#but I am always worried they’re going to fall off

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Setting In A Honeymoon

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Oh to be loved. (back on my using gifs because they fit the vibes not the plot shit)

Chapter Title from I'm Like A Lawyer by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary/Warnings: You and Ben finally get a honeymoon. Takes place about a year post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, pre-established relationship, so much horniness (would we expect anything less?), smut (breeding kink, oral, fingering, p in v)

“Sunshine-“

You hold a hand up—your attention still on the suitcases—and Ben falls silent, but you can still feel his glower. “Did you pack a toothbrush?”

“Of course I packed a fucking toothbrush-“

“And shampoo?”

“They’re going to have shampoo there-“

You shake your head, turning around and moving past Ben to the bathroom. “They won’t have the right shampoo-“

“It’s fucking shampoo.” He mutters, trailing after you to stand in the doorframe, watching you rifle through the cabinets with a frown. “It’s just goddamn hair soap-“

“And you have very nice hair, my love.” You walk up to him—bottle of shampoo in hand—and press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Let me take care of it.”

Ben’s frown deepens, even as his arm wraps around your waist. “That’s not your damn job, Sunshine-“

“Yes, it is.” You give him a wide smile, and feel all his love flare in your chest. “This is a two-way street, Pretty Boy. You refuse to let me fly on a plane, I refuse to let you neglect your hair.”

“Fine.” He grunts, leaning down to pull you into a long, easy kiss, going until you’re melted into his touch and clinging to his arm. But this is the last fucking thing, we need to go-

We have time. You pull away, reaching your free hand up to hold his cheek, your grin unrestrained and a little ditzy. All the time in the world.

Ben sighs, pulls your hand to his mouth, and kisses your knuckles with a deep glare you know is fake. If it’s not in the rough affection and devotion in his chest, it’s in the way he’s holding you so carefully against his body, like he can’t bear the idea of you even stepping away. “Be quick.” He grumbles, and you nod.

“I always am.” You drag yourself away from him, crossing back to the bed. Grumpy.

Shut the fuck up. He moves behind you, almost hanging off your body as you sort through the bags for anything else missing. Tell me how to make this shit go faster.

Patience-

No. Ben lowers his mouth to your neck, and you have to take a long breath as he starts to nip and suck at your skin. I want to take my wife on our fucking honeymoon.

Your wife wants to go on that honeymoon as well, but she also wants to make sure we have everything-

I have you, Sunshine. Ben’s hand grabs your chin, tipping your head back to capture your lips with his. That’s all I fucking need.

You let out a soft, blissful sigh. Romantic, Benjamin-

Only for you, darling. Let’s fucking go.

No, I need to feed Bowser-

I already fucking fed him-

What about the car-

Filled up the gas last night-

Okay, let me just-

Your silent words are cut off with a yelp as Ben scoops you up into his arms and marches you out of the bedroom, his whole body alight with a concrete determination.

“Benjamin-“

“We’re going now,” he grunts your name, shooting you a stern glare. “Everything is fucking fine, we’ve got all we need, and you’re going to fucking hurt yourself if you keep worrying.”

You pout up at him. “I am not going to hurt myself-“

“Yes, you are.” Ben half kicks open the front door of your house. “We’re going to leave, and you’re going to enjoy your goddamn honeymoon without losing that pretty mind about what could go wrong, got it?”

“But-“

“No.” He lowers you into the driver’s seat of the car, kneeling at your side on the pavement and blocking your path back out. “Look at me, beautiful.”

You glare at him, and he reaches up to trace a careful line over your cheekbone, dragging his thumb over your lip in a way that makes it very hard to act genuinely pissed at him.

“We’re good, Sunshine.” He mutters. “Ryan’s with Butcher, Annie and Kimiko have us covered at work, and if any shit goes wrong, which it fucking won’t, we’ll deal with it together.”

You swallow, nodding slowly. “And I get to drive?”

Ben chuckles. “You get to drive, you fucking brat.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, curling into the seat. “You love it.”

“I love you.” Ben rises up to press a kiss to your brow, hunger and his raw, focused love slamming into you like a train when you grab his face between your hands and pull him down into a full, devouring kiss. Fucking Christ, Sunshine, I love you.

I love you too, Benjamin. You pull back to give him a wide, easy smile. Am I allowed to go get the bags?

No. Ben smirks against your lips. Stay in your fucking seat, darling, or you’re not getting fucked for the whole week. 

You snort, because that’s the worst lie he’s ever told you. You don’t think Ben would survive not fucking you for the whole week. He’s been looking forward to this more than you’ve ever seen him be excited for everything. The closer you had gotten to your honeymoon, the more he looked less like a massive, grumpy, amazing man-child and more like a little boy who was about to be set loose in a candy shop and told to go crazy. It’s why worrying about this was, admittedly, a little dumb. Ben wouldn’t let anything go wrong. He’d refused Rome as a destination because he’d never let you fly if he could fucking help it. He’d chosen this resort because they had a very good insurance policy that would allow you to burst into flames and Ben to break a lot of things. He’d even hounded after Singer for a special permission to drive into Mexico, so that the border patrol wouldn’t get all angry about the whole supe thing. 

And you never doubt him. Not for a second. Ben never does anything but what he says he’ll do, and he’s sworn that this was going to be fucking perfect, Sunshine, and he was going make you forget your goddamn name, so it would be good. 

Ben was good, so this would be fucking good.

The drive is long. Almost three days, both of you determined to utilize the advantage of being supes and make it the full drive with only a few stops for gas and one night spent at a hotel near the border. The gas is easy—Ben always stomping out of the station with a prideful glow in his chest as he presents his snack assortments to you like a dog offering its owner a rabbit—and you only leave a slightly charred indent on the wall of the hotel after Ben slams you into it and fucks you until you’re wrapped in flame, but your amazing, impossible husband is not helpful on the actual drive at all. He’s still incredibly anti-GPS, and when he’s not glowering at the map on your phone—grumbling that he’d be able to get you there just fine by his goddamn self—he’s being distracting. Rubbing patterns on your thigh and tracing his hand up to just rest over your pussy, only smirking whenever you shoot him a glare.

“Ben,” your voice is a little strained, because the asshole has started to rub. “You’re going to make me crash the car-“

“We’d live.” He shrugs, pinching your clit in over your panties and drawing a loud moan from your lips. “Need you fucking ready for me, Sunshine, I’m about to fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked before-“

“You know you’ve fucked me the most, right?” You give him an amused look, trying not to giggle as he pauses, an almost adorable frown crossing his face. “At this point you’re making up about 85% of all sex I’ve had, ever. You’re only competing with yourself.”

Something hot and bright flares in Ben’s chest, his hunger settling right in your core, and you realize your mistake a second too late.

“Am I the best you’ve ever fucking had,” he drawls your name, his hand resuming with long, lazy movements. “The only one who’s ever fucked you properly, like the perfect fucking problem you are, fucking ruined you-“

“Shut up.” You mumble, small lights starting to dance through the car as your face heats up. “Of course you’re the best I’ve had, you asshole, you’re my husband-“

Second mistake. That only spurs him on. 

“That’s fucking right, beautiful.” Ben leans over to growl right into your ear, spanking your pussy once and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “You’re fucking mine, and this cock his yours-“

You moan, grinding into his hand and thanking the universe that this highway is mostly empty. “Ben-“

“I’m about to fuck this pretty pussy full of me when we get to the resort,” he grunts, shoving a finger under your panties, right into your cunt. “Already so fucking wet for me, darling, ready to be pumped full of my cum-“

That’s enough. You flip on your turn signal, pull off to the side of the road, and almost leap out of your seat onto Ben’s lap.

The sex is quick, feral, and brutal. You half burn through his pants as you fumble with his belt, sinking yourself onto his cock in half a second, and squeaking as Ben wraps his arm around your waist, pinning you to his chest as he hammers up into you. You’re not quite burning, but you’re lost in the sheer power of the hunger and adoration in Ben’s body, and the sound of his skin slapping on yours, the way he’s biting and sucking at your neck, how deep he’s hitting inside of you-

You find release quickly, a second orgasm rushing through your body as Ben cums up into you with a roar of your name.

He drives the rest of the way—the combination of sex and almost two days of straight driving making your eyes start to droop, so Ben flat out refuses to let you keep going—and you slump in the passenger’s seat, your head buried in his arm and your mind a little high on the smell of pine and coffee and Ben.

You get through border security fast, mostly thanks to Ben’s sheer everything. You keep your face hidden against his body as he glowers at the guards, refusing to answer any sort of question about your lives outside of you’re heading to Mexico for your honeymoon, you have permission from the fucking president himself to cross the border with weapons—you’re the weapons, plus you’re pretty sure Ben has a gun in the trunk—yes, he’s over a hundred, but if these pussies try to act like they don’t know why he’ll fucking kill them, and obviously you’re fucking married, he’s wearing a goddamn wedding ring, and it was all over the damn papers after Homelander’s death.

“Nobody reads the papers, Benjamin.” You mumble as he pulls past the border checkpoint.

“Well how the fuck do those pussies get the news-“

“TV, you old cunt.”

Ben snorts, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and running a hand through your hair until you melt into his side. “Brat.”

You only hum, and the remainder of the drive carries out in easy silence as you drift in and out of sleep, Ben keeping you tucked into his body.

You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until you’re in Ben’s arms, and he’s carrying you up to your room.

“Ben,” you push slightly against his chest, your face still nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “Bags-“

“It’s handled, Sunshine.” Ben presses a kiss to the top of your head, his words low. “Go back to sleep.”

You shake your head, the movement not at all convincing. “Wanna help-“

“You’re on vacation.” He grunts your name, squeezing his gentle hold on your body. “Fucking rest.”

God, you’re going to kill him. You love him more than life and every beautiful thing in the universe, but that’s the fucking problem. Ben tells you to rest, and he’s alive and attentive and devout in your body, so you can’t stop yourself from falling right back into peaceful sleep.

When you’re up, Ben’s body is heavy over yours, his face buried between your breasts and his arms wrapped around your waist. You don’t wake him. He looks so handsome and calm against you, his snores rumbling easily through your body, and his love sitting in content at the top of your chest, so you’ll stay here until he makes you move. Playing with his hair and watching him with a stupid smile, humming softly and letting the room fill with rainbow mist and light until he stirs, looks up and you, and meets your gaze with his own, wide and powerful grin.

“Hi, Sunshine.” His voice is hoarse, his eyes still slightly glazed with sleep, and you don’t think spending eternity with him is going to be enough. You need him all the time before, and now, and a little longer than forever after. 

“Hi, Benjamin, my love.” You lean down to kiss his nose, and he makes a low, grunting noise that goes right to your core. “Thank you.”

He frowns. “I didn’t do fucking shit-“

“You’re here.” You whisper. “You’re taking care of me.”

“That’s my goddamn job-“

“And I’m still thanking you.” You hold his face between your hands, shifting slightly up to he every angle of him impossible handsome face. “I love you-”

The sound that Ben makes is low and primal, and you cut yourself off with a gasp as he flips you over, kissing you into the mattress and rutting into you until you’re writhing under him, scraping at his arms for more.

“Ben-“

He starts to trail sloppy kisses over your whole face, smirking as you let out another strangled moan. “You’re fucking perfect, Sunshine, fucking love you, so goddamn good-“

You whimper as he pins you to the bed with his hips, his mouth trailing down to your neck, over your collarbone, and his hand pushing between your bodies to rub fast, strong circles on your clit.

“So fucking beautiful, already fucking wrecked.” He growls against you, and you can only whimper. “Cum for me, darling, soak my fucking hand-“

You cum with a scream, and Ben groans as he jerks against you, something warm spreading over his boxers as he buries his face in your neck, his own orgasm sending a small, shivering one into your body.

“Did you just-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He grunts, nipping at your skin as he flicks your clit once, your back arching off the bed at the movement. “You’d cum like that as well, if you could see how fucking perfect you are.”

You giggle, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Grumpy-“

“I said shut the fuck up.” He growls, and you just hum, still smiling like an idiot. God, you fucking love him.

It takes an hour for you to get out of bed, and then another two to leave the room. Ben will grumble something that makes you jump on him, and then you smile at him and he’ll pin you to the mattress, or the wall, or just hold you up in his arms as he fingers you in the middle of the room. He tries to get changed and you fall to your knees to take his cock into your mouth. You bend over to pick something up and he drives himself into your cunt from behind. The only reason it ever comes to an end is because your stomach growls, Ben’s head shoots up from between your thighs, and you’re suddenly being dragged down to the lobby for breakfast. 

The day from there is slow and lazy. Wandering around with no destination, Ben’s hand tangled naturally in yours, acting like you can’t see the people silently watching you with whispers and wide eyes. You’d expected it, but it’s still strange, and you’re more than happy to let Ben handle it whenever someone crosses a line. Mostly it’s just the stares, but one very drunk man tells you he could give you cock better than any old Hollywood asshole, and you have to act like it doesn’t make you ache for Ben when he draws to his full height, puffs out his chest like a lion, and hisses that he’s the only fucking asshole in the world that could handle you, because you burn this pussy to fucking charcoal in a second. Then a rich finance dick tries to get Ben to invest in his crypto business, and you get to smile like a dummy as Ben snaps that his wife thinks crypto is stupid as fuck, and she’s smarter than this fucking idiot by a goddamn mile. The best one is when a very stupid woman comes up to Ben and tell him he deserves a real, truly American woman, and you get to watch him go tense and—pulling you so close you think he’s worried you’ll vanish into thin air—sneer that he’s already got the best fucking woman in the goddamn world.

