, and Shouto put the car on park. “My love,” he spoke, voice smooth and low, “Would you like some fresh air?” You quirked a brow curiously but nodded and unbuckled. Your boyfriend came around and opened the door for you, holding your lower back gently as he guided you to the sidewalk.

Curiously, you looked around at the beautiful houses around you in wonder. They were a mix of traditional and modern. It almost reminded you of Shouto’s own household, though these ones were obviously new and had a better, modern architectural design to it.

Intertwining his fingers in his, he looks down at your figure and smiles softly. “This is a new neighborhood that I wanted to show you. It was recently completed in July.” His voice was calm, a soft smile on his face—with a hint of something that you couldn’t identify. Something… deeper.

You tilted your head and looked up at him curiously. “It’s beautiful, love, but, why are we here?”

And then,

Shouto got down on one knee—

a gasp,

and pulled out a small velvet box—

another gasp,

and opened it—

revealing a delicate diamond ring.

It was simple, elegant, and exactly what you had in mind one year ago.

But before you could say anything else, he pulled something else out of his pocket:

A small, silver key.

Your jaw drops, mouth hanging wide open, as small tears prick at your eyes. Shouto smiles softly at your expression, gaze never wavering. “I remembered what you said last year and-”

“Shouto. Himura. Todoroki. You didn’t!”

He chuckles, your knees feeling week as you stared at his amused yet sincere expression.

“I did.” Warm liquid falls down your cheek before you know it, yet all you can focus on is the man in front of you.

“I know that you said you wanted something permanent, and I want to give you something permanent too.” He glances at the house that you both were in front of, and then back at you. “It’ll be a place where we can build a life together, a place where you will always be safe, a home where you will always feel loved.” Your heart cracks even further at the sound of his voice, honest and genuine and vulnerable and raw.

“My love for you is permanent, Y/N, and if you’ll have me, I want to share this with you, forever.”

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to find words. “Shouto, hic are you— sniffle this—this house—” “I wanted you to have both a ring and a house.” Your boyfriend says that with full conviction in his voice, honesty and sincerity evident.

“Will you, L/N, Y/N, marry me?”

You nod furiously and desperately wipe some of your tears,

“Yes! God, yes Shouto!” Your new fiancé wastes no time scrambling up to his feet and sliding the ring on your pretty ring finger. Gently, he pulls you into his arms and tenderly wipes some of your tears.

“You’re sniffle incredible,” you murmur in his chest. Shouto laughs, but he is cut off by the second half of your statement. “And incredibly terrible!” He blinks, confusedly. “What? Why?”

“Shouto!” You chastize him with a huff, using your sleeve to wipe away snot that’s probably gross (Shouto doesn’t think it’s that gross). “Why would you spend 60 million yen on me!?!” (approximately $400,000 in USD)

He blinks again, confused, as if you had said something silly. “I’m a pro hero,” he says cooly, shrugging as if that and the amount of money he spent was no big deal (it really isn’t a big deal to him). “I’ve been saving, and…” Gently, he holds the hand with the ring up to his lips and kisses your knuckles gently, making your knees buckle and your cheeks even rosier.

“You’re worth it, my love. This ring, the house, nothing can compare to how happy and loved you’ve made me.” Tears well up in your eyes once again, threatening to spill over as your heart clenches. “That’s so unfair,” you murmur, voice cracking. Shouto’s lips quirk up into a smug smile, almost like a smirk, showing his blatant amusement.

“What is, darling?”

“Being this perfect,” you mutter, tears streaming down your cheeks again. Shouto laughs and presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry, but you deserve everything, Y/N. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that you know it.” His eyes widen when you let out a whiny sob, burying your face into his warm chest. His left hand gently rubs circles on your back as he chuckles. A cool autumn breeze blows by, ruffling your hair. Shouto sees you visibly shiver and strokes your head.

“You must be cold, would you like to go inside?”

He watches your puffy yet beautiful eyes sparkle, and Shouto can’t tell if it is from your tears or happiness. Yet, he understands that the answer is both when you interlace your hand with his and use your free hand to unlock the door to the brand new 60 million yen home with a brand new diamond ring on your finger in the brand new luxury neighborhood with your brand new fiancé and soon to be husband. ♡

[wanderingwinds333]

My Sweetheart, Your Nightmare.

Pairing: Azriel X Reader

Summary: Having noticed that Elain clings to Azriel, Feyre mentions she thinks Azriel and Elain would be good together. Questions why the mother didn’t make them mates. Rhysand quickly lets her in on an important piece of information.

“‘Why not make them mates?” Feyre states as she witnesses her sister and Azriel down in the garden.

Rhysands eyes widen at his mates brazen comment and goes to interject but before he can she continues on.

“They look perfectly matched do they not? Two beautiful and caring people. Three sisters for three brothers just make sense?” Feyre says sounding upset.

“Feyre darling. It appears I’ve left out some pretty important information about this family. It’s my fault really, she’s been out doing my messy work for the night court this whole time. Keeping all the other threats at bay and …immobilizing them so Azriel has less work on his plate.” Rhysand rambles.

“What? I’m not following Rhys?” Feyre questions.

Rhysand sighs but goes to explain further.

“Azriel is only doing as I have asked in looking after Elain. He already has a mate Feyre. One he is very committed to. A female that you most certainly never want to hear the words you just spoke about your sister and him. She- “ a throat clears from behind them.

“SHE, is right here Rhysand.” A sultry voice states.

Rhysands eyes widen in what Feyre can only see as fear.

“Y/N! You are home! Oh Azriel is going to be thrilled, let me just go get him for you.” Rhysand quickly goes to grab Feyre and tries to leave but y/n has other plans.

Magic surges across the room and Feyres feet feel stuck to the floor. She turns her head to look at Rhysand and notices he is in the same predicament.

“Dammit” Rhysand whispers more to himself.

“Ah ah ah, Rhysie. That’s no way to greet your favorite sister in law. You haven’t even introduced me to your mate yet.”

Feyre turns to actually get a good look at the female that has somehow over powered the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

Ashen white hair, icy eyes, taller than most fae females, and she has a beautiful silhouette that filled out a pair of black leathers quite nicely, Feyre thought. Cauldron boil her, this female was gorgeous.

Before Feyre could find anymore of your perfections Rhysand interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Think less loudly Feyre Darling, I’m starting to become jealous.” Rhysand deadpans.

Feyre blushes and immediately looks down to her feet.

“You know I have that affect on most fae Rhysie. Don’t be a sour puss.” Y/n smugly states.

Y/n descends upon them and actually goes to bow before Feyre.

“It is an honor to officially meet you my High Lady. My name is y/n, assassin of the Night Court. Mate and wife of Azriel.” Y/N proudly states.

“I-it’s lovely to finally meet you y/n.” Feyre stutters out.

This female infront of Feyre is terrifying and ethereal. Feyre already knows she is lethal and all thoughts she had prior of how Elain and Azriel were perfectly matched go straight out the window. She can see it now…why the cauldron makes the pairings it does.

Y/N stands to her full height but all playfulness she exuded before is gone.

“I know you did not know of my existence until just now…so for that reason alone I’ll let your comments slide. But Azriel is MY mate and the saying ‘if I can’t have them, then no one can’ is very much the saying I live by when it comes to him.”

Feyre can only nod her head dumbfounded.

A second later shadows envelope the room. More lively than Feyre has ever seen them.

Azriel soon enters with a confused Elain in tow.

When Azriel lays his eyes on y/n, Feyre can quite literally see the tension leave his body.

“Sweetheart.” Azriel speaks so softly. He rushes to y/n and envelopes her in a hug that looks like it would hurt.

“Hi love.” Y/n whispers back just as soft and leans her forehead against his.

It’s an intimate moment that everyone else in the room feel like they are intruding on.

But one moment the feared shadowsinger and his mate were there…and the next gone.

Rhysand releases a breath that he had been holding.

“Well that was y/n. She’s half high fae and half witch. The people of Prythian call her Nightmare because fae parents tell their children if you don’t behave she’ll come in the night while you are sleeping and take you to her dungeon. Which isn’t totally untrue…it’s just criminals and murderers that she takes to her dungeon. You won’t see her or Azriel again until maybe two or three months from now .” Rhysand states.

“What? Where will they be?” Elain finally speaks.

After witnessing all she just had she can’t say she’s not a bit disappointed. It was obvious what you were to Azriel.

“Oh they are going to pick up their children from Azriels mom’s cottage and spend the rest of their time at their home.” Rhysand throws out casually.

“THEY HAVE CHILDREN? Rhysand what else have you conveniently left out?!” Feyre berates.

“….well I think that’s it honestly. OH they have a pet wolf who is very protective of the children. Also my niece and nephews, they enjoy tormenting people in different ways than their parents…mental manipulation. Just lock your mind up real tight around them. God I love them and proud they are all daemati like me but they once convinced me I had a thing for Beron for over a week until y/n realized what they were doing and made them release my mind.” Rhysand annoyedly admits.

