#I’ve really enjoyed drawing this guy though

[baskervilleshound]

Uhhhh have you guys ever thought about how you would grieve the loss of what your body used to be if you got mutated into something else entirely? Because I definitely did…..

[bluehexagone]

Realism is fun till it isn’t and I realize I’ve already committed too far and can’t just scrap it but I know it will take me too long so here are some sacrifices you may see finished later on

[chaosduckies]

I've seen some of your art and it's incredible but is there anything you're practicing on improving for it? (Like anatomy or different styles that kinda stuff.)

For my art I don’t spend a lot of time on… I don’t like anatomy and I haven’t really thought about changing my art style either, mainly because I am not an artist and don’t focus on it that much. I’d rather focus more on writing since I find more enjoyment with that instead of drawing! Thank you for the ask anon! :D

[babeforjjmaybanks]

orange soda crush ༊*·˚

pairing: popular!rafe x shy!femreader ౨ৎ

summary: rafe's grades were slipping, to say the least. your school assigns you as his tutor, hoping maybe you could save him. one afternoon, rafe shows up to your house with in need of some help.

warning(s): dry humping, fingering, finger licking, mentions of biting (hickeys), thigh riding, marijuana use, swearing, size kink if you squint, mentions of scratching, slight overstim, rafe becomes whipped so possessiveness, innocence corruption(?), praise, slight perv!rafe, titobsessed!rafe, dni if you don't like!!!

mentions of: rafey, rafe is called a "sex symbol", y/n, sweetheart, good girl, baby, sweet girl, dumbass, needy girl, slut, doll, cute, pretty ౨ৎ

a/n: if not known already, this is basically a obx highschool au, pogues and looks still exist but it's more like jocks and nerds. both reader and rafe are seniors, not minors! I don't have much experience with writing fics but here's my current fixation, enjoy & leave notes! <3

word count: 4168

divider by: @issysh3ll

y/n had been sitting quietly in her history class, the bell signaling the end of the period ringing in the distance. she was gathering her books when the overhead speaker crackled to life, interrupting the usual noise of students packing up.

"pardon this interruption, y/n l/n, please report to principal phelp’s office immediately."

the announcement hung in the air, drawing the attention of a few nearby students. she froze, a slight chill running through her. she wasn’t the type to get into trouble—her grades were impeccable, she kept to herself, and she was always on time. so why was she being called to the principal’s office? her mind raced through all the possible reasons, none of which seemed likely. had she missed an assignment? was there a mistake with her records? or was it the skirt she decided to wear today that definitely didn’t meet the dress code?

her heart pounded as she made her way down the hall, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. as she approached the principal’s office, she noticed the usual hustle and bustle of students outside. some of them exchanged glances, their curious eyes following her every step, looking her up and down with whispers and sly looks. when she reached the door, she hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly.

"come in," came the deep voice of principal phelps.

she opened the door to find him sitting behind his desk, a manila folder in front of him. the room was neat, almost too perfect, the smell of old books and polished wood filling the air. but what really caught her off guard was the figure sitting across from him.

rafe cameron, the school's golden boy.

her stomach dropped. rafe was sitting with his arms crossed, his signature smirk plastered across his face as he looked over at her. His messy curtain and athletic jacket seemed almost out of place in the sterile office, like he didn’t belong in this space. she had always known of him, of course. he was the star quarterback, the guy everyone knew by name, the one who seemed to glide effortlessly through life. and now, here he was, looking at her as if he had all the time in the world, while she, on the other hand, was caught off guard and confused.

"there she is, come on in we were just talking about you." principal phelps said with a warm smile, though she could detect a hint of urgency in his tone. "take a seat."

she sat down hesitantly, trying to avoid looking directly at rafe. the tension in the air was palpable, and she was acutely aware of how out of place she felt in this situation.

"y/n," principal phelps began, folding his hands in front of him, his expression turning serious, "I’ve called you here because I need a favor. you know rafe, right?"

you glanced at rafe again, his eyes diverted to something else in the room as if he wasn’t staring at you. he seemed unfazed by the situation, though there was a subtle flicker of something in his eyes. "um, yeah," you said quietly, not sure where this conversation was going.

principal phelps nodded. "well, rafe here has been struggling in a few subjects. he’s having difficulty with math, english, and history.” principal phelps cleared his throat trying to ignore the fact that he named almost every class. “and unfortunately, his grades are slipping dangerously low. If he doesn’t get his grades up, he could lose his eligibility to play on the football team, which would jeopardize his scholarship opportunities." he paused, giving her a moment to process the gravity of the situation.

she blinked, her mind racing. rafe? struggling? the same rafe who could probably get away with doing the bare minimum and still pass every class? the same rafe with the fancy sport cars and the fancy mansion he threw ragers in? (allegedly, she’s never been to one.) the same rafe who had never so much as acknowledged her existence in all the years they’d been in school?

"I’m asking you," principal phelps continued, leaning forward slightly, "to tutor rafe for the next few weeks. he needs to pass these subjects to stay on track. and I know you’re one of our top students, y/n. you’re smart, diligent, and patient—exactly what rafe needs right now."

rafe shifted in his chair, his smirk faltering for just a moment. "yeah, sweetheart," he added with a lazy grin, "I could use your help. think you can handle it?" he glanced down at her thighs, and then back up at her. she felt her face flush at the sudden name.

her mind was spinning. she had never thought of rafe as anything more than the popular guy—someone she’d seen in the hallways but never really interacted with. actually, that was a lie, the thinking part. she actually would think about rafe alot when she was bored, specifically his toned body and the way he bit his lip when he was thinking. she had no idea how to deal with someone like him.

"I—I don’t know," she stammered, feeling her face flush. "I’m not sure I’m the right person for this."

principal phelps’s voice softened, but there was still a sense of urgency in his words. "I’m sure you are. rafe, here, is a good kid at heart, but he’s under a lot of pressure. If you help him out, it could mean a lot to him—and to his future."

rafe’s eyes met hers again, and for a split second, she thought she saw something other than cockiness—a hint of desperation, maybe even embarrassment. but it was gone before she could fully understand it.

she took a deep breath. she had never been one to shy away from responsibility, even if the situation seemed overwhelming. she didn’t want to be the one to deny him help, especially when it could affect his future.

"okay," she finally said, her voice steady but unsure. "I’ll help."

principal phelps smiled, relief flooding his face. "thank you, y/n. I know this is a lot to ask, but I think you’re exactly what rafe needs."

as she stood up to leave, she felt the weight of the task ahead of her settle in. she glanced one more time at rafe, who was still sitting there, his posture slightly more relaxed now. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel the tension between them already starting to form, a mix of uncertainty and something unspoken.

"see you tomorrow, then," she said, her words more for herself than for him, before leaving the office to prepare for what was about to be an unexpected and challenging journey.

over the past two weeks, y/n and rafe had settled into a rhythm, though it was far from smooth at first. their tutoring sessions started awkwardly—rafe's usual cocky demeanor clashed with y/n’s quiet, no-nonsense attitude. he would slouch in his chair, often cracking jokes or making sarcastic comments, testing her patience. but y/n, determined to get him through the material, refused to let him off the hook. slowly, she found ways to get through to him, breaking down complicated equations and historical events into relatable, bite-sized pieces. rafe, surprisingly, started to respond. he still struggled, but he began showing up earlier for their sessions, staying later, and even asking questions without the usual bravado.

as the days passed, the tutoring sessions shifted from strictly academic to more personal. one evening, as they were going over a particularly difficult history assignment, rafe let slip that his father had been pushing him to be the perfect athlete, to always be "the best." "It’s not just about football," rafe admitted, his tone more vulnerable than she had ever heard. "I just don’t want to disappoint him, you know?" y/n was taken aback. she had always seen rafe as the confident jock, but here was a side of him she hadn’t expected—a young man weighed down by more than just his grades. she listened quietly, offering a rare, understanding smile that made rafe pause for a moment. after that, their sessions felt different. the walls that had once separated them began to crumble.

In the weeks that followed, their conversations drifted beyond just homework. rafe started sharing bits of his life with you—how he used to love painting when he was younger, how he struggled with anxiety before big games, and how he was terrified of failing his senior year. you, in turn, opened up as well, telling rafe about your dream of becoming a lawyer and how you often felt like an outsider at school. the two of you discovered common ground in your shared feelings of pressure, and the lines between tutor and student began to blur. with each passing session, you became more comfortable with one another, a connection forming that neither had anticipated—one built on mutual respect, trust, and the quiet bond of shared struggle.

it was a quiet evening when y/n heard the unexpected knock on her door. she glanced at the clock—there was no study session scheduled for that night, so she wasn’t expecting anyone. her parents were out, and she had been planning on catching up on some reading. she opened the door, a little confused, only to find rafe standing on her porch, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. his usual confident posture was gone, replaced with an uneasy slouch. his eyes were almost bloodshot, and he wore an unfamiliar look on his face—vulnerable, even fragile.

"rafe?" y/n asked, surprised. "what are you doing here?"

he ran a hand through his messy hair and let out a small, strained laugh. "I—I know this is weird. but I, uh... I had a fight with my dad. a big one. he’s pissed about my grades and shit again, and he’s been on my case all week." rafe hesitated, biting his lip as if trying to hold back a wave of frustration. "I... I got high. like really fucking high I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t handle it. and I needed to get out of there." he looked down at his shoes, his words a little rushed. "I just—" he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d—just let me hang out for a bit. I didn’t know where else to go. I didn't wanna seem like a pussy to all of my dumbass friends."

y/n stood frozen for a moment, processing his words. she had never seen him like this. the rafe she knew was always in control, always surrounded by his friends, the football team, and the unshakable air of confidence. this version of him—lost, raw, and uncertain—was a stark contrast. her heart softened at the sight of him, and despite the oddness of the situation, she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in.

"come in," she said, her voice gentle. "let’s sit down."

rafe walked in slowly, his movements sluggish, still unsure of what to say. she led him to the living room and handed him a glass of water, sitting down next to him, a soft hand placed on his back. the room was filled with the low voice of lana del ray and soft hum of the evening, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. rafe finally looked up, meeting her gaze with a look of quiet gratitude mixed with embarrassment along with something untraceable. "I didn’t mean to show up like this, but I didn’t know who else I could trust with this."

y/n’s heart tightened. she had no idea how much weight rafe had been carrying, how much pressure he was under from his father and the constant expectations of being perfect. In that moment, she realized how little she had truly known about him, and yet here he was—vulnerable, raw, and seeking comfort from the one person he had never expected to rely on.

"you don’t have to explain," she said softly. "I’m glad you came." she gave him a weak smile, rafe felt his heart flutter. "so.. how'd you get high? is that stupid question? sorry, you know people are bringing cocaine back into school." he chuckles, she lets out a giggle. "no cocaine here sweetheart, just this." rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out a weed pen, but y/n had never seen anything like it. it was super colorful and weirdly shaped, not like the ones she would see in the bathroom. "can I hold it?" she glanced at rafe, her doe eyes dimly lit with the faint lighting coming from the lamp in the corner. "why? you smoke? no way." he raised his eyebrow at her, but handed her the pen anyway.

"no, I don't smoke but.." she pauses, biting her lip, "I'm tempted. maybe you're just a really bad influence." he scoffed at her, "give it a try, just hold the button and pull it." y/n stood at the device in her hand uncertain. "what do you mean pull?" rafe held back his laugh, she shoots him a glare. "I'm serious." she playfully shoved him.

"yeah yeah I can see that, by pull I mean, suck on it I guess." her face heats up, cursing herself for letting such innocent words cause a fluttery feeling in her stomach. "okay, I'll try." she focused her attention of the pen and did as rafe said, she put the pen up to her lips and "sucked." rafe watched intensely as her lips wrapped around the tip of the pen, he swallows hard. trying to keep his composure, aka stop staring at your boobs in your thin strapped top or imagine your lips wrapped around his dick like that.

you slightly inhale the smoke and it immediately gets caught in your throat. you're now in a coughing frenzy, embarrassed as rafe pats your back. "atta girl, that's how you do it don't try to hold it in, let it out." y/n found herself coughing even more at the sly remarks. she stands up and walks over to the kitchen hastily grabbing an orange fanta from the fridge. she struggles to open it due to her latest french tip set, rafe notices her struggling and walks over. he opens the can with one hand with a sizzle pop! noise, she brings the drink to her lips hoping to relieve her dry mouth.

after taking a couple minutes to calm down, y/n offers rafe to come up to her room. it comes off as a surprise, rafe had never been anywhere in y/n's house except the living room and kitchen, never upstairs. but with no complaint, he follows behind her, watching the way her ass moves as she climbs up the steps. they make it to her room and it's safe to say, it was tidy. everything seemed like it had a place, and the room was lit with purple led's. but the best part of it all, was her bed. the mattress was extremely comfortable and she had an abundance of pillows as well as plushies.

"yeah this fits you, like a doll in a dollhouse." he walks around her room a bit before sitting on her bed getting comfortable.

meanwhile, y/n on the other hand was in a whole other world.

her ears were burning almost, she could hear her heartbeat and her whole body was tingling. she felt nothing short of amazing, euphoric even.

the usual walls between them had melted away, and now, as the evening dragged on, the space between them felt more intimate than it ever had before. there was movie was playing on her TV, but neither of them seemed particularly interested in it. they were both laughing at the silly dialogue and weird moments on the screen, but most of the time their eyes kept drifting back to each other.

rafe broke the silence, his voice softer than usual. "you know," he said, arms wrapped around her waist as she sat on top of him, "this is the most chill I’ve felt in weeks." his eyes were a little glassy, but his smile was genuine, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. "It’s nice being away from everything… away from the pressure."

she nodded, her head slightly spinning from the effects. the room felt warmer, the air thicker, and rafe’s presence seemed to fill the space between them in a way that felt new. he shifted, his chest brushing her back, and neither of them pulled away. It felt like a small moment of intimacy, unspoken yet undeniable.

"yeah," she replied, her voice quieter now, "it’s nice not to think about all the things we’re supposed to be worrying about."

"I wonder, do you ever worry about me? think about me at night?" his tone was teasing, but there was something more behind it, something she could feel but couldn’t quite place. It was an invitation, but also something more—like a question she wasn’t sure how to answer. "so much goes on behind those pretty eyes."

y/n felt her heart beat a little faster as she considered it. part of her wanted to stay upright on his lap, maintain the little distance they had been keeping, but something about rafe’s tone, the way his eyes held hers, made her hesitate. she wanted to trust this moment, to let it unfold without overthinking it. she melted into his touch, resting her head in the crook of his neck, thighs pressed together. "I do."

rafe shifted to make room as he breathed in the scent of vanilla, the bed soft beneath him. the air between them was electric now, charged with a tension that neither of them seemed willing to break. the movie was still playing, but neither of them was paying attention to it anymore. they were closer now, the space between them reduced to nothing and for the first time in a long time she wasn't sure of something, she wasn’t sure if she was just feeling the effects of the weed or something more.

rafe leaned back against the pillows, his arms still wrapped around her body. "we don’t have to watch the movie," he said, his voice almost too smooth, like he was testing the waters. his eyes didn’t leave hers, his gaze intent and heavy, and in that moment, the world outside her room seemed to disappear.

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as the tension between them grew. every inch of her body was acutely aware of him, the way his presence felt so overwhelming, so magnetic. she had always seen rafe as someone distant, someone who belonged to a world she could never quite fit into. but now, with the smoke being blown in her face, taken in by slightly parted lips, she felt like they were on the same level.

she opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just looked at him, her pulse racing as her mind swirled in the haze of the night.

"I wanna touch you."

rafe's breath fell heavy on her ear, sending a slight chill down her spine. her breath hitched, and there was that same flutter in her stomach. she didn't exactly have any experience in things like this but she wasn't entirely clueless, but never dealt with it hands on.

but rafe? he was a fucking sex symbol. several girls would literally leave notes in his locker with their address begging him to fuck them. but he would only rack up two bodies, or so it's said.

both of those girls transferred schools due to death threats.

but y/n doesn't understand why he would choose her.

"touch, me?" her voice was soft, but not afraid. infact, she was more relaxed than ever. "I wanna make you feel good, you're gonna be the fucking death of me. so innocent you don't even notice how you're straddling me, do you?" y/n took notice of how firmly planted on his thigh she was, no longer fully in his lap. "um, well.." rafe placed his hands on her hips, slowly guiding her back and forth. a jolt of pleasure shooting through her body, "rafey." a mewl creepy from her lips, rafe was fucking aching in his sweats at this point. hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted slightly. "shit, you want me to stop? just give me the word i'll stop." he halts his movements, earning a disappointed whine.

"I don't want you to stop."

rafe curses under his breath, he slides her onto his lap and grinds his hips up into her, letting out a low groan. "you're a needy girl aren't you? so stressed and pent up. you can let go, I got you." rafe coo'd into her ear, placing soft kisses on her shoulders and moving to her neck, biting and sucking, hands rubbing all over her body, palming her boobs through her top, fingers brushing over her nipples.

rafe turns her head twords him, pressing their lips together. a mix of cherry lipgloss and orange fanta settling on his tongue. the kiss is sloppy and heated, the air in the room is thick as the movie in the background gets drowned out by moans and heavy breaths.

"such a sweet girl, you know that? all the shit you do for me? you deserve a fucking trophy." rafe showers her with praise has he goes back to kissing her neck, hands never leaving her body as she caught the rhythm on her own.

her brain was foggy with pleasure, lips parted but could't respond with anything but moans and "mhm's." rafe plays with the hem of her pajama pants, "can I?" she nods, "words, baby I need to hear you say it."

y/n, almost frustrated lets out a defeated sigh. "yes, but.." she hesitates. "can you take your shirt off?" she says quietly, as if she wasn't already in such a vulnerable state.

rafe chuckles at the sudden request, but does as she says. he pulls his black shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. y/n does the same. rafe is practically drooling at the sight of the pink lacy bra. his hands cup her breasts through the fabric, she arches her back against his chest. he slides his hand into her pants, glancing down to see that her underwear matched her bra. "so fucking cute."

he rubs her through the fabric, dampness seeping through the material. he teases her with long strides and rubs circles around her clit. he slips his hand into her underwear, almost moaning at the slick. y/n bites her swollen lip in an attempt to save her embarrassment.