But outside of these sparse moments, it’s all so fucking easy. Ben flat out refuses to wear a Hawaiian shirt because he’s not goddamn Butcher, but you get him into a loose, white linen one that makes you almost climb on top of him in the middle of a very crowded shopping center. He buys you flowers—shoving them into your hands with a low grumble of for you, beautiful and a radiant glow blooming over his ribs—and then tucks one behind your ear with a grin, looking at you like you’re holy. There are a few moments when you have to slap him for saying things that really do prove he’s a hundred years old, but you’d expected that. You know who you psychically bound yourself to for eternity, and it’s a grumpy old man who frowns as you explain why he can’t say that, then nods and never says it again. He doesn’t apologize—Ben so rarely apologizes, and it’s only ever to you and Ryan—but he learns, and he tries, and you love him even more.

It’s only when you go to the beach and you remember why you’d try to talk him out of honeymooning anywhere near the ocean, that the day comes to a crashing halt in the best way possible.

Ben shouldn’t be allowed near a beach. His skin glows golden, and his eyes look greener than the sea, and his bare chest is broad and muscular and covered in a light layer of sweat that you want to taste-

“You’re drooling, Sunshine.” He mutters in your ear, and your knees almost give out from the force of the want in his body. “You need something?”

You swallow, looking up into his lust-blown eyes, and your voice is soft and breathless. “Ben-“

“Fucking Christ,” he grunts you name, spinning your body to fully press into his, his hands drawing rough patterns on your hips. “You’re so fucking beautiful, darling, driving me fucking insane, want to fuck you until everyone can see that you’re mine-“

And that’s enough. You grab Ben’s wrist, spin on your heels, and drag him after you as you half-run back to the hotel.

You make it about ten steps before Ben pulls you back into his arms, picks you up without breaking pace, and marches you back to the room.

You’re barely through the door when you squirm in his hold, reaching down to palm at his bulge over his shorts. Ben groans right in your ear, his grip on your body tightening, and you grin as he twitches at your touch. You manage to twist in his arms, offering yourself more access to slip your hand right into his trunks, wrapping your hand around his thick cock and start to jerk him off with slow, teasing movements

Ben growls, prying you off his body to lower you onto the mattress, standing above you with a stern glare you can feel right in your pussy. 

“Jesus, beautiful,” he grunts, tangling your hair in his fingers, tracing your parted lips with his thumb. “Such a needy fucking brat, need to be damn careful-“

“Or what?”

His throat bobs, and you feel the glow over his ribs grow starved, all of it focused into you, and he says your name in a low warning. “You’re- Fuck,tell me what you want, brat.”

You run your hand up his thigh, making your eyes big and pleading, letting little bit of your sheer desire leak into Ben’s body. “Want you, my love. Want your cock filling me up.”

“Fuck.” He grunts, his jaw clenching as you pull down his shorts. “Want me to fuck your mouth, Sunshine? Want me to feed you with my cock until you’re begging for more-“

You know Ben. He’ll keep dirty talking and taunting you until you either fold into him and start begging before you even taste him, or you explicitly tell him want your big cock on my tongue, Ben, please.

And you might have said that between your minds, because Ben’s grip on your hair does tighten, but it doesn’t matter because you’re not bothering to wait. You take Ben into your mouth in one motion—until your nose is pressed to his abdomen and the head of him is bumping the back of your throat—and look up at him under hooded eyes.

He’s holy. He looks feral—his eyes almost wholly black and his full mouth parted as he stares at you—and a low growl escapes his chest as you hollow your cheeks, lick the underside of his cock, and speak in a needy, high plea into his mind. Fuck my mouth, Ben, please-

You moan as he tugs you almost fully off of him, lets you flick your tongue against the weeping slit of his cock, and shoves your back down until you’re gagging. 

He pauses, his grip loosening slightly as his stone-like concern wraps over your skin, and his voice is strained from above you. “You-“

I’m good. You reach a hand to play with his balls, making your eyes soft and pleading when you look back up at him. Please, just fuck my mouth-

“Fuck.” He groans, repeating the same movement from before, once, twice, over and over until you’re drooling on him, your fingers on his balls light and uncontrolled as you grow cockdrunk. “You’re fucking perfect, Sunshine, goddamn beautiful choking on my cock, pretty lips made to be wrapped around my fucking dick, making sounds like fucking music, sucking on me like a fucking brat, so fucking good-“

You whine around him, your thighs rolling as you try to bunch the sheet between them, and Ben chuckles, the sound raspy and hoarse and shooting through you like lightning.

“Need some help, beautiful? Got a fucking problem, so fucking wet and desperate for me, just from sucking my fucking cock like a good fucking girl-“

God, he can’t be allowed to speak during sex. You’ll never be able to stop him—it would be downright cruel to your pussy, pulsing and grinding against nothing, soaked just from the deep sound of Ben’s voice—but he’s going to make you lose your mind. 

Ben, you moan between your heads, and his dick jerks, heavy on your tongue. Please, need you so bad-

He pops you off of him, angles your head up to hold his gaze, and you whine at how fucking good he looks. How his chest is heaving, and his eyes are pulling you apart under him, how he drags you up to crash into him halfway, making you moan down his throat from his demanding kiss.

“Fucking love you,” he grunts your name, biting on your lower lip and smirking as you start to try and climb up his body. “Want to fill you up, Sunshine-“

You nod franticly, squirming against him. “Fuck, yes, yes please-“

“You want my fucking cum, beautiful?” Ben growls, and when you glance down you don’t miss the way his own words are making his cock jump against nothing. “Need me to stuff that pretty pussy full of me, mark you up with me-“

“Yes,” your moan is shameless, because god, you’ll give him whatever he asks for, and take anything he offers you. “Please, Ben, fuck me, want your cock, want your cum-“

You gasp as Ben rips off your fully ruined swimsuit, tosses you back on the mattress, and shoves your thighs apart with rough hands.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters, running two fingers between your folds, looking up at you with an awe and love that feels slightly out of place for how he’s plunged those two fingers inside you, crooked them in your cunt, and started to rub right against that deep, desperate spot. “Squirt on my hand, darling, need you fucking soaked for my cock-“

Your body obeys his command without thought, and cum with a choked gasp of Ben. 

“There you go,” he growls, scissoring his fingers as your back arches off the bed, keeping his movements careful and measured as he drags you through your orgasm. “Good girl, so fucking good, just for me-“

Just for you, Ben, please. You grab at his wrist with a slack grip, grinding helplessly against his hand. Please, fucking please, my love-

He pulls his fingers away, flicking your clit once and smirking at your high whine before positioning himself between your legs, slowing pumping himself as he scans over your flushed body.

“Beautiful,” he mutters, and it seems to be mostly to himself. “Fucking perfect, love you so fucking much, Sunshine, you don’t have a goddamn clue-“

You have sort of a clue—he does tell you that about five times a day—but your words and mind are lost in a daze of Ben, so all you do is reach pathetically up for him, spreading your legs wider with a sound of need to beg him to just take you. Just fuck you like no one else can, like no one else ever could.

“Christ.” He grunts, shaking his head slightly. “You’re- fuck-“ Ben doubles over with a groan as you raise your arms over your head, your legs splayed fully apart in a silent plea.

Benjamin. You take a long, heavy breath, rolling your hips for him with your best sweet, pleading gaze. Fuck me.

The sound that leaves Ben might be the deepest you’ve ever heard, and his voice is downright animalistic as his hand trails over your abdomen and inner thighs, sending a shiver through your spine. 

“Arms stay up.” He orders, and you nod, moaning as Ben crawls over you, lining himself up to shove into your needy cunt. “Don’t stop looking at me.”

You barely have a moment to hum an agreement before Ben shoves into you, and everything turns into an intoxicating haze of Ben. He’s hiked your leg over his waist to push deeper into your cunt, the tip of his cock slamming into your cervix, and trailed a hand up your arms to pin your hands to the bed, leaving you open and vulnerable for him to use.

And fuck, he’s using you. Ben’s thrusting his cock into you at a feral pace, his mouth biting and sucking everywhere he can reach, pulling you so high you can only moan and whimper his name as he ruins you.

“So fucking perfect, darling,” he groans against your throat, and you throw your head back with a high whimper. “Gonna fuck you full, fill your perfect fucking pussy with my cum, get you fucking round and beautiful with my baby, show the world how good I fuck my wife, how fucking desperate you are for my cock-“

You make a high, breathy noise, writhing under Ben’s touch as his free hand moves to roll your nipple between his fingers. “Fuck, Ben-“

“Say my name, Sunshine, fucking scream so everyone knows you fucks you right, tell the whole damn hotel who you belong to-“

“Ben!” You can’t remember any other words as he moves his hips in a circle, angling you a little higher to somehow hit deeper inside of you. You can’t touch him—your hands still trapped over your head—but he’s so good, and you’re so full, and fuck, you might be crying with pleasure as he bites on your shoulder, and you know whatever mark he leaves will fade in a second but god, you want it to stick- 

“Fuck,” Ben hisses your name as you squeeze around him, and your eyes roll back in your head as his hand snakes between your bodies and he starts to circle around—but never on—your clit. “You’re so fucking good, beautiful, tight and warm, wrecked on my cock, you’re perfect, love you so fucking much-“

“Ben,” you trying to keep your eyes on him, his face filled with a zealous care and hunger, but fuck you need to come so bad. “Ben-“

“All goddamn stupid when I fuck you, smart fucking mouth all, fuck-“ Ben kisses you into the mattress with a brutal force, shoving his tongue down your throat as his thrusts grow sloppy. Christ, need to cum in you, darling, you’re- Fuck- Ben’s hips stutter and you squeak down his throat. Cum with me, Sunshine-

You let go with a scream right as Ben pinches your clit, and he slams home with a roar of your name. You feel his warm cum spread inside you, leaking slowly down your thighs as he pulls out, and when Ben drops his weight carefully down over you—his head resting on your chest as you move your arms to wrap around his neck—you hum in happy, fucked out, empty-minded content.

“You’re really having a lot of fun with the baby thing, my love.” You mumble, and Ben rolls his eyes. 

“You fucking love it.” He pauses, something sore settling over his skin as he frowns up at you, and you can’t stop the small smile crossing your face at the stone like protection wrapping around your body, Ben’s grip on you tightening like he’s trying to protect you from ghosts that never exist when he’s at your side. “You-“

“I do love it.” You whisper, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. “I love you.”

He grunts. “You’re fucking certain-“

“Positive.” You smile against his lips. “With you, Benjamin, I’m always positive.”

His nostrils flare slightly, and everything fades back into furious, bloody, unwavering love in his body. “Then we’ve got a goddamn week to make sure it happens, Sunshine.” He growls, rolling his already semi-hard cock against your thighs. “You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when I get it to stick.”

He always avoids the words when you’re not actively fucking, and youknow why. Ben never seems to fully trust that you’re really ready for this. Not because he doesn’t trust you, not because he doesn’t want it more than you do—if the way he flares and bursts over your ribs at the very mention of it isn’t proof, the way that you’ve caught him staring at baby cribs and clothing when you walk through Costco is—but because he’s a stubborn, protective, amazing asshole who values your comfort above everything else in the world. Once a douchebag congress member accused you of illegally aborting Homelander’s baby, and Ben interrupted the hearing to hold your cold, frozen body against his chest and roar some of the most violent threats you’ve ever heard at the committee.

But Ben’s not Homelander. He’s the furthest thing from Homelander. He’s the light that’s dancing over the room as you lay in his arms, and the whole world inside your body, and the best thing that’s ever happened to you in your life. He gives you everything, and more, and the only thing that could ever be better than him is what you could offer him.  

The only person in the whole world who, after everything, could ever want to offer that.

So you smile at him, playing with the hair of his beard, and crane your neck to whisper against his lips. “When you fuck me full of a baby, Benjamin? When you get me pregnant?”

Ben stiffens, his cock already hard once more and prodding against your thigh, his voice so low you almost cum on the spot. “Christ on a fucking cross,” he mutters your name, ardor and a fervorish, wrathful reverence exploding in his chest, all aimed at you. “You’re going to fucking kill me-“

“No, I won’t.” You grind up into him, and he hisses. “But I am going to let you fuck me stupid, Pretty Boy, let you fill me up with your baby-“

Your blatant bait works. Ben sits up in a sharp movement, pulling you with him, and impales you back on his cock in one, smooth movement.

“Such a fucking brat.” He grunts in your ear, his hands on your hips holding you still, forcing you to just fall into his warmth and clench desperately around him. “You want my cum, beautiful?”

You nod stupidly, and he smirks.

“Words-“

“Want it, Ben.” You moan, clinging to his body. “Want you.”

“You’ve got me, Sunshine.” He mutters, squeezing your ass with a firm hand. “Now be a good girl and take me.”

You half-scream as he starts to move, and you could be happy dying here. With a husband that loves you with such a raging strength, who fucks you so good that all you can do is grow slack in his hold and let him abuse your cunt until you’re his in every way possible.

And you already are. He’s alive inside of you, and molded into you, and wears a matching ring to yours that you think he’d sear into his skin if he could.

But God, it will never be enough. Ben is more than enough, but you’ll never be satiated of him. 

You could never be satiated of him. 

And that’s why, when he cums into you again, you really do hope it sticks. Because the only thing could ever be better than Ben was a bright-eyed, cared for, happy bundle of evidence that you belong to each other forever. A child that will never know the pain you and Ben have held each other through, because Ben doesn’t allow people he loves to be in pain.