Elain and Feyre can only stare at him in shock. He simply shrugs his shoulders like it was normal and walks off.

Elain breaks the silence and turns to Feyre. “I think y/n is going to end up being best friends with Nesta.” the two break out in giggles and they honestly can’t wait to see that unfold.

[lunarsworld]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ you could make a good girl crazy

warnings: smut, sub!percy, riding, unprotected p in v pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader lyrics: “show me how bad you want it, ·.༄࿔ from sunset to the sunrise” a/n: this is shitty but whatever

“perce,” you sighed, agitated at your extremely touchy boyfriend. he grumbles in response, hand between your thighs as your trying to take your nap.

after a few moments without him moving, you exclaim, “can you please just let me sleep for once!” he rolls his eyes and flips over on his other side, away from you. contemplating whether you should leave it alone and get some rest, your love for him pushes those thoughts to the side as you turn towards him.

“you really want it that bad?”

he turns over immediately upon hearing this and nods his head, “always want you, angel. just even more right now.” after he says that, you know you have no other choice but to straddle him. you both want each other all the time, but now that he’s got you all turned on? you need him.

you straddle his hips and begin to slowly grind on him, feeling him grow even more beneath you. “cmon angel don’t tease me.” he whimpers. he’s so needy for you today, who’s to blame you for seeing how desperate you can make him underneath you? you start kissing his jaw, and then his neck, leaving little marks so everybody will know how down bad he was for you.

he groans as you suck on his sweet spot and he shoves his hand under your shirt, pulling for you to take it off. “words baby,” you say. “gotta tell me how bad you need it.” he feels pathetic right now, usually you’re the one begging for him. but he’s too lost in you that he doesn’t care. “please take it off, need you so bad angel.” you smirk and in response you take off your (his) shirt. he stares in awe at your perky tits. you both have been together for a while now and he knows your body up and down, but he’ll never get over how beautiful you are. he kneads them in his hands as you grind even harder into him.

“off please,” he whines, pulling at your soaked cotton panties. “off with what perce? im gonna tell you for the last time, words.” while you finish off your sentence, you move at a slower agonizing pace and his eyes almost roll out of his head. “please take em off baby, need to feel me in you now.” he says while placing kisses along your breasts. you slowly take off the panties, and he begins to strip down his boxers. his dick springs out and he’s painfully hard. matter of fact, this might be the hardest you’ve ever seen him. actually scratch that, he’s always like this for you.

you slowly slip yourself onto him and he lets out a guttural moan in response. you continue riding him at your slow pace and he grabs your hips in response. “faster, please,” he whines. you follow his request and begin moving faster. he rubs at your clit at an insane speed, feeling you clench around him. god you hate that even at his neediest, he can make you worse. you moan out and he immediately knows your close, and he is too. you begin to lose your speed as the knot in your stomach begins to unravel, and in turn he starts moving your hips with his hands.

“can i come inside? please baby please- fuck- i need it.” he whimpers. you’re too into your orgasm to care so you nod your head, and almost as if he already knew your answer you feel him dump his load inside of you. he pulls you off and immediately turns your body to lay on top of him. the feeling of both your sweat and hot bodies is always your favorite comfort and percy knows this. you tuck your head into his neck and begin to drift off into your sleep, finally getting your well deserved nap. but right before you do, you sneak in one last comment, “pussy whipped.” but he just hums in response, because he has nothing else to say.

he knows he’s pussy whipped, just as long as it’s you.

[hees-mine]

L. Heeseung - Wrong One

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: mentions of smut, cursing, reader slaps heeseung, friends with benefits, alcohol, angst.

Genre: friends with benefits.

WC: 4,582k

-

“Are you staying the night?” You asked heeseung, the guy you’ve been friends with benefits with for four months, as he rolled over on the opposite side of the bed, breathing heavily.

You two had just finished your weekly routine. By routine, you meant the both of you fucking every last ounce of energy out of each other.

He wipes his palm over his face, wiping away the sweat that gathered at his hairline. “Nah,” he says and sighs shortly after. “I never stay, you know that.” he sits up on the bed once he’s regained enough stamina.

“Yeah…. I do know that” you reply disappointedly and pulled the blankets up to your chest while he stands up, searching for all his discarded clothes.

“So….” He starts out rolling the used condom down his shaft and tying it off before tossing it in your trash bin. “I was thinking we could do it at my place next week. My parents are out of town on vacation.” he pulls his boxers around his waist and then grabs his shirt that was thrown off in a corner, slipping it over his head. “That way, we can go for as long as we want and be as loud as we want to.” he turns to you and gives you a flirty wink, to which you only respond with an airy laugh and a forced half smile. “So, what do you think? Will you be coming over?” He questions once he’s fully dressed.

“Y-yeah, I will be.” You try your best to sound convincing like the idea of meeting him just for sex the next week was just as exciting as it was four months ago when this whole friends-with-benefits thing started.

“Okay, I’ll see you next week, don’t be late.” he heads to the door to your bedroom, slipping on his shoes.

“I won’t” you smile half heartedly and without so much as a bye he opens the door leaving you to clean up all by yourself.

“I know,” he smirks. “You can’t resist me.”

-

You on your way? It’s fifteen past ten.

You barely even noticed the alert tone go off on your phone if it wasn’t for the music in the club changing tracks you wouldn’t have.

Rolling your eyes at the screen, you dryly reply.

That was tonight? I totally forgot

You send to him.

How could you forget about me? We’ve been doing this for the past four months without fail.

He sits up on his bed, squinting slightly at his phone screen.

Must’ve slipped my mind once I had a few drinks.

It didn’t, but you couldn’t see him, not because of how you were feeling tonight. You needed some drinks to get your mind off of him, and you’re so glad your friend decided to accompany you as well.

Drinks? How many did you have? And where did you get them from?

He chews on his index fingernail softly while waiting for a reply.

I’m too drunk to answer all that, but I’m out with some friends.

You reply and down another shot, not caring about your missed date with heeseung.

I can come pick you up, give you some water, and we can finish where we left off if you want

That’s okay. I got a ride.

Oh

From who?

His name is Jake, but I really have to go now. I’ll talk to you sometime later.

Text me when you get home.

Heeseung sighed putting his phone aside and sighing. “Just great now what am I gonna do?” He looked down at the tent in his lap and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed you couldn’t make it he literally changed his sheets and took a shower and got his room ready for the occasion only for you to cancel on him.

Oh well, his parents would still be on vacation for another six days, and you and him could make up for lost time, but for now, he was gonna go to bed and try to forget about the bulge in his underwear.

-

Next week arrived, and you still hadn’t gotten together with heeseung at his place nor at school. Even though he texted you every day, you still hadn’t found time to fit him into your schedule at school. You’d always be running “late” or “not feeling well,” and you left all his text on seen, leaving him to believe you were avoiding him.

Especially after it had been two weeks since you hadn’t bothered to get in touch with him, could you really be that busy for two whole weeks?

Luckily he was able to flag you down today before you left school. “Y/n wait up!” He calls and you immediately stop in your tracks and turn around to face him for the first time in weeks you couldn’t avoid him forever.

“Hey,” you smile softly at him.

“Hey,” he says, sorta out of breath from running to catch up to you. “Just wanted to catch up. We haven’t seen each other in quite a while.”

“Yeah, about that, sorry.” You lowered your head, unable to make eye contact with him. “I’ve just been busy.”

“I see” he starts to walk beside you. “How about now? Do you got any free time for me?” He turns his head to the side to look at you.

“Sure,” you say, feeling unsure you wanted to be with him. You really did, but you wanted more than just sex, and he couldn’t give that to you. Sadly, he made it obvious, so distancing yourself from him felt like the best decision.

“Good, it’s only been two weeks, but I feel like I’m going crazy without feeling you.” he goes behind your back, hugging you as you both waddle down the street to his home. “Hmm, come to my place,” he whispers in your ear, kissing down your neck as he holds you by your torso. “Please?”

“Okay, hee.” You could feel his lips curling into a smile against your skin.

“Hmm, thank goodness I need to feel you so fucking bad” he nibbles your ear rubbing his cheek against yours as he walks you to his house.

Once you enter his house you trudge upstairs after him the sinking feeling making it’s way to your stomach as much as you wanted him the feeling of knowing you would never be with him fully was making you feel down and you barely even wanted to have this friends with benefits relationship with him anymore.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed his backpack to the side. “Come here baby” he sat down on the bed and patted his lap calling you over to him.

Read full story HERE!

-

[sunshinedaisywrites777]

A Night to Remember (DI!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader)

A/N- I know some of us, out there, like me, struggling with family issues or some of us may have to take care of their elderly or even their parents. It's so sad sometimes to think that you're all alone in this. I've been through this, I still do. I just have an option and it's to just play pretend and think that someone who feels good to me, and usually it's Leon himself. So this is for you who also goes through the same situation. Thank you all for standing on your own, taking care of yourself, I'm very proud of you. Please don't think you're alone in this whatever you're going through. Applause yourself 💜

The days had begun blending together, each one leaving you more drained than the last. Your mornings started early, making breakfast and ensuring your grandmother had everything she needed before you dashed out to handle the never-ending list of errands. By the time you got home, there was always more to do—cleaning the house, preparing dinner, helping your grandmother with her medication, and sometimes just sitting with her to keep her company. You loved her dearly, but the weight of it all was starting to feel like too much.