"I want you to watch me."

her eyes slowly moved down to rafes hand in her pants, her face heated with embarrassment as she watched rafe's wrist forearm and wrist flexed as he worked her clit, finger teasing her entrance. "I need you to relax, open your legs for me." rafe slowly parted her thighs with his free hand. "good fucking girl, so obedient." he kisses her cheek as he slides a digit into her sopping cunt. she inhales sharply, her head is thrown over his shoulder and her nails dig slightly into his arms.

"shit, just sucking me in. if I didn't know any better i'd think you were a slut." rafe's teasing manner never seemed to stop, he was two fingers, knuckle deep, in his supposed to be tutor. the only thing they were studying were eachothers body movements.

he found a steady pace working his fingers in and out of her, her moans becoming more high pitched, rafe could tell she was close. her hips bucked up into his hand, an unfamiliar knot forming in her stomach.

"rafey— 'm gonna— fuck!"

rafe was in genuine disbelief, not only did he cum in his pants but this was the first time he had ever heard you swear, tonight was a lot of firsts. the girl that he had been crushing on for weeks was about to cum on his fingers, moaning his name. he was never letting her go after this.

almost like it was on cue, y/n's orgasm hit like a truck. her entire body was shaking and she swore she saw starts. on top of that, rafe was still working his fingers in and out of her riding out her orgasm. she swatted his hands away and he took his hand out of her pants, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and licking them clean. she falls off of his lap onto the cool comforter beside him, chest heaving. he lays beside her and wraps his arms around her waist.

"want me to go run a bath, sweetheart?" he kisses the nape of her neck and cages her in. "'n a minute, just stay here for a second."

"didn't plan on leaving." ౨ৎ

[amirasainz]

hi! Could you maybe do something like reader is Lando's baby sister and it's her first time at a GP so he shows her off to all the drivers?

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl 🧡

Proud big brother

Lando was bouncing with excitement as he led his six-year-old sister, Y/N, through the paddock at the Silverstone Grand Prix. It was her first time attending a race weekend, and he was beyond thrilled to have her here. He'd been talking about it for weeks, sending her little videos of the track, the car, and the crowd. He’d told her everything he could think of to help her understand what a race weekend was like.

Today, though, seeing her tiny hand in his, wide-eyed with awe as she looked around, he felt a mix of pride and protectiveness. He was determined to make this the best day ever for her.

Lando grinned as they entered the McLaren garage, and his engineer shot him a look of amusement, clearly surprised to see him accompanied by someone so small.

“Y/N, meet the team!” Lando gestured with a grand sweep of his hand. “These guys keep my car fast and safe.”

Y/N looked around with big eyes, giving a shy wave, which earned a couple of chuckles from the engineers.

Just then, Lando spotted Carlos walking by, and his face lit up. “Oh! Y/N, you have to meet Carlos.” He crouched down beside her, whispering, “He used to be my teammate, and he's one of the nicest guys on the grid.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as Carlos approached, his expression softening immediately when he saw the young girl.

“Hola, Y/N!” Carlos crouched down to her level, extending his hand for a handshake. “I’m Carlos. I've heard so much about you already, niña"

Y/N giggled and shook his hand with both of hers, looking up at Lando as if to say, isn’t he cool?

Lando chuckled, ruffling her hair. “You know, Carlos is really fast too, just like me.”

“Like a race car?” she asked, eyes widening as she looked back at Carlos.

Carlos laughed. “Exactly like a race car. Maybe even faster than Lando.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Lando teased, giving Carlos a playful nudge.

As they chatted, the crowd around them started to notice the heartwarming scene. Cameras from media outlets and phones of fans began focusing on the Norris siblings. Lando noticed the flashing cameras and shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at Y/N, who was too enthralled with Carlos’s explanation of “how to go fast” to notice.

Oscar walked over, intrigued by the gathering. “Who’s this?” he asked, bending down to give Y/N a warm smile.

Lando's eyes sparkled with pride. “This is my little sister, Y/N.”

Oscar’s face lit up as he crouched beside her. “Hi, Y/N. I’m Oscar.”

Y/N looked up at Oscar, studying his soft hair, and before anyone could say a word, she reached out and began gently petting his head as if he were a small animal. She tilted her head, seemingly fascinated by the texture.

Oscar froze for a second, clearly surprised, but then he let out a soft laugh. “Guess I have soft hair, huh?”

Carlos burst out laughing, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got some competition here, Lando. She’s already got a favorite driver.”

Lando’s face flushed, caught between amusement and a sudden urge to shield his sister from all the cameras and teasing.

“Y/N, don’t bother him too much,” he said gently, giving her a small, protective smile. “Oscar needs to save his energy for racing.”

Y/N giggled and looked back at Oscar, who just winked at her, clearly enjoying the attention. Lando could feel the eyes of the media zooming in on their little interaction, the moment drawing attention from fans and reporters alike.

Max strolled over, smirking when he saw the scene. “So, this is the famous Y/N I’ve heard so much about?”

Y/N looked up, wide-eyed. “You’re the one who’s always beating Lanno!” she said with innocent frankness, making all the drivers burst into laughter.

Lando groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Thanks, Y/N. I feel the love.”

Max chuckled, bending down so he was eye-level with her. “You know, it’s only because I have more experience,” he explained, trying to keep a straight face. "And because I'm just a bit better than he is right now," he teased gently.

Y/N tilted her head, looking from Max to Lando. “Will you beat him, Lanno?”

Lando nodded, trying to sound confident, though he was smiling at her earnest expression. “Of course I will, Y/N. I’m going to win a championship one day.”

Y/N’s face lit up with excitement, and she threw her arms around him. “You’re my favorite driver, Lanno!”

The other drivers couldn’t help but chuckle at the sweet interaction. Charles had joined the group by now, observing everything with an amused smile.

“Don’t worry, Lando,” Charles teased, folding his arms. “Y/N’s loyalty clearly lies with you.”

“Yeah, for now,” Carlos chimed in, smirking as he watched her go back to petting Oscar’s hair. “But give her a couple more races with us, and she might just change her mind.”

Lando rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. He gently tugged Y/N’s hand, leading her away from Oscar. “Alright, alright, don’t get too comfortable with my teammates. You’re here to support me, remember?”

Y/N nodded, but her attention was soon stolen by a nearby display of miniature cars in the McLaren hospitality area. She tugged on Lando’s sleeve, pointing at them with wide, sparkling eyes.

“Oh! Look, Lanno! Tiny race cars!”

Lando chuckled, letting her excitement distract him from his nerves about the media coverage. “Want to pick one out? Maybe we can find one that looks like my car.”

As she eagerly examined the toy cars, the other drivers exchanged grins, clearly entertained by Lando’s newfound protective side.

“Just wait until she wants to attend all the races,” Charles teased, nudging Lando. “You’ll be too busy babysitting to focus.”

“Right, and she’ll be rooting for Oscar,” Max added, giving Lando a playful shove.

Lando gave them all a playful glare. “You all wish,” he shot back. “She’s my number one fan, right, Y/N?”

Y/N looked up, clutching a toy car that she’d chosen. “Yep! Lanno is the best driver in the world!”

All the drivers exchanged looks of amusement, sharing a laugh, but Lando’s expression softened as he glanced down at his little sister. She didn’t understand the rivalry, the pressure, or the spotlight. To her, he was simply her big brother.

And in that moment, as he held her hand and watched her excitement, he realized that he wouldn’t trade this for anything.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Will Graham X Reader: Academic validation

Warnings: smut, switch reader x switch will, use of pet names (darling, baby), drinking, fluff, making out, penetration (p in v), cowgirl, oral (f receiving), handjob, female anatomy, gender neutral reader no use of y/n.

Word Count: 2,5K

You really should be paying attention to the lecture. And boy were you trying to but his fucking hands. His fucking hands were driving you insane. Every time he fidgeted with them as he spoke or used them to point out a particular aspect of the crime he was analyzing you found yourself distracted.

It wasn’t hard to have a crush on Will. He was an attractive guy. An attractive slightly older guy who passed off a sort of touch starved vibe. You had a thing for guys like that. The only problem was that he was your teacher. All though you didn’t think that should matter. You were an adult who was capable of making your own choices and so was Will. The real issue was the way that your little crush had started affecting your learning. You tried to pay attention to what Will was saying but as soon as your eyes caught a glimpse of his lips you could help but think of kissing him. You were so deep in thought you didn't notice him finish his lecture. And you didn’t notice as your colleagues shuffled out of the classroom. Your head snapped up at the sound of someone calling your name. Your eyes found Will's frame. He was sitting on top of his desk, eyes locked onto you. You stared at him in silence.

“You okay?”

His brows furrowed in worry as he continued to observe you. Gosh he was cute like this. You shook your head letting out a small laugh.

“Yeah. Sorry Mr.Graham must have gotten caught up in my own head.”

“Will’s fine.”

“Sorry what?”

“Oh uh you can just call me Will.”

“Oh okay Will. I’ll get out of your hair.”

You picked up your textbook, shoving it in your bag before moving down the steps towards Will's desk. You gave him a small smile as you made your way to the door.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

His question made you freeze. You turned around so that you were facing him. His hands were pushed up against his desk drawing attention to his muscles. You bit the inside of your cheek forcing yourself to focus on his face.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just noticed you haven’t been yourself lately. You usually participate a lot in class. But you’ve been really quiet this past week. It got me wondering.”

“Can i be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind the last few days and I'm having trouble keeping up in class. I didn't want to say anything because I know what everyone will say.”

“What will they say?”

“That I'm not cut out for this.”

Will let out an understanding hum. He pushed his body off the desk, turning his back to you as he made his way to his chair. You watched him, taking in how his body moved.  On instinct you found yourself moving towards his desk. It was as if there was some invisible force pulling you to him. 

“When I started teaching people thought I wasn't gonna last a week. They thought I was too odd. Too sensitive to handle a classroom dynamic. Do you know what I did?”

You shake your head. 

“I proved them wrong.”

Will grinned at you and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. A moment of silence passed over the room. Will was deep in thought. You could tell just by looking at him. You thought of going on your way but before you could move Will started to speak once more.

“Show me what you’re having a hard time with.”

“Oh no, I couldn't possibly do that. You have to go home and i-”

“Do you have plans?”

You didn’t, not unless you count eating dinner alone and watching a movie before bed as plans. 

“You’re sure I won't be a bother?”

“Not at all. Believe it or not I actually enjoy teaching. Could you just do me a favor first?”

“Yeah sure, what do you need?”

“Close the door will you?”

You placed your bag on Will’s desk before walking to the door. You stuck your head out looking at the empty hall. You shut the door carefully before turning around. Your eyes fell on Will's frame. He was sitting on his desk, his hand slicking back his hair as he waited for you.

You were stuck in a room with Will Graham. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

It turns out there was a lot more you’d missed then you had anticipated. Will didn’t seem to mind though. He went over every case you didn’t remember and never judged you for missing any clues. Even if they were kind of obvious. After a while the two of you drifted into other topics. You told Will about your life and he shared stories of his dogs. At some point Will had pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his desk and everything seemed to go downhill from there.

You were currently sitting on the floor desperately trying to breathe in between laughs. Will had just told you about the time Winston had run away and gotten sprayed by a skunk. 

“ I couldn't get the smell out of the house for a week. And the other dogs didn’t want to go near him. They treated him like he was contagious.”

“You’re kidding!” “I swear!” 

The sound of yours and Will's laugh filled the room again. He let out a deep sigh, finally managing to regain his breath. When you met his gaze he had a smile plastered on his face.

“What is it?”

“Oh nothing. It’s just been a while since I've done something like this.”

“What, gotten drunk in a classroom?”

“Had a fun time with someone.”

Your stomach did a flip at Will's words. You knew he wasn’t a typically social guy but you imagined he had friends. You’d seen him talking to Dr.Bloom a couple of times and couldn’t help but notice how he looked at him.

It was the same way you looked at him. 

“Hey.”

Will placed his hand on yours leaning his head to the side.

“Did I say something?”

“No. Sorry. Just having a hard time believing you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nevermind. I should get going. It's getting late.”

You rose from the ground. Will mirrored your movements, rising to his feet as well. You downed the last of your drink, placing your cup down on Wills desk. You accidentally knocked your bag down in the process, causing your things to go spilling out everywhere.

“Oh fuck me.”

“Here let me help.”

Will crouched down beside you helping you gather your things. The two of you moved without paying too much attention,  the alcohol in your system making you clumsy. Somehow you managed to knock your head into Will's nose.

“Oh shit sorry Will.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. You might be bleeding. Here let me take a look.”

You guided Will to his chair, your things forgotten on the floor. He sat down, his hand still applying pressure to his nose. You placed a hand on top of him, guiding him to let go. He understood your request. Your fingers moved carefully over his nose, trying to see if anything was bruised. Will hissed as you touched a tender spot.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m not a doctor but i don't think anything is broken. And you're not bleeding so you should be fine.”

Instinctively you placed your hand on Will's cheek. You watched him close his eyes, learning into your touch. Slowly Will opened his eyes. His blue orbs bore into you. He was looking up at you with puppy eyes. Your breath sped up at the sight. His lips parted slightly to whisper your name. Will's hand moved to the back of your leg. He pushed your body closer to his, hand wrapping around your thigh. You lifted your leg allowing him to guide you onto his lap. Will moved his head to the side, moving to kiss your wrist. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as he continued to kiss down your arm. A gasp left your mouth as Will pressed his face into your chest, his arms wrapping around your back as he desperately tried to be closer to you. You could feel his tongue though the fabric of your shirt. The feeling caused you to throw your head back as your hands made their way into Will’s curls. You heard him call your name again making you look down at him. He had his head against your chest, his beautiful blue eyes staring up at you.  

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Will pulled you down into him, allowing the two of you to be face to face. The kiss was gentle and far too quick for your liking. Your lips parted for each other. Will put his hand on your cheek. His thumb moved over your lips, caressing them. You opened your mouth, tongue darting out to lick the tip of his digit. Will let out a shuddered breath at the action. You smirked at him. 

“You should be careful darling. You don’t know who you’re playing with.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you show me?”

The grin that made its way onto Will's face could only be described as wolfish. Before you knew it Will had risen from his seat and placed you on the ground. He wasted no time working his way into your pants. You gasped as his fingers played with your folds.

“This wet already?”

“In all honesty i’ve been wet since we started talking.”

“Jesus baby.”

“I think about you a lot. In class. In bed. Anywhere really.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you think about?”

“Your hands, your back, what you’d look like naked.”

“So that's why you’re behind? Been to busy thinking of fucking me to pay attention.”

“Yes…”

Will tugged at your pants, pulling them down your leg. You lifted your hips to help him out. He lent down, placing a kiss to your thighs and you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. Will grazed his teeth against your skin and then continued to kiss the spot.

“Will, please.”

“What do you want?”

“Anything, just please give me something.”

“Only cause you’ve been good.”

A moan broke from your lips as Will's tongue moved over your folds. You placed your hand over your face, head turning to the side as Will ate you out. He was skilled. A lot more skilled than you’d imagined him to be. The way his tongue moved over your pussy had you screaming out for him. Your sounds seemed to spur him on because whenever you let out a yelp, Will would focus all his energy into that spot. His palm was splayed against your chest, fingers gripping at your breast.

You wrapped your hands around Will's wrist dragging his hand up to your face. You placed two of his fingers into your mouth sucking on them eagerly. Will let out a grunt at the feeling, his hips moving against the carpet for some much needed friction. You watched him hump the carpet like a dog in heat and you couldn’t help but want to pleasure him too. You wanted to make him feel as good as he was making you feel because he deserved it. But at the moment you were far more focused on cumming.

“Will, baby, I'm so close…”

“Yeah. You gonna cum for me?”

“Ah Will-shit ugh-please.”

Will seemed to know exactly what you were begging for. He placed a kiss on your clit as he inserted two fingers into you. The combination of his fingers inside you, his tongue on you and the sight of the blissed out look on his face had you cumming in seconds. You yelled out his name, your hand tugging on his curls as you came. Will laid down beside you as you came down from your high. His hand went to his dick, tugging at his pants in an attempt to get some relief. You tried to catch your breath, tilting your head to look at Will. You noticed how he fidgeted with his hard on. You called out his name, making him tilt his head to look at you. 

“What is it?”

“Touch yourself for me.”

Will hesitated for a moment, eyes searching for your approval.

“It’s okay baby, you can touch yourself. It’s your reward for making me feel good.”

It was funny how quickly you managed to switch roles and by the look on Will's face you could tell he enjoyed it. Will opened his zipper, his hand moving to free his member. You inched closer to him, nuzzling your face into the croak of his neck. Will whined as he started stroking his dick. You unbuttoned his shirt, placing your hand on his skin. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he continued to pleasure himself.

“That’s it baby.”

“Oh fuck. Want to…”

“Tell me what you need, Will.”

“Need to be inside of you.”

“Okay, since you’ve been a good boy. I’ll give you what you want.”

You pushed your body off the ground, moving to be on your hands and knees. You crawled over Will's body maneuvering yourself so you were hovering over his dick. You placed your hands on his chest bracing yourself. Will humped into you causing his dick to nudge against your cunt. 

“Ah ah patience Will.”

“Sorry.”

Slowly you sank down onto his dick. His hands gripped your hips instinctively. You let out a breath, trying to adjust to his size. You clenched around Will, making him grunt at the feeling. You lifted your hips before dropping back down. Will moved in unison with you, his hand playing with your nipples as you continued to ride him. Your nails dug into his chest as you moved, the sounds he was letting out only spurring you on. You could feel your upcoming orgasm causing you to fasten your movements. 