And he really deserves more people to love. His own piece of proof that you trust him more than you trust yourself, that he’s repented and you’ll offer him a million smiling children for everything he’s done for you. For how well be cares for you, and how well you know he’ll care for them. For how it will be hard, but worth it, because you’ve bled for less and cried for more. 

And no matter what any form of family comes, you’d never want it with anyone but Ben.

End Note: God please send me someone who's as down bad for me as Ben is for Her.

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[transjess]

“Crowley,” Sam says. “I am not marrying you.”

“Just hear me out,” Crowley says, holding his hands up. “This could be good for both of us, right? Just sit your giant arse down and listen to me for a minute.”

Sam glowers, but he’s always been curious, and the desire to know what the hell Crowley is on about wins over his instant dismissal. “You have a minute,” he says, lowering himself into a bunker chair. “One minute.”

“How generous,” Crowley says, but he doesn’t waste any time. “Look, Sam, neither of us wants Abaddon in charge, right? Alone you can’t defeat her, Cassie over there’s about as much use as a dodo, and as much as I hate to say it I’m not entirely confident I can beat her either. Wherever Dean’s buggered off to, he's not helping right now. But united, together, we have a chance.”

“Where the hell does marriage come into this?” Sam interrupts.

Crowley holds up a hand. “Patience, Moose,” he says. “I was getting to that.”

“Get to it faster,” Cas says.

“Down, boy,” Crowley says, unbothered. “Marriage comes into it because a lot of demons are sticklers for tradition, right? The only reason Abaddon has so many dogs in her corner is because they think that because she’s got the better claim to the throne, she’s more powerful - the Lucifer loyalists switched over to her, because she’s the closest they’ve got to him. A Knight is higher up the traditionalist food chain than a crossroads demon, no matter how efficiently Hell runs under my rule. Now, who else has a claim to the throne? Say, one directly related to Lucifer?”

“Me,” Sam says, starting to understand.

“Bingo. The demons loyal to me like the way Hell’s run, and the rest think I don’t have a claim to the throne strong enough to go against Abaddon. Even if they’re not traditionalists themselves, they think Hell will fall back to a more traditional rule, and they don’t want to be on the old girl’s bad side when that happens. But if I was allied with, say, the Boy King of Hell, true vessel of Lucifer? A lot of them would switch sides. And that would be huge.”

“Why marriage?” Cas asks. “Just sign a- a truce, or something.”

“What is marriage if not a contract?” Crowley says, spreading his arms a little and grinning. “A truce that isn’t binding isn’t worth the paper it’s written on, Feathers. And we can’t just be allies in this - full offense, Moose, but you’ve got quite the history of trying to kill me the moment I stop being completely useful to you. I’m not trusting your good word as far as I can throw it, mate. With a contract, I can make it a little more… binding. Historically, marriages have been uniting political allies for hundreds of years - what better nod to the traditionalists among the demon populace than a marriage between the current King of Hell and the destined Boyking? It’s a contract that goes off with a bang. I get to strengthen my position, you get to cash in a little of that Devil clout with any demons you come across - wouldn’t it be easier if they had to obey you? Skip past all that recitation and stabbing and whatnot? Quick and easy exorcisms, all for the low, low price of marrying me. Best of all, this contract wouldn’t even touch your soul. Not that I’d want it, mind you; the thing’s a mess. But regardless, all you have to hand over is… well, your hand. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re insane,” Sam says flatly. Cas hums in consideration.

“You wouldn’t have to take any interest in Hell itself, by the way,” Crowley adds. “I’ll run the whole shebang. Contracts, demon management, soul counts, all of that. You won’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing. Just keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing - without the threat of demon usurpation and Abaddon takeover quite so weightily on my mind - and all that’ll be different is a ring on your finger and a ‘til death do us part. I’ll even let you read over the vows before the day. Just so you can make sure I’m not up to anything sinister.”

“You’re always up to something sinister,” Sam says, ignoring Crowley pretending to blush and bat his eyelashes. “I just don’t get your angle on this one. Marriage, of all things.”

“Well it’s not exactly ideal for me either,” Crowley says, rolling his eyes. “As much as I love to rile you up, I’m after a quiet life, no nagging wife telling me to clean up entrails after myself when I get home from work after a long day, etc etc. Though I suppose you’d make a decent little housewife, Samantha, all things considered.”

“Shut up,” Cas says before Sam can. Glad we’re on the same page, Sam thinks wryly.

“Look, Sam,” Crowley says, and he looks so completely serious for a moment that it’s almost startling after the faux-flirty banter. “Just think about it, alright? This could be good for both of us. And don’t worry,” he adds, switching back to flirty, lips curling up at the corner. “I won’t even expect you to consummate the marriage.” He winks, grinning, and then disappears. Cas scowls.

[l3irdl3rain]

my mom got me two cloth cat diapers to put over Valentine’s actual diapers to help keep them from falling down. They are his hot pink pants

[imaginedisish]

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This took way longer than expected, and I also sort of got carried away...Hope it still lives up to the requester's expectations (I also saw that the anon asked for fluff...and this ended up being fluff and smut...hope that's okay). Def some errors...I only proofread twice. This one is also inspired by "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan's kindness towards you is strictly friendly. Until it's not just friendly anymore...

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Unprotected PIV, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (uh, they're outside...), grumpy!Logan, cursing, major angst, comfort, fluff, references to canon typical violence/death/conflicts, f!reader/afab!reader (reader has hair at the nape of her neck but no description of length/texture/color), mutant!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,662 my back hurts

It had been a long day. Every day was a long day. There were the kids to worry about, and then there was the rest of the world. There’s a war coming, you see it everywhere you look, and hear it everywhere you go. The news. The papers. The kids whispering in hushed echoes late at night when you’re walking the halls sleeplessly. You don’t want a war. You want a life. 

The mansion is still bustling—it always is—but it’s slowly winding down. You listen as kids walk up the stairs in waves, heading into their bedrooms for the night. You know you should too, but you like it when the mansion gets quiet. You like knowing that everyone is safe, tucked away. You like it when no one else is around—when you can be alone, the stillness and quiet of a dark and sleeping house cradling you like a mother.  

You find yourself in one of the living rooms, the T.V. still on, playing reruns of a cartoon you recognize from years ago. You smile as laughter erupts from down the hall, the padding of small feet echoing along the floorboards and the sound of much heavier boots following close behind. 

“Hey! Watch it!” A grumpy, familiar voice shouts as kids run past the doorway to the living room, giggling mischievously. “Fucking kids.” You turn towards the sound of Logan’s voice as it bounces off the walls, his frame entering the doorway. 

He has a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other as he strides over to you. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, smiling up at him. He’s in his beater and his jeans and that leather jacket that hugs him just the right way. You try not to think about how good he looks as he places the plate and the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. Friends don’t think about friends like that, and that’s all you two are: friends.

“Thought you might want a snack,” he mumbles, pointing to the cookies. “And maybe someone to talk to. You’ve got that look on your face.”

You roll your eyes, staring at him incredulously. “What look?”

“That sleepy, stressed face you make,” he starts, walking around the coffee table and taking the spot on the couch right next to you. “When you’re listening to everyone, making sure they’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for a cookie. Logan sits up and grabs the glass of milk, extending it out to you. “Really, I am,” you promise, but you know he can tell that you’re lying. 

You take the glass from him, and his hand falls to your thigh. The feeling of his skin against yours is intoxicating. He works his jaw and opens his mouth. “What’s going on—”

“Logan?” Storm cuts him off, standing in the doorway. Her gaze is focused on Logan’s hand resting on your thigh. “Did you make tea?”

His eyes flicker between you and Storm. You tilt your head, waiting for his response. “Yes,” he answers, his hand lifting from your thigh as he stands. The spot is suddenly cold. You want to grab his hand and yank him back down. 

“Well, the water is about to boil,” she says, smirking as the kettle begins to whistle. 

Logan mutters a quick shit under his breath as he prowls out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen. Storm giggles as she watches him, shaking her head. She squints at the cookies and milk, and then at you. You nervously place the milk back down on the coffee table.

“Wow,” is all she says, her arms crossing her chest as she leans against the frame of the doorway. You can hear Logan shuffling around the kitchen, closing cabinets and cursing. “All this for you, huh?”

Your jaw drops just a bit at her words, their meaning instantly smacking you in the face. “O-oh, no,” you stutter defensively. “It’s not like that.” 

The conversation quickly ends as Logan walks into the living room with a cup of tea, passing Storm and heading to the couch. He sits down next to you and places the tea in front of you. The tag of the tea bag hangs over the side of the mug, steam wafting off the top.  

“You like tea, right?” He asks as you lean over and grab the warm mug in your hands. The heat feels good, but not as good as when his hand was on your thigh. 

You nod, swallowing those feelings down as you blow into the cup to cool the hot liquid inside. “Thanks, Logan.” You smile, and he smiles back. 

Storm is still in the doorway, a soft laugh stuck in her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.” And before you can protest, she’s gone, her heels clicking down the hardwood floors of the hallway. 

Alone now with Logan, you can’t help but feel nervous. You bring the mug to your lips and finally take a sip, the hot tea dripping down your throat. Was Storm right? No. This is just a friend looking out for a friend. There’s no deeper meaning. So what if Logan brought you cookies and milk? So what if he made tea for you? He’s just being nice, kind, caring. That’s what he always is…to you at least. Maybe only to you—

“Hey, everything okay?” Logan’s voice yanks you back to reality, his palm suddenly warm on your thigh again. You jump at the sensation, accidentally spilling tea on Logan’s hand and all over your thighs. 

“Shit,” you mutter, the liquid stinging just a bit against your bare skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say, placing the cup down on the coffee table. When you look back up, Logan is gone. You can hear scuffling in the kitchen again, drawers opening and slamming closed. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Logan?” Scott’s voice chastises in the distance. 

Logan scoffs, his footsteps echoing against the tile floors. “Fuck off, Summers,” he chides, and you can’t help but laugh at their bickering. 

“Think that’s funny?” Logan teases, suddenly in front of you. He rushes over, kneeling next to you. He has a towel in his hand. “You okay?” He asks. “Anything hurt?”

You shake your head from side to side. “Nope, all good,” you say, grinning, ready for him to pass you the towel. But he doesn’t—he’s cleaning you up himself. 

He rubs the towel gently across your thighs, sopping up all the tea. His touch is soft and careful. You can feel heat rise to your chest at the closeness—the intimacy of it all. You take a deep breath, struggling to calm your heart as he takes his time taking care of you. 

“You sure you’re alright?” He whispers, his eyes suddenly searching yours. The towel hikes up a bit further, the tip brushing against the hem of your shorts. You’re dizzied by his touch, by the comforting way he smiles up at you as he lets the towel fall to the side. Both of his hands are on you now, one on each thigh. His thumbs brush soft shapes into your skin. 

Just friends, you say to yourself. Just friends just friends just—

“Hey gu—oh,” Bobby stutters, standing in the doorway with Peter. “S-sorry to interrupt. We didn’t mean to—”

“What do you two want?” Logan cuts him off, his hands slipping off your thighs as he stands to face the boys. You can hear the gruff annoyance in this voice. “No privacy in this goddamn mansion,” he mutters under his breath so low you almost don’t hear it. 

“Charles told us to come get you, Logan,” Bobby continues nervously. “He has to talk to you about something.” 

Logan groans, irritated as ever. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.” 

Bobby and Peter nod, too nervous to say anything else, and walk away. Logan is still standing in the same spot. You can tell he’s thinking, contemplating something. 

“You better go,” you say, cocking your head towards the hall. “Can’t keep the professor waiting,” you joke. You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches up. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of turning his frown into a smile. 

He turns his body so that he’s completely facing you. His throat bobs as his hands curl into fists at his sides. He looks like he’s holding back, resisting—but what? You can’t quite tell. 

“Logan?” Charles’ voice calls from down the hall. 

“I wanna see that plate clean when I get back,” Logan finally says, pointing to the cookies. 

You let out a laugh as he walks to the doorway. “Yes sir,” you pledge, hand on your heart. His smile widens, his eyes grazing up and down your body, as if committing your form to his memory. What you’re seeing can’t be right; it has to be an illusion. You almost think he doesn’t want to leave you—can’t leave you. His feet are planted on the ground, his arms tucked against his chest. 

He opens his mouth, but the Professor interrupts him before he can get a word in. “Logan!”

Logan steps out of the doorway impatiently, fists still clutched at his side. “Meet me on the lawn in thirty minutes, okay?” he huffs out, walking down the hallway towards Charles’ voice before you can give him an answer. Charles calls him again. “Yeah, yeah, old man. I hear you!” 

Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes. You can—absolutely cannot—wait thirty minutes.

God. You are so lovesick.

Twenty-five minutes later you’re sitting out on the lawn, far away from the mansion, waiting for Logan, popping the last cookie into your mouth. 

You lay down on your back, the cold, wet grass sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a light breeze in the air, bending the green blades and the leaves of the trees back and forth. You look up at the stars, imagining just how hot they are, just how bright they can shine. 

“You finished the cookies!” Logan’s voice calls from a few feet away. You sit up, watching the shadow of his form make his way over to you. You can see the smile spread across his face as he reaches your slide, crouching down and sitting next to you. 

“Of course I did,” you say. He’s looking down at you, his eyes flickering across your face. You want to look away, but you can’t. It’s like he’s got you stuck there—he always does. He is the one thing you can’t resist. 