Your family’s occasional arguments didn’t help. You found yourself playing mediator, trying to keep the peace while managing your own emotions. It was exhausting—physically and mentally. And the worst part? You didn’t want to burden anyone else with your struggles, least of all Leon.

But Leon had a way of seeing through you.

He’d been checking in more often lately, texting you little jokes or calling to hear your voice. He’d stop by unannounced just to make sure you were eating, always under the guise of needing something himself. You appreciated it, even if you didn’t always let on how much.

So when he pulled up on his motorcycle that evening, his usual smirk in place, you didn’t think much of it. “Come on,” he said, handing you the spare helmet. “You need a break.”

“Leon, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re coming with me. No arguments.”

You wanted to protest—there was still so much to do—but the look in his eyes stopped you. It wasn’t just determination; it was concern. And maybe, just maybe, you were too tired to fight him.

The ride to his house was quiet, the cool evening air brushing against your face. You let yourself relax slightly, the tension in your shoulders easing as you held onto him. When he pulled up to his house and killed the engine, you blinked in confusion.

“Why are we here?” you asked softly.

Leon turned, helping you off the bike with a gentle hand on your arm. “Because you need to stop for a second,” he said simply. “Come on.”

When he led you inside, the sight that greeted you took your breath away. The dimly lit room was warm and inviting, with candles casting a soft glow over the table. A plate of spaghetti sat in the center, its slightly uneven noodles a clear sign of Leon’s efforts.

“You… did all this?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He shrugged, looking uncharacteristically shy. “Figured you could use a break. You’ve been running yourself ragged, and someone’s gotta make sure you take care of yourself.” He glanced at the spaghetti, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s not perfect, but I tried.”

The tears came before you could stop them, spilling silently down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away, but Leon noticed. He always noticed.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. His hands found yours, squeezing gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

The words broke something in you, and you let out a shaky laugh. “You really didn’t have to do this, Leon.”

“I know,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “But I wanted to. Now, sit down before I decide to cook something even worse.”

Dinner was simple but perfect. Leon kept the mood light, cracking jokes about his questionable cooking skills and mimicking a chef’s exaggerated accent. You laughed more than you had in weeks, the tension in your chest slowly melting away.

Afterward, when you tried to help clean up, he stopped you with a mock-stern look. “Uh-uh. Tonight’s about you. Sit down.”

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, sinking onto the couch. He joined you moments later, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You know what happens when you don’t listen to me, right?”

Before you could ask, his hands were on your sides, tickling mercilessly. Laughter burst from your lips as you squirmed, trying and failing to escape. “Leon! Stop—please!”

“Not until you admit I’m the best cook ever,” he teased, his own laughter ringing out.

“Fine! You’re the best!” you gasped, tears of laughter streaming down your face.

Satisfied, he finally stopped, letting you catch your breath. When you looked up at him, his face was closer than you expected, his expression softening as his gaze locked with yours.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he said quietly, his voice losing its teasing edge.

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. His hands found your waist as yours cupped his face, and the world seemed to fade away.

Somehow, you ended up in his lap, your arms draped around his shoulders as the kiss deepened. When you finally pulled away, breathless, Leon rested his forehead against yours, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“See?” he murmured. “Told you I was good for something.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not bad, Kennedy. Not bad at all.”

Leon’s arms stayed loosely around your waist, his thumbs brushing against your sides as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching you. His gaze was softer now, the usual teasing glint replaced with something deeper, something that made your heart skip.

“You feeling better?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

You nodded, your fingers playing with the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “A lot better. Thanks to you.”

His lips curved into a small smile, but he didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, taking you in as if he were memorizing every detail of your face. It made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time, and the weight that had been pressing on your chest for weeks felt a little lighter.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Leon chuckled softly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. “Just thinking about how I could’ve done this sooner.”

You tilted your head, surprised. “Done what?”

“This,” he said simply, gesturing around the room with a flick of his eyes before focusing back on you. “Made you stop for a second. Showed you you’re not alone in all of this.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I know you try to handle everything by yourself, but you don’t have to. I’m here, okay? For whatever you need.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered.

Leon let out a soft laugh, his breath fanning over your face. “Good thing you don’t have to find out.”

For a while, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. His hands moved up to your back, tracing small, soothing circles that made you relax even further.

Then, with a playful glint in his eye, Leon broke the moment. “You know,” he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone, “if you wanted to stay the night, I wouldn’t complain.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile. “Oh, wouldn’t you?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p” as his smirk grew. “I’ve got a perfectly good couch for you to crash on.”

You burst out laughing, playfully swatting his shoulder. “Wow, such a gentleman.”

“Hey, I can be a gentleman,” he protested, feigning offense. “But I figured you’d appreciate not waking up with a crick in your neck. My bed’s more comfortable.”

Your cheeks warmed at his suggestion, but his playful grin reassured you he wasn’t pressuring you. “Guess I’ll have to see if you’re right,” you replied, your voice soft but teasing.

Leon’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, and he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “You’re welcome here anytime, you know that, right?”

“I know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet conversations and lingering touches. You eventually ended up curled up in his bed, his arm draped over your waist as you lay facing each other. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe—truly safe.

As your eyes began to close, Leon’s voice broke the silence. “Get some rest, okay? No alarms tomorrow. Just… sleep.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing against his as you whispered back, “Goodnight, Leon.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice warm and steady.

And with him by your side, the weight you carried didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

[cherrylibby]

Unspoken Words

The Hard Deck was alive with the usual chaos—a mix of laughter, the low hum of conversation, and the occasional clink of billiard balls. But Jake couldn’t focus on any of it. His eyes were locked on you, sitting at the bar with a drink in hand, seemingly lost in thought.

He sighed as Bradley’s voice buzzed in his ear, growing more frustrated by Jake’s lack of attention.

"I’m listening," Jake lied smoothly, his gaze darting back to you, his smirk deepening when he caught you stealing a glance his way.

Bradley groaned. "No, you’re not. You’re staring at her again."

Jake ignored him, already halfway to standing as he grabbed his beer and started toward you.

You noticed him immediately, and a wave of annoyance washed over you. "Great," you muttered under your breath, pretending not to see him as he slid up beside you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Jake greeted casually, leaning one elbow on the bar as he turned his full attention to you.

"What do you want, Jake?" you sighed, barely sparing him a glance.

"Ouch." He chuckled, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Not even a hello? You’re killing me here."

"Hello," you said flatly, turning back to your drink. "Goodbye."

Jake chuckled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something he quickly masked with his usual charm. "You know, you don’t have to play hard to get. I already know you like me."

You turned to him, an incredulous laugh escaping you. "Excuse me?"

He smirked. "Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention."

"Wow," you deadpanned. "The ego on you is truly something to behold."

Jake laughed, but the sound was softer this time, almost vulnerable. "You say that, but you’re still talking to me."

You rolled your eyes, setting your drink down with a little more force than necessary. "Only because you won’t leave me alone."

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "What if I told you there’s a reason for that?"

"Let me guess," you said, crossing your arms. "Because you think you’re irresistible and I’m just another name on your list of conquests?"

Jake’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, something raw flashed across his face. "You really think that’s all you are to me?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

"Isn’t it?" you shot back. "You flirt with everyone, Jake. Why would I be any different?"

"Because you are different!" he snapped, surprising you with the sudden intensity in his tone. "God, do you have any idea what you do to me? I can’t even sit in a room with you without losing my damn mind."

You stared at him, momentarily stunned by his outburst. "Jake, I…"

"No, let me finish," he interrupted, stepping closer. "I flirt because it’s easy. Because it keeps things light and stops me from getting in too deep. But with you… it’s not easy. It’s terrifying."

"Why?" you asked, your voice softer now.

"Because you matter," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "Because you’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like this, and I don’t know what to do with it."

"Jake…" you started, but he wasn’t done.

"I know I’ve screwed up," he continued, his eyes searching yours. "I know I’ve given you every reason to think I don’t care. But I do. More than I can put into words. And yeah, maybe I flirt too much, and maybe I’m an idiot, but I’m your idiot if you’ll have me."

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but your walls were still up. "And what about the brunette? Or the one before her? How do I know this isn’t just another game to you?"

Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "They didn’t mean anything. None of them did. I was just… trying to distract myself. From you. From how much I want you and how scared I am of messing this up."

"You’re scared?" you asked, a hint of disbelief in your tone.

"Terrified," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because you’re not like anyone else. You see through all my bullshit, and you still manage to get under my skin. And the thought of losing you before I even have you? It kills me."