“Fuck i’m gonna cum. Gotta get out darling.”

Will moved to tug you on him but you sank your nails into his shoulders. He looked up at you with a startled look. 

“I’m on the pill. Cum inside just please…fill me up. I want you to fill me up.”

You had no idea what your words did to him but it became clear a few seconds later. You barely had time to register Wills orgasm before your own ripped through you. You sagged onto his chest exhaustion finally catching up to you. Will placed a kiss on your neck before nuzzling his nose into you. You caressed his chest as you two tried to recover.

“Think you’ll be able to pay attention in class now?”

“No fucking way.”

Will's laugh filled the room, his chest vibrating against yours. You couldn’t help but grin at the sound.

[florwons]

‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt — nishimura riki ‧ ˚₊‧ (PART 2)

synopsis you swore you hated him. he swore he hated you. yet, something changed when your injury brought you together in unexpected ways. as your arm healed, you couldn't ignore how Niki became increasingly attentive and drawn to you. it was a twist you both never saw coming – was it possible that he was developing feelings for the very person he considered his rival?

pairing rival!niki x fem!reader genre fluff, e2ls, hs au !

warnings implies overthinking, jealous niki

featuring danielle newjeans jungwon enhypen gunwook zerobaseone word count 3.6k+ ( 3692 words ) !

note i am so sorry to keep you guys waiting for so long, i’ve just been quite busy 😵‍💫 ! but, i finally finished part 2 !! tysm for all the love on part one, i really do thank you all !! it was my first written work posted on here, so i’m glad people did enjoy reading it <3 hope you enjoy the second part as well !!

— maybe, read part 1 first ?

“It's painfully obvious that they're into each other!" Danielle whisper-shouts to Jungwon beside her, sneaking a glance in your direction. Jungwon nods in agreement, both of them observing as Niki playfully doodles on your cast while you giggle.

This was far from a usual scene for Danielle and Jungwon, and they couldn't have predicted such a turn of events.

Unbeknownst to both you and Niki, your conversations continued to flow as if you were the only two people in each other's world. "You know, Ki, I have to get this cast off next week," you sigh, observing him pause one of his doodles on your cast. A faint frown appeared on his face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"I was kind of getting used to you being a one-armed wonder," he remarked, earning himself a playful smack on the shoulder that left him rubbing it. "Geez, did all your arm strength go into that smack?"

"Seems like it. But seriously, my doctor says it should be healed by next week."

"I'm going to miss using your cast as my personal canvas."

"You've practically turned my cast into your own art gallery – every doodle is from you, no one else."

"That's why I do it, kind of like practicing, you know? It's become part of my daily routine," he admitted, his words partially true. Yet, there was undoubtedly more to his attachment. It was almost as if these interactions were the only way for both of you to be close. Secretly, he cherished the sight of his drawings everywhere you went.

Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if you thought about him when you looked at your cast. But surely, he couldn't be developing feelings for you, right? It’s just a different feeling this time–a feeling he experienced when he was finally on good terms with someone who had once been his enemy.

"I'll miss it too," you respond, your gaze fixed on the cast, appreciating all the doodles adorning it. Your feelings for him have evidently grown deep, and there's no denying that fact anymore. "But, having both arms back will definitely be good. I still need to get back at you for that one time we coincidentally ended up in the nurse's office together."

"Hey!" His chuckle is contagious, causing you to laugh as well. Unbeknownst to both of you, Danielle and Jungwon are eavesdropping, recognizing that something is brewing between you two.

"Yep, they're definitely into each other," Jungwon declares, though he sighs afterward. "But they seem like the type to stubbornly deny it afterward."

“So, how do we make them realize their feelings?”

“We both need to individually talk to them about their feelings.”

“I like the way you think, Jungwon.”

The two had never stared at a clock so intently before. Lunchtime was drawing near, yet time seemed to be crawling by. "Just a little longer," both Danielle and Jungwon thought, their anticipation growing as the hour hand inched closer to 12. When the bell finally rang, they exchanged a quick smile before rejoining their respective friends.

"Now, if you don't mind, Niki, I'll be stealing my best friend away," Danielle announced to Niki, who looked a bit puzzled but eventually nodded. Equally bewildered, you allowed Danielle to take you away, offering a small wave to Niki as you went.

Seizing the moment, Jungwon remarked with a grin, "Looks like you and YN are getting pretty close!" Niki's nod was met with an unusually wide smile from his best friend, a grin that seemed just a tad wider than usual.

"What's with that grin on your face?"

"What do you mean, Niki?"

"Your smile looks a bit strange."

"Oh, it's nothing. I just find it cute how quickly you and YN are hitting it off. Maybe a bit quicker than expected."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, it wouldn't be a problem if you'd just admit your feelings," Jungwon states matter-of-factly.

Niki comes to an abrupt stop, staring at Jungwon as if trying to process whether he actually heard what was just said. "What?"

"Your feelings for YN," Jungwon repeats.

"Come on, Jungwon, this is ridiculous. I don't have any feelings."

"Are you really sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure. I don't understand why you're even suggesting it."

"Fine, fine. Let's just focus on getting some food. Man, I'm starving," Jungwon sighs, sensing that pressing further won't lead anywhere good. Niki nods, his emotions a jumble, but mainly feeling confused. Why was Jungwon bringing this up all of a sudden? But, he quickly shook off these thoughts, thinking it was just another one of those weird questions he’d ask.

Despite Niki's adamant denial, you found yourself quite honest when Danielle swiftly pulled you out of the classroom. Sensing that something was wrong, you confided in her – the one who had always stood by your side. I mean, what good would it do you if you were to hide it from her?

"Yeah, Dani, I think I might actually like him. And it's kind of freaking me out." You leaned your head on her shoulder once you found a table, seeking some comfort. Danielle offered a reassuring pat on your thigh.

"Why would it be freaking you out? There's nothing wrong with it. You're just feeling uneasy because you two used to hate each other," Danielle pointed out.

"True, but it's just... I don't know, it feels strange."

"Just take your time, okay? You can figure out your feelings for him at your own pace. And who knows, maybe he's feeling the same way."

"I doubt that."

"Hey, don't be so quick to dismiss the idea if you're not sure," Danielle reassured you, her words like a comforting embrace. You hummed in response, genuinely grateful for her unwavering support. Exhaustion seemed to be creeping in, and you found yourself drifting into a light doze, the weight of the situation taking its toll. She allowed you to rest your head on her shoulder, her gaze catching Jungwon and Niki entering the room in perfect timing.

Locking eyes with Jungwon, Danielle shared a smile, a silent acknowledgment that things seemed to be progressing positively between you and your feelings. However, her smile faded slightly as she observed Jungwon's expression, suspecting that Niki might have brushed off any discussions about his feelings. While it might take some time, both Danielle and Jungwon were determined to help bring you and Niki closer.

But five days had since passed, and in the classroom, Jungwon and Danielle were discreetly passing notes, sharing their frustrations and plans regarding your future connection with Niki.

"What should we do, Danielle? Our plans haven't been successful," Jungwon scribbles on a piece of paper, passing it to Danielle beside him. He observes her thoughtful expression as she contemplates a response, then watches as she swiftly writes something down and passes the note back to him. Unfolding the paper, he lets out a small sigh as he reads her words.

"I'm not sure..." Jungwon begins to write a reply, but the teacher's voice cuts through their note exchange, startling them slightly. Were they caught? Were they going to be asked to walk to the front? Anxious glances are exchanged, and the two of them look around, only to spot a new student entering the room.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet our new student, Park Gunwook," the teacher announces. As the shy smile of the newcomer meets the class's greeting, a lightbulb seems to go off in both Danielle and Jungwon's minds. They exchange a knowing glance.

"Let's make Niki jealous."

The universe seemed to be on their side, as the teacher asked Danielle to remind you that you had to tour Gunwook around the school. Not surprised, Danielle sees you with Niki again, distracted in your own conversation with him.

“YN!” Her voice catches your attention, which makes you look her way. Giving her an eyebrow raise, you see her pointing at Gunwook, who had a shy smile on his face. You soon exclaimed, soon realizing what you had to do.

“Oh right! Sorry Niki–I have to help give a tour to the new student.”

“Who?” Niki looked at Danielle’s direction, seeing her and Gunwook together. “Gunwook?”

“Yeah–you weren’t paying attention to what the teacher said to me, did you?”

“Not really,” He pretended to shrug it off. “Why can’t Danielle do it?”

“Well, too late. I already took up the offer. So, see you later?”

“Yeah. See you,” He said as you walked off, watching Gunwook’s smile become wider when you walked by his side. Yeah, Niki did not like that new guy. Not even one bit. Scoffing, Niki reaches for his phone, hoping to distract himself.

“Someone looks mad,” Danielle soon took a seat by his side, soon realizing the change in his behavior.

“Mad about what?”

“Mad about YN leaving with this new guy.”

“It’s just a tour after all.”

“Just a tour,” Danielle couldn’t help but chuckle, but soon stopped by Niki’s sudden glare. “Could be a tour where they get to become friends.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Niki brushes it off, although he wasn’t quite pleased with what Danielle said. “She can do whatever she wants.”

“Sure, Niki. Whatever she wants.”

Walking back from the vending machine with his strawberry milk in hand, Niki's steps faltered as he caught sight of you engaged in a seemingly cheerful conversation with Gunwook. His gaze lingered on the scene for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling within him. A tinge of jealousy gnawed at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself that he had no right to feel that way.

He took a deep breath and continued walking, forcing himself to focus on his drink and avoid any unnecessary overthinking. Who was he to overthink the situation anyways?

"What's the big deal about him?" Niki's gaze hardened as he observed the two of you, his grip on his strawberry milk tightening. “Surely he can’t be that fun to talk to.” Jungwon couldn't help but let out a chuckle, but his amusement quickly faded when Niki's glare landed on him.

"Feeling a bit jealous, are we?" Jungwon teased.

"Jealous? Don't be ridiculous."

"Then why does it bother you so much? Come on, don't tell me you're clueless about this," Jungwon shot back, taking a casual sip from his drink. "They do seem to have some chemistry, if you ask me."

Niki's frustration was evident as his jaw clenched. He was grappling with emotions he couldn't quite define. The idea of you being with someone else didn't sit well with him, but he wasn't about to admit that openly.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?"

Jungwon flashed a knowing smile. "I'm on the side of the truth. And it's pretty obvious you're feeling something for her."

“Feelings?”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow at Niki's sudden change in tone. “Yeah, yours, you idiot. Why did you become so attached to YN? Weren’t you two rivals before? What changed?” Jungwon asked, soon shushing Niki with his finger. “Don’t answer that—you have feelings for her. That’s why. Isn’t it obvious?”

Niki huffed, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. He took a deep sip of his strawberry milk, as if trying to drown out his own thoughts. "You're reading too much into it.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Jungwon's fingers latched onto Niki's ear, causing him to wince in discomfort. Amid his struggle to free himself from Jungwon's grip, Niki abandoned the grip he had on his strawberry milk.

"Jungwon, cut it out! Seriously, I'm not sure if I even... ow! Ow! Fine, fine! I do... ow! Will you let go already?" Niki's voice swung between irritation and a hint of resignation as he massaged his ear once Jungwon finally released it, his scowl directed at his persistent friend.

Jungwon smirked, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "See? Admitting it isn't that bad, is it?"

Niki huffed, his cheeks slightly flushed from a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "Don't get too smug about it. And you better not tell anyone else, got it?"

"You have my word, my secretive friend." Jungwon's grin only grew wider, relishing in the small victory of nudging Niki to confront his feelings, even if it had involved a bit of ear-tugging persuasion.

Now, Jungwon just needed to find a way to convince him to confess his feelings. Texting Danielle immediately, it was time to put part two to the plan in action.

“Why is he here?” Niki whispered softly into Jungwon’s ear, raising his eyebrow at you and Gunwook sitting down together, laughing at each other.

“Cause he is our friend now!” Jungwon said with a big smile, pleased with the frown placed on Niki’s face. Danielle seemed to notice the two before you did, giving a way. Jungwon waved enthusiastically, while Niki gave a small one. Did you not notice him walking into the mall too?

“Hey!” Danielle called out, which finally drew your attention to Jungwon and Niki approaching. You acknowledged them, waving and giving Niki a smile, which brought a hint of color to his cheeks. He guessed that if you were here, then it was okay for Gunwook to join too.

Soon, you and the rest of the group decided to explore random stores in the mall, browsing through clothes, snacks, and everything in between. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, chatting and laughing as they moved from one store to another. At least, that’s what you thought, while Niki felt differently.

Niki could sense that you and Gunwook were growing closer, which bothered him more than he'd like to admit. He couldn't understand why Danielle seemed so unconcerned about the two of you spending more time together, and it baffled him even more that Jungwon wasn't worried. After all, Jungwon had been the one who forced Niki to confess his feelings for you to him, yet he wasn't doing anything or even encouraging him to take action.

However, Niki tried to ignore his thoughts, but he couldn’t shake the twinge of jealousy that tugged at him every time you and Gunwook shared a laugh or whispered to each other. He trailed slightly behind, trying to focus on Jungwon and Danielle's conversation, but his attention kept drifting back to you.

Eventually, you all found a table at the food court, settling down before deciding on what to eat. “Should we just get popcorn chicken? I’m not that hungry,” Danielle suggested, and everyone agreed.

“That sounds good. I can go buy them—just watch over my stuff,” you offered, standing up to make the purchase. Niki noticed Gunwook about to rise from his seat to join you, something he definitely didn't want to happen. Acting on impulse, Niki quickly stood up. “I’ll go with you, Y/N.”

“Huh? Oh—sure!” you replied, a bit surprised. Gunwook also seemed taken aback by Niki’s sudden eagerness, and he slowly sat back down.

As you and Niki walked together toward the food stall, he tried to relax and focus on enjoying your company. “You two seem to have gotten close, huh?” Niki ventured, hoping to find answers to his own thoughts.

“Oh, with Gunwook?” you replied thoughtfully. “He’s been texting me more lately, so I’m more comfortable with him now, even though I don’t hang out with him much during school hours and such.”

“So, you want to hang out with him more during school hours too?” Niki asked, sounding slightly defeated as he jumped to conclusions.

You looked at him, confused, which snapped him out of his thoughts. “I wouldn’t mind it, but I’d prefer spending time with you, Danielle, and Jungwon. After all, we are closer, don’t you think?”

Niki nodded in response, feeling both relieved and uneasy. He would have been more content if you hadn’t mentioned the first part, but he’d take what he could get for now.

It wasn’t long before the two of you returned to the rest of the group, finished up your food, and decided to head to the arcade. Even with your reassuring words, the comfort they gave Niki was fleeting. As soon as you arrived at the arcade, Gunwook seemed to cling to you more than ever, almost as if he was doing it on purpose.

Niki hated being apart from you and found it hard to shake the feeling of jealousy that gnawed at him. It had been a long time since Niki had disliked someone this much.

Much to his dislike, Danielle and Jungwon seemed to catch onto Niki and Gunwook’s behavior. They whispered among themselves and managed to distract Gunwook, leaving you and Niki alone for a moment.

You and Niki were at the claw machines, and you cheered him on as he focused on getting a duck plush. “Come on, Niki, I know you’re good at these!”

“Yeah, I should be better than Gunwook,” he blurted out before panicking internally and trying to concentrate on the prize in front of him.

If he didn’t say anything about it, you’d— “Huh? What about Gunwook?”

Niki laughed it off nervously, saying, “You seem to be having a great time with Gunwook today, so I figured he’d be trying his hand at the claw machines too and showing off his skills, you know.”

“Are you trying to say you’ll be better than Gunwook at this?”

“I am better at this than him—just watch, I’ll impress you,” Niki said, pressing his lips together in concentration. He let out a muffled sound of despair as the plush dropped again.

You watched Niki with growing amusement, starting to connect the pieces. His comments about Gunwook, his sudden eagerness to join you at the food stall, and the way he seemed on edge whenever Gunwook was around—everything pointed to one conclusion. Instead of feeling confused, you felt flustered, realizing that Niki might be jealous of Gunwook.

“Niki,” you said softly, trying to hide your smile, “you don’t have to impress me. I already think you’re amazing.”

Niki paused, glancing at you with a hint of surprise in his eyes. “Really?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling your cheeks getting warm. “So instead of trying to impress me with a claw machine, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

Niki hesitated, looking down at his shoes for a moment before meeting your eyes again. There was a vulnerability in his expression that you hadn’t seen before, a mix of uncertainty and hope.

“I…” He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I guess I’ve been a little jealous today. I didn’t like seeing Gunwook so close to you, and it made me realize how much I care about you.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his honesty. “I kind of thought so,” you admitted. “And for what it’s worth, I really like spending time with you, too.”

A small smile crept onto Niki’s face, relief washing over him. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You both stood there for a moment, the noise of the arcade fading into the background.

With the silence hanging between you, Niki cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He turned his attention back to the claw machine, his determination renewed as he focused on winning the duck plush.

“I’m going to get this for you,” he declared, a hint of playful defiance in his voice. “Not because I’m trying to impress you, but because I want to.”

You chuckled softly, watching him maneuver the claw with renewed focus. “No pressure, but I have faith in you,” you teased, leaning closer to the machine.

He finally managed to win the duck plush, pulling it from the machine with a triumphant grin. “Well, then,” he said, offering it to you with a shy smile, “this is for you.”

"Thank you, Niki," you smiled, hugging the plush to your chest. Continuing to tease him, you added, "So, I'm taking this as your way of saying 'I like you' indirectly, hm?"

Niki's eyes widened slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. “Don’t get ahead of yourself…”

“Oh? So, you’re fine with me going back to Gunwook?” you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Hey, don’t say that,” Niki glared. “Fine, I like you a lot. More than I could’ve imagined.” he admitted with a shy smile. “So, there’s no way I’m letting Gunwook win you over.”