Logan’s shoulder bumps against yours, the sudden warmth reminding you just how cold you are. You shiver, crossing your arms and tucking them into your chest. 

You instinctively and involuntarily lean into his touch, searching for warmth. He catches on to what you’re doing before you do. “Cold?” He asks, shuffling a bit in his spot as he lifts his jacket.   

“O-oh no it’s okay you don’t—” But then he’s taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. 

“Better?” He asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulders too, inviting you to lean into him completely.

“Y-yeah,” You stutter, letting your head rest against his chest. You close your eyes, too nervous to keep them open. His jacket smells like him—pine and tobacco and musk. Every breath you take is intoxicating. He’s everywhere, flooding your senses. It’s overwhelming, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than with him. 

He sighs, his breath fanning against your forehead. “So, what’s the matter?” He asks, tugging you in tighter. 

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Nothing,” you say, doing your best to be convincing. “I’m fine.” But you know it’s no use. He can see right through you. It’s like knowing when you’re lying is part of his mutation.

Logan raises his brows. “You’re stressed.” It isn’t a question, it’s a fact. “I could see it before, when we were inside. I can see it when you’re teaching the kids.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, the feeling almost distracting you from his words. His eyes search yours for the truth, for an answer. “You can talk to me, darlin’. I’m right here.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as those last three words replay in your mind. You swallow your nerves down, searching for the right thing to say. 

“What if we’re in danger?” You stumble over the sentence quickly, shooting it out into the air like it’s something you’ve wanted to get rid of for a long time. “What if the stupid war they’re always talking about comes, and we aren’t ready?” You can feel your heart racing, tears brimming behind your eyes. 

Logan presses a kiss to your forehead, the warm feeling of his lips unexpected but welcome. “Hey,” he coos, his lips still pressed against your skin. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

A tear slides down your cheek. The words come out like vomit, each syllable slipping off your tongue in rapid-fire succession. “But what if it’s not? What if I can’t protect the kids or the team or you for fuck’s sake?” You can’t stop the floodgates—tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You’re speaking between sobs now. “What if they get to us before we can convince them that mutants aren’t something to be wiped out or some disease to be cured? What if—” 

Logan’s arms wrap around your body, tugging you against his chest, pulling you as close as possible. “I’m not gonna let that happen,” he murmurs. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to be okay.” 

“H-how do you know?” You choke, your chest heaving against his. “What if—"

“No more what ifs,” he whispers, his hands rubbing against the leather of the jacket—his jacket—on your back. “No one’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Gonna keep you safe, okay?”

“O-okay,” you mutter. “Gonna k-keep you safe, too.” 

Logan hums, the bassy timber of his voice filling your ears, calming your mind. “Don’t worry about me,” he pauses, one hand reaching up to the nape of your neck, rubbing circles into the sensitive skin there. “Just let me worry about you.” 

“Always gonna worry about you,” you say, not backing down. 

You can feel his heart beating against yours. “You don’t have to right now,” he soothes. “Let me take care of you.”

You don’t protest—don’t try to fight him this time. You let him pull you into his lap, let him hold you closer, let him play with the hair at the nape of your neck.  You can feel his lips on the crown of your head. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been before. He feels so good, so firm and solid underneath you, so steadfast and constant. He’s a lifeline, a necessity. A safe place—asylum. 

It has always been him that you need, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise. 

Logan finally breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?” He asks.  You, you think. 

“Me?” What? 

“Did I just…” you trail off. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” he husks, his hands lowering down your back, slipping under the jacket and your thin t-shirt to the bare skin underneath. His palms are warm, and his touch is tentative, hesitant. “This okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, and Logan starts to draw patterns and shapes across your back. “Feels nice.” Your voice is soft and shaky as he explores your skin.  

“I’ve been thinking about you too, you know,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. His nails drag across your back. You move your legs to straddle him. “You’re the only thing on my mind, princess.” He presses his forehead to yours as if to show you, to prove to you that he’s telling the truth. You shudder at the words, at the thought. He presses a chaste kiss to your nose, lowering his lips until they’re just centimeters from yours. 

The world feels frozen. You’ve long forgotten you’re outside, the breeze cutting across the grass. You’ve forgotten about the stars twinkling above you. They’re nothing—just balls of heat burning out millions of miles away. You’ve forgotten about all the hatred you’re forced to face, all the variables and lives at stake in this stupid war. Your mind is calm. Everything is suddenly nothing. 

Everything is him. Logan. 

“Logan,” you mumble. It’s a plea, a prayer, a demand. And he knows exactly what you’re asking for as his name hangs in the air between the two of you. 

His lips crash down onto yours, tasting you, savoring you. But it isn’t languid or slow—it’s rushed, frantic, starving, as if your world is ending; it very well could be. He’s pushing you down onto the grass, his muscular arms on either side of your head, caging you in underneath him. 

“Wanted you this whole time,” he pants in between kisses. “Needed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t.” He pushes the jacket open with one of his hands and hitches your shirt up. He lowers himself onto his forearm as his nails drag up your stomach, settling just under your ribs. He spreads his palm, feeling the expanse of your skin, tracing your curves and the dips of your body.  

“F-fuck,” you stutter, arching your back off the grass and into his chest, offering more of yourself to him. 

He bites your lower lip and kisses the pain away. “You gonna let me take you right here?” He growls, his fingers playing with the hem of your bra. “Gonna let me fuck you outside, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine, lifting your hips against his, feeling his erection straining in his jeans. “Need you, Lo.” 

He curses under his breath as he sits up, his hands pawing at the leather jacket, tearing it from your body and casting it aside. You sit up too, keeping yourself close to him. He’s yanking at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He takes off his beater next, but you don’t get the chance to admire him. Everything is a blur, the throwing of clothes, the way he’s shoving you back down to the grass as his fingers unclasp your bra. The straps fall down your arms, and Logan slips it off the rest of the way. 

He pauses, taking you in, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering himself back down over you, balancing on one forearm as his free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, finally settling on your chest. He cups your tits, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over one nipple and then the other. 

“Perfect. You’re so goddamn perfect,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then to your chin. He continues his trail down to your jaw, your collarbone, the center of your chest. 

He takes a detour, his lips latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, his tongue flicking out and soothing the ache away. He kisses across the valley of your chest, bringing his mouth to the other side. He flits his tongue across your other nipple, and continues his trail down your stomach, peppering innocent kisses as he travels lower and lower. 

He stops at the hem of your shorts, looking up at you under hooded eyes. You can see the lust, the desire, the need. “Please,” you whimper. And then he’s hastily unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts, wasting no time as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and throwing them carelessly into the grass. 

Logan pushes your thighs open. “Keep your legs spread for me, sweetheart.” You can feel his breath on your clit. “Wanna taste you,” he rasps, kissing your core teasingly. “Wanna feel you come on my tongue.” 

And then his tongue is pushing through your folds, lapping at your juices, all the way up to your clit. It’s already too much, your hips lifting off the grass. Logan brings his arm across your hips in response, keeping you down. “Stay,” he grunts, his voice vibrating against your heat. “Don’t know where you think you’re going, princess.” He’s looking up at you now. You can see the desperation and the hunger in his eyes. 

He's starving for you.

He buries his face back into your cunt, swiping his tongue through your folds again before finally settling on your clit. He latches his lips around the bud, sucking harshly. He flicks his tongue out, drawing sweet, sacrilegious circles against your core. 

His free hand climbs up your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. His nails ghost across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He finds his way to your folds, spreading your slick, teasing your entrance. You moan his name as he presses your squirming hips down firmly into the ground. “Doing so good for me,” he breathes against your swollen clit. “Such a sweet fucking pussy.” 

He sinks two fingers deep into your cunt, humming against you, savoring the taste of you. He pumps in and out, deeper every time. “F-fuck Lo,” you cry out, your hands grasping the blades of grass beneath you for purchase. “Feels so good.”

Your walls flutter around him, your muscles already contracting as he works you open. “That’s it, princess,” he huffs, his teeth grazing your clit as he sucks, hard. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers, can feel you getting close.”

“S-so close,” you choke out as he fucks his fingers into you. His pace becomes faster, relentless. He laps at you like he’s a man who has never eaten in his life. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. “Come on my tongue, darlin’. Know you can do it.” He’s working you through it, swirling his tongue, flicking your clit, licking thick, hard stripes around the bud. His long fingers scissor inside you, rubbing against your walls deliciously. It’s all too much, but it’s just what you need. “Let go for me, pretty girl.”

You feel your walls contract as the fire in your belly spills. You chant his name—Logan. It’s a prayer—no—a promise. It hangs in the air as you come undone underneath him. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, helping you ride out your orgasm. He carefully pulls out after a few more thrusts, but his face is still buried in your cunt, still lapping at your swollen, overstimulated clit. 

“Lo,” you whimper, looking down at him. He looks up at you, his tongue licking one long stripe before he stops completely. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your clit as he sits up and unbuckles his belt. “Gonna have to taste that pretty pussy again later, yeah?” He throws his belt to the side and unbuttons his jeans. He slides the zipper down, too, and hooks his fingers inside his jeans, shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs in one quick movement. 

You can make out just how big he is in the moonlight. You swallow at the size of him. He lowers down onto you again, resting on his forearm, guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

He captures your lips in a kiss as he nudges against you, teasing you, spreading your folds open for him. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing you again. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

You wrap your arms around his back, bringing his chest flush to yours. “Need you, Logan. Need you inside me.”

“I know,” he whispers, nudging teasingly against you again. “I know.”

And then he’s shoving himself deep inside you, filling you up. You can feel his cock twitching, throbbing, searching for more of you. He pulls all the way out and buries himself back down to the hilt. 

“F-fuck,” you curse, your nails digging into his shoulders, searching for support. “It’s s-so much. So big.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he husks, setting a slow, easy pace, letting you adjust to the size of him. “Taking me so good.” He’s working you open with every pump, his cock rubbing against your walls and stretching you out. 

Logan brings his free hand between your bodies to your still-swollen clit, stroking gently as he plunges deeper into you, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You moan his name, your chest coming flush with his as you arch your back. The contact feels so nice—just what you needed. He’s fucking you out, pounding into you over and over again. 

He's erasing every fear, every bad dream, every horrible vision you’ve ever had. It’s what he does to you. It’s just him—Logan—always has been and always will be. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts. “Letting me fuck you out here.” His hips snap against yours—building his pace, growing faster and deeper as he thrusts into you. You can feel yourself growing closer, crumbling underneath him. You can’t last much longer, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him tightly. 

He moans your name into your mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip, tasting you. “You feel so good, pretty girl,” he groans, rocking into you. “So soft, so tight. Know you’re close.” He flicks your clit, and then circles roughly. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“G-gonna…” You trail off, a bumbling mess, unable to finish your sentence as Logan fucks into you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” He soothes. “I’m right here, I’ve got you. Come for me.” 

You can’t hold back anymore. You can feel yourself letting go, your walls fluttering around him, taking him deeper, holding him tighter. Your orgasm washes over you, like sun stretching across your skin, like a fire spreading in a forest. It’s all too much, too good. 

Logan isn’t far behind. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside you, his pace faltering, his thrusts becoming sloppier. His fingers leave your clit and travel up your body. His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you gently as he pumps into you, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wanna come inside you, pretty girl,” he moans, pulling you closer, taking you deeper. 

You nod against his forehead. “P-please,” you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t want you to leave yet.”

“F-fuck,” he growls, your words sending him over the edge as he spills inside you, filling you up. “You’ve idea,” he chokes, “how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” His thrusts slow as he rides out his orgasm, pumping in and out a few more times before pulling out of you. 

He doesn’t break contact—doesn’t rush to get changed. He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him so that your head rests on his chest, your body tucked tightly into his. You can hear his heart beating deep inside—hear his shaky breaths become more stable. The air is no longer cold—the breeze a welcome contrast to the hot summer night air. 

Your legs tangle together. Somewhere in the distance birds sing. A branch creaks. The wind whisks through the grass. You close your eyes and listen. The calm before the storm. This peace can’t last.

“Lo?” You call, breaking the silence. 

He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m right here.”

“I know, but—”

It’s like he can read your mind. “I’m not going anywhere. No one is.” He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer. 

“I’m just scared to lose you, to lose all this.”

Logan presses another kiss to your head. “I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.” 

Nothing’s gonna take you from my side.  

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 3 - something you need to hear right now.

Last day where the Sun is in Scorpio. First day where the Sun enters Sagittarius.

The month of November is always a tough month for everyone. This pick a card is aimed to give some guidance through these dark times. Scorpio energy can be sometimes overwhelmingly intense and gloomy, but it holds great power. Use this energy to die peacefully, and shed your old skin. Like a phoenix, we will all rise from our ashes.

Words of encouragement, healing messages and a tiny bit of reality checks are what this reading will bring you. Hope it resonates.

Pile 1 

The World, 2 of Wands, Knight of Wands, Page of Swords, 10 of Swords (Rx), Queen of Pentacles (Rx?)

Top of the deck : 8 of Cups

Bottom of the deck : 2 of Swords

Life path 7 / Life path 11

“You don’t drown by falling in the water, you drown by staying there.”