The air between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Jake stepped closer, his hands hesitating before settling on your hips. "I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he said quietly. "But I’m asking for a chance. A real one. Let me prove to you that I’m serious."

You looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity. "Jake…"

"Please," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Say something before I embarrass myself even more."

You took a deep breath, your resolve wavering. "You're such an idiot," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Jake's hands found their way to your waist, gripping gently at first, then with more certainty as he kissed you back with fervor.

His lips moved against yours with an intensity that made your heart race. When he finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

Jake cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle but grounding. His soft laugh broke the silence, warm and relieved. "Yeah," he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But I'm your idiot."

For the first time, you didn’t correct him.

[lucygraysboy]

“thanks for tellin’ me ‘bout that. birds are fascinatin’ creatures,” billy admits with a smile, calloused fingertips sorting through the sticks. he separates them into three piles — long and thin, short and thin, weirdly shaped and oddly sized. “that sounds so wonderful! but i’ve never really done that before. do you think they’ll trust me enough to come and eat out of the palm of my hand?” the idea of digging through mud for worms doesn’t scare him, but he wonders if birds can sense that he’s a stranger from a different district. capitol born, at that. maybe the birds out here only trust the locals. it doesn’t even occur to him that his worries are simply ridiculous. he just doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of lucy gray, who’s clearly a very experienced bird mama. “there’s no such thing as too sweet,” he insists with a laugh, shaking his head. he briefly wonders if his brother had at some point complimented her laugh, but why should it matter? the whole universe should tell her that she sounds like a warm day in the middle of may.  “that’s how i feel ‘bout spring and flowers, too. do you have a favorite flower, lucy gray? i really like daisies and lilies and sunflowers and roses.” the latter reminding him of his ma, of how she always smelled like them and of those sweet days when his father wasn’t as cold and heartless and would bring her large bouquets of her favorite flowers. “i especially have a thing for wildflowers, though. i mean, you just gotta admire their resilience.” how they often grow between rocks and cracks, remain exposed to elements, at mother nature’s mercy without a caring hand of a loving gardener… and still they bloom. “careful with that leg of yours, lucy gray,” he softly warns, trying to talk over the sound of different items of clothing rustling and landing tenderly on the floorboards. there’s something strangely intimate about being in the same room as someone who’s undressing, even without actually seeing their bare skin. he can imagine her, and immediately scolds himself for it, as beautiful as the water lilies that he admires so much… lord almighty, that’s so inappropriate, he tells himself, picking up the colorful teddy bear and pretending she’s the one sorting through the sticks. all with that only remaining arm of hers. what a champion. “yeah?” he doesn’t turn right away, as if giving her the time to change her mind if she wanted to, but then pale blue eyes meet hers and his heart does this silly thing where it just jumps up his throat. cheeks heating up, a sweet albeit shy smile spreading across his lips. he’s never seen anyone quite so beautiful. she was stunning before, with mud and dirt clinging to her face, with tear-stained cheeks and matted hair, but now… “well…” don’t stutter, you idiot. don’t fucking stutter. he keeps his eyes trained on her face, never flickering anywhere else. “i’m very glad to hear that it’s makin’ you feel better. reva blue and i just got done sortin’ the sticks. if you… i — i can help you scrub your back or wash your hair or… i can leave if you want some privacy.”

“well, now ya know darlin’.” glad he’s getting to experience birds, they’re too special not to. “tomorrow we’ll hold out worms in our hands, maybe it’ll be a little more warmer to do so and you’ll get to feed one.” lucy gray suggests with a soft smile. “that’s too sweet,” shaking her head in disbelief, believing that’s too kind of him to say. feeling like she’s not even deserving of such beautiful comments— a soft expression etched across olive features. “if i can make flowers bloom with my laugh, then i’m the luckiest girl in the world. flowers are the most special to me. so is spring.” she affectionately speaks, thinking of all her favorite things. eyes playfully watch his movements to her fingers and ears light up at the adorable sound of his laugh, grinning because she’s easily satisfied with the sound. she’s right, it is as sweet sounding as he thinks hers is. hands drawing up defensively, despite herself getting wet anyway when he splashes her. another laugh sounds from her and once he turns, lucy gray drops the blanket from around her shoulders. feeling a little bashful because no, he’s not looking but her skirt drops off her hips with her panties then so does her shirt once she tugs it off her skin. minding all the scratches across her shoulders, arms and collarbones. and then she’s naked with a stranger right there, he isn’t looking but it still makes it feel crazy. she tugs off one sock then the other then carefully throws her legs into the hot water and sinks into it. bending her knees and hugging them, a blissful feeling washing over her as the warmth hugs all her aching muscles despite a little pain radiating off her thigh. realizing she’s getting carried away in the peaceful comforting feeling, lucy gray dips her head back, making sure to soak her tangled hair before leaning back up. “alright, you can turn around now.” remembering at last second, realizing she just got carried away. “this is the best thing i’ve felt in awhile, besides that medicine you gave me last night.” thinking once again, she can’t thank him enough.

[leonw4nter]

I Love My Wife!!!

Husband!DI!Leon x F!Reader

A downside to being one of the DSO’s top performing and most trusted agents since 1999 is to be entrusted with handling the new generation of fresh-faced recruits, training them in all aspects necessary to become the next best assets the government has in their fight against BOWs. With each new generation he trains, their slang only gets weirder as they get younger; just the other day, they called him ‘mama’ and said that ‘a girl behind you’. He looks back and sees no one, much to his pupils’ amusement and his ever-increasing confusion.

“What the hell does that mean now?” He asks Hunnigan over lunch before he takes a bite from the egg sandwich you prepared for him. “I never told them about the baby announcement and she didn’t visit yesterday.”

“Oh you know, it’s the kids’ slang. They don’t even make sense anymore,” she says with a restrained smile. “They don’t really mean anything, you just need to see the videos that provide the context but each time the context doesn’t even make sense.”

“Kids these days,” he mumbles as he shakes his head. His blond-turned-brown locks sway with the slight movement.

“Oh relax, you were their age once.” The communications expert agent teases.

“Yes, but our slang was never this nonsensical,” he retorts. “If you guessed smart enough you could figure out what the words actually meant back in ‘98.”

“Good point,” she agrees before digging into her salad. “They’re bringing back everything from the late 90s though: low-rise pants, flared jeans, mini shoulder bags, and so much more that I thought we left behind in the past.”

Lunch continued on smoothly with small conversations in between bites of sandwich and sips of soda. The phone on Leon’s chest pocket buzzed to life, an illuminated rectangle revealed behind thin cloth. Wiping his hands, he fishes it out and checks the caller ID.

“Gotta take this one,” he says as he gets up from the table. “She’s calling.”

He walks outside of the store and into a not-so-busy sidewalk, not letting his phone ring for a little longer.

“Hey sweetpea,” he says. “How’s your day goin’?”

He vividly visualizes your smile right before you speak. “Oh y’know, it’s great. Yours?”

“It’s been great too,” he can’t resist but let a smile tug the corner of his lips upward. “Why’d you call? Need anything?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘P’ sound. “Just wanted to hear your voice today. Stupid reason, I know.”

“No, it’s not stupid sweetheart. I wanted to hear your voice too,” he softly responds. “Day’s going to be busy for me: bigwigs are making me teach theoreticals to the rookies today, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. They’re always boring.”

“I’ve never sat through one of your lessons but it already sounds boring,” you comment with a dramatic sigh.

“Are you saying that my teaching is boring?” He asks, voice laced with feigned offense.

“Well…” you trail off, breaking into a small giggle.

“You just broke my heart, ouch.”

“Kidding!” You swiftly respond even though you know his feelings were never hurt in the first place. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“That’s why I’m your husband.”

“Okay, that’s enough cheesiness for today mister. That’s all, you can get back to your lunch now.”

“That was just one joke,” he points out. “Okay, I’ll get back inside and demolish the rest of the sandwich you made me. Take care of yourself and the baby for me while I’m at work, okay honey?”

“Yes, I will, don’t worry.”

“Okay, that’s great. You end the call, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.”

The call ends so he brings his phone away from his ear, lovingly taking a moment to admire your beaming self saved as his contact photo– you, bundled in dense scarves and insulating layers, smiling brightly at him in the middle of a street covered in crunchy white now. He walks back in the shop, taking his seat to finish up the rest of his snack and energize for the long day that is yet to unfurl.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Nightfall has finally seized the day, the absence of the sun in the sky prompting Leon to swiftly pack his belongings and drive home to his darling wife. Just as he finally zips his laptop sleeve, his coworker Patrick leans on his cubicle and starts talking.

“Got any plans?” A loaded question.

“Yeah,” he says as he locks his drawer. “Stayin’ home with the missus and watching TV.”

“Me and the others are going out for drinks tonight. It’s been a week and I think we all deserve to unwind, no?”

“Mhm,” Leon hums absent-mindedly as he makes sure that there’s nothing plugged on his desk.