You smiled, “I was just kidding, anyway. I only ever had eyes on you.”

“Really?” he said, sounding both confused and relieved that you felt the same way all along.

“Why do you think I asked you to get me that duck plush, huh?”

“Why?”

“Because it reminds me of you. That’s why I wanted you to get it, so it could mean even more.”

“Really? I look like that duck?” He pointed at the plush in your hand, showing a mock disgusted expression, which made you laugh.

“Of course!” you replied with a playful grin.

“I think we could’ve gotten a better…representation. Maybe something cooler?” Niki pestered.

“Whatever you say, you’ll still forever look like a duck to me,” you shrugged. “The duck is cute, and you’re cute too.

Niki chuckled, shaking his head. “You have a weird way of saying you like me too.”

“Well, if that didn’t come off too clear—I like you more, Niki.”

“Now, if you really liked me, you would totally associate me with a cooler animal, wouldn’t you?” Niki jokes.

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” you chuckled. “But for now, you definitely suit this adorable duck. Now, come on, let’s go meet up with the rest.” With a playful grin, you grabbed his hand and tugged him along, holding onto the duck plush that now symbolized him in your eyes.

Niki playfully rolled his eyes, but soon a sheepish grin spread across his face. He was willing to go along with whatever you said or wanted; being with you felt perfect, and he hoped moments like these would last forever.

( thank you for joining >< ) @cha3w0n-hearts @k1ttylvr @feitem @honey-bunnysweet

[zepskies]

Something Real

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean W. x F. Reader

Summary: Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

AN: And we’re back in the world of Smoke Eater! I’ve been trying to figure out a way to come back to these two for a while now, and this idea finally struck me. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Major fluff, angst, PTSD/mentions of sexual harassment (references to Smoke Eater Part 13), family feels, hurt/comfort, and smut.

Catch up on the SE-verse: ⤵️

🔥 Smoke Eater Masterlist

“Dean, are you okay?” you asked.

The man was white knuckling both armrests in his seat, taking pains to breathe in and out steadily. He nodded the slightest bit, humming to himself all the while. You bit your lip to hide your smile. 

The plane had just taken off about ten minutes ago.

“Are you singing yourself a lullaby?” you asked.

“Metallica. Calms me down,” he replied. 

This, from the man who storms burning buildings.

You couldn’t quite stifle your laugh, though you rubbed his arm. Somehow you managed to slip your hand into his, peeling it off the armrest. 

“We’re almost up to altitude. You’re going to be just fine,” you told him.

It didn’t matter. The plane hit a bump of turbulence, which had him squeezing the shit out of your hand. You tried to brave through it for his sake, but eventually, you had to tap out. 

“Babe, you’re gonna break my hand,” you hissed. With your free appendage, you squeezed his wrist to get his attention. Dean finally realized what he was doing to you, and he let you go. 

“Sorry,” he said, his face contrite.

Your lips twitched. You leaned down to grab your purse and dig inside for your sunglasses. You handed them to him.

Dean glanced down at the brown Dolce & Gabbana shades with skepticism. 

“I don’t need your girly sunglasses, thanks,” he said.

“Trust me,” you said. “It’ll help block out some light, so you can close your eyes and try to take a nap.”

“The only way I’m sleeping on this tin can is if you knock me the hell out,” Dean said, matter-of-fact. “Ask Sam if he’s got any Ambien.”

You glanced across the aisle and shared a wry look with Sam and Eileen. Sam shook his head, despite the knowing smile on his face. You turned back to Dean.

“No, not Ambien. Andréa sleepwalks when she takes that shit,” you said. You guided his head toward you so that he rested on your shoulder. You stroked his cheek. “Just relax.”

Dean let out a long, unsteady breath, but he tried to follow your lead. He took your hand again, not in a crushing way this time. He turned it over and admired the shining ring on your finger. The diamond on it was modest, but charming and unique in its setting. 

“Hmm, who got you that rock?” he asked. His tone was teasing, making you smile. 

“The smokin’ hot guy I’m living with,” you replied. “He finally decided to make a move.” 

Dean hummed again, raising his brows.

“Good-looking, smart, and decisive. This guy sounds awesome,” he said.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“Mhmm, a sexy firefighter. And he’s a Captain now, so I guess that’ll make me his trophy wife,” you teased back. Dean’s shoulders shook with the effort of keeping his laughter quiet. Your smile deepened.

“But he saves lives too…including mine,” you added. “So I guess I can’t complain.”

Dean raised off your shoulder then, just to look at you with a softer smile of his own. 

“Well, a pretty girl like you? He’d probably say he got really, really lucky.”

His lips closed in on yours, and you allowed him to draw you into a languid kiss while he laced his fingers with yours. His thumb brushed the engagement ring he gave you, just two weeks ago. His mother’s ring.

It’s the best gift you’ve ever been given. 

Oh, hell yes, you thought, when you opened the door to the hotel room. It was beautiful. Stunning really, with a king-sized bed and a view of an enormous pool. 

Dean was busy hefting his suitcase and one of your carry-on bags. He whistled in amazement when he saw the room. 

“Damn, Sam sure knows how to find a quality Groupon.”

But he struggled to get in the door with all the luggage he was carrying. You held the door open for him. 

“Careful with that one,” you said, pointing to your bag that kept knocking between his hip and the door as he shoved through. 

“Why’s this thing so heavy? Did you bring Kansas with you? Goddamn,” he grumbled. He was all too happy to dump your bag on the bed. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. You parked your own suitcase on the side by the window. You already knew Dean was going to claim the side closest to the door. 

“That bag is just makeup, skincare, and hair products,” you informed him, hefting your bigger suitcase onto the bed. “This is for clothes and shoes.”

Dean shook his head in bemusement. “You’re friggin’ crazy, woman.”

“I need options!” you said defensively. “I didn’t know for sure what I was going to want to wear on this trip. I haven’t been on vacation since I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you go?” he asked while unzipping his own suitcase.

“Disneyland with my grandparents, which was awesome. But I was like, eight at the time,” you said. 

They were fond memories, even though no one was left to remember them but you. Still, you tried not to let that bittersweetness dim your good mood.

It was still hard to talk about your grandparents at times, especially because the loss of your grandfather was still so fresh. You didn’t feel like you had enough time to properly mourn him, thanks to everything else that was going on then. (Namely Nick and Daniel Savage, and everything in between.) 

Getting over that time was getting easier though, as the months wore on. Sometimes it was hard to believe you’d been with Dean for almost a year. And yet, it felt like so much longer. Like you’d lived half a life with him already. 

You went over to look out the window and held your hands on your hips. It was nighttime, but the streets of Miami, Florida were well-lit beyond the pool, and there was something beautiful about a bustling city at night. 

“Now this is an adult vacation,” you said.

At that, Dean smiled and walked around the bed to you. He slipped his arms around your waist and held you from behind. You held him right back.

“Damn right it is,” he said. “What do you wanna do first? Dinner, and then check out some nightlife, or skip right to dessert?”

You smiled at the way his voice lowered with thinly veiled suggestiveness. 

“Well, I know how much you love dessert,” you said slyly.

Dean’s smile deepened into a smirk.

“Yeah, that may be,” he said. “But don’t pretend you don’t love some hot lemon drizzle.”

You spluttered a laugh, beginning to blush at his hefty double meaning. He cradled your cheek and bowed his head, so he could catch your lips in a deep kiss. You made a sound of surprise, but you soon melted against him.

Already this was worth the several-hour plane ride of Dean bouncing his leg and steeling your iPad so he could distract himself. After the year you both had, all you wanted to do was spend the next few days with no responsibilities, no drama or worries—just your fiancé and your soon-to-be brother and sister-in-law…

Your newfound family. 

The night was spent at a nice Cuban restaurant in Miami Beach. Afterwards, you, Dean, Sam, and Eileen explored the boardwalk, and later the downtown Bayside area where a number of shops and kiosks were bustling with life. This was technically Sam and Eileen’s bachelor and bachelorette trip, so you all weren’t wasting any time to explore and see the city.

By the end of the night, you only had enough energy to shower and hit the bed face-first. Dean was actually on board with that, as he was the first one to start snoring on his side of the bed.

The next day though, you felt rested and ready to chill by the pool. Miami Beach itself was a bit too crowded for your tastes, and the others agreed that hanging out at the hotel for a while would be more relaxing after all the travel the day before. 

However, when you looked at yourself in one of the two-piece swimsuits you bought specifically for this trip, you couldn’t help but feel…self-conscious. The bikini and bottoms weren’t scandalous, really. You’d seen a lot of thongs, beads, and G-strings already on this trip.

It was just…you were a bit wary of showing this much skin in public. 

You didn’t want to think about the reasons behind your unease, however, so you tried to push it out of your mind for now. You put on a long sundress over your swimsuit and finished up your makeup.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the bathroom door.

“You done in there, your majesty? I’m getting hungry,” Dean said through the door. 

“One more minute. Doing my lipstick,” you replied. “You know we can order lunch by the pool, right?”

“Yeah, if we ever get there,” he said. You were amused when he opened the door. He was already dressed in a loose shirt and board shorts. His eyes swept over your white sundress and red lipstick, and he smiled. 

“Lookin’ good, baby,” he said. Though he raised his brows and met your gaze in the mirror. “So can we go?”

You had to laugh.

“I guess we better, before your stomach eats itself,” you quipped.

You lightly smacked the back of your hand against said stomach before you slid past him out the door.

You and Dean ventured downstairs and out back to the pool, where Sam and Eileen had already saved a few deck chairs. While Sam and Dean went to order some food and cocktails, you started pulling out the sunscreen and towels from your beach bag. 

“Eileen, you need some sunscreen?” you asked. Your friend was already taking off her shirt and little shorts, revealing a cute violet bikini and bottoms underneath. Her brown hair was loose around her shoulders. She shook her head at your question with a smile. 

“No, I’m good. Wanna go in?” she asked, and signed, before she pointed over to the pool. 

There were already a couple of families in there with their kids splashing around by the shallow end. That didn’t bother you. It was more the men of various ages milling about, either in the pool, flirting with girls, or by the tiki bar, drinking and likely waiting for opportunities.

You tugged the V-shaped collar of your sundress closer together.

“Not just yet. I think I’ll have something to eat first, try to tan a bit,” you said. 

Eileen gave an “OK” sign and headed for the pool. 

You shucked your sandals and moved your chair under a large umbrella, but you still had to fan yourself. It was hot as hell, and your dress had long, billowy sleeves.  

Sam and Dean eventually returned with some drinks. 

“Food’s gonna take a bit, so we probably have time for a dip,” Dean said, handing you a piña colada. He noticed you wiping sweat from your brow. 

“Come on, you can cool off in the water,” he said. 

You waved him off. “It’s okay. I’m good here for a while. Think I’ll work on my tan.”

Dean rose a brow and gestured at you with a hand. 

“You’re gonna do that in the shade, dressed to the ankles?” he asked.

He made a good point, to which you didn’t have a good answer. You sipped at your sweet drink and hummed at the rummy, coconutty taste.

Dean could see there was something off with you, though.

“You okay?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I guess I just don’t feel like swimming, that’s all.”

Dean quirked a brow. You bought three different swimsuits for this trip, but you didn’t want to swim? He pulled his deck chair closer and sat on the edge of it beside you. 

One thing he’d come to know about you. When something was bothering you, you didn’t always want to tell him right away. Often when it was something you felt embarrassed about. 

He nudged your thigh playfully. “Tell me you’re not gonna make me third wheel the married couple.” 

You smiled. “They’re not married yet.”

Three months wasn’t a long time though. You were going to be the Maid of Honor, with Dean, of course, as the Best Man. 

“Semantics,” Dean shrugged. He slipped a hand over your knee and squeezed. “Come on. Talk to me.”

After a moment in which you held his gaze, you sighed. You beckoned him closer. Dean leaned over so you could brace a hand on his shoulder and speak close to his ear. 

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I just, um…after everything that happened last year, especially before Christmas, I just don’t feel comfortable showing so much skin,” you said. “I don’t want to…attract attention.”

Surprise hit Dean first. He pulled away and frowned at you. But then, his face soon dimmed with grim understanding. 

Christmas. In other words, a Christmas party at your old job that had taken a turn for the worst.

Dean knew you had to be talking about Nick Savage. 

That bastard was dead and gone, and still, the way he’d sexually harassed you for months was still affecting you, months later. Dean let out a heavy breath through his nose. He reached up to cup your cheek. Your eyes lowered.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I knew what I was signing up for when we started planning a beach vacation. I guess it just didn’t really hit me until now.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “But you know I’m gonna be with you. Nothing’s going to happen.”

You nodded; you knew he would protect you in any circumstance, but it didn’t stop men from looking when they had the chance. You just didn’t feel totally comfortable with that kind of attention. 

Sensing he hadn’t convinced you, Dean tried to think of a solution.

Then, he had it. He held a finger up in the air. “Ah, here.”

He pulled off his shirt by the back of his neck. You watched him in curiosity.

“This’ll cover you up. You can go ahead and jump in the pool with this,” he said, handing you the shirt. 

Your brows knit together. “But you won’t be able to wear this later. It’ll be all wet.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said. “It’s hot as hell out here. And we’ll just be going back up to the hotel room anyway.” 

You bit your lip. He made a good point. You were probably going to look weird jumping in the pool with a whole long-ass shirt on, but at least you’d be covered. His shirts tended to reach down to your thighs, where a pair of shorts might cut off. 

You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. You stroked his scruffy cheek.

“Thanks,” you whispered. 

He nodded with a smile. “Just call me the Problem Solver. No, the Solution.”

You smirked and twined your arms around his neck. 

“I prefer Captain,” you said.

Dean’s smile deepened. “You really like that, huh?”

“I really do,” you replied cheekily.

After one more sweet kiss, you asked him to stand in front of you while you took off your long sundress and changed into his shirt over your swimsuit. Afterward, he pulled you in by your waist and spoke close to your ear. 

“I like seeing you in my shirt anyway,” he said. You smiled and playfully shoved his arm. 

You accepted his lingering hand on your lower back and followed him to the pool. You felt a bit awkward wearing a shirt that billowed in the water when you stepped in, but you decided to ignore the feeling and just try to enjoy being on vacation with your family. 

Sam and Eileen welcomed you and Dean over. Eileen did question your state of dress with her eyes, but when you leaned over and explained in her ear, her eyes widened, and she understood. She gave you a look of sympathy and rubbed your arm. 

You sighed, but again, you tried to let it go. 

You two chatted for a while after claiming a corner of the pool, also watching Sam and Dean swim competitive laps back and forth. 

You were engrossed in your conversation with Eileen about her new group of students, when Dean came up from under the water to splash you both. You shrieked with a laugh as you fended off the onslaught, but he hauled you into his arms. 

Sam wisely pulled a laughing Eileen out of the orbit. Together they split off for some canoodling, and once he was done playfully trying to dunk you, you were happy to wrap your arms around Dean’s shoulders and float with him in the water.

Dean made way for a couple of kids as they splashed by. A younger girl and an older boy chased each other while swimming with little floaties on their arms. Their parents were keeping a watchful eye on them nearby. Dean smiled and laid a kiss just under your ear.

“That could be us pretty soon,” he said.

“Yeah? How soon are you thinking?” you said in bemusement.

“Hmm. How about next year?” he said, more serious than you expected him to be. You raised your brows at him. 

“Dean, we’re not even getting married until next year,” you pointed out. He shrugged and held you a bit tighter. You felt his fingers drifting up and down your bare thigh.

“So we’ll get a head start on the family thing,” he said, grinning. 

You couldn’t help but dim at that. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you also felt you had to inject some reality here. You turned in his arms so that you could face him.

“Babe, I just started my catering business. If I get pregnant, at some point I’ll have to take time off, put everything on pause,” you reasoned. “And…I’m not making the same money I was before.”

At that, Dean began to frown. “I make decent money.”

You nodded, smoothing a hand down his arm.

“Yes, you do,” you agreed. 

Aside from his usual hours at the firehouse, Dean had earned his mechanic’s certification a few months ago. So he’d started a side job at Bobby’s salvage yard. He was slowly but surely turning it into a more profitable mechanic’s shop, with Bobby’s blessing. 

“But, I think having a baby is going to be a little more expensive than you realize,” you said. “I just want to be more stable with my business before we start a family.”

Dean was quiet for a beat.

“How long then?” he asked.

“I was thinking more like…a few years or so,” you said. Dean’s face fell further, though he tried not to show the true depths of his disappointment. 

“Okay, well uh…” He wiped a hand over his mouth and chin. It was an anxious tick of his, you knew. “I guess we’ll talk about it later.”

The conversation settled with putting an implied “pin in it,” but an invisible thread of strain formed between you and Dean for the rest of the afternoon.

Hours later, you and Eileen broke off together to go shopping. You both were trying on clothes at a nearby mall, since she was toying with the idea of wearing something new for dinner tonight. She stepped out of the fitting room to show you a white form-fitting dress that slipped over her curves nicely.

“Oooh, that’s beautiful,” you said, with a little clap of your hands. “And oh! Thinking ahead, you could wear that for the wedding reception too, if you don’t want to deal with the whole wedding dress after the ceremony.”

You knew that her dress had a lot of tulle under the skirt, which might make it difficult to dance in. Eileen gave that idea some consideration, though something occurred to her with a certain smile. 

“Well, this dress might not fit so well by then,” she said.

Your brows knitted together. “What? What do you mean?”

Eileen paused for a moment, but she seemed to come to a decision in her mind. She smiled and beckoned you over. You went to her, and she led you to a nearby chaise in the dressing room.

That was where she whispered the news that she was six weeks pregnant.

Your resulting squeal of excitement startled all the other women in the dressing room, including the store’s attendant. You covered your mouth with an embarrassed wave, but you turned back to Eileen and took her hands in yours.