“Do what makes you fucking happy”

additional quote : “Do what makes your soul shine <3”

Right off the bat, there is a sense of urgency in walking away from something and making a firm decision. I think you have been in denial about something in your life, avoiding it by trying to live a “normal life”. You’ve been focusing on your day to day tasks as a distraction but something has been at the back of your mind for a while now. And when I say for a while, I mean at least two years, or one year. It is something that you have, overtime, subconsciously suppressed because at the time this thing, career, job, creative endeavor,.. was important to you, but you did not have (or thought you didn’t have) enough knowledge and resources to take methodical practical steps towards it. I am picking up that this might have been something that happened slightly before or during the pandemic (2019/2020). The World fell out of the deck, and this card indicates the completion of a cycle, an ending. After it, the 2 of Wands fell, which indicates future planning, progress, decision and discovery. I feel like the message you need to hear is that now is the perfect time to start this project of yours, or at least plan the practical actions you need to take over the course of the next few months to accomplish it. Don’t overthink over certain details and possible technical issues. There is a fire inside of you that you consistently turned off, thinking and hoping that the embers would eventually die out. The problem you are currently facing is that they never did. You might have an Aries North node. Being assertive and independent doesn’t come easy to you. Starting projects and following your instincts without second guessing yourself is hard. You tried to manage your truest and deepest desires but I feel like this past year, the desire to let it all out, probably influenced by the Lunar nodes being in the sign of Aries and Libra, urging you to just go for it, intensified to the point of suffocation. 

Your spirit guides are urging you to take this leap of faith, to walk confidently towards that goal like The Fool, without worrying if you run the risk of falling from a ravine in the process.

They’re telling you to start slow, to take a step by step approach while still keeping a strong mindset. You will come out victorious only if you’re able to keep pushing through the obstacles. What awaits you is a slow and steady marathon and growth. You can do it !

Oracle cards from the Green With Oracle pulled for you : 

16 - Memory / Rosemary => Leo energy

“Deeper levels of connection with people, concepts and plans are all areas that Rosemary works with. You are reminded to ensure you are in touch with your inner wisdom, paying heed to the past, and have cleared what needs to be released. Listen to your intuition as it is calling to you at present, but be wary of gossip or becoming tactless or too forceful.”

5 - Grounding / Potato => Virgo energy

“Explore the deepest, innermost areas of yourself and situations, as potatoes indicate energies that are calling you to look again at what you may have once missed and will help to bring stability. If you are looking for an answer, try pulling back a little to let things settle on their own first. Challenges at the moment may include ignorance, self-centeredness and forgetfulness, so make sure you are compassionate and focused.

You are called to use all the knowledge you acquired overtime to finally take action. You’re currently ending a cycle. You have enough wisdom to make a plan that will lead you closer and closer to tangible success. Trust your intuition and inner guidance. Don’t make rash decisions, but be decisive.

Just realized these two cards have the same message in the guide book ! This is a crazy coincidence. I used it many times and never paid attention. I didn’t even know two cards could have the same message. This is crazy lol.  Let me share the quote with you : 

 “When the world wearies and society fails to satisfy, there is always the garden”

Pile 2 

2 of cups, 3 of Pentacles, Queen of Wands, Ace of Wands, The Star, 2 of Swords, Page of Pentacles 10 of Pentacles

“The same light you see in others is shining within you too.”

(there are a lot of references to light, stars,shining,;. throughout the reading. Are you drawn to space ? or the galaxy ? You’re probably a huge astrology, and/or astronomy nerd. You are probably also a huge dreamer. Maybe drawn to the idea of being a starseed. You might have strong aquarius placements, or a populated 11th house. Pluto finally going in Aquarius this week is going to grant you so much luck and recognition ! You are about to step into your power for the next 20 years. Like a rocket, you are about to fly towards the stars. Are you ready for the take off ?  

“Don’t let the ugliness of others kill the beauty in you”

Something you need to hear is that you are about to be blessed by the universe ! Shooting Star by XG just started playing !

“Babe, if I give it my all, will it pay off?

Workin' overtime, no days off

All these shootin' stars in the dark (Yeah)

All these shootin' stars in the dark, make a wish (Yeah)

Takin' off from the ground, it's amazin'

So outta this world, I'm in space

Now I'm goin' up, headin' to the stars

Wouldn't trade it out for another life, no

Yeah, we ridin', ridin', ridin' on up (Woo)

So shinin', shinin', shinin' for sure

Ooh, ah, I'm lookin' so lavish (Shinin', shinin', yeah)

Ooh, ah, put in work like it's a habit (I'm lookin' so lavish)

It's a big move, every day's like a dream

Makin' big moves as I should 'cause I'm a queen (Ooh)

Ooh, ah, I'm lookin' so lavish

Ooh, ah, yeah, I bet you can't imagine (Oh yeah)”

You are shining on your way towards the stars. You are currently in your Queen of Wands and Ace of Wands energy, (Million Dollar Baby just started playing, you’re really sure of yourself and goal oriented right now).

You are bursting with confidence and assertiveness. You are determined towards your goals. You are in a “work hard, play hard” type of energy. If it’s not currently happening, you are about to have a huge burst of popularity on whatever you’re currently working on. Could be any project, a youtube channel, a business : there are a few people that are well respected in the industry you're aiming for that are eyeing you right now and that are about to offer you a contract/ a deal/ a collaboration. They have been probably on a hunt for someone like you for a while now and they were probably starting to lose hope until they came across your page/work/profile. They see you as a Star, you’re unique and like The Star in the tarot, you represent hope and faith to them/to their business/ association/school/company. They see your raw potential and they are going to help you refine it. 

Right now, you’re probably more focused on your work/ career/ school and nurturing your friendships, going out. You’re basically active in your social circles and this is benefiting you a lot ! 

An additional message you need to know is that you’re attracting a soulmate! It’s not necessarily a romantic soulmate, could be a friendship, a mentor.. Whatever the nature of this relationship is, it is going to fill you up with even more joy and hope! Your spirit guides are so proud of you and of all the work you have been putting in lately. Even though it was hard, you stayed patient and worked diligently towards your goals and desired reality. You did a lot of shadow work, tried your best to let go of the limiting beliefs that were holding you back. The Universe wants to tell you they are about to reward you.

Oracle card from the Green With Oracle pulled for you : 

40 - Positivity / Marigold : Leo energy (again you are shining and radiating confidence! Your solar plexus chakra and sacral chakra might be in overdrive currently! You are the main character in the play that is your life.)

 “A better understanding is indicated and a reason to be more optimistic about outcomes and the roads to get there. There are opportunities for nurturing encounters and a general aura of happiness pervades. Marigolds help us focus on the positive aspects of even the most difficult events. Your inner child may need to come out for a play, and be sure to take creative invitations. Be wary of not having all the facts and of emotional blockages.”

Pile 3

TW : this pile is a bit sad and angsty.

Before I pulled any cards for you, I already felt your energy overlapping in Pile 2’s reading. Your energy was really intense, deep and melancholic. Sad songs started playing, which completely contradicted pile 2’s energy (which was overwhelmingly positive). You are probably going through a really tough period right now and your soul is desperately crying for help, praying for a hand to come and save you. You have been having really painful realizations regarding your past, especially your childhood. You’ve recently realized that the child inside of you was buried alive. You’ve recently realized that you lost your essence. While growing up, you accommodated to the world around you, what people expected of you, what was “normal”, what was acceptable. By bowing down to other people’s expectations, you let your true self die slowly. You’ve been on autopilot for a while now, completely numb and empty. There is a bit of mirroring between this pile and pile 1 of suppressing one's authentic self and desires. 

Right now, you feel that your heart has been almost rotting inside. You lost all of your passion and your spark of life. But, don’t worry, what you need to hear now is that this painful realization is what is going to set you free. It is the first step towards a really deeply healing period where you are going to reconnect with your inner child. I heard : “The truth will set you free, but first, it will piss you off”. Did you read my last reading by any chance ? I am getting the energy that you chose pile 2 and 3, both or just one, or that you would resonate with those two piles for some reason. Don’t hesitate to check it out, you might find some comforting messages I heard ! 

Now, let me pull some cards for you. I don’t know why, but I felt drawn to use different decks than the ones I used for the first two piles. So, your pile will have different messages (no message from the Green Witch oracle for you)

 [took a little break before going to your pile. You probably need to slow down on your day to day tasks. I know it’s really hard in the productivity obsessed capitalist world we live in, and it is a huge privilege to be able to have enough time and energy to spiritually reconnect with ourselves, but this is what your spirit guides are urging you to do. You’ve got this.]

For you, I used the Occult Tarot and the Heavenly Bodies Astrology deck.

I only pulled 2 cards, one per deck (it was supposed to be like that but more cards sneaked in while shuffling haha) I feel like you need just a simple check up.

Cardinal - Instigation, Bravery and A pioneering spirit => your lost spark and childlike innocence will soon be reignited by a deep healing period. A new beginning is coming for you, but it will take some hibernating time before it comes. 

Sagittarius - Optimism, Exploration and Freedom

Trine - Angelic Support, Harmony and Perfect Flow

Reconnect to your higher self and spiritual side. Disconnect from the direct, yet understandable, dissatisfaction you feel towards life. Your embers that were slowly dying will relive, just trust the process, enter the deepest parts of yourself and keep exploring with positivity : your angels will guide you. There is a team of spirit guides and angels that are proud of your progress. Even if you don’t see it, they do and they want to tell you : There is light at the end of the tunnel, keep on walking.

The Hermit and the Ace of Swords :  The truth about your past came out, now is the time to meditate on those realizations and integrate them. Alchemize the pain in wisdom. You are about to come out stronger than ever. Isolate yourself, or at least try to keep your peace and have a lot of alone time (without completely stopping socializing altogether, humans are social creatures, connecting with people is important for our wellbeing) to ponder, analyze, decrypt all the patterns that you’ve been repeating. Reconnect with your inner child, look at photos of yourself when you were younger, delve deep into your childhood and childhood wounds. Maybe try to find what your attachment style is, anything that stems from your childhood that has been making you stuck in a rut these past years. Maybe, if you can, try to heal the relationship you had with your parents/parent or primary caregiver. Try to understand the nature of you guys’ relationship to see how it affects your self worth now. You've got this, trust me.

here is a link to my ko-fi.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[littlefluu]

𓍯𓂃𓏧 E N H Y P E N F I C R E C S

OCTOBER 2nd, 2024 RECOMMENDATIONS

WELCOME TO A SMALL LITTLE COLLECTIONS OF RECENT WORKS I ENJOYED For more recommendations check out my main masterlist ⤷ GO BACK TO THE MAIN ENHYPEN MASTER LIST WITH EVEN MORE RECOMMENDATIONS ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

ALL OF THE MEMBERS / UNITS

i am bored we should kiss by @sunkittie f, sug. making out with Heeseung, Jay and Jake as their best friend! ᝰ making out , kissing , suggestive, best friends to lovers/??? .ᐟ₊ ⊹

just a bet & not a bet by @all4yoi a, f. after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet & upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship. ᝰ angst, fluff, reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, hyung line .ᐟ₊ ⊹

love paradise by @enhasparadise f. in which you suddenly ask your boyfriend if he loves you to see his reaction ᝰ enhypen member being a simp for their girl, really cute reaction from the member .ᐟ₊ ⊹

LEE HEESEUNG

prince charming's mismatch by @gyuuberryy a, f, sug. you and prince heeseung have been rivals for as long as you can remember. what began as childhood clashes has grown into a deep-seated animosity over the years. but when your sister runs away on her wedding day, you're forced to take her place and marry heeseung—the last person you ever wanted to call your husband. now bound in an unwanted marriage, you’re faced with navigating the tension between your unresolved hatred and an unexpected attraction. as palace intrigue and looming threats surround you both, you must confront the truth of your feelings. will the bitterness between you tear you apart, or will it ignite something far more powerful? ᝰ prince!heeseung x princess!reader, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, arranged marriage au , highly suggestive content, kissing, hee and reader are mean at first, insecurities, jealous!hee .ᐟ₊ ⊹

prada shoes and I love yous by @elix8r a, f, s. Life as a socialite wasn’t all champagnes and designer labels, especially not with the turn your reputation took due to a simple misunderstanding. Now, you were being painted by everyone as a big fat cheater who shattered her sweet boyfriend’s heart—a narrative that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, it was him who had betrayed your trust. Frustrated and feeling deeply wronged, you returned to society and the new school year after a summer of cutting off contact with everyone and the drama. But just when you thought you were ready to face the world again, you were blindsided by something unexpected: the lingering effect Heeseung had on you. And who could blame you? Heeseung was way too hot for you to get over in just three short months and now, seeing him with the girl he once told you not to worry about all over him? Oh, it was on. You refused to be replaced, labeled as a crazy ex, or forgotten. No, you were going to make Lee Heeseung realize that you were the best motherfucking thing to had ever happened to him.  ᝰ smut, angst, crack, (some?) fluff, college!au, exes to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au, socialite/richkid!au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK JONGSEONG

still into you by @i2sunric f, a, sug. you’ve always thought dating a doctor was hot until you started realising his job was taking your place— but don’t worry, being a doctor meant jay could always stitch your broken heart up! ᝰ doctor!jay x reader fluff, early 2000s au, childhood friends to lovers but they’re already lovers, angst (with comfort) cuddling and kissing, a little suggestive (no smut), they grow up together, mentions of stress and fainting, mentions of pregnancy, fighting .ᐟ₊ ⊹

book lovers by @yeonzzzn s. when your book loving boyfriend has you read a specific part of the current book you’re reading out loud to him. ᝰ booknerd/bf!jay x booknerd!afab!reader, book reading shenanigans, swearing, SMUT .ᐟ₊ ⊹

half return by @heesdreameryour a, f. small towns yearly fall festival was your biggest pride and joy but getting your friends to help volunteer was nearly impossible. luckily one of them was stupid enough and too secretly in love with you to help himself from offering. ᝰ akward!jay x golden retriever!y/n, small town romance, friends to lovers .ᐟ₊ ⊹

confessing to his mute crush by @jaysng f. jay and deaf reader both seem to like each other, just when he thinks that his confession was a pure failer the reader does something surprising ᝰ jay x deaf!reader, pure fluff, friends to lovers .ᐟ₊ ⊹

opposites by @ikeuverse f, s. jay was the most serious ceo anyone could meet and remember, but not when you were around. while he had a difficult smile, you captivated anyone with your cheerful and relaxed manner. one night, he decided to take you into his world, the business dinner, but you didn't know if it was a good idea. ᝰ ceo!jay x fem!reader, fluff, smut, a little angst .ᐟ₊ ⊹

birthday surprise by @ikeuverse f. jay didn't think he'd make it home in time for his birthday, so he didn't bother celebrating at all. but he didn't expect his best friends and you, his girlfriend, to prepare a lovely surprise. ᝰ jay x fem!reader, established relationship, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