“C’mon, man. A drink or two with us won’t hurt, we’ll be at a bar a few minutes away from here. Drinks are on Miller and Ronson,” Patrick adds. Leon hasn’t touched a glass of alcohol in months, his previous alcohol issue and current sobriety progress kept secret amongst his most trusted circle. Patrick, and the rest of the agency, is oblivious to his relationship with alcohol.

“Thanks for the offer but I’ll definitely pass,” the seasoned agent coolly says as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “Bars aren’t really my scene.”

The curly-haired agent’s shoulders slumped but he took Leon’s answer, gaze trailing after him as he neared the door.

“If you’ll be in here a little longer, don’t forget to shut the lights on your way out.”

Patrick’s back straightens up and nods, following after Leon since he doesn’t have any business to do in the room now that Leon’s made his mind on heading straight to home.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The ringing of the doorbell shifts your attention from laying out skincare materials on the kitchen island, face masks and other sheets cool from being kept in the fridge. You excitedly skip over to the front door, walking normally on the remaining half of the lap because ever since that test showed positive, you’ve been a lot more susceptible for motion sickness.

“Welcome home sweetie pie,” you greet your husband in a silvery singsong voice as you engulf him in a hug of unmeasurable comfort. He leans into your touch, melting in the middle of your arms as he returns a hug of his own.

“Missed you s’much,” his voice muffled from his face burrowed in the crook of your neck. His arms encircling your frame tightens slightly, wordlessly communicating his yearning for your affectionate touches.

“Tired?” You ask as you pull away from the hug and invite him in, keeping him company by the doorstep as he takes off his coat and shoes.

“Mhm,” he affirms. “Didn’t do anything physical today but y’know, it’s still a pretty draining workday today.”

“A coworker invited me for drinks in town after work hours ended but I declined,” he adds before he could forget. “That could never match up to a night staying in with you.”

“It’s nice that they thought of inviting you. That's progress from everyone aside from Hunnigan being intimidated and too scared to approach you,” you point out. “Anyway, I got a surprise for you!”

One glance at your glowing smile and infectious elation soothes your husband’s spirit, giving him an added boost of energy. “Yeah? What is it?”

“It’s a surprise for a reason, dummy. Freshen up first and I’ll show you. Close your eyes when you pass by the kitchen!”

“Gotta hold my hand first, I might bump into something and seriously concuss myself.”

“Leon we’ve lived in this house for 4 years, you know the layout like the back of your hand.” Despite that, you still take his hand and lead him.

He’s finally freshened up, now wearing a worn-out sleep shirt paired with Batman pajama bottoms. His head rests on your lap, your fingers idly playing with his silky soft tresses as you watch one of those corny reality TV shows about finding love on boats– or tropical cruise getaways, you corrected him moments ago; he makes more than enough money to spoil you to a tropical cruise so he makes a mental note to start some research while you’re asleep. His hair is kept away from his face by a fuzzy Mike Wazowski headband, matching with your own fuzzy Sully headband as chilled face masks rest on your faces. There’s sliced cucumbers resting on his eyes and a jelly lip mask on his already-perfect lips, challenging his resolve to stay awake and listen to you rant about Basic White Man with A Beard and A Tan #3’s stupid decision. Playing with his hair is tempting him to fall asleep but carefully scratching his scalp while you’re at it? It’s like you’re commanding him to drift off to Dreamland ASAP.

“Man, I love my wife,” Leon quietly murmurs to himself before he’s out cold, snoring deeply. Despite your yapping, you didn’t miss his words and blush to yourself. He must’ve had a truly exhausting day so you lay a blanket over his sleeping frame and turn the TV off.

“Hey, do you know what ‘mama a girl behind you’ means? I’ve been hearing it from my trainees all day.”

NOTES - yipee, first di!leon fic in... 7 months :0 ?!?!?! this fic is pretty much just stream of consciousness, i wrote the fic + formatted the post while listening to ASMR and actively fighting off sleep (it's quarter to 4AM in my area uyurhgrh). i kept repeating 'mama a girl behind YOU 💜' in my head randomly so i was like "hey yk what why not add that into my fic heehee so silly :D" and thus this fic was conceived. also guys i read on twitter that re9 takes place 4 years after re:village and since leon's there... we're going to see his chronological appearance which also means he'll look old... mmm yummy :3 and he's dripped out similarly to re:damnation... mmm yummy :3 also my nail is peeling off so imma have to lay off of nail polish for a bit aw :'( anyways, thank you to everyone supporting me and reading my fics!!!!!!!! I <3333333333 UUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers (hearts and support banner) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[dixonsbrat]

𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩 — send in any character from my masterlist + a prompt from one of the lists ( fluff , angst , smut ) for a blurb.

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜ with babygirl daryl dixon <33

── .✦  𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 ┆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; you see daryl smile for the first time in a while.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; daryl dixon x reader , alexandria era, just lots of fluff.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.5k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; this was only supposed to be a lil blurb but i got carried away writing for my scrumdidlyumpcious mans *sighs dreamily*

you were sitting alone on the front porch as the rest of alexandria slept soundlessly around you. the air was warm against your skin with only the slightest breeze. it was the perfect night to sit under the stars and just let yourself breathe for once.

though, the small moment of peace is interrupted when you hear footsteps coming up behind you. they were soft against the wood, yet making it creak beneath them, and you don’t need to turn to know who it was.

daryl slowly sat down beside you, sinking onto the step you were on, and leaning his head against the pillar behind him. he looked tired, more tired than usual. dark circles encapsulated his otherwise icy blue eyes, and there was a slumpiness to his shoulders.

"can't sleep?" you tilt your head to the side slightly, turning so that you too were leaning against a pillar now and facing him onward.

“nah,” he murmured, his drawl thick and heavy with exhaustion. it was clear that something was weighing down on him. perhaps the same thing that had even been disrupting his sleep.

you give it a moment to see if he would tell you what was wrong on his own accord, but this was daryl, and he wasn't one to talk about his feelings or express his troubles without prompting. he rarely spoke much anymore as it was, not compared to how he used to anyway.

watching as his gaze pans off to your surroundings, taking in the other houses along the street and the trees that were rustling in the wind, you can’t help but wonder what’s got him so stuck in his head. there was a clear distance in his eyes that you had only ever seen a few times before, but there was no telling what could be the cause of it.

eventually, you gently nudge his leg with your foot to get his attention, "what’s going on in that big ole head'o yours? and don't tell me it’s 'nothing'."

daryl’s eyes flickered towards you as you nudged his leg, as if being pulled back to reality for a brief moment. he looked away again, the darkness outside seeming to be easier to focus on than actually having to talk. he knew it was only because you cared and he, of course, didn’t want to worry you. you already worried about him enough as it was.

“it’s just…” he begins after a few moments, but stops, shaking his head. it was clear by the tension in his jaw that he was really bothered by whatever it was.

"hey, you can talk to me." you say, offering him solace for his thoughts.

he glances over at you, seeing the genuine concern in your eyes. he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid telling you, not when he knew how stubborn you could be and that you probably wouldn’t leave him alone until he gave you some sort of an explanation. he takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts into words before responding.

“it’s just… it’s been a lot,” he finally mutters, his voice low and gruff in the air.

you sit forward now, no longer leaning on the pillar behind you as you rest your hands in your lap, "what has?"

he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated, though not at you. never at you. his shoulders slump a bit more and it makes him look even more exhausted. “everything,” he answers after a short pause, the word simple enough, but you knew well enough that he wasn’t talking about just his tired state. he shakes his head, looking back out towards the small settlement, not really focusing on anything in particular. “jus’ feelin’ a bit… weighed down lately. i guess.”

you nod along softly as he speaks, taking in his words and letting him know that you were listening, "is there anything i can do to help?"

he can’t help but feel a swell of warmth in his chest as you offer your assistance. you always cared so much, cared about him. it made his heart feel full for the first time in a while. but he was stubborn, and even now it was difficult for him to admit that he needed support sometimes. the feeling of being a burden loomed over him constantly as that’s what he was accused of being growing up.

he shook his head slightly, still not looking at you, though a small part of him wanted to. “you do enough,” he mumbled.

“daryl, i’m serious. what can i do to help?” you move forward on the step a little, your knees hitting his now. “do you want me to take up some of your runs? will that help make you feel better?”

his brow furrows as you press the question again, his jaw tensing. he felt stuck between letting you help and being his stubborn self that tried to push everything away. though hearing you offer to take up some of his runs, a part of him considered accepting, which surprised even himself.

he was silent for a moment before speaking again in a hushed, gruff voice, the words almost being strained from his mouth, “i don’t… i don’t wanna ask things of you.”

“don’t be silly. i care about you, and i don’t want to see you run yourself into the ground.” you place a hand on his knee and give it a little squeeze. you hated how stubborn he could be, how he always pushed away the help that he clearly so desperately needed. “you do that and then who else am i going to annoy, huh?”

daryl stiffens a bit at the touch of your hand on his knee. it’s unexpected and he could feel the warmth through his jeans. he knew you wanted to help him and he knew you cared, but he was too used to being self-sufficient. yet, there was something about you, something that made him want to let his guard down and accept you. to allow your kindness to seep through the many walls that he’d built over the years.

so, after a short pause, he lets out an exhausted sigh and the faintest smile graces his lips, “mhm, cause i’m the only one that puts up with ya.”