“We were gonna tell you and Dean tonight at dinner,” Eileen said with a laugh. “We found out right before the trip.”

Huh. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember her drinking even one cocktail on this trip so far.

“Oh my God, I’m just…” you trailed, as emotion surged in your heart and made your eyes all misty. “I’m so happy for you.”

Eileen laughed and pulled you into a hug.

She explained to you that when she first told Sam on a Tuesday morning before work, he’d fallen into a haze of shock, to a point where it had kind of worried her. But then she showed you a picture on her phone of the first thing Sam bought when he got home that day: the tiniest pair of blue booties.

You laughed again, and cried again. So tiny…

“Of course he assumes it’s a boy, but we’ll see,” Eileen said, with a roll of her eyes. Her soft smile was telling though.

“How do you feel?” you asked, wiping under your eyes.

She paused at the question. She tilted her head, and she raised her gaze to meet yours. 

“I’m happy,” she said. “Really happy.”

It was your turn to give her a big hug. And your tears fell anew as you came to another realization.

As usual, Dean was ready for dinner before you. He sat on the edge of the bed while putting on his watch. It was his father’s watch, which John gifted to him for his birthday. Though it had actually belonged to John’s father, Henry. 

Dean blew out a breath. Despite his attempts to try and just have a good time tonight (Sam’s advice), he couldn’t forget his conversation with you earlier today in the pool. He didn’t want to move too fast for you, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he was still fighting his disappointment, and maybe some melancholy.

Just lock it up, asshole, he told himself.

When you were done putting on the finishing touches on your makeup in the bathroom, you came out and stepped into his line of vision.

“What do you think?” you asked. 

Dean’s head lifted, and his eyes widened. You were a sexy sight in black. The dress stopped at mid-thigh, paired with some of the tallest heels he’s seen you wear since his very first date with you. 

“Damn,” he said lowly.

You smiled and stepped forward, not stopping until you were standing between his long legs. You took his face in your hands and gave a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Dean breathed into it, and even needed a bit of a moment to recover when you pulled away.

“Hey, about what we talked about today—” you started. He cleared his throat, raising a hand. 

“It’s okay. You’re probably right about all that. The timing’s not right,” he said.

You brushed your thumbs against his cheeks. “But that’s just it…maybe we don’t have to wait so long to start a family.”

Dean perked up, giving you a questioning look. You set your hands on his shoulders. He grasped your hips, almost on reflex.

“Maybe when we get home, we crunch some numbers and figure out how we can do this,” you said.

He shook his head with a frown. “I don’t want you to lose steam on your business. You’ve waited a long time to make that happen.”

You sighed. He was sweet for that, but you’d thought about that too.

“Like I said, we can figure out how to make it work. No matter what job I have, having kids was always our plan.” A smile raised the corners of your lips. “And you know, we have so many people in our lives that’ll want to help us, even if it means we have to work a bit harder.” 

Dean’s eyes started to brighten, but he didn’t want to hope too hard. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me what I want to hear,” he said. 

“I’m serious, Dean. I wouldn’t play about this,” you said, squeezing his shoulders. “This is worth it, and I want this with you.”

He started to soften then, and even smile. He got to his feet and wrapped you up in his arms. He held you close, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. 

“What changed your mind?” he asked. You bit your lip on a smile.

“Well, if I tell you, you have to promise to act surprised when you hear it later.”

Dean’s brows shot up. “Okay. Color me intrigued.”

You leaned up to his ear and said, “Eileen’s already pregnant.”

And your man full-on malfunctioned. He held you tighter, more to brace himself. 

“Holy shit! For real?” he asked. You laughed and nodded.

“Looks like they got a head start on the wedding,” you said. 

“I’ll fucking say,” Dean replied, but his grin was so wide, it made you smile harder.

“They didn’t plan for it, but they’re going to make it work,” you said. “It made me realize…we can do the same thing. Just with a bit more planning.”

Dean laughed at that. He knew your anal brain all too well, but in this, he could understand. His hands moved down your lower back.

“Well, you know how we can get ahead of the game?” he said. You knew what he was suggesting with only his eyes, and his meaningful touch.

You would’ve loved to take him up on that, but you glanced pointedly at the digital clock on the nightstand.

“Sam and Eileen are probably waiting for us downstairs,” you said.

Dean sighed, rather dramatically in your opinion. He still bent down to kiss your neck, nipping a bit hard just under your ear. It made you jolt with a surprised yelp.

“We’re not done here,” he said. The depths of his voice made you shiver, but you smiled. 

“I’m counting on it.”

You all got back from dinner late, after much celebrating for Sam and Elieen’s news. Dean even bought a bottle of champagne, which poor Eileen couldn’t partake in. (He ordered her a large piece of chocolate cake  to make up for it.)

You and Dean returned to the hotel room, but tonight, thoughts of sleep were still far from your mind. You sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off your heels, followed by taking off your earrings. You also watched Dean remove his watch and undo the first few buttons of his dress shirt in the bathroom mirror. 

He spied you watching him, and his lips quirked up at the corners.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” he asked in amusement. 

Instead of answering him, you stood up and made your way over to him. You hugged him from behind. 

“I really needed this,” you confessed. “Getting away from home for a while…I’m reminded that everything I need is right here.”

Dean turned in your arms and pulled you in close. He gave you a slow kiss that simmered with heat.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. He caught sight of your bikini and his swim trunks dry on a bathroom rail, and a smile grew on his face.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“We’re so not allowed to do this,” you giggled quietly. 

The pool and the surrounding cabanas were empty. Not only was it very late, but the pool was supposed to be closed. However, it did allow you to feel comfortable in taking off your sundress, remaining just in the vibrant green bikini you were wearing earlier today. Dean took you by the hand, and the two of you tried to keep quiet while stepping into the pool.

“Oh, God, it’s freezing,” you whisper-laughed. Dean’s jaw locked, but he was also smiling, trying not to shiver.

“Aw, shit!” he said, when the water got past his waist, hitting his more sensitive areas. “Why’s it so damn cold?”

You moved closer to him and slipped your arms around his middle, trying to steal his body heat. He welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

“I guess they count on the sun to warm it up,” you replied. “We are in the Sunshine State after all.”

“Know it all,” Dean playfully groused. “I’m freezing my tits off.”

You saw the goosebumps that had broken out across his arms, and yours too. You smirked and teased one of his hardened nips with your fingers.

“Yeah, you are,” you agreed. He laughed and looked down at your bikini top, raising his brows at the stiff peaks.

“So are you,” he said. If you two stayed in here much longer, his nads were going to pay the price. “Maybe this wasn’t one of my best ideas.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head and hugging him tighter. “Definitely one of your best. But maybe let’s hop in that jacuzzi over there.”

Dean twisted his head in the direction you were pointing, and sure enough, there was a nice hot tub a few yards from the pool. You both left the pool and braced the cool air on your skin long enough to run to the jacuzzi, quietly laughing all the while. 

Dean turned the dial on the heat and cranked up the bubbling, and soon you two were able to relax together in the much warmer water. He held you to his chest, his fingers dragging up and down your arm, while you just took in some deep, relaxing breaths. You let go of every bit of stress that might’ve still been clinging to your psyche. 

A few minutes in, you turned your head to press a sweet kiss under his jaw. His wet scruff prickled against your lips, but you didn’t mind. 

“Ever think about letting this enter beard territory?” you asked. 

“Eh,” Dean shrugged, still rubbing some warmth back into your arm. “Not really my look.”

“It could be,” you said. A smile curved your lips. You turned in his arms to straddle his lap, where you got the leverage to cup his face. You gently scratched your nails along his stubbly cheeks. 

He raised a brow. “You want me to go full lumberjack, don’t you?”

“Maybe not full lumberjack,” you teased. “I’d settle for quarter-lumberjack.”

Dean chuckled loud enough that you had to shush him, with your mouth covering his. His heavy hands spanned your lower back as you treated him with progressively dirtier kisses. His hands lowered to grip your ass, encouraging you to grind down on him. You were more than willing to oblige him. 

Even with the light of the moon, a large palm tree covered the jacuzzi in some shade. It made the empty courtyard feel a little more secluded. You felt just secure enough with him here to reach down below the water. You slipped your hand under the waistband of his shorts, where you began to stroke his hardening length to full mast. 

He groaned into your mouth and squeezed your hips on reflex. 

“Better be careful, baby. You’re playing with fire right now,” he said gruffly. He had no compunctions about finishing what you’d started, right here and now. 

You smirked, but you did pull your hand out of his shorts and took his hand instead. 

“Come on,” you whispered.

When you and Dean made it back to the hotel room, it was a quick stop to the bathroom.

He guided you back against the tile wall in the shower and stole your breath with a hard kiss. His hand flew to the shower knob and turned on the water. 

Luckily this shower had a ledge for shampoo bottles and soap. You knocked all of that shit over when you hiked your foot up on it. You raked your nails through his hair and left his lips, just to suck harder on his neck.   

In turn, Dean untied your bikini with a practiced hand and let it drop with a wet thwap on the floor. He kneaded your breasts and rolled his thumbs over hardened nipples. He actually rubbed some warmth back into your skin as his hands migrated down your body. And he helped you shimmy out of the bikini bottoms, just as you helped him with the shorts. 

He took a healthy grip of your bare ass and again ground you against him, making you smile against his neck. But his fingers slipping between your legs disrupted your train of thought entirely. You felt his fingertips at your entrance, probing your depths, just testing the waters first. You gave a needy hum and clung to his arms.

He chuckled near your ear. “Already soaked, huh?”

“You didn’t exactly play fair,” you said, panting for breath. He hadn’t stopped touching you all the way from the jacuzzi to the elevator. You hadn’t even completely dried yourselves, leaving a trail of water from the scene of the crime, all the way up to the third floor where your room was. 

Dean earned a wanton moan from you when his fingers roughly massaged your clit. Your head pressed back against the tile wall, your hands clasping on his shoulders tight as a shudder of pleasure rippled through your body. He stroked you right to the edge of pleasure, until he could start to feel you tighten on him. Then he withdrew his hand. 

You whined at the empty feeling, giving him a look of annoyance. “Dean?”

“Patience,” he smirked. He used your wetness on his fingers to stroke himself back to painfully hard.

You scoffed at his words. This man didn’t often have a patient bone in his body. 

But once he was ready for you, he took advantage of the way you’d hiked up your leg, and he held you open while he positioned himself at your entrance. He took your hand and moved it down to replace his fingers on your clit. 

“Keep touchin’ yourself,” he ordered. His voice became laced with both grit and desire. You followed his directions and kept circling your fingers around that sensitive bundle of nerves, even though it forced a keening moan from your throat when he pressed his cock inside you. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he muttered. Your inner walls were squeezing on him tightly, like you were already halfway there. Dean aimed to catch up with you as he grabbed your hips and set an almost punishing pace. He wrapped your thigh around his hip so he could get an even deeper angle to his thrusts. He grabbed onto the shower head when he felt his foot slipping a bit in the tub.

You hung onto him by the back of his neck as the coil in your lower belly became dangerously tight. “Oh, fuck. Dean…”

He knew you were close. He could feel it. He replaced your fingers with his own over your clit, searching for the spot he knew always made you come undone. 

And he knew when he found it—you cried out at the warm pulsing in your core as it quivered around him. 

“Let go, baby,” he said roughly in your ear. He gave you a few more hard thrusts, both to draw out your orgasm and to finally reach his own. His balls clenched and a ragged groan escaped him, along with his release coating your walls. 

By now, the hot water from the shower head had turned lukewarm, but neither of you really cared, blinking drops of the spray out of your eyes as you each caught your breath. Dean brushed your wet hair away from your neck. You smiled, and you guided him by his cheek, back to your lips for a softer kiss. 

“‘S a damn shame you’re still on the pill,” he remarked. 

You blinked in response. When his words finally registered, you burst out laughing. You pressed your forehead against his. Jesus, did this man have baby fever. 

“Let’s just get married first. Then we’ll work on it, I promise,” you told him. “Besides, we don’t want to steal your brother’s thunder.”

Dean grimaced and made a sound of disgust.

“For fuck’s sake, you mind not mentioning my brother at a time like this?” he said.

To be fair, he was still deep inside you. He slipped himself out and let the shower head begin to wash away the remnants. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and drew him back in for another kiss. 

Despite himself, Dean couldn’t help but smile against your lips. His left hand twined with yours, where your ring glistened under the florescent light. 

A year ago, he never thought he would be here. A year ago, he didn’t plan any further than tonight, and how he was going to get back to his life tomorrow. 

A year ago, while he did have his brother…Dean still felt alone. 

Now, he had something real. He was on the cusp of sharing the rest of his life with someone who understood him, supported him, loved him, despite the demands of his job. 

Now, he had an actual future to build with you.

And he was more than ready to get started. 

AN: I so hope you guys enjoyed this addition to the SE-verse. Let me know what you think! 😘❤️‍🔥

Want to read this in podfic form? (Note: A "podcast" fic is a narrated version by my lovely friend Sandra, one of the hosts of the Idling in the Impala SPN podcast.)

🎙️ Listen to the episode by clicking the thumbnail below:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[dc-x-reader-stuff]

HusbandJason Todd x Reader head cannons please !!!

Husband! Jason Todd Hc’s

Jason Todd x Gn!Reader

My first time writing Jason stuff, AaAa - I hope it’s accurate to a good point. Like I said before I’m partial to Wayne Family Adventures Jason and a mix between him and the other versions of Jason’s I’ve seen on this app so I hope it’s acceptable- TvT

I’ve seen a lot of people be a stickler about the accuracy of Jason and have gotten genuinely angry if he was too nice or too angry or whatever so it’s all ahdjfnfjfn-

Anyways I hope you enjoy though- :DD

——————————————————————

The wedding the both of you have was small. Well, small-ish - there was a lot of people he wanted to invite, surprisingly, ranging from some close friends, to allies in the vigilante world, to his family. There were a lot of vigilante’s in their civilian forms at your guy’s wedding. Your side of the family was really surprised The Bruce Wayne and The Clark Kent was there without any paparazzi whatsoever.

(You and Jason were very careful about that. So was Bruce, especially for all the hell Jason went through when he was younger. They may be on better terms now, but he still felt he had a lot to make up for. Jason is completely fine with that - to a point, of course.)

The honeymoon? Nice and calm vacation to a small town near Smallville. Jason and you wanted a getaway for just eachother, without any stresses of vigilante stuff, or villains to inevitably interrupt that.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, his siblings were also keeping a very strict routine of ‘DO NOT CONTACT JASON OR Y/N UNLESS IF IT IS A DIRE, DIRE EMERGENCY’

Trust me, if it was two dires you both would’ve had to come home.

Luckily that didn’t happen.

Now, married life back in the city was a whole other thing to get used to.

You two have already lived together for the past couple years beforehand. You two have already dealt with your fair share of strains in the relationship, and still do to some degree. But luckily over the years before marriage you guys found a way to deal with that in a healthy way.

You prioritize healthy coping skills. So does Jason.

Even your respective therapists do. (Harley Quinn helped you both find ones qualified for your respective traumas. Very hard task, but Harley has a bit of a soft spot for Red Hood both in and out of the mask. She’s pretty chill with you too.)

Jason has his bouts of anger. Never, ever takes it out on you though, ever. Hell no. You guys have a punching bag for that. Sometimes you both use it together if you guys are venting about your day! Very cathartic and nice to bond with.

He teaches you how to fight. Just in case. You hate using weapons but he helps you get more comfortable, and you guys go over plans in case of break-ins, kidnappings, ect.

Especially if someone decides to burgle your cat.

You guys have a black cat you guys found in an alleyway a year into dating. He is your guy’s son that you decided to name Robin. Jason didn’t like the name at first, especially since you not-so-subtly alluded it to be reminiscent of his Robin days, but over time it stuck.

Robin is a nice and very sweet kitty. No one messes with Robin and you have thrown hands after someone broke into your apartment once to steal him. That was also during the time you moved in with Jason, he freaked out when you called him after the break in. Thoroughly impressed you managed to beat up the intruder but he cares about your’s and your cat’s safety - you moved in not long afterwards.

Reading and drawing dates - you guys, even into your marriage, go on small dates like these that don’t require too much thought or money. Sometimes you go to the park, or if it’s raining to your guy’s favorite café, with your favorite books (and sketchbook no. 173637294 for you specifically), and just enjoy your times together.

You guys do it at home too, but it’s fun to dress up and get out of the apartment for those kinds of dates.

Your home, despite all the weapons he has hidden around or on ‘decorative’ display, is quite cozy too!! It’s your safe space and you want it to exude that energy all throughout. Jason likes figuring out where decorations and furniture should go with you, it’s his favorite thing that gives him a sense of normalcy with you.

Also the banter between you two is fun. Smartass after smartass remark leaves you in stitches with laughter. Especially if it’s late at night and you both are loopy from lack of sleep. (Jason has more practice with that but it still effects him to some degree.)

At this point being married, you’re used to his nightly activities too. Sometimes you stay up and make him his favorite food to the best of your ability (you aren’t too good at cooking, but you’re learning for the both of you, same as him). Other times you just order takeout and eat with him.

Sometimes you help with his injuries, other times you don’t. If they’re small and benign he’s able to do them himself, bigger ones have you worried and helping him.

You always make sure he has an icepack ready for bruises. He’s taught you how to stitch wounds up to, given the fact that you don’t have as much medical experience as him.

Also after his nightly escapades as Red Hood, you guys sit and have tea too!! Calms him down enough to sleep, even if some nights are harder than others.

He’s gotten better at coping with his PTSD, but as per the usual he does have his nightmares at times. You being there right next to him helps. And you help ground him back into reality. Be it cuddles, if he’s comfortable with them, or be it just sitting there next to him and talking to him about whatever’s on your mind until he’s laying back down to listen to you.

You guys switch between who’s big and little spoon.