SIM JAEHYUN

hybe boy by @onlyjaeyun a, f, s. a sequence of events from your and jake’s senior year ᝰ Social Media Hybrid AU - 50 Chapters , single parent!au (Jake is raising his brother), neighbors/strangers to lovers, college!au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

sims anatomy by @021894s f, a, s. you, a top cardiac surgeon, find yourself increasingly frustrated by the distraction over the hospital’s new head of neurosurgery, Dr. Jake Sim. Despite your initial annoyance, you can't help but notice Jake's charm and undeniable skills. As you keep running into each other, Jake’s persistent yet respectful flirtations begin to break through your professional exterior. ᝰ neurosurgeon! jake x cardio surgeon! reader, workplace romance, situationship .ᐟ₊ ⊹

melodies of heart by @yyawnjun drunkenly making out with Jake after him just being a good listener! ᝰ jake x fem!reader, friends to lovers, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK SUNGHOON

fixed comfort by @paarksunghoon f. typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you. or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much. ᝰ sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

REACTIONS

ENHA REACTING TO YOU SUDDENLY STUFFING YOUR FACE IN THEIR NECK by @tsukiflwr ᝰ hyung line! enha x f!reader, fluff, established relationship, skinship, kissing, pet names .ᐟ₊ ⊹

HYUNG LINE REACTING TO YOU SINGING ALONG TO JUNO by @tsukiflwr ᝰ hyung line! enha x f!reader, slightly suggestive, fluff, humor, skinship, kissing .ᐟ₊ ⊹

MY FAVORITE AUTHORS @tsukiflwr ★ @ikeuverse ★ @gyuuberryy ★ @sunkittie

[jellofish-plant]

Caught in the Crossfire

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader

Summary: Being best friends with Nightwing means you're no stranger to chaos, but falling for Jason Todd, the Red Hood, takes danger to a new level. When a mission involving a dangerous gang puts you squarely in harm's way, the tension between your loyalties and your feelings boils over. Will your bond with Nightwing survive, and will Jason let you in despite his walls?

Warnings: Mentions of violence, injury, light angst, fluff, mild language

[Masterlist]

The sharp snap of a grappling hook echoed through Gotham's empty alleyways as you swung toward the rendezvous point. Another long night assisting Nightwing your best friend on patrol, and you’d already broken a sweat fending off a gang of thugs who apparently had more muscle than brain cells.

“You okay?” Nightwing’s voice crackled in your comms, concern lacing his tone.

“Fine. Just some bruises,” you replied, landing on the rooftop where he waited, leaning casually against a vent.

“That’s my partner,” he said with a grin, ruffling your hair playfully. You swatted his hand away, rolling your eyes.

“Your partner? More like your babysitter.”

Before he could retort, a familiar voice interrupted from the shadows.

“Am I interrupting this heartwarming moment, or should I come back later?”

You turned to see Jason Todd Red Hood approach, his helmet tucked under his arm. His leather jacket gleamed under the moonlight, and his signature smirk was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Jason,” you said, trying to sound neutral.

“Y/N,” he replied, his voice lower, smoother, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Why are you here?” Nightwing asked, crossing his arms and stepping slightly in front of you, the protective older brother act kicking in.

“Intel,” Jason said, holding up a USB drive. “Thought you might want to know the gang you just took down has ties to a bigger fish—one that’s gunning for Y/N.”

You froze. “Me? Why?”

Jason’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a rare seriousness. “You’ve been on their radar since you broke up their weapons shipment last month. They don’t like loose ends.”

Nightwing immediately turned to you, his face dark with worry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you admitted, guilt creeping in. “I can handle myself.”

“Clearly not,” Jason muttered, earning a glare from Nightwing.

“Enough,” you snapped, stepping between them. “If they’re coming for me, we deal with it together. No macho posturing.”

Jason’s lips twitched as though he wanted to argue but thought better of it. “Fine. But you’re sticking with me tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Nightwing said, stepping forward.

“Relax, Goldilocks,” Jason said with a smirk. “I’m better at keeping people alive when they’re in the crossfire. You can’t argue with that.”

The tension between the two of them was palpable, and you sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I’ll go with Jason. We don’t have time for this.”

Nightwing looked like he wanted to protest but relented with a nod. “Fine. But you call me the second anything goes wrong.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “She’ll be fine, Dick. Trust me.”

Hours later, you and Jason were staking out a warehouse where the gang’s leader was supposed to be hiding. The silence between you was tense, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable.

“Why do you always do that?” you asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“Do what?” Jason replied, not looking at you.

“Push people away.”

He stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I don’t push people away.”

You scoffed. “Right. Because you’re such a social butterfly.”

Jason finally turned to face you, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “I push people away because it’s easier than watching them get hurt because of me.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. You softened, stepping closer. “Jason… You don’t have to do everything alone. You don’t have to protect everyone by shutting them out.”

His gaze flickered to your hand, which had unconsciously reached for his. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he took your hand in his, his grip firm but hesitant.

“Maybe,” he said quietly, “you’re the exception.”

Your heart fluttered, but before you could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted the moment. Jason immediately pulled away, his gun in hand as he scanned the shadows.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his tone all business now.

You nodded, pulling out your own weapon as the two of you moved into the warehouse.

By the end of the night, the gang was neutralized, and you’d escaped with only a few minor scrapes. Jason had been relentless in keeping you safe, his protective side both frustrating and endearing.

As he walked you back to your apartment, you found yourself smiling despite the chaos.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, glancing at you.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “Just thinking about how Nightwing’s going to give me an earful for trusting you.”

Jason smirked, his confidence returning. “Let him. You’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

You stopped at your door, turning to face him. “Thanks, Jason. For everything.”

He hesitated, then leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Anytime, Y/N.”

And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving you with a heart that felt impossibly full.

[zzencat]

Your Person When They Realize They Want More With You (+ character traits) - Timeless ⏳

From left to right. Choose the one you can’t take your eyes off of.

Applicable to a current or future person. This is someone that wants to be someone more to you. Warnings: tooth-rottingly sweet. Some suggestiveness. Some angst.

BEFORE YOU CHOOSE. Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out. You may now begin.

———————————

Pile 1. “If we’re both still single by 30, let’s get married.” “Deal.”

•you could be coworkers OR someone who goes in the same direction as you in the morning

• one day, a thought will cross their mind when they’re ordering your favorite so-and-so, maybe coffee, maybe favorite pastry, OR they randomly keep remember weird details about you(?) like “oh y/n likes this…”—cuz they’ll be like “wait…why do I know that? lol why did I just randomly rmr that…” they’ll laugh it off,,,,and then they see you again later and their heart beats a different way…

• they honestly did not see you like this before…

• ear muffs and black sweaters…puffy jackets…perhaps it’s cold/snowing when it hits them how radiant you look

•honestly a very sweet fs. if you’re okay with vanilla people, this is def for you. if not, let’s spice it upppp (you gotta do it)

• it’s weird bc it hits them gradually too. like thinking “why are you still single…why am i still single?”

• you guys have a mature vibe. ^^(relating to previous point) a lot of this pile’s fs will realize their feelings too late or will realize when you’re both financially stable

• maybe you give the vibe you’re not interested in them or you don’t have the intention of getting married—at some point you may have mentioned this to them, sober or drunk, and they rmr it so their being cautious and gauging how you could feel about them, if you feel anything for them at all

• childhood friend kind of energy. I really don’t think you see them in this way either, not until they start acting weird around you. All of sudden, they’re not smiling as much anymore and maybe they’re averting their gaze more

• it sucks bc you’ll question why and will feel weirded out when they start avoiding you, turning down your requests to hang out…

• I’m getting a very empty feel. Either you feel empty without them or they’ve been on dates with other people in the past (you’re wondering how tf they still haven’t settled) and it’s bc they’re not feeling that “unidentifiable”…spark. Like the one they should be feeling on dates with new people, but no…it’s just…dry. They don’t know what it is tho. All of these people are attractive and share the same interests, yet there’s just something missing…

• if you give this a try, you will fall very fuckin hard

• ^^ having thoughts like “how tf do they know how to cook? were they always this hot?” lawd…noticing the small things about them and it’ll get you blushin

• honestly…there’s gonna be a huge difference in communication. you’ll probably be a bit pissed- like “why are you acting so weird? have you been avoiding me?”

• they’d give you all these excuses of why they can’t hang out, and that’s bc they wanna be a lone with their feelings. They’ll try to suppress it at first because there’s just no sign that you like them back, no indication of you even feeling anything romantic towards them, and it kills them…

• I honestly see this person suffering alone from it. They’ve got all this worry and bad energy and it’s not even your fault, so the energy is just going inwards. They can’t express it- they don’t even want to verbally acknowledge it bc they’re THAT sensitive to the fact that they like you and the potential of you not liking them back. It’s really just their own mind and doubts being the bad guy

• why is this happening in a car? 😳 you might have to conjure up a little ruse to get them in one place bc they are definitely avoiding you

• I’m really getting the feeling that you were oblivious. Like it had NOT occurred to you once that they could’ve had feelings for you. The most you would’ve thought of your relationship with them is a friendship

• ^^ bc ngl a prominent portion of this group think the fs is too good for them, like out of their league—both in physical and status

• they could be tall and wear glasses, or fit and good facial bone structure

• if you mention another person (that you could possibly interested in) they’ll purse their lips and play up that they’re happy for you (but trust me, it’s fake as hell and you’ll see it). Like they won’t even be able to hold a real smile bc they’re already hurt by the possibilities. OR they just go quiet and say “oh, really?” *looks down, hands in pockets* if you’re both standing up. If you’re one of the oblivious bunch, you’ll notice their tone change but you won’t understand what’s wrong. (there’s also a split amount of you that would ask what’s wrong and others that won’t)

• BUUUT there’s also a handful of fs in this pile that will look down at their feet, hands in pockets, maybe even wearing a beanie, and will avoid your eyes while passive aggressive shooting down the other person. For example, if you compliment this other person, they’ll quietly be like “well, they’re not THAT good…”

• if you’re not giving any signs STILL? then this person will try to suppress their feelings even more and will start going on dates again. this person isn’t the most optimistic when it comes to this—which I can’t blame them for bc I think you treat them TOO much like a friend or family and joke around too casually with them that they think it’s permanently stuck like that—EVEN THO you haven’t even rejected them. there’s also a chance you’d never even friendzoned them. Perhaps when you two were younger, you were like “ewww 🤮🤮🤮” to the prospect, but now that things are different, you’re not totally opposed to it…maybe it’s crossed your mind once or twice, but you didn’t think much of it really…

•hella puppy vibes from this person tho. either they look the part or act it

•I feel kind of sad for your fs only bc some of you could friendzone them or at least have given off that vibe to them. you would go out to events with this person, even 1-on-1 and not even think of it romantically while your person is feeling this one-sided love

• it’s up to you guys if you want to date this person or not, but if you do, they will literally do EVERYTHING for you- esp the planning

• very strong cold weather, scarves, hot drinks, cold region

•this person tries to invite you out often

• i will also mention, this pile is more likely to date this person than pile 3 is to date theirs

• if you do end up dating, in the beginning stage of this relationship, they’re just shy as hellllll and you’re like “what? 😃” when you catch them staring at you — in the beginning stage, they’re prone to laughing/giggling a lot when yall make eye contact and looking away so you don’t see how flustered they are

• you could be an extrovert OR if not, you just really enjoy being around this person. their personality and presence balances out yours

• you might be unsure of what you want in a romantic partner, open to different cultures/people, kind of in your own world(?) —> like not fixated on one thing or it’s easy for you to get caught up with multiple projects/easily distracted and this person keeps track of you/keeps you grounded

• if you figure out that they have feelings for you, you’ll start to feel bad for not seeing it earlier, you’ll start to hella ruminate about it and the more you think abt them, the cuter and more appealing they seem to you

Points of Interest: infj? overthinker for sure, introvert but still good with people, the color gold, “we’re just hanging out,” going to dinner often, getting mistaken for a couple, 7:43 pm, *shrugs* “idk maybe” (from your side), unwarranted sass (from both sides), no hookups—this person wants a genuine relationship with you, “you have shit taste in love interests”(lmfao???), car fights, “wifey” *takes Snapchat selfie while sitting in the passenger seat with the more feminine energy driving*(…nah listen, if the more masc energy be saying this? dude is immediately submissive), curly hair or FLUFFY hair, lots of thick hair, you make this person feel like a kid…like you bring them back to when they didn’t have to worry about jobs and taxes, financial stability, maturity, miscommunication, amusement park dates, trench coats, “I’m feeling kind sick. Sorry 😞”, excuses, excuses, excuses, “why haven’t you been answering my texts?”, catching them try to shamelessly avoid you at the parking at their workplace, going to movies with this person and them treating it like a date (even when you don’t see it that way), when will they make an actual move??