"okay, wow. rude." you scoff a laughter, and shove his knee with the hand that was still on it. you let out a small sigh after a moment, before meeting daryl’s gaze once more. you don’t say anything, not for a second, you just wanted to take him in. "y'know, i don't think i've ever seen you smile. not like that anyway.”

he was surprised when you shoved his knee, more surprised by the fact that he didn’t expect to enjoy it. he lets out a small huff of a laugh at your reaction. though, the moment is short lived when you mention his smile and it quickly fades, the tension from earlier returning to his jaw.

“yeah, well, i ain’t much of a smilin’ kinda guy,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as if it was nothing.

you let your gaze fall to your lap, your fingers idly playing with a loose thread on your pants. “maybe you should be. you have a nice smile,” you shrug, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks immediately.

daryl’s heart suddenly seems to jump inside his chest at your comment, the words catching him off guard. no one had ever said that he had a nice smile before. though, coming from you, it seemed to hit him hard in a way that he had never felt before.

the smallest touch of pink spreads across his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he glances to the side, avoiding your gaze as you look back up at him. “shut up,” he mumbled under his breath, the words without any malice just more embarrassed than anything.

“i’m being serious. i like your smile,’ you admit, causing not only yours, but daryl’s heart to race even more.

the honesty in your statement causes him to look back at you, his heart slamming against his chest. the sight of how sincere you are causes his stomach to twist and yet, he feels as if he could melt into the wooden steps beneath him.

“… shut up,” he says again, though it’s said with less embarrassment and more just overwhelmed feelings, and the faintest hint of a smile returns to his lips.

you just shake your head, and roll your eyes, at his reaction. he was so cute whenever he got flustered, and you enjoyed the fact of knowing you were the one that had caused it. though, you decide not to push him any further and leave it, letting yourselves enjoy the rest of the quiet before you knew you had to eventually head back inside.

[its-your-mind]

Something something timkon and hair and how lex lichrally programmed Kon to shave his head before he went all luthor and was forced to attack his team, his best friends, his family. and then how most of the hair on the back of Tim’s head got burned off when he got blowed up (thx Steph) and he had to cut or shave the rest of it off so it could grow back semi-evenly. and how kon was a #rebel esp compared to all-American Boy Scout Superman; Kon’s rockin around with the side cut and the leather jacket and the buckles and the spikes or the (ill-advised and made me sad) black t-shirt and jeans but even the “I am a totally normal bro” getup made him distinct and different from Kal and that is really important to Kon because he wants to be his own person, not a Superman-stand-in. and THEN fucking LEX made it so Kon would look more like Lex! his other DNA donor!!! And Tim!! He kept his hair short — just long enough to spike it up as Robin — until both of his parents were gone. which suggests to me that he kinda always wanted it long (hello Tim Drake, #1 Dick Grayson stan) but that just wasn’t an option allowed to him (not uncommon for parents who care Very Much about Appearances — my own parents were the same about my brothers’ hair growing up, not least because the private all-boys school they went to dictated that their hair couldn’t be long enough to touch the collar of their shirt (with exceptions for [insert kinda racist and vaguely xenophobic language here] hair styles). As soon as he turned 18 my baby brother got a rocker-style mane. But I digress. Anyway). Then, post-tragedy, Tim’s hair got long enough to flip down over his forehead and stream behind him when he swung through the city (perhaps one of his ways of clinging to control and his sense of self in the whole awful situation). But then… Tim got fucking exploded, betrayed by his ex-girlfriend who had only just returned after letting him grieve her death for a year, and now she’s following Tim’s dead father mentor’s instructions to challenge him or whatever the fuck bullshit Batman told her, (a young girl whose own father was an asshole criminal, who so desperately wanted Bruce to be proud of her) and now Tim has to cut his hair all the way down to the scalp again and listen. I’m sorry dc tim looks fucking amazing in adventure comics and I’m in love with how he is arted but hair cannot and does not grow back that quick!! Mf had to wait!! I bet it grew in fucking patchy!! I bet kon’s did too!! (prolly not as bad as Tim’s cuz Tim’s got scar tissue and shit.)

but I just think tim and kon deserve a chance to sit down and just commiserate with each other about growing their hair back out (growing back out a sidecut is a BITCH I speak from experience) and Tim’s prolly having to trim his own hair super often to keep it nice-ish while it comes back in, and Kon’s curls are just a fucking MESS until they grow out enough to like. Curl. (Again, speaking from experience) And they’re just shooting the shit (“well MINE was worse bc I looked like fucking LEX. LUTHOR.” / “well you didn’t have to wait to figure out which parts of your scalp we actually gonna bother growing hair again”) until it gets quiet for a minute. And then one of them asks if the hair also reminds the other one of The Shitty Thing That Happened. And then they fucking talk about it. About how they can’t look in the mirror without having a flashback of pain or rage. How it makes them feel like they don’t even get to control their own bodies, their own appearances, and how much that fucking sucks. How they go to run their hand through their hair and there’s just. Not enough of it to do that. How Kon is terrified that somehow looking like Lex means Lex will use him to hurt the people he loves again. How every time Tim sees another Bat or Bird looking at the back of his head, all he can think about is how they might be planning to lure him into another Bat-mandated trap test. How both Tim and Kon kinda really miss the feeling of people playing with their hair. How they miss playing with each others’ hair.

And maybe then one of them extends an offer and the other does the same and they agree to do each others’ hair. Maybe it’ll help paint a new layer over those awful memories.

So Kon finds Tim once a week (he’s never in the same place, he’s rarely even in the same country) and he trims the hair until it looks even, gives Tim the #sitch on how much hair is growing back in. After the second or third week he realizes that Tim’s not keeping up with his burn-care routine, so he starts bringing burn and scar cream with him too. Then he remembers Tim’s lack of a hair care routine and starts trying out different products on Tim’s hair to see what works best. Tim doesn’t say anything, but he thinks all of this feels even better than when Kon and Cassie used to twist little braids into his hair.

Kon insists that Tim doesn’t have to help until his hair’s grown out more, (that he doesn’t want Tim nearby and distracted while Kon still looks like Lex) but Tim outright refuses to let Kon push him away and he will NOT be outdone in the caretaking game. He waits until Kon’s busy fighting some giant alien robot in metropolis and sneaks in to the Kents’ house to scope out what products Kon uses. When he leaves the bathroom, Ma Kent is there, eyebrow raised. She tells him he “could have just knocked on the front door, sweetheart, we know how’ta keep secrets in this house. Now, let’s get some food in you before Conner comes home. You’re all skin and bones, hun.” So Tim goes downstairs and takes some mini meat pies for the road, and then researches the products Kon uses, what they do, what the ingredients do, if there are other (more expensive) options that people have sworn up and down are better. He amasses a collection, and the next time Kon shows up with clippers and healing creams and a new shampoo to try, Tim’s already got ten different products lined up on the sink — everything from shampoos and conditioners to serums and masks. Kon asks if these are things Tim wants Kon to use in Tim’s hair. Tim tells him that no, all of these are for Tim to try on Kon. Kon almost cries. (He does cry, he just doesn’t let the tears fall until Tim isn’t looking.) (Tim notices anyway ofc.) And Tim’s made a spreadsheet to track the effectiveness of different products, different ingredients, different combinations, so he tells Kon to start coming every 2-3 days instead, so he can establish results using a realistic timeframe. Sometimes, if Tim’s gonna be in one place for a few days, Kon just crashes with him. (Neither of them say it, but they both fucking CRAVE the old Core Four cuddle piles.) Eventually, when Kon’s hair is long enough that he’s ready to switch back to his side-cut again, Tim surprises him by not only shaving the hair down, but shaving a few racing stripes (“they’re flight patterns!” / “rob, I dunno what to tell you. everyone’s gonna think they’re racing stripes. doesn’t mean they aren’t dope as fuck, though.”) into Kon’s hair. Every time Kon’s hair grows out enough, Tim shaves it back and stencils in a new design. Kon starts making requests (“gimme the Super ‘S’!” / “It’s the House of El crest, Kon. You know that. Also, you have a secret identity to maintain.” / “C’mon, I’ll just say I’m a fan!” / “With the same El family crest shaved onto your scalp as Superboy?” / “No one’s noticed the identical head decor yet!”) but it’s the day Kon asks (with the same confident and mischievous tone as always) for Tim to shave in the Red Robin crest that something in Tim’s chest, something formless and warm that he hadn’t really paid attention to before, seers a burning path through his heart, takes root, and solidifies.

“Kon. I love you.”

Kon’s distracted, rifling through their hair-care bags for Tim’s razors. “Love you too, Robbie. Duh. That’s why I’m askin’ you to shave your cre–”

“No,” Tim shakes his head, mildly frustrated with himself for the lack of clarity. “I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a while.”