Robin is always near you guys in some way during bedtime. One time you woke up to cat fur in between your’s and Jason’s heads before. Robin doesn’t understand personal space at all but you guy’s love it all the same.

Speaking of which, he’s a natural born shoulder kitty! He will jump on your shoulders when the offer is available. Sometimes he scares the crap out of the both of you though whenever he’s being frisky, though. But normally Robin’s smart enough to do it when you two are aware that he’s there. He learns.

On your harder days, Jason makes you breakfast and makes you tea just like you do for him. He always asks you what you need, what you’re comfortable with. Some days it’s cuddling, other times when you don’t want to be touched you just tell him you want him near only. He knows that’s when he can just sit beside you on either the couch, table, barstools or bed and just read while you listen and watch your guy’s favorite shows.

You guys also have nights where you guys have watch parties too.

Sometimes his siblings join in too, bringing food from Alfred as well. It’s fun, and annoying for Jason at times, but still great nonetheless.

You guys visit the manor when needed, or during holidays too. Hanukkah, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, certain Galas, birthday parties, ect.

Sometimes you guys both just visit to mess with his siblings and Bruce. Cause some chaos a bit, that sort of thing. It’s fun.

Also you guys have gossip dates.

Be it about vigilante drama, co-worker drama, customer drama, family drama, villain drama, you guys will gossip and when those dates are at home Robin the cat will put his two cents in as well. He’s as vocal as he is sweet. Which is very.

And sometimes you record when Jason and Robin have conversations. Neither of you guys can understand the cat’s meows but it’s so fun interpreting it and seeing your husband have a full on conversation with the cat. You send it to the group chat you’re in with all the siblings and he never hears the end of it for the next few patrols. Sometimes Dick and Tim and Duke want to know what the tea is between Jason and the cat and he always says “That’s between me, my spouse and my cat, not you three.”

You inevitably tell them anyways, as well as Cass, Steph and Barbara.

Also Damian loves Robin that cat. He requests play dates between his pets and yours. You always cave for the kid, much to Jason’s dismay. But then again, he caves for him too. He always does.

Speaking of kids, I don’t think you guys will necessarily have one for a long, long while.

You guys agreed that you have to be absolutely sure and ready. Financially, mentally, emotionally, physically, mentally. Kids are a big responsibility and neither of you want your kids to ever grow up in an unsafe and unstable environment.

When you guys are ready though, which won’t be for a long while, I’m sure you guys will pull a Bruce and adopt or foster kids. Teenagers first, along with their siblings if they have any. You’d never separate them from their siblings - hell, the both of you, along with some help from his family and friends, would track siblings down if needed.

Like I said though, that won’t be for a long while.

You two are perfectly content in your save haven apartment with your lovely black cat Robin.

Besides, if you guys had kids early, Robin would be jealous and attention starved.

Neither of you would want that.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Can you please do Slashers (Norman Bates, Patrick Bateman, Micheal, Jason, Brahms, Billy and Stu. You get the idea) with a, hear me out, a s/o who is just as if more out of pocket and crazy as they are, but here’s the catch their s/o aka you 🫵, don’t even realize how they are acting. (This was a 3 am woke up in the middle of the night with sweats kind of concept) But, do with that what you will.

💙💜🩵

Slashers x male reader

Headcanons

I don’t really know Norman, since I’ve never watched Psycho, and Patrick. I know Patrick somewhat at least a little cuz I’ve seen clips, so this is all based off wikis, so I hope it’s still good.

Norman Bates

Norman typically seems to have a more subdued and submissive personality, so for you two to be dating, his mom has to be out of the picture somehow. Maybe you guys still run the motel though.

Norman is possessive of you, not wanting to lose you. So you being just as possessive, if not more, in return, would probably tickle him pink even if he doesn’t want to express it. his second personality would enjoy it if you were just as violent too.

It doesn’t seem like Norman registers that hes got some issues himself, so he probably wouldn’t even notice that you had them too, or that you didn’t realize it either. You two are just two guys who are less than stable, but boy are you happy together in your little murder motel.

Patrick Bateman

You two would be like a house on fire, I think. Having someone just like himself if not worse, would only make Patrick more set in stone about his life and decisions. You two would end up clashing heads pretty regularly, since you both have such eccentric personalities, but then it goes back to being a loving relationship again.

You two are unhealthily co-dependent, and you just push each other to be your worst selves. Your worst, well dressed, manicured and intelligent selves. You guys are probably seen as kinda snobby or full of yourselves to everyone else, but you and Patrick have a great time.

You not realizing that you act this way would excite Patrick I think, since that’s the one up he has on you where you are more than him in every other way. It also excites him in other ways, since you are just like this, and this is who you are without all the debating on if this is right or not.

Michael Myers

You guys met at the asylum, that’s the only place I could imagine you two met. How you two got together I’m not sure, but it wouldn’t take long. You are both quiet and terrifying to be around, but it draws you together.

Neither of you talk much, which just results in you guys being able to communicate in silence. When you guys get out, it’s like a date for you two, going on another Halloween killing spree. If walking slowly around, knives in one hand, and holding the others hand in the other, counts as a date. Its romantic to you two, that’s all that matters.

I don’t think Michael himself really thinks about the way hes acting, so he wouldn’t think about it with you either. That’s just how he is, and how you are, and you go together like two misshapen bloody puzzle pieces.

Jason Voorhees

Jason is a serial killer, yes, but he’s also a nice guy if you look past all of that. So, if you are just chill like him most of the time, and partner up with him to get rid of the people who go where they shouldn’t go, then it would be a pretty nice relationship.

If you were even worse than him, then I could see him silently admiring you as you put together traps even, he didn’t think about. You not looking like Jason also means you can leave the forest to go into town and get different equipment, which just ups your game.

Jason doesn’t have much of an opinion on the fact that you don’t realize that you are worse than him, since this is also just the way he is and has been for who knows how many years. He likes that you are like him and that you aren’t scared of him.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is a huge fan that you are as bad as him or worse. Hes a little creep, so he would start salivating knowing you are watching him back, or seeing how you get rid of your ex on your own when they show up at the mansion.

You two are like gasoline on a fire for the other, since you just fuel the worst parts of each other in the best way, in your shared opinion. This means there’s no reason for Brahms to hide in the walls. He still likes doing it though, just so he can watch you, or you can come after him.

Like a good chunk of the others, Brahms doesn’t really register that he’s pretty messed up himself. Living in isolation for so long will do that to ya. So, it doesn’t really mean anything to him that you don’t realize how you’re acting. He just likes that you watch each other’s freak.

Billy Loomis

It excites Billy in multiple ways that you match his crazy. And by multiple ways, I mean it. It gets his blood pumping and gets him flustered to see you match his plans, or even push them further than he could have ever thought of.

You two are both horror movie obsessed bloodthirsty idiots, who both get way too excited about planning and committing the slashing. You just push each other to be worse, and to push the limits more and more. It makes you more likely to be caught, since you guys fuel each other.

To Billy its so hot that this is just how you are and that you don’t even really realize how you are acting, it’s like you are something walking right out of his deepest fantasies. But he’s has to be the voice of reason, and has to make sure you don’t let anything slip in public, just in case.

Stu Macher

Stu doesn’t seem to be the brightest guy out of the ghostface duo, so he’s probably just hyped that you match him, or go even further than him. If you go further than him, then I can imagine Stu also doing even more. Its kind of a cycle, you do something, and he follows.

It’s also what almost gets you guys caught multiple times, since you don’t really think your plans all the way through, since you both are just too excited and into what’s happening. Stu really likes the thrill of it all though, which leads to a lot of make out sessions.

Stu doesn’t really think about it much himself, that what he does is messed up and wrong, so I can’t imagine him thinking about how you act either. You two are kind of two halves of a whole idiot, and if Billy is around that he has to keep you guys on the right track so you don’t out yourselves or do something dumb.

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 600!

Here’s a quick 30 min doodle to celebrate! :D

Man time really flies huh

Thank you guys for 3.1k btw!!!

And big thank you to those who have joined me in this wild journey of daily doodles no matter how long you’ve been here. Truly did not expect what started as a joke to make it this far lol

(more stuff I wanted to talk about under the cut)

-A few updates-

General Stuff:

Well, life has been generally pretty busy. And while that’s made it a little more challenging to do daily doodles as of late, it’s been alright for the most part. Some of you may have noticed though that a lot of my daily posts have been showing up as much as 1-2 hours later than the regular time. Unfortunately with all the stuff I’ve been taking care of lately, putting a daily doodle/drawing on top of the pile means it’ll be late very often. I kind of have an unofficial job irl now so this stuffs hard to juggle sometimes.

Hornet’s Strange Adventures:

Initially I was hoping to get a lot of stuff done for this game during October but some recent job stuff is making that pretty hard to do. I probably won’t be able to make any significant progress on this game until very late October and into November. So if you were looking forward to big updates on progress, it sadly won’t be for a while, sorry. Outside of that though, I can at least say that all the routes have been thoroughly planned out from start to finish including the secret route. This includes rewriting some choices that have already been seen during the game’s time on ssed.

About Doodle Requests

I haven’t had them open for a while anyway, but I’ve finally come to the decision that I will no longer be taking doodle requests through tumblr asks/inbox. As fun as it was in the beginning, I often found myself trying to fulfill requests on the daily and that was stressful. That being said, it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m stopping requests entirely. I just don’t really want to do them for free anymore. Since I’m on Hornet Journal Series still, it’s a long way away before anything happens, but there’s a likely chance I’ll only do commissioned doodle requests whenever they re-open. We’ll see as it gets closer though.

Thoughts on taking an actual break:

I’ve mentioned this a lot in the past both here on ssed and on my main blog, but I’ve been seriously considering taking a break. Like a real one. Not just a “I’m gonna stockpile a bunch of doodles and pick it back up when I run out” kind of break. Especially with the way life has been going lately (mostly positive at least), I feel as though I may have to retire from daily doodles somewhat soon if there is no official news by the time this blog hits its 2 year mark. Don’t get me wrong I’ve loved doing this for the almost two years that it’s been going but at some point I’ll have to move on from this whether I like it or not. Does this mean that activity on this blog stops altogether? No. I just won’t be doing daily doodles anymore. There’s a more likely chance it would end up being weekly, or possibly monthly. Just not daily anymore.

Whatever the case, that decision will be considered more when 2 years gets closer. Until then just enjoy daily doodles while they’re still here!

—————————————————-

I think that’s all I can think of to say right now. Might post more thoughts on my main maybe?? We’ll see

Thank you again to all the lovely people that have been here during this crazy journey, you guys are awesome :D

[fushigurokogane]

~ Megumi Fushiguro Headcannons ~

hiii lovess~!! This is my first post on tumblr so BARE with me!! I hope you guys like these headcannons of our favorite EMO MANNN!!

~ Megumi is the type to show his love through actions rather than words. He may not be the most openly affectionate, but his protective instincts are off the charts. Whether it's making sure you're safe during dangerous situations or just being there when you need him, you’ll always feel his quiet support. If you're ever in a tight spot, he'll make sure you're safe without making a fuss. “Stay close to me. I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he’ll say with a calm but firm tone. If a situation arises where you’re in danger, he won’t hesitate to step in, reassuring you with, “I’ll handle this. You just focus on staying safe.”

~ When Megumi gives you compliments, they’re never over the top or cheesy. Instead, he’ll casually tell you, “You look nice today,” or “I like the way you think.” It’s not flashy, but it’s sincere, and you can always tell he means it. He doesn’t like to draw too much attention to it, but you’ll catch him giving you a soft smile and saying, “You look good today. Not that you don’t always, but today... it’s different.” Or, when you’ve just come up with a good idea, he might say, “I like how you think. You always know what to say.”

~ Megumi prefers quiet, low-key dates. Maybe a walk in the park, sitting at a quiet café, or going to a bookstore. He’s not one for big crowds or flashy outings, but he enjoys spending time with you in peaceful settings where he can focus on you without distractions. He enjoys the silence as much as the conversation. “I like this. Just us... no need for anything fancy,” he’ll say, glancing at you with a rare, warm smile. If you stop to look at something, he might add, “I’ll wait here. You take your time looking around.”

~ When you’re feeling down, Megumi is the type to sit with you in silence, offering his presence more than words. If you need someone to vent to, he listens patiently and gives sound advice without being too overwhelming. He doesn’t need to solve everything, but he’s there when you need him. He’ll sit by your side, saying, “You don’t have to say anything. I’m right here,” in a voice full of quiet support. If you start to share your thoughts, he’ll nod and respond with something like, “I know it’s tough right now. Take it slow, okay?”

~ Megumi respects your autonomy and space. He’s not the type to cling to you or act jealous. Instead, he’s supportive of your goals and interests, even if they don’t always overlap with his. He appreciates your independence and doesn’t feel the need to be in your business 24/7. He’ll reassure you, “You don’t have to check in every second. I trust you.” If you mention needing some alone time, he might respond with, “I get it. You need time for yourself. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

~ Though he’s serious most of the time, Megumi has his playful side that comes out around you. Whether it’s teasing you in a light-hearted way or showing off his random little quirks, he can be surprisingly fun once he feels comfortable. He might nudge you with a smirk, saying, “You really think you can beat me? Let’s see about that.”

~ Megumi is more in tune with your emotional state than he lets on. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, he’s the type to step in and help without hesitation, whether it’s through a comforting gesture or just taking care of things on your behalf. He doesn’t like seeing you stressed and will do what he can to make things easier for you. He’ll gently say, “You don’t need to carry all of that alone. Let me help.” Or, if you seem particularly stressed, he’ll comfort you with, “You’re stressed. I can see it. Take a breath. I’ve got it from here.”

~ He’s not one for grand gestures of affection, but Megumi has his ways of showing how much he cares. From the gentle way he touches your arm to the occasional shoulder rub when you're tense, his physical affection is subtle but full of meaning. When he holds your hand, it’s with a sense of quiet trust. He’ll offer his hand and say, “You can hold my hand if you want. I don’t mind,” or, in a quiet moment, “It’s just... I feel better when you’re close.”

~ Megumi isn’t the type to show jealousy openly. If he feels threatened by someone’s attention toward you, he’ll internalize it and try to focus on keeping his cool. But, if he gets too worked up, he might get a little more protective over time, making sure you're always by his side. He might downplay his feelings with, “Don’t worry, I’m not jealous. I just don’t like seeing you get too close to someone who doesn’t have your back.” If it continues, he’ll lean in and say, “I’m fine. Just... stay by me, okay?”

~ Megumi can be a little awkward when it comes to public displays of affection. He’s not someone who enjoys showing off his relationship in front of others, and he prefers to keep things low-key. However, in private, he can be quite affectionate in his own subtle way, like giving you a quick kiss on the forehead or cuddling up next to you during a movie. When you’re out together, he’ll say with a slight blush, “We don’t have to hold hands in front of everyone, but... I don’t mind when it’s just us.” After a kiss on your forehead, he might add, “Don’t read into it. I just wanted to do that.”

~ Megumi takes your words seriously, even the small things. Whether you’re talking about something that happened during your day or telling him about a random thought, he listens and engages with what you say, showing you that your opinions and feelings matter to him. When you share something on your mind, he’ll respond thoughtfully, saying, “That sounds like it was rough. What do you think you should do about it?” Or, if you keep talking, he’ll encourage you with, “I’m listening. Keep going. What happened next?”

~ When you're feeling under the weather or stressed, Megumi will step in and take care of you without hesitation. He’s the kind of boyfriend who’ll grab your favorite snacks, bring you water, or just stay with you, making sure you're comfortable and rested. He’ll come over and quietly say, “Here’s some water. I’ll stay with you until you feel better.” If you need anything else, he might add, “You need anything else? Just let me know. I’ve got you.”

~ Megumi respects when you need your own space. He doesn’t take it personally if you need time to recharge, and he uses that time to reflect or work on his own things. It’s not about distancing, but about understanding that being together sometimes means giving each other the space to grow individually. He’ll reassure you with, “I know you need some time. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” If you’re taking a break, he’ll tell you, “Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

~ Megumi finds peace in your presence, even if he’s quiet or a little reserved. Just being around you is enough to help him unwind, whether it’s reading together, having a silent dinner, or simply lying in bed beside each other. He appreciates the stillness you bring to his often chaotic life. He’ll look at you with a content expression and say, “It’s nice, just... being here with you.” On more quiet days, he might murmur, “I don’t need to go anywhere. I’m happy just sitting here with you.”

~ While he might not be the loudest or most expressive boyfriend, Megumi is the steady rock you can lean on. His consistency and reliability are a testament to his feelings for you, and no matter what challenges come your way, you can count on him to be there for you in his own quiet way. When times are tough, he’ll say with calm assurance, “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” Or, when you need reassurance, he’ll quietly tell you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone. I’ve got your back.”

DID YOU GUYS ENJOYYY??? I might make headcannon for yuji too!! So if you want one LET ME KNOWW!! ILY U SM POOKIES BAI BAIII~~!!

love, ✭ Nika ✭

[astro-rain]

i can handle me a dangerous man

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

word count: 2.6k

synopsis: Gruff sexy dangerous man walks into a bar. Bartender is a hopeless yearner turned seductress that wants to handle her a dangerous man. (smut with plot) Lowkey praise kink!Logan.

A/N: not edited

A cigarette perfumed room was where she spent most of her time. That old, oaky bar whose wooden floorboards creaked beneath the men who only ordered whiskey.

She was used to cigarettes. So when the rich, earthy aroma of a cigar billowed out of this mouth, it caught her attention.

Oh. Her thoughts went soft, breath thin.

“You alright?” the other bartender asked her still frame.

“Yes!” she turned around. “Sorry, I zoned out.”

“You see that one guy?” the coworker whispered. “He’s huge.”

“What guy?”

“Across the bar. Tall. Scruffy. Brooding.”

“Oh, yeah… He is tall.”