——————

Pile 2. “What are you looking at?”

• yooo have you been to this person’s house before? 😳👀

•idk if you realize this pile 2, but if it was just the two of you, alone, with some dimmed down lights and faint jazz in the background? it could get down and dirty real quick. but only if you’re not sober and not a stubborn person. otherwise, this person isn’t who you’d initially think of as spouse-material

• I’m pretty sure this person has thought abt it before. 200% sure. Not sure if you’ve caught this, but they check you out a lot. They’ve had their eyes on you for a while…

• idk if they’re a huge flirt or just really gives off sensual vibes, but this person is hot…damn

• something about their eyes. They always look so sensual? Or they look really seductive? They’ve got *those* eyes ykwim? They’re also very laidback so that adds to their sexiness

• I think I lot of people wanna sleep with this person, so you’re in an unsaid “competition” — or at least the people around you see it as such. you might get a few dirty looks or sneaky glances your way from jealous people and it’s honestly tiring. you won’t care but it’s just an extra bug on your shoulder

• an issue tho is that you could find this person untrustworthy or not ready for commitment. they’re just hot AND THEY KNOW IT, so if someone asks them for a piece, they’ll easily give themselves — BUT what you don’t know is that a lot of the fs, NOT ALL, in this pile are very picky with who they want

• if you’re smart, this person could tease you for it. only bc they find it super sexy tho. You’re not exactly friends, just acquaintances/partners in business? People who know of each other because of mutual things or people. They know you secretly want them tho even if you try to keep composure

• I’m sure a lot of this pile thinks this person is conceited as hell or you could even cringe at how they are, and you wouldn’t admit in front of them (not even to yourself) that you do find them attractive

• if you’re stubborn, possess a lot of self control, or perhaps hold yourself and others to a standard, maybe it’s just hard for people to get into your pants in general—but this person will like that. they think you have substance to you and you’re not like the rest

• This person likely has a bunch of yes-men around them. It’s a pretty privilege thing

• pretty mysterious and even prettier eyes

• smth about those eyes man… you’d blow up if you look too long or steam might start coming outta your ears

• a lotttt smarter than they play out to be

• if you’ve never been with this person sexually, they’d be so down. if you’ve hooked up once, they’d hit you up again

• even tho this person seems noncommittal, once they commit, they REALLY do

• this person might be wealthy or has grown up in an affluent space

• OR they’ve grown up playing sports

•I don’t think they view people as “pawns” necessarily. I think you perceive them as super popular but in reality, they only consider a handful of friends, real friends. this person isn’t dumb and they know who kisses their ass

•your deviance will intrigue them. not conforming to what they want and what the people around them are like. you do what you want and they like that. they like that you also don’t settle for less.

•but I have to say, these people don’t chase. If you end up with this person, it’s bc you grew the balls to ask them out and they, impressed, agreed to it. Outside, they LOOK the same- like carry the same expression on dates, but inside, they know there’s something more to you

• it’s most likely an ego thing. They don’t do the asking out if you’re someone minding your own business

• both of you guys have an ego thing tho. This person beats you by a smidge but you think they get too much credit for just…existing.

• they’re thinking how people usually try to get with them, but bc you haven’t yet, that kind of…tugs their attention a bit. (Their spirit doesn’t want me to make it obvious that they’re lowkey affected by it lmfaoo). It’ll hang in the back of their mind, yes, but it’s not something they think about randomly in the middle of the day

• this person has found or will find success early in life…in their 20s or even before. Some of it may be due to their looks getting them the opportunities, but they haven’t done modeling. At least, not for the sake of modeling. I don’t think it’s an interest of theirs. Heavy on business person tho or someone pursuing a profession in business/finance/economics

• this person’s jaw is nicely shaped. they don’t have too much fat around their jaw

• weirdly, they can be smart for their age. I think they feel a bit of pressure from being praised for so long for looking so good that they have to perform at that same level

• there will be chances for you to actually speak to them regularly, but they will seldom make the first move. they want you to pursue so it doesn’t hurt their ego. if they can’t take it anymore, they’ll approach you (preferably at an event or somewhere where youre kind of…disillusioned? stood up, standing alone somewhere feeling insecure abt something…not in the right state of mind/unbalanced mind

•i’m not getting too many extroverts here. high chance a lot of you are introverted and would rather not be at this event. you either pushed yourself to be here or you HAD to be here. the people at this kind of event are not for you…you don’t like a lot of them and some of them feel the same towards you. you don’t care too much tho (maybe a little but not to the point where it hurts your self esteem)

Points of Interest: suits, symmetrical face, blessed features, POSSIBLY MIXED RACE, hazel colored hair, brown or tan skin, hair that compliments skin color, eyes with soul, kinky as hell, realllly good looking, switch in bed, there’s a lot of emphasis on this person’s looks, “don’t try to fight it,” 50 shades of grey (😂?!?), “if you want me, just say so”, any slow Chris Brown song, some fs here has stubble, laidback, single hand in pocket, isn’t scared to make eye contact with you, will leave a conversation with their friend midway to talk to a potential lover/partner in bed interest, zayn malik is not leaving my brain, very slow and sensual vibe, the color black or darker shades, tons of eye fucking (from them to you), intense gaze and especially intense eyes (the staring into your soul type, full of desire and curiosity type), black clothing, mysteriousness, unable to look away, intj vibes

———————

Pile 3. Best friends forever.

• This one feels more sad than the other piles bc it’s just straight up unrequited love (from you). they’ve got the fattest crush going on but you may not feel the same way.

• ^^ damn yeah…i’m getting a mixed bag for this. some of you are open towards it but the other half of you are really not interested

• This person has to have started out as a friend first and then started making subtle, almost too subtle and friendly, gestures that they’re interested in you

• similar to pile 1, you won’t be able to tell that they like you. UNLESS, they get super (very obviously) shy when asking you to go somewhere with them, like a movie or something — and you’ll be able to tell with the stuttering and head scratching and fidgeting, might struggle to make eye contact but will try

• ^^^ The biggest distinction between this pile and pile 1 is that this person is a full on FRIEND. pile 1 is more of friends that fell apart and are reconnecting, while not considered to be a part of your friend group or close friends. in pile 3, there’s an obvious disconnect, like some kind of veil between you two, and it’s really bc they only see you, but to you, this person is a ghost. someone that you really only feel platonic towards.

• they could be soft spoken or has a very… “non-aggressive” voice when speaking to you specifically

• tries to send you funny stuff or make conversation on text — 50/50 answering you right away bc they don’t wanna seem desperate/obvious, but they’ll remember to respond in the same day

• i think they hold back a lot tbh. like they have to sling back to composure whenever you’re around

• stares at you a lot in a group setting

• this person is sooooo similar to pile 1, but more…masochistic? lmfao I mean as in…wanting to be around you even when they know that they don’t have a chance or even after you’d straight up rejected them

• to be honest, there’s a chance you don’t like them that way because of their looks? the personality is perfectly fine but they’re not the type of person you’d go for if you’re looking for someone super attractive (this might be a bit harsh, but maybe a big part of why you’re comfy around them is bc they’re not someone that has model type looks? like it makes you less nervous around them than you would be around someone crazy good looking)

• stalks your social media a lot, doesn’t look at other people. you literally occupy their mind around the clock

• some people here might date this person, only for a little time tho bc there could be someone else you’re interested in, so you end up breaking up. for everyone else, you’re just really unlikely to date this person bc they’re too far from what you consider a romantic partner

• in a monogamous relationship, these are the type of people that would forgive you and welcome you back into their lives if you cheated on them

• an extremely SMALL portion of you, and i mean very small, will actually see this person for who they are and will decide to stay with them. idk if this is out of pity, “oh it’s bc I feel bad for them 🥹”, or possible regret- like “if I don’t date this person, I might regret it”—looking at it like a missed opportunity?? if you genuinely like them and grow fond of them, it will come later and like I said, an extremely small amount of you (~99.9% nonexistent)

• in rejection, this person takes YEARS to get over it. even if they try dating someone else, they’ll think about you and will show care towards you — some will try to be less obvious like “it’s fine i’m over it 🙂‍↔️” but nah, you can feel it. at some point, you could feel annoyed about this

• there’s a small chance that they believe you’ll give them a chance after rejection so they won’t date easily—unless you end up dating someone else and they know abt it, then they’ll do the previous bullet point

Points Of Interest: emotionally masochistic bc they keep wanting to be around you even when they’re hurt (if rejected, this person NEEDS to take some months away from you. idk if they’ll do that right away or not), “nothing else to say”, “that’s okay, I can wait”, awkward, unrequited love, unbreakable loyalty, “aww you’re so sweet”, this person is super rebound energy, gets their heart broken and welcomes the heartbreaker in again, snapback, acne, crooked smile, possible mbti involved (you or them): enfj, enfp, infp, isfj, esfj

———————

Teddy Note: Enjoy this one guys!! As always, thank you for reading. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t :)

Teddy outtt 😎😎😎

[allllium]

I really love your fics!!! They’re seriously just 10/10. Could you maybe do something with Jason Todd getting a crush on the new vigilante in town? Or him meeting his childhood best friend after being resurrected (possibly him saving them as Red Hood) and just SIMPING over how much they’ve changed since last time he saw them. Like, his mind just going “minemineminemine” and “Yes, I am now a married man”

Love your work!!! ❤️❤️

Miss You

~ Fluff, WC: 1,119

~ Jason meets you again

Jason had a best friend, before he died that is. Ever since he came back he's felt alone, no one being able to fill the hole left when he lost you. Lost you isn't the right word. He can go to you at any time, replace the friendship he craves to have again, but he won't. Call it pride, call it self-doubt, call it whatever you want but he'll never do anything to fix it. Not unless he has too.

You're walking along a strip of dark buildings. Not a smart choice but definitely the fastest to take after a long night shift. The only thing you want to do is fall into your bed and sleep a whole day away. Living in Gotham means you are no longer surprised or scared by the constant yelling and booming noises. Most of them are made by teenagers doing dumb things with their friends or random people deciding to fight in the streets. They don't last too long considering the millions of vigilanties that are always running around.

But tonight as you walk by multiple allies, on a dark street, near where you know multiple self declared "gangs" hang out, everything is silent. Somewhere else, anywhere else, that'd be a good thing. But right now it gives you the chills. Every step you take feels like it's being watched, no, like it's being analyzed. Like something or someone is trying to memorize every move you make. A gaze you somewhat recognize.

Jason doesn't mean to be a creep. He really doesn't. But he can't look away. After he died he never thought he'd see you again. Everyone told him you stopped showing up to dinners and didn't answer any of their calls. It was hard for him to think of never seeing you again, he didn't know a time in his life when he didn't know you. Now he finds himself sitting on a windowsill on the opposite side of the street, unable to look away from you. You've changed a lot since he last saw you, but somehow you still look exactly the same. Jason has never had a crush on you before. Of course he always wondered what being with you would be like, and he's thought a lot about how amazing it would be to kiss you, not to mention the hundreds of times you've had him blushing like a crazy person. But he's never had a crush. That'd be insane.

You continue walking around as if nothings bothering you. The last thing you want to worry about is someone watching you. It's probably nothing. On the other side of the street you can hear thumping every couple of feet. It doesn't take a genius to know the sound is coming from someone jumping from roof to roof. You look over just in time to see someone land on their feet. It's obviously one of the vigilanties, guessing by their size and stature.

Jason feels his heart almost stop when you look directly at him. He knows you don't know it's him, how could you after all this time and in the dark, but it makes him panic just a little bit. You'd think after everything he's had to deal with he wouldn't freak over such a small thing. It's not until he sees you raise your eyebrows expectantly that he starts making his way off the roof and towards you in the street. He can't believe how much you've changed, how amazing you look.

You watch intently as he comes closer. It only takes a moment before he's standing face to face with you.

"You better have a damn good reason for following me."

He doesn't answer.

"Hello? If you're going be a creep at least explain why."

All you can here is heavy breathing through his mask.

"Okay this is just weird." You begin to walk away but he grabs your arm to stop you. "Did you really just grab me?"

"I'm sorry." You don't recognize his voice but something is pulling at you. You let out an angry breath.

"Are you gonna explain yourself yet?"

"I wasn't trying to be a creep I promise." He starts to defend himself but trails off. "You walked by some bad people earlier and I wanted to make sure you got home safe."

"Mhm. What else?" You cross your arms over your chest, not believing he gave the whole explanation.

He pauses again. For a second you believe he won't answer. "You look good."

"I thought you weren't trying to be a creep, what the fuck?" You take a big step away from the man standing to your front.

"No no no no that's not what I meant." He tries to come closer to you but you take another step back.

"I don't care what you meant, that's weird man."

"Where do you live?"

"Okay I'm leaving now."

"No wait, again not how I meant for that to sound. I just mean I can give you a better explanation when we're not standing in the middle of the street." He rambles.

"Fine, but I expect no more excuses."