Kon is seated in the chair they’d pulled into the bathroom from the hotel room’s desk, so he has to look up to meet Tim’s eyes. The hand digging beneath sample bottles of leave-in conditioner freezes, still wrist-deep in hair products. Kon’s expression looks to Tim like one of his video games’ character builders froze between the settings for ‘bright smile’ and ‘shock and awe.’

So Tim just looks down at him. Waits. If this was anyone else, Tim would probably be losing his mind right now, but… it’s Kon. Tim’s safe. Kon would never do anything to hurt him.

Kon unfreezes, blinks a few times. “Could you–” he coughs. “Could you say that again? I think my brain maybe like, malfunctioned for a second.”

Tim takes a step closer, reaches out one hand to cup Kon’s cheek, scratches his fingertips through the stubble on the side of Kon’s head. “I’m in love with you, Conner Kent.”

Tears fill Kon’s eyes, and he blinks them away. “That’s– that’s what I thought you said.” His hand (the one not trapped beneath a sea of shampoos, some detached and unhelpful part of Tim’s mind remarks) comes up to gently rest on Tim’s hip. “Robbie, Tim, I– of course I’m in love with you. You– you’re– you’re amazing, you know that? You’re so kind and strong and you’re a genius and you’re a gift to everyone around you; I dunno how everyone else doesn’t see you like I do.”

Tim can’t help but reach out his other hand to wrap around the back of Kon’s head, to feel where the curls carve a path down through the shorter hair and come to a sharp point.

“I mean, damn Wonder Boy,” Kon tries to muster up his Superboy smirk, but the look in his eyes is full of too much genuine affection for him to pull it off. “I think I’ve been in love with you since Kauai, since you grabbed me outta free-fall and swung me to safety. You caught me. No one’d ever done that before. And then you just… kept doing it. You’re still saving me, still taking care of me.”

Kon reaches his other hand (no eruption of hairspray, thank you TTK, that same unhelpful part of Tim’s mind comments. Read the room! the rest of Tim yells at it.) around the back of Tim’s neck, avoiding the tender and scarred areas with practiced ease, and pulls Tim down until their foreheads touch.

“I love you, Wonder. I love you, Robbie.” Kon tilts his head up, waits until their eyes meet. He’s got the biggest smile on his face that Tim’s ever seen.

Tim smiles back, and Kon’s eyes soften. “I love you, Tim.”

Tim leans down and uses his hands on either side of Kon’s head to guide Kon’s lips up to his own.

This is what I want to remember, Tim thinks as he feels Kon’s fingers gliding softly against the sensitive skin of his burn, feels Kon’s TTK covering and protecting the parts still too tender to touch. Tim runs his own fingertips back and forth over the stubble on the sides of Kon’s head, before pushing them up until they’re tangled in Kon’s curls.

I don’t want to care anymore whether or not the people around me look at the back of my head and see weakness or failure. They don’t get to decide whether this mark on my body matters or what it means. I do. And I decide that these scars are important because they brought me here, to this moment. They brought me to Kon.

Kon tilts his head down to break the kiss. He stands up, and before Tim gets a chance to move away and give him space, Kon wraps his arms and TTK around him. He plants a kiss in Tim’s hair. “Damn, Wonder Boy. Having to grow all my hair back almost feels worth it if it got me here.”

Tim smiles and wraps his arms around Kon’s waist, nestles into Kon’s chest. “You know what, Clone Boy? I was just thinking the same thing.”

[cherrysurf]

Tall blonde and evil! | Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader

chapter 9; cupcake with kids interview

After the bringing in the new year with a good party and a winning trophy life was good. You and bakugou were getting along, the public saw him in a new light, maybe very minor rumors of you having a crush on him but the public will always talk. The nice couple day break you had was amazing, you had finally caught up on sleep and your favorite shows spent more time with your cat, got new clothes for the new year and even got a new year's gift from bakugou. The only bad part to this all was—

You're new found crush on him, you found out a couple days after the ceremony it happened when you couldn’t stop thinking about him and felt empty when you were out doing something with him whether it be work or not, maybe the public was right. But you’d never tell a soul that this was embarrassing as it is the one thing you didn’t want to happen but the thing was you didn’t fall for bakugou because of his looks like every other person did, You fell for him because of the new found person you started seeing in him “the real” him as you call it him being nice and gifting you things didn’t help the emotions either it just added more fuel to the fire.

Today you and him had to head out to an interview for the new youtube channel where celebrities come and bake cupcakes with kids, were the kids ask them questions about their up and coming projects and small things about their life you were quite nervous because you know bakugou can have a bit of a temper when people ask the wrong questions it really didn’t matter who they are—

So as you two arrive on set and you see bakugou get run up on by a bunch of little kids screaming his name and telling him how cool he is, instead of him getting mad at them he’s actually laughing and thanking them. The shock that it gave you was not planned at all but it was so sweet seeing him being polite to all of them and responding to all there questions, when it came time to film it was like a switch had flipped bakugou was more talkative,attentive to make sure none of the kids got hurtr and the cupcakes didn’t get messed up. Maybe a few minor funny arguments with the kids over the dumbest thing but it was nice seeing him being so kind. The kids asked great questions and Bakugou gave them amazing advice to pursue their dreams. This only made your heart well out of the amount of kindness and adoration for him you didn’t care about right now though you were just enjoying the moment seeing him like this, something that was new to you entirely.

bakugou deciding to keep his “nice” streak going invited you out to lunch after the interview he picked out the place since he doesn’t trust your food options after he found out you don’t have proper meals sometimes “you know bakugou those kids seem to really admire you” you tease “i hope so, i try to be a good role model” he says “you’ve been doing good the start of this new year” you continue on “i guess you have been too” he says quietly, saying nice things wasn’t exactly bakugou's forte he struggled with it since he was a kid, but he’s been trying he says it’s because of new years goals but you don’t know if that’s for certain sometimes when you think you knew bakugou he’d turn around and surprise you with something completely brand new so it was hard to keep up but you did, or tried….

“hey i’m going on vacation so, you’ll have a break for a week or two” he adds “cool thanks for letting me know” you say shocked he didn’t say anything before “surprised you’re not asking me for what” he says “well i guess after you asked me to set up a dinner for you and your mom because she was visiting town i refrained asking questions like that again.” you say looking down at your food “smart.” he adds, which you nod at— how did the conversation go from casual to awkward in mere seconds you think to yourself. Lunch ended and he dropped you off. Thing was now that you felt a total shift in your dynamic with him it was weird you couldn’t explain what it was or what it meant it was just something unexplainable right now, just like your feelings.

taglist; @kalulakunundrum @sweetadonisbutbetter @rednicotine @ikissfade @bakugouswh0r3 @allurearia @themultifandomgirl @junehasnotbeenfound @darhinadadragon @kodzubaby @harryzcherry @sahrii @kholethecutie @s4ikooo1 @babylambdietcoke @lover-no-lover61 @sikuthealien @homeless-clown @bookaholicfangirl4life @idexmids

[puzzleglum]

Since we still have about nine hours to wait for the update, I wanted to share a few predictions. Some thoughts about why Lanyon might be reminding Hyde of this story from their university years. I think maybe there are two points to it. One: Lanyon wants to convince Hyde to trust him. And two: he wants to make a point related to transformation. Specifically, that of Jekyll to Hyde, and vice versa. I’ll elaborate on both points. First, why would Lanyon need to convince Hyde to trust him? Because Hyde is obviously afraid.

Lanyon got closer, and properly entered the room instead of just standing in the doorway. Hyde, meanwhile, responds with clear panic. His heart is pounding. Note his stutter when he tells Lanyon to stay back. I don’t think we’ve ever seen Hyde stutter like that before, not once. Hyde has no idea what Lanyon’s intentions are with him, you see. But he thinks they can’t be anything good. Remember, Hyde was aware and paying attention for the immediate aftermath of the identity reveal. He saw the ways Lanyon reacted with shock and horror. Hyde expected that. The shock and horror was the point. Hyde revealed their secret to ruin Jekyll’s reputation, to destroy the “pure” and “good” image he had. Hyde heard everything Lanyon said about him, and about Jekyll, and wasn’t surprised by the anger, or disgust, or anything. He knew what was coming when he revealed that Jekyll and Hyde were the same, all along. Hyde knew he was ruining his own life to spite Jekyll. He didn’t care.

A public vivisection of Jekyll, yes. But also of Hyde.