“Looks kinda scary though.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, look at him. He’s kinda buff. And he looks…” the coworker tilted his head, thinking, “I don’t know what emotion that is but — not happy.”

She kept her eyes to the floor, feigning nonchalance.

“You talk to him?”

“Only when he first ordered. His voice is sorta scary, too. Like, gruff.”

She looked back over to him. There was a dusty window behind him that shown soft light onto him, gentle golden emanating his frame. Warmed by the mahogany of the leather worn across his shoulders.

“Doesn’t look that gruff,” she commented gingerly, picking up a cup to clean. “He’s kinda pretty, actually.”

“You wanna talk to him?” he asked, almost surprised.

She shrugged cheekily. “I dunno. I might.”

“Good Lord. He’s yours.”

Quite frankly, unable to not notice him, she made her way over when she saw his empty glass.

“Get you another?” she asked, enjoying being closer than across the bar.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he gave her a nod.

His voice was low, husky, but dulcet. She didn’t realize she liked the smell of cigars. Smoke flitted around him, illuminated by the backdrop of dusty sunlight behind him. When it floated above his head, it almost looked like a halo.

She returned, placing his second drink down in front of him.

“Those good?” she gestured to the cigar.

He raised an eyebrow. “What, you wanna try?”

A meek smile. “You offering?”

He shrugged, reaching out his arm to her, cigar in hand. She tried not to let her hand linger on his as she took it.

“You smoke?” he asked.

“Not really, no.”

“Don’t inhale it. Just hold the smoke in your mouth for a bit, then exhale.”

She nodded and brought the cigar to her lips, doing as he said. She drew the smoke into her mouth, held it for a second, then exhaled. She watched the smoke swirl around in between them, before glancing up to meet his gaze. A beat passed as she clung to the umber in his eyes, deep brown drawing her closer.

“Thanks,” she leaned in to hand the cigar back. She noticed his dog tag. “Logan.”

“Don’t mention it…” he trailed off, not knowing her name.

She gave it to him diligently

He left not long after that. She watched his burly frame as he got up to go.

*

The next time she saw him, it was much later at night. And more crowded.

She smelled the smoke before she saw the man. The scent caught her attention immediately and beckoned her head to the door.

He looked just as good as when she saw him the first time, if not better. He wore the same leather jacket with a different cigar hanging out of his mouth. But the same brown richness in his eyes.

Over the course of the night she went back and forth, bringing him his next drink, making conversation, trying not to stare. She could’ve been mistaken but she thought she felt his eyes on her when she was elsewhere around the bar.

“Hey!” some drunk man called to her. “I’ve been waiting for that beer forever!”

“Yup. I’m coming.”

“Like, don’t know why it’s takin’ so long,” he slurred. “It’s a beer, you don’t even have to pour it. Just open it and bring it.”

“I’m sorry for the wait, I’ll get to you in a second.”

The man looked to the people around him, like they should be as outraged as he was. “I mean, what the hell? Is it that hard?”

“Sir, please. Just give me a second.”

“Oh, oh! Give you a second?” he scoffed. “How bout give me my fuckin beer.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing a bottle. Annoyed, she placed it in front of him with a little too much force.

“Hey!” he grasped her arm, “I didn’t ask for the attitude.”

She pulled her arm, but he held on hard. “Are you kidding me? You wanna get kicked out?”

“All I want is some good service. Didn’t realize it was so fuckin’ hard—“

Her arm was suddenly free, as the man’s arm was snatched away and slammed onto the bar counter. Suddenly, Logan was standing in front of her, pinning the man’s arm down.

“What the fuck man!” the drunk idiot slurred, trying to yank his arm away. It didn’t even budge.

“Get out,” Logan ordered.

“Dick. You get out. Get off me!”

In a drunken rage, the man swung, only for his fist to be caught almost effortlessly. Logan clenched his hand on the man’s, and she thought she heard a crack. The man grimaced, trying, in vain, to conceal the fact that he was in pain.

Logan’s voice was low. “You can either leave yourself or I can escort you.”

Then he released the man’s hand.

“Jesus, fuck,” the man said, holding his own hand. He stalled for a second, looking between her and Logan. Then he left, defeated.

She rubbed her arm where he had grabbed her. “Thank you. I guess.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, no. I’m fine, he just got my arm.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything.”

“Just sorry that it happened.”

It was quietly for a moment. It was almost difficult to tear herself away from looking at him.

“Thank you,” she said, softly.

Her and another coworker made their way back to the register.

“Did that actually just happen?” the coworker asked.

“Why, you still scared?”

“And you aren’t? He seems dangerous. It’s not that I’m scared, he’s scary.”

She glanced back at Logan, who was back in his seat but seemed to be scanning the room, more specifically the area closest to her.

“I don’t know,” she tilted her head. “I don’t really see it that way.”

The coworker shook his head. “God help you with your taste in men.”

She smiled. “Hey, your good lord doesn’t need to lift a finger! I can handle it.”

She glanced back over at Logan again, only to find him already looking at her. Dangerous? That’s a maybe. Alluring? That’s for sure. She liked those odds.

*

When her shift had finally ended, she was leaving out the bar’s back door into the dead of night. She stopped short once she saw a man standing a few feet ahead of her, leaning against the wall. She would’ve been alarmed at first, but then she smelled the cigar.

“I almost just dropped dead before I realized it was you,” she took a breath; he smiled at that. “What are you doing back here?”

“Waiting for you.”

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. She held it in her mouth for a second, then exhaled. She took a step forward.

“For me?” she smiled fondly.

He pulled the cigar from his lips, letting a cloud flow from his tongue. “That’s right. The patrons here don’t seem overly civilized. Just wanted to make sure no one else was waiting.”

She was close enough that she could inhale the smoke he just breathed out. Perhaps if she focused, she could taste his tongue on it. Emboldened by the thought, she took another step closer, gently grabbing the cigar for herself.

“And they say you’re dangerous,” she inhaled.

He tilted his head. “Who said that?”

She exhaled. “Is it true?”

“Sometimes. Depends.”

“Hm.”

Ever so slowly, she brought the cigar up to his mouth and placed it between his lips. He let her, eyes attached to hers the entire time.

“I don’t feel scared,” her voice was whisper smooth.

Gently, she took hold of his hand and brought it up to her cheek. His palm was rough but strong, akin to the leather of his jacket. The leather that she was now close enough to smell. And mixed with the cigar smoke and bourbon, it was inebriating. With a tenderness that hit her just as hard as it was soft, he gently caressed the skin on her cheek.

Her nerves were galvanized. That’s right, she thought. Let me beckon the softness from you.

He took the cigar from his mouth with his other hand.

“Your hearts beating really fast,” he commented.

“What? How do you know?”

“I can hear it.”

It was dead silent. Why was that attractive? All she could feel was his hand on her cheek.

“Oh,” she paused, glued to his gaze. “Does that give me away then?”

“Were you trying to be subtle?”

“Not a whole lot.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So what now?”

“I closed the bar tonight. So no one’s there and I’m the only one with the key.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You tell me, angel.”

That was all he needed.

*

As soon as the door was shut and locked behind her, he was on her. Without thought she gave her neck to him, head thrown back against the door. Since he could hear her heart, she hoped he could feel the thrumming in her veins. To sense something so personal — so dangerous — as blood was exhilarating. Go ahead, know me, she thought. Feel me. Take me.

“Shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he gritted out during an excruciating pause from her neck.

“We absolutely should be doing this,” she breathed, basking in the feeling of his hand cradling the back of her head.

“Whoever said it — they’re right. I am dangerous.”

“You’re perfect.”

He pulled back for a moment and held her face in his hands. They were both quite breathless.

He caressed her cheek once more. “I don’t wanna get you into trouble.”

She put her hands over his.

“Does it look like I mind trouble?”

“It looks like you should.”

She tilted her head down and looked up at him through her lashes. “But look how good you’re treating me.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re evil.”

“And you’re heavenly.”

That snapped that was left of his sanity. In one quick swoop, he hooked one arm underneath her thighs and leaned her against the wall, the other hand holding the base of her neck. He dove in as she ran her hands through his hair. He moved around until he found the spot that made her grip his hair tight.

“That’s it,” he whispered.

The muscles in her back tensed.

“Bite me,” she implored.

“No.”

“Please,” she strained.

He couldn’t oppose her. And he could feel her skin growing warmer. Without enough force to draw blood, he bit down on the spot she liked, delighting in the hum from her throat she didn’t even try to hide.

“You like that?”

“I like you,” she tugged his mouth to hers and swallowed his groan at the contact.

It was heated, fast, and almost messy. Now she could taste his tongue for real. She moaned at the feeling. Just hearing her was enough to make him rut his hips against hers. He didn’t realize he was so worked up.

“Mm,” she breathed, parting from his lips for a second. “Should do that for real.”

He was holding her up with almost no effort. She was dying to find out what he could do if he was motivated.

“I can’t—“ he was interrupted by her mouth, “fuck you against a bar wall.”

“Sure you can,” her voice was coated in sweetness but was pure sex. “You’ll be real good at it too.”

“Jesus Christ.”

With haste, he grabbed the bottom hem of her top and pulled it off over her head. He put her down for a second to take his own shirt off and let her undress the rest of the way. He looked up and she was fully nude in front of him.

With a feather light touch, his hands ghosted the outline of her waist and hips. “And you called me angel.”

“Yeah. This face…” she stepped up so her chest was flush against his, hands cupping his face. “It’s dangerous how good you look.”

He could almost blush. Instead, he hoisted her up again and pressed her against the wall.

“This is how you like it?”

“Only if it’s you.”

He dove into her neck again, sucking and licking and biting where he saw fit. He reached his hand between her legs to find her eager and nearly dripping.

“Jesus. All that for me?” he whispered into her neck.

She nodded almost frantically. “Since I first saw you the other night.”

"You’re gonna kill me.”

“How about you fuck me instead.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With his spare hand he shoved his pants down just far enough. When he pushed into her they both gasped, foreheads pressed up against each other. She gripped his shoulders with both hands, trying to steady herself from the dizzying feeling of being so filled. Like her coworker said, he’s huge.

He started slow, rhythmic strokes going in and out.

“Oh fuck,” she laid her head on his shoulder.

He had one arm under her ass and one pressed up against her back, holding her like something precious.

“You okay?” he asked, planting a kiss on her shoulder, over a mark he had already left.

“Yes,” her breath was getting heavy. “It’s so deep. Fuck. Keep going.”

Obeying, he began to speed up. He started to bounce her a little bit to match the speed of his thrusts.

Her eyes rolled back. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Sound so pretty when you’re talkin’ like that.”

“You sound-,”her breath hitched, “-pretty all the time. That voice-,” a sharp inhale, “-alone could get me off.”

His pace sped up again as he unsuccessfully stifled a loud groan. “Sweet talking me like that like you want me to finish early.”

“You like it?”

“I like you.”

At this point, they’re both heaving as he’s erratically slamming her up and down against his hips. Her voice shuddered and she swung her head back, but it smacked against the wall behind her. Immediately he brought his hand up to hold the back of her head. A simple act, but she thought that was going to end her.

Her breathing then became erratic and nearly every muscle in her body started to clench.

“You close, sweet girl? You look so pretty like this.”

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and held on tight, gasping and moaning his name over and over. And that was how she came undone. In his arms as he cradled her head, whispering endearments to her.

Once he coaxed her back to reality, she pulled away to face him and he pushed stray strands of hair out of her face. Her deep breaths began to slow and she rested her forehead on his again.

“You’re so gentle with me it makes my chest hurt.”

He laughed. “Is that a compliment?”

She laughed, too. “Like, I don’t know how I’m supposed to not fall in love with you.”

It was half a joke, half not.

“You definitely shouldn’t do that.”

“Would it be so horrible?”

“No. It wouldn’t.”

“Well, then what’s the problem?”

“It would end badly.”

“Why? ‘Cause you’re dangerous?”

“I dunno. Something like that. And if not me, then other people.”

“I think I could handle it.”

[starryinkart]

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START HERE -> PREVIOUS PAGE -> NEXT PAGE (COMING NEXT SUNDAY!)

_____

Artist Note:

Hey guys! It's been a minute, hasn't it? I’m so SO sorry for taking so long on this page, ALOT has happened in the last month and I’ve been very busy, but things seem to be balancing out so I’m back! As you can probably tell, the second page was VERY detailed and needed ALOT more time in the oven than the others previously, and from now on I will give a heads up when this is the case on my future pages! I loved drawing these two though and hope to do more in the future!

The next chapter of Absolutely is coming, as well as the Pilot for the YouTube show is coming along nicely! The next page of Totality should be coming next Sunday back on schedule! I’m glad to be back guys! Just be patient alittle longer! Now time to update my The Darkness You Hold comic! 🤭

———

N doesn’t seem to be doing too well right now…is there anything left that can snap him out of his blinding rage and loneliness? Let’s hope so…or Copper 9 might be in a bit of trouble…

_____

Here’s the synopsis!:

Barely escaping the mass destruction of Copper 9, as well as losing Uzi to the Absolute Solver, N, V, J, Khan, Lizzy and Thad find their way through the galaxy to the Earth-like planet “Jericho”; where they look for refuge and plan to fight back. Their new goal, stop the solver from destroying the last remaining human colonized planet by any means necessary, find JCJENSON and report their findings. It shouldn’t be THAT hard…right?

_____

The idea is to have pages coming out every Sunday @ around 7 pm US EST or every 2 Sundays (if life gets busy or a page takes longer than expected, I will let you guys know!)

I hope you guys really enjoy this comic, as well as the character development I have planned for it! Enjoy! <3

--------------

< COMIC CONTENTS >

COMIC COVER < Get Comic Synopsis HERE!

The ASTRA Family INFO

SNEAK PEAK #1

ASTRA REFERENCES #1

(MORE COMING SOON!)

[solar-wing]

⚣ It's Not A Competition 🥇

⚣👊🏻 A/N → SURPRISE! double post today! I've been wanting to do a Clark Kent post forever but never had any good ideas. Then, this popped into my mind. Also, I'm really trying to clear out my drafts and any old requests. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Jealousy | Established Relationship

⚣👊🏻 Summary → Dark Knight this and Dark Knight that. What about Superman?! He's also a great hero! Better than Batman, at least. The guy doesn't even have powers. But that's what makes him more interesting and cool, according to Y/N. And frankly, Clark has had quite enough and intends to show him why Superman is way better than Batman.

⚣👊🏻 Words → 4.7K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👊🏻

Clark just didn’t get it.

Why was it that Y/N was so obsessed with Batman and not Superman? All the young reporter ever talked about was the Dark Knight and how he was so cool and mysterious. Going on and on about his awesome gadgets and the fact that he had no powers, which made him so interesting.

Clark very much would beg to differ.

“You know, Superman can shoot lasers out of his eyes, and I heard he can move faster than the speed of sound,” Clark pointed out while walking with Y/N down the sidewalk. They decided to go out for lunch and since the Daily Planet was so close to one of Y/N's favorite restaurants downtown, he figured, why not just walk together?

“Clark, not this again,” Y/N chuckled while sipping his drink.

“I’m sorry, you just always talk about how great Batman is, and I’m not saying he’s bad, but I don’t get how he’s better than Superman?”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like Lois with all your Superman praise and comparison.”

“Well, she’s not wrong. I mean, come on. What can Batman do that Superman can’t?” Clark asked, looking down at his boyfriend while waiting for an answer.

“Batman’s quicker on his feet. He thinks of solutions faster and more creatively than what I’ve seen from Superman. Plus, he’s resourceful. The guy’s got a freaking jet. The only people I could think of that own jets and planes and all the crazy gadgets he has would probably be Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne.”

Clark tried not to react to the irony of that statement, rather focusing on how he could combat that logic even though it was true. He had to admit that his comrade, whether in the field or in practice, was very good at analyzing a situation and using whatever he had around him to his advantage.

Still, it didn’t mean he was better than him.

“Well, Superman can also fly, and as many have witnessed, is crazy strong.”

“Yes, he is. But if Batman can afford a jet, I’m pretty sure he can afford a jetpack, too. Plus, we all know how strong Superman is, some more than others. Their insurance claims can definitely speak to how strong he is.”

That last line Y/N said was more so to himself than as a statement to Clark. However, it didn’t take away the slight sting from his words, considering how true they were.

“So you’re saying Superman is reckless and bad at his job or something?” Clark accused.

“What? No, I’m not saying that at all. Why are you getting so defensive about this? You’re acting as if you know the guy. Wait, do you know him?” Y/N asked, now looking up at his giant of a boyfriend.

Sometimes, he wondered what kind of genes ran in Clark’s family. It was a bit of a puzzle to Y/N why the six-foot-something man was in journalism rather than something that seemed more his speed, like fitness or athletics.

“No, of course not. I just don’t think it’s fair or even logical to compare Superman to someone like Batman, considering what each of them has respectfully achieved, not to mention the state of their cities and everything. I mean, have you ever been to Gotham before?” Clark asked, doing his best to not draw any more curiosity or suspicion out of the younger male.

Not that he was doing a good job of that in the first place.

Clark just wished he could’ve shown Y/N why Superman was better than Batman. They’d only been dating for a few months so it wasn’t reasonable or even smart for the Kryptonian to consider revealing his identity to him, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Clark, it’s not a competition. You know that, right?” Y/N said, placing his hand on Clark’s arm.

They paused in their steps, Clark looking down at the gentle hand lying across his forearm before looking up into the eyes that always put him under a spell. He smiled to himself, thinking of the fact that even if Y/N favored Batman over Superman, Clark was still the real winner, because he had him.

He took his hand in his own, doing his best to contain his excitement pulse at the feeling of his larger hand surrounding the smaller one in his grip. Y/N was still a male, so his hand wasn’t dainty or small by any means, but compared to Clark’s, it might as well have been.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I got a little bit crazy.” Clark apologized with a small kiss on the shorter man’s hand causing a slight blush to appear on the smaller male’s cheeks.