You reluctantly show him to way to your house. Now that you've been closer to him you recognize him as Red Hood, a newer vigilantie. He's a good guy, he wouldn't hurt you, right?"

"Here we are." You announce as you step up to unlock your door. Red Hood follows you a little too close.

"It's nice." He says quietly, almost as if he's unsure of his voice.

"Thanks. Now explain." The second the door is shut you demand to know more.

"I'm not really sure how to say this."

"Well you don't really have a choice do you?"

"No I guess not. I've never been able to say no to you." He makes a sound that almost seems like a laugh.

"Never? Do we know each other?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna need more than a single word."

Instead of saying anything he takes off his mask Suddenly every makes sense. Or as much as it can when you're dead best friend is standing in front of you.

"Jason." You smile.

"Hi. This isn't how I wanted to do this."

"No? How did you?" You take a step closer to him.

"Well to be honest I wasn't. I really didn't expect you to know I was there."

"You aren't very quiet." You turn away and take a seat on your couch.

"I should probably work on that." He sits next to you. You look amazing."

"Thank you Jay."

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

"I will later. Right now I just want to sit, I've missed you."

"I miss you too."

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 8

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

“I can’t believe you let me fall asleep!” Chrissy complains, crowding into Steve’s space to desperately try to fix her hair in the mirror.

Steve snorts, unbelievably fond at the way her bangs are going every direction but down. “What am I, your mother?” he asks, fixing his own hair by standing on his tippy toes and looking over her head.

“No, but she will be killing me for this!” Chrissy cries, finally giving up on finger-combing her bangs to dunk the strands into the sink and get them wet. “Thanks for reminding me!”

“You’re bitchy in the morning,” he mutters, grimacing when she pulls her head out of the sink abruptly enough that water droplets fling from her head and onto his shirt. “Now, hurry up, we’re already late.”

She flips him off, ignoring him entirely to continue fixing her hair.

They’re both late; Chrissy doesn’t let him forget it for the rest of the day, as if it’s his fault.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters, laughing helplessly when she elbows him in the side.

“You love it,” she says, smiling as they sit across from each other in their usual spot in the library, feet settling together beneath the table.

The thing is, he does. He’s always liked Chrissy, even back when she was all sunshine and rainbows, but even more so now that there’s some grit to her.

“Shut up.”

Chrissy beams, all sunshine again as she plunks her stack of books onto the table and shuffles her letter-drafting notebook to the top. Only once she’s opened to a blank page does she bite her lip, looking up at Steve through her lashes.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asks, voice hesitant.

“What do you mean?”

She breaks eye contact, fiddling with her pen anxiously. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Steve doesn’t tell her that he already is, that a part of him, the small, squirming part he keeps hidden in his heart, wishes he’d never done this. That watching Eddie kiss Chrissy’s hand and knowing without being told that she’s the kind of girl Eddie might want had broken something inside him. That Steve knows he could never be Eddie’s choice, and knowing that burns.

But, since the flirting started, Steve hasn’t written a word, and that’s worse, somehow. He only has the one tether to Eddie, and he wants to keep it, even if it’s through Chrissy’s handwriting, and Chrissy’s words, and Chrissy’s face.

He just wants.

Instead of saying all that, he reaches out, putting his hand gently on Chrissy’s hand and replies, “I’m sure,” even as the fluttering of his heart makes a liar of him.

Chrissy’s still biting her lip, not looking reassured at all. Steve’s gut churns with worry. ”Are you, though? You didn’t sign up for this, and if you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s okay.”

She smiles, her bottom lip blanched white from her teeth, as she replies, “We’re in this together, right?”

Even with the smile, she still looks worried, but Chissy puts her pen to paper and dutifully writes out the words Steve speaks, editing and revising each thought until it’s something someone might want to hear.

They keep their voices quiet because there are more people sitting in the library than usual today: a big group working on a project, a couple of freshman scowling down at what looks like a Geometry textbook, and closest of all, a girl he recognizes as a band nerd, flipping through a magazine too fast to really be reading it.

It doesn’t take them long—they’ve done this enough times that it’s become almost an art form. Chrissy pushes the completed letter across the table for his final review before it’s signed and sealed.

“It’s good,” Steve says, pushing the letter back across to her to be dropped off in Eddie’s locker.

His heart aches; Steve wants to slap himself.

Instead, he parts ways with Chrissy at their cars, Jeff already waiting beside hers to be driven home, and goes back to his house, bereft of the noise Chrissy had brought only that morning.

*** 

Eddie had worried when there wasn’t another letter after he’d started talking to Chrissy. Did she not like him anymore? Was she done writing them entirely now that she can talk to him face to face?

He worries incessantly for days about it, even as Chrissy keeps saying hi to him in the halls, keeps smiling back when they catch eyes across the cafeteria, keeps being her usual, friendly self.

It’s just, the letters are different. They’re more raw, somehow, more real. And, no matter how this thing goes with Chrissy, if they stop coming, he’ll miss them.

So, it’s a relief when he opens his locker the Monday after Chrissy’s eventful Hellfire induction to find a letter. He can’t wait to read it, the anticipation has built up over too many days of not receiving any. So, he rushes to the same, familiar bathroom and opens it in the stall he’s starting to think of as his.

       Eddie —

       How did your show go? I bet you’ve got a couple groupies already, you’ve already got the look for it. Did you figure out the riff for the song you were working on?

       I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, you know? (Do you know how to ride a bike?) It’s nice, playing music, even if it’s all songs someone else has written, and they’re still not coming out right.

       I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. I just didn’t know what to say. You’re so patient, and nice, and I got caught up in my head you know? But I missed you.

       I slept with your letter beneath my pillow last night, hoping for dreams of you.

       Yours, Always

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. I haven’t read it, but maybe I will. Just to keep with the theme, put this letter in The Lord of the Rings.

He devours the words, slumping onto the toilet seat the longer he reads. It’s perfect—just what he was missing. He reads it once, twice, thrice, the same way he had when he’d received the first two, disbelieving that such lovely words were meant for him.

Eddie skips his second period, first already long gone by the time he’d trundled into the school’s parking lot, and pens a response, then and there.

He goes to the library immediately, nervous that if he doesn’t drop it off right away, she’ll assume Eddie isn’t going to write back at all. 

He waffles over which book to put it in before finally tucking it into The Fellowship of the ring–it’s the first in the trilogy, and Chrissy’s probably too cool to even know it’s a trilogy. 

There’s no response in his locker before Hellfire on Thursday, but that’s okay because true to her word, Chrissy shows up again. She’s smiling as she bounces through the doorway, all springy curls and happy cheer.

“Hi!” Chrissy says, waving as she beams her blinding smile around the room,  all that cheerleader enthusiasm on display.

Doug looks struck dumb, staring at her with his mouth open. Gareth’s gaze is darting back and forth from the door to Eddie, eyes growing wider and wider with each pass. Only Jeff smiles and waves back.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” Chrissy says, elbowing Harrington in the side until he finally looks up and gives his own half-hearted wave.

Because Harrington is slumped in the doorway behind her, looking like he’s trying to hide the entire bulk of his body behind Chrissy’s petite frame.

“Uh, hey,” he says, ears strangely pink as his eyes dart around the room.

He never looks Eddie’s way at all.

“Hey, man,” Jeff replies, the only person aside from Chrissy that is currently functioning.

“Steve, can come, right?” Chrissy asks, like he’s not already in the doorway behind her.

Eddie’s gut sinks then swoops. Harrington’s a jock—what will he do locked in a room with a bunch of nerds? But, the chipped nail polish.

Eddie’s mind is full of screaming, thoughts flip flopping over each other as he tries to articulate all the things wrong with Harrington coming to Hellfire, but all that comes out of his mouth is a chipper, “sure!”

Chrissy’s smile grows teeth—is she going to bite him?

Eddie resists the urge to take a step back.

Jeff pulls out the vacant seat beside him, still looking cool as a cucumber while the rest of them scramble. “Come sit down.”

And that’s how he finds himself with a jock in Hellfire. Should they call an exterminator?

It’s Chrissy who takes the seat beside Jeff which leaves the only other empty chair next to Eddie’s throne. Eddie glares at Gareth, gesturing wildly for his friend to move up a seat, but Gareth’s too busy staring at Harrington like he’s a cobra about to strike.

Harrington is looking at the only empty seat with the exact same expression.

“Steve,” Chrissy hisses, and Harrington jumps. “Go sit down.

The pink on his ears travels down to his cheeks—it’s unfair, really, how pretty and even his blush is. When Eddie blushes, he blotches bright red from forehead to chest.

Steve’s embarrassment suits him.

Eddie waits until he’s seated before clapping loud enough that everyone startles as they turn to him. “Now!” he starts in the grand voice he uses when he’s performing his Dungeon Master duties. “Are you two playing?”

“No,” Harrington rushes out, the pink of his blush deepening to a red as he finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “I mean, Chrissy said she just watched last time?”

“We didn’t want to slow you down,” Chrissy cuts in.

Eddie nods, looking between the couple as awkwardness stews in the stilted silence.

“Alright,” he replies. “Gird your loins, lords and lady.”

Knowing a cue when they hear one, the Hellfire boys scramble to pull out character sheets and dice.

And they’re off!

It takes a minute to fall into the familiar minutiae of telling a story with not one but two interlopers, but Eddie manages it. This is where he thrives: a captive audience and all the power to fuck with them in the palm of his hand.

He only stumbles once, words jumbling together when he looks up and catches Harrington staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed from his earlier embarrassment as he bites his lip, ass literally on the edge of his seat as Eddie cobbles together the climactic finish to their latest encounter.

Harrington looks away quickly, but Eddie knows what he saw: Harrington is into this nerd shit. He’d tease him if he wasn’t worried that it would end in a swirlie.

Still, Eddie can feel his head puffing up like an overfilled balloon. He’s on the top of his game, painting grand adventures with grander words, all gestures and enthusiasm. He feels electric, the way he always does when there’s a new sheep in his flock to impress. His skin’s almost buzzing with it.

After all, even if his audience member is a jock, Eddie’s always been great at putting on a show. 

Neither of the interlopers say anything until they’re busy packing up. Eddie lounges back in his throne, watching Chrissy help Jeff with his dice. She’s smiling up at him, clearly just as interested in their nerd shit as Harrington.

Eddie turns his eyes back to Harrington to see how he’s taking his girl talking to a guy that isn’t him only to find Harrington staring at him again.  When Eddie meets his eyes, he ducks his head, cheeks tinting that familiar pink.

Is Steve Harrington fucking awkward?

“You’re good at that,” Harrington says quietly.

Eddie hums, confused. He’s shuffling his papers back together, not looking down at what he’s doing. What’s happening in front of him is far more interesting.

“At what, big boy?”

“Uh,” Harrington starts, darting his eyes back up to Eddie’s for a second before looking back down at his fiddling hands. “Telling a story.”

Eddie smiles, something warm and amorphous filling his stomach. “Thanks,” he says, lightly kicking Harrington’s ankle.

Harrington twitches, lets out a quick, “mmhmm,” and then turns away from Eddie to go find his girlfriend, dismissing Eddie without another word.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks, settling his arm around her waist and damn-near frog marching her out of the room.

“Bye, Jeff! Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy calls, still cheerful even as her boyfriend controls her every move. Maybe she’s used to it—first Carver and now Harrington. “See you next week?”

Neither of them wait for a reply.

The silence is stifling in their wake. Only Jeff seems unbothered as he stuffs all of his supplies into his backpack. Doug hasn’t even touched his dice.

“What the hell was that?” Gareth asks, whipping around to Eddie.

“How the hell should I know?”

Jeff snorts. “You invited them,” he says.

“I invited Chrissy,” Eddie whines. “She invited Harrington.”

That catches Jeff’s attention. He glares at Eddie like he’s the one that had invaded their sacred space. “You’re not this stupid,” he says, swinging his backpack onto his back and striding toward the door. “I’ve got a ride home, don’t wait for me.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie demands.

The only answer is the door swinging shut.

*** 

Once he’s walked Chrissy to her car and watched her pull out of the parking lot safe from Carver’s creepy hands, Steve collapses into his own car. He presses his face into the steering wheel and groans, long and loud, assured in his safe isolation. 

When the passenger door opens, he jumps, neck cracking with the speed at which he turns his head, ready to fight off the trespasser.

“Oh, it’s you,” Steve says, dropping his head back to the steering wheel.

“He knows,” Jeff says, voice serious enough that Steve raises his head back up immediately, heartbeat ratcheting up.

It takes a second for the words to connect, and when they do, his heartbeat quickens further, sweat pooling on the back of his neck, hands clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to hurt as fight or flight hits him.

“What?” he asks, the word cracking around his suddenly parched throat.

“Shit,” Jeff mutters, reaching out to pat Steve’s shoulder. “Not about you!”

Steve’s shoulders slump, breath shuddering out of him as Jeff continues to pat his shoulder, too awkward to be all that comforting. “Then, what—”

“He knows Chrissy is putting the notes in his locker.”

Steve sighs, slumping into his seat, uncaring of the way it crushes Jeff’s hand against the backrest. “Yeah, we figured,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know how?”

Jeff’s biting his lip when Steve looks his way. “He didn’t tell me,” he mutters. “But I know my best friend.”

It’s Steve’s turn to reach across the car and clasp Jeff’s shoulder. “I’m sure he has a reason for not telling you,” Steve replies, trying to smile past all that exhaustion.

Jeff