In a sense, Hyde revealed the truth to show everyone: surprise! It was I, the evil Mr. Hyde, who was the monster in Jekyll’s story all along! And the thing about that is…it’s really not safe to stick around after you reveal yourself to be the “monster” of the story. People might attack you now that they can see you for what you really are, you know? But Hyde is trapped. Don’t forget about the police and angry mob right outside the door. Monsters are to be feared and hated. Hyde knows that’s how it usually goes. The pitchforks must be coming for him. Right? (Hyde here would be ignoring the fact the Society isn’t filled with people who follow convention. Rather the opposite. And it’s not like any of them turned away someone like Frankenstein’s Creature. On the contrary, the Society welcomed him! But internalized self-hatred has a funny way of making you believe there must be something uniquely bad about you. Even when the evidence suggests differently. So it is with Hyde’s self perception.) Now, Hyde, too, must suffer the consequences of the secret being out. And he must suffer them alone, since Jekyll decided to abandon himself and his own life. What the hell is Hyde supposed to do now? Be scared, of course. And so we come back to the present page. Hyde, afraid of Lanyon, because Lanyon is a Gentleman, and Hyde is a Monster, and there is no way Lanyon means well towards a Monster. Right? And so Hyde tries to remind him that Hyde is, supposedly, a monster: “you have no idea what I’m capable of!” Hyde’s telling him that he will bite, so back off. Only, it’s not intimidating in the slightest. His front of toughness is paper thin. And Lanyon sees this. He sees the fear in Hyde’s face. He hears the stutter in his voice. It’s painfully obvious how scared Hyde must be. How does Lanyon respond, after Hyde tries to intimidate him into staying away? He pauses. Note the ellipsis. Lanyon took a moment to consider his angle.

And he found his angle. Recognition. The gentle acknowledgment of familiarity. Lanyon realized, with Frankie’s help, that Hyde is a part of Jekyll. More than that, he’s always been a part of him. Making the related connection that Jekyll and Hyde share their memories would be easy, thus addressing Hyde as “you” when telling this story. After all, their memories being shared would perfectly explain why Hyde, a person Lanyon had seemingly never met before, acted like a scorned ex the first time they spoke.

The sudden, righteous anger was a shock to Lanyon. Why, oh why, did Hyde keep acting like he knew Lanyon? Why did he have a personal grudge against him? I’m sure Lanyon must have wracked his brain to try and figure it out. Try to remember if he had known Hyde, back in university. But no, he would’ve remembered him. It just didn’t add up…until now. Because you know who else acted like a scorned ex, only one night before the present day of the comic?

That’s right. Our dear Henry Jekyll. These two panels, their dialogue, have the exact same source: a feeling of being unloved, and uncared for. The resentment of heartbreak. The difference between now and then is that Lanyon finally has the context to know why Hyde held those feelings, back then. Because Hyde sees Jekyll’s memories as fully his own. Jekyll’s history is Hyde’s history. They are, and always have been, fundamentally the same person. What’s changed now, I believe, is that Lanyon has finally realized this. He’s realized Jekyll and Hyde share memories, and the implications thereof. And that’s why he’s correctly addressing Hyde as “you” when telling a story about their university days. To circle back, I think Lanyon has a point in telling this particular story to Hyde. His angle is to build a bridge. To build trust. To let Hyde know what Lanyon has realized. He’s showing Hyde that he finally recognizes him. That he understands Hyde is not a monster, or a stranger, or a demonic curse on Jekyll’s soul. None of that. He’s a part of the man he loves. And that means Lanyon is not going to hurt him. On the contrary. He’s here to help. But why this particular story? Because of this:

Jekyll is correct, Metamorphoses is indeed the source of Lanyon’s Latin quote. It’s a narrative poem, with a unifying theme of transformations. I think it’s telling that Jekyll immediately recognizes it. Him and Lanyon are both familiar with the poem. And so, naturally, they’ll talk about that a bit on the next page. Maybe Lanyon will have more quotes to share. Maybe Jekyll will have his own quotes that mean something to him. And if he does, I imagine they’d be relevant now. Transformation is an experience that Henry Jekyll has become intimately familiar with, ever since the first night that Jekyll became Hyde. And that, I believe, is why Lanyon is telling this story. Transformation is the connection. Metamorphosis. I don’t know the exact point Lanyon wants to make, but if I had to guess, it would be something like this: ‘I see that you have changed. You have transformed. But I still recognize you.’ Meaning, he both acknowledges that Hyde’s form, and outward personality, are obviously different from Jekyll. And yet, he is the same person. He is still Henry. Just a different facet of him. A side of the man that’s usually hidden from the world. But just because people don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. Hyde, the parts that make him, have always been there, even before Jekyll separated Hyde from himself with the formula. Those parts just didn’t have their own discrete personality and consciousness to go with them, before. Before I end it here, I also want to share an alternative: that the Latin quote Lanyon has already shared here is the most relevant part, and all that other stuff I just said, about transformation, is not the point of him telling this story. If that might be the case, let’s take a look at a translation I found of the quote: "But a strange power draws me to him against my will. Love urges one thing: reason another." (“Cupido” here is translated to “love” but it can also be translated to “desire,” which might be more common in the few translations I’ve found.) It’s about internal conflict, that of either following your desires OR logic and common sense. Hm! Highly relevant to the conflict between Jekyll and Hyde. Hyde is all about discarding reason and following his desires. Jekyll, meanwhile, has other concerns. His reputation, mainly. Sometimes, we must sacrifice our desires to maintain our place in society, which is important to our survival. But what happens if we choose to sacrifice our deepest desires, constantly, for years? Never giving ourselves a break? Well…you get Henry Jekyll, a man so repressed that he’d rather separate himself from his desires completely than change the way he lives his life. So maybe that’s the point of Lanyon telling this story. He might recognize that Hyde is the embodiment of those repressed desires, and that’s what he’s leading up to. I could see it going either way, with him making a point about transformation or desire. Or hell, maybe both! It’s not like Lanyon can’t be making multiple points with this story. And that’s where I must end this. Also, I was a bit sleep deprived when I wrote this. So if any of what I said doesn’t make sense, or doesn’t quite connect, you are free to both point that out to me (I welcome all feedback!) and to blame it on that sleeplessness. Either way, thank you to those who read all my rambles to the finish! You are all wonderful folks, as far as I’m concerned. Seriously, thank you for reading. <333333333333

[linearao3]

I don’t have a new Publish or Perish chapter and probably won’t any time super soon because I am very tired and also I hate that I am being accidentally Relevant due to H-1B Discourse. So please accept this tiny little interstitial — probably the only Kaz POV I will provide for this fic. You could say there are spoilers but I think it’s more like foreshadowing? This might not even be canonical to the fic. Who can say. But please enjoy.

—

He reaches for the phone out of habit, because that’s what he does now at night, look and see if Inej has texted him. And yes, she did just leave, but you never know.

She hasn’t texted. She just left; of course she hasn’t.

He thinks vaguely that he might have read somewhere that you should ask people to text you when they get home safely. He can’t remember if this was etiquette advice, or a devious way of making sure they kept thinking about you.

He’d had some notion, in his head, that after he kissed her, she might turn in the doorway and close her hand around his jaw, pull him down to kiss her. She is so warm, and her mouth is warmer, and he imagines — imagines too much, with too much of his time and too much presumption that he’ll ever find out — that it’s even warmer than that in her cunt.

He’s jealous of the stupid toy. He’s so smug that she likes it.

He types

Sex is so strange. I had all these notions of what I wanted to do, and I didn’t do any of them, and what I did do feels like the only good thing that has ever happened to anyone ever. That’s how I felt when you came to my office, too.

He never texts her first. He likes knowing she chose to start it, that she wants it. That she’s lying in bed thinking about him. He keeps typing.

The thing is that my brother died. And that’s the only thing that ever happened to me, really.

He’s forty — okay, no, he’s not forty, but he feels like he ought to be forty — and he’s tried to have sex exactly twice before now, once with Jesper and once with Imogen and they were both so disastrous he tries not to think about it. But he’s forty or thirty or whatever and he’s coming to the end of his debt and he will take care of Rollins soon, soon, pull out the brick of Marya Van Eck and everything will crumble. And then he’ll just be — a professor, he supposes. A professor with a good salary who could get stupid nice small things and could have friends over for dinner and could have a girlfriend. Because why shouldn’t he? Except that there’s a gaping savage maw where his heart ought to be.

I do still want to fuck you. I bought some condoms. I imagined you putting one on me, like a horny sex ed class with Dr. Ghafa, and I’d be so hard in your hand.

He jerked off before she came, with the idea that he might last longer when she was actually there, and he doesn’t know if he can physically manage three in a night but his body seems interested in trying it.

He was never really a teenager, he thinks— he woke up in the hospital whatever thing he is now, which wasn’t a child and has maybe never been an adult — so maybe now he’s doing adolescence as a crash course, an intensive study in constant graceless horniness and short-sighted stupidity.

You’re never going to forgive me. I want you to. You shouldn’t. It’s just that I’m selfish. If you asked me I’ll say that it’s because I promised you but it’s really because I just want to be able to see you sometimes. I want to be able to give you things. I’m not going to send this. I just got so used to telling you things. You are so beautiful and I want you so much and I am so tired. I’m going to sleep. Sleep well, Inej. Come and talk to me.

He force-quits the chat application, drops the phone, and falls asleep. He dreams Inej smiles, bright and vicious and righteous, and tells him he did everything just right.