“It’s ok. Besides, I like a little bit of crazy. Keeps things interesting.” Y/N said before continuing their walk towards Clark’s place of work.

‘You have no idea,’ Clark thought to himself as he followed behind, letting himself be tugged along.

They returned to the Daily Planet to find everywhere in a buzz, chattering excitedly with each other as various individuals were either running to the bathroom with pouches of makeup and skincare and others at their desks touching up their hair and clothes.

“What’s going on?” Clark asked aloud as he strode into the office while still holding Y/N’s hand.

“Was it like this when we left?” His boyfriend asked, chuckling at the comical movements and gestures of the rushing to get re-ready for whatever was happening.

“No, it was actually the opposite,” The reporter stated before eventually spotting Lois at her desk, who was also touching up her makeup and hair. He made his way over to the desk area, narrowly avoiding multiple people rushing while pulling Y/N closer to him to keep him from getting bumped into.

“Lois, what’s going on?”

“Oh, hey, Smallville. Hello, Y/N. Didn’t you both get the emergency email Perry sent to everyone earlier?” She said in her usual fast-paced, business tone while curling her eyelashes.

“No, We were at lunch. What was the email about?”

“Oh, Clark. Must I always have to save your butt?” Lois said before handing her phone over to the man, Y/N chuckling behind him at the comment.

Clark threw him a look while Y/N did his best to keep a neutral face before reading over the email.

“Bruce Wayne is coming to the Daily Planet?”

Y/N's eyes went comically large at the mention, immediately jumping to read the email for himself, “No way!”

Lois smirked to herself before grabbing her phone back from the man, while Clark just stared at his boyfriend in jealous shock from his excited outburst. “Yep. Wayne Enterprises has announced its support of various major liberal movements and is donating large proceeds to different organizations calling for massive change in the nation. And with this being an election year, many political figures and business entities are feeling a little uneasy at this sudden new support from the tech giant. And yours truly, landed the exclusive interview with him to get all the nitty and gritty details .”

Y/N’s eyes were almost bugging out of his head, before he ran to the bathroom himself, snatching his hand from Clark’s who looked desperately after him.

“Dammit, Bruce.” The reporter growled under his breath.

“You say something?” Lois asked while powdering her nose.

“No,” Clark responded gruffly, an irritated glint in his eye before walking to his own desk.

After everyone has ridiculously made themselves extra presentable, including Y/N much to Clark’s annoyance, the pair stand outside the room with a few others, watching through the glass pane walls as the interview is broadcast live to the entire nation. Lois asked Mr. Wayne various questions, ranging from his real intentions behind his charitable donations to whether he was looking to begin any political endeavors and win the favor of the public.

Bruce answers every question with confidence and suaveness, leaving no room for questions about his actions, and denies any political motivations. Y/N watched impressed from the other end while Clark just looked around with a grim and irritated look, his arms crossed as he listened to the interview and watched his boyfriend fanboy over his secret comrade.

“Well, you certainly seem like the charming and noble benefactor, Mr. Wayne. I can see why you're known as ‘Gotham’s Favorite Son.’ I have to ask though, even if you truly have no political ambitions, aren’t you worried that these donations and announcements along with the unwavering stance you’ve taken on these political topics will inevitably place a target on you?” Lois asked, notepad and pen sitting with poise and precision, ready to take down every little thing the billionaire said.

“Wow, I can see why she’s so respected. She’s nailing this interview.” Y/N commented.

Clark nodded to that. Even if he wasn’t feeling the most agreeable at the moment, he’d always give hats off to Lois’ skills. The woman was a powerhouse when it came to this stuff.

“Well, first off, thank you for your earlier comment. I don’t think of myself as anyone’s favorite, but even I can’t control what the public says or does,” Bruce responded with his ever-so-billion-dollar smile, earning a laugh from Lois and probably every other American tuning into this broadcast, including Y/N.

Clark, however, wasn’t impressed. He’d heard funnier.

“But, to answer your question,” Bruce continued, “...any move in the business or even the political world I imagine can be considered a risky one. I’m not going to pretend that my decisions have made some very happy, and others very unhappy. That’s life. You can’t please everyone. But, to sit and accept things as the way they are for fear of retaliation or backlash is misery in itself. I believe anyone who doesn’t speak up for what they truly believe or want for fear of ‘rocking the boat’ is just content with living in their own misery. And, let me be clear before I’m canceled—I know the meaning behind that now thanks to my kids, particularly my two youngest sons—I’m not saying someone who’s genuinely content and happy with where they are is included in this. I’m specifically talking to those who want change, and want to create a better world, but are waiting for others to do it for them.”

Despite its clichéness, many in the hall gave a small clap to the CEO’s words, Y/N looking thoroughly impressed himself.

“Wow, he really is an inspiring man,” Y/N commented.

“He’s alright,” Clark said in response.

Y/N gave the taller man a suspicious side look, “Alright, what’s going on with you? You’ve been standing there pouting

since this interview started. What, do you not like Bruce Wayne or something?"

Clark sighed before looking down at his boyfriend. It was true, he wasn't really liking the guy at the moment. But, it was just because he was so jealous. He didn’t like how Y/N was looking at him, or how he was talking about him.

It wasn't fair.

The reporter wanted Y/N to be looking at him and only him like that, and he wanted his attention and affection, and he wanted him to only talk about him like that. It was petty, and it was selfish, but Clark didn’t care.

He just wanted Y/N to only admire Clark Kent. not Bruce Wayne.

Only Superman, not Batman.

Despite Y/N's earlier words about it not being a competition, Clark knew the truth. It was a competition, one he was not planning on losing.

"No, I don't not like him. I'm just not that impressed, is all. He's not a superhero." Clark said.

"Neither is Lex Luthor. But, that doesn't stop the public from making him the villain in his story. I'm sure there's a lot more to Bruce Wayne than the media is letting on."

"Oh, trust me. There's more to him than what meets the eye," Clark mumbled to himself as the interview was getting ready to wrap up.

"Well, on behalf of the Daily Planet, I'd like to thank you for joining us today. Your words are certainly ones that will not go unheard by many. I look forward to—"

Before Lois could finish speaking, the lights in the building suddenly went out, leaving the office pitch black. A few people in the hall gasp, Y/N instinctively grabbing Clark's arm, who in turn places his hand over the smaller man's own.

"What's going on?" Someone asks.

"I don't know. It's almost like a blackout, but it can't be because we have backup generators. They should've turned it on by now." Another responded.

"Clark, what's going on?" Y/N asked toward his boyfriend, who was holding the smaller male closer to him out of instinct.

"I'm not exactly sure..."

Just as he said that, the lights came back on, and everyone was looking around confused as to what the source of the blackout was.

"Oh my god!" One of the people in the hall screamed suddenly as everyone turned back towards the interview room. Inside the room, some members of the crew suddenly had masks with insignias covering their faces on them. One of them was behind Lois holding a dagger to her neck while another stood to the side, pointing a gun directly at Bruce's head.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Ms. Lane," The individual in the middle of the room said, "But, this interview isn't over just yet."

"Who the hell are you people?!" Lois asked, fear and anger in her eyes as the blade was held to her neck.

"Wouldn't you like to know? As for Mr. Wayne, we're going to have a little chat. I suggest you and your friends don't follow or intervene. Otherwise, this broadcast won't be the only thing getting cut" The masked individual threatened, nodding to Lois.

"Don't you dare touch her," Bruce warned, his expression serious, as he got ready to stand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Wayne. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen, now would we? Especially with all of America watching right now."

Bruce sat back down, knowing that his opponent was right. He couldn't let them hurt Lois, and he certainly couldn't risk any lives in this room.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. We'll make this quick," The leader said as one of the other masked goons went to lock the door that led inside the interview room.

"Clark, we have to do something," Y/N said, his heart racing a mile a minute.

"I know. Stay here. I'll be back." Clark said before running off, leaving the smaller male alone.

"What? Clark, wait! Where are you going?" Y/N called after him, but the taller man didn't hear him, already too far away.

'What the hell is he doing?' Y/N thought to himself before turning his attention back towards the situation in front of him.

As Clark rounded the corner and made his way down the hallway, he made sure no one was watching him before he ran as fast as he could into the supply closet. Once inside, he quickly changed into his suit before taking off through the backdoor.

"So, how does it feel knowing that you're on the side of the wrong? How does it feel knowing that no matter what you do, you'll never be able to fix the mess you made? All the lives lost because of you," The masked man asked Bruce, who was sitting calmly in his chair, his eyes not showing an ounce of fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. None of you wealthy elites do. You don't know the pain and suffering your companies and your products cause to others. You don't know the misery you cause. Well, allow us to show you." The man said before signaling his partners.

One of them immediately moved and grabbed a hold of the camera, pointing it directly at the masked man in the center.

"Hello, Metropolis. And hello, America. If you're watching this, that means you're just as much a part of this as we are. if you've been sitting here listening to the lies and promises of a better world by this man and his kind, you are as much a part of his schemes as he is. It is because of people like him that we have the world we live in. It's because of people like him that so many of us suffer. It's because of people like him that the world will only continue to rot and decay until there is nothing left but a pile of ashes. But, we will not be the ones who burn. We will not be the ones who lose. We will not be the ones who suffer, not anymore. Today, we fight back. Today, we will show the world that we will not be silenced, we will not be oppressed. We will not allow the likes of him and his kind to continue to control us anymore with false promises of a better tomorrow while lining their own pockets. Today, we say enough is enough. Today, we rise. Today, we will take back what is rightfully ours. Today, we take back our freedom and our lives from the rich and corrupt." The man spoke, his words filled with conviction and determination, but also hatred and poison as he stared deep into the camera.

"And if any of you try to stop us, then you will be considered just as guilty as the rest of them. We will not be silenced. We will not be ignored. And if you think that the likes of Batman and Superman will save you, I wouldn't be too sure of that..."

As soon as the leader was done with his speech, the sound of the glass shattering was heard as Superman broke through the windows, flying into the room before stopping directly in front of the man holding the camera.

"But, I am..." The Man of Steel said, shooting a laser beam at the dagger being held by the goon threatening Lois. He immediately dropped the blade as it became too hot, giving the Daily Planet reporter the opportunity she needed to escape his hold.

"Bastards," She cursed, turning around and delivering a kick to the masked man's groin.

He groaned out in pain, falling to the floor before Lois punched him in the face, knocking him out.

Superman turned his attention back toward the masked man standing in the center, "I believe it's time for you to take a hike."

"Not yet. We still have unfinished business," The man said before signaling his other henchman. The man immediately aimed his gun at the Kryptonian, firing shot after shot into him.

Superman stood his ground as the bullets hit him, before eventually, the gun ran out.

"You're right. This is definitely the end," Superman said as he flew toward the man, knocking him out before he could reload his gun.

As Superman finished off the last of the henchmen, the leader turned back towards the camera, "Sorry, Superman. But, the damage has already been done. I hope you enjoyed this little taste of what's to come."

Before the Kryptonian could stop him, the man took out a smoke bomb, throwing it onto the ground and covering the room in a cloud of smoke.

"Crap," Superman cursed, unable to see as the man escaped.

As the smoke began to clear, Bruce took out his phone, "Alfred, I need you to track this signal."

"Understood, sir. I've also informed the police and they're on their way," Alfred responded.

"Good," Bruce said before turning back towards the room.

The actual camera crew was not out in the hall, hugging their co-workers who were all relieved at their safety. The broadcast was cut from the air, but there was no doubt every TV station from here to San Francisco was talking about it. Y/N was standing nearby, his eyes filled with awe and admiration as he stared up at Superman.

There was something oddly familiar about him.

...

Nah.

"That was incredible, Mr. Wayne," Lois said.

"I could say the same thing about you. I'm glad you're ok."

Lois smiled at him, "You were worried about me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Bruce asked, a small smile forming on his lips.

Lois blushed slightly before turning back to look at Superman, who was now standing right in front of the two.

"Thank you for the save, Superman," Lois said, extending her hand out to the Kryptonian.

"My pleasure," Superman said, shaking the woman's hand before his attention was drawn toward Bruce who just gave him an appreciative nod. Though the look in his eyes signaled they would definitely be communicating about things later.

As Bruce and Lois moved towards the hallway, Lois spotted Y/N who was standing close to the door peeking inside.

"Oh Y/N, there you are! Thank goodness, you're alright." Lois said, walking over to him and hugging him.

"Yeah, I'm ok. Are you?" He asked, looking up at the woman.

"I'm fine. I'm tougher than I look."

"That's good to hear. And, it's good to see you’re okay as well Mr. Wayne. That was scary." Y/N said, turning his attention to the billionaire.

"Yes, I'm glad I'm alright, too," Bruce said, his attention on Y/N.

"Oh, Bruce Wayne, this is Y/N L/N. He's one of our upcoming new reporters along with Clark Kent, who you've met before." Lois said, introducing the two.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Y/N said, extending his hand out.

Bruce took it, giving the younger man a firm handshake, "The pleasure is all mine."

As the two looked at each other, Clark was standing nearby, his gaze focused on the two, his fists clenched.

'I swear to Rao...' He thought to himself, jealousy coursing through his body as he watched the two interact.

"So, Mr. Wayne, what do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked.

Bruce turned to look at the woman, an amused eyebrow raised, "He must be getting trained by you," He said, sparking a laugh from Lois and another eye roll from the Kryptonian before flying off, "And please, call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne makes me feel old."

"Bruce, then. What do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked again.

"Well, I can't be certain, but based on their words and their actions, I'd say they were a group of anarchists."

"Anarchists?"

"Yes. They're not an uncommon group. Many people are growing tired of the way things are in this country. With the state of the economy and the government, it's only a matter of time before things begin to boil over."

"So, you think this is going to happen more often?"

"I'm not sure. But, I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them."

Y/N nodded his thoughts on the events that had transpired earlier.

"Y/N!" Clark called, interrupting the conversation.

"Clark, there you are! You had me worried sick," The smaller male said while hugging his boyfriend, missing the sharp look the taller man was throwing at the billionaire.

"I just went to alert the building security and the police. Seems everything turned alright though since Superman showed up," Clark said, wrapping an arm around the younger man's waist while still giving a side eye to Bruce who was watching with amusement.

"Yes, thank goodness he did. I'm sure we all owe him a huge thanks for his services."

"Yes, indeed we do. But, unfortunately, I must be going now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N." Bruce said, extending his hand once more to the younger man, who took it, shaking it gently.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, too."

Bruce smiled at him before turning back to Lois, "And it was a pleasure seeing you again, Lois."

"Likewise, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce smirked, "I do believe we're a bit past the formalities now, Lois. Please, call me Bruce."

"Of course. Bruce." The woman replied, her tone flirty and her expression coy.

Y/N noticed this and turned to look at Clark, whose expression was blank as he looked on.

"Will do, Lois. I look forward to our next meeting," Bruce said before stopping in front of Clark.

"Good seeing you as well Clark, as short-lived as it was," Bruce said, extending his hand out for a handshake.

Clark reluctantly took it, the handshake lasting longer than was necessary.

"Likewise," Clark replied.

Bruce nodded, his eyes giving the reporter a knowing look before he was escorted out by security.

Once the billionaire was out of sight, Clark and Y/N decided to leave as well, making their way towards the elevator.

"Well, that was a crazy day," Y/N said.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Do you think Bruce Wayne knows Batman?"

Clark stopped mid-step, a shocked expression on his face as he looked down at his boyfriend.

"Are you serious right now? You can't be serious?" The taller man said with an indignant expression.

"What?"

"You're still thinking of Batman after Superman just came and saved everyone?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's a hero too. They both are. Besides, Superman is always getting most of the credit, don't you think? It would make sense if they were working together. You know, the world's greatest detective and the world's greatest hero, solving crime and catching the bad guys. Wouldn't that be so cool?" Y/N asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought.

"No, not really. I don't see why that would be a good idea," Clark said, rolling his eyes.

Y/N sighed, "Clark, remember what we talked about earlier about it not being a competition?"

Clark looked down at the smaller man, his eyes filled with frustration, "Yeah, but it doesn't mean you have to obsess over Batman. Superman is just as obsessed-worthy!"

"Clark, seriously, what is up with you? It's not like I want to marry him or something."

"You're acting like you want to," Clark mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, Clark. I'm not going to say I'm not a fan of Batman. I mean, I think he's cool. But, that doesn't mean that I'm not a fan of Superman either. I'm a fan of both of them. I think they're both great heroes, and I think they both do good work."

"But, you don't think that Batman is cooler, or that he's better than Superman?" Clark asked, his expression pleading.

"I mean, I guess. But, why does that matter? Why are you so hung up about this?"

"Because, I—" Clark started before stopping, knowing he was about to give away his identity.

"You what?"

"I just want you to think of me, is all," Clark said, looking down at the ground, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Y/N's heart softened at the confession, the older man looking like a little kid who just got his favorite toy taken away. He stepped forward, cupping the taller man's face in his hands, causing him to look up.

"Clark, I do think about you. I think about you all the time and I love how protective you are of me. Whether I like Batman or Superman more isn't going to change that" Y/N said, trying his best to ease his boyfriend's fears.

"Promise?" Clark asked.

Y/N chuckled, "I promise."

"Good," Clark smiled while leaning down to place a kiss against his boyfriend's lips, "You should still like Superman more."

Y/N rolled his eyes, "Sure thing, Clark. I'll work on that."

"Thank you."

"Whatever. Now come on, we now have a celebratory date to go on." Y/N said as he grabbed Clark's hand.

"What are we celebrating?" Clark asked with a laugh as he was pulled towards the elevator.

It was always adorable watching the smaller male pull Clark around like it was nothing.

"Surviving our first criminal encounter together," Y/N said while hitting the first-floor button.

"First?"

"Honey, we live in a city with sky-high insurance because a superhero lives here. You really think this will be the last?"

He definitely doesn't.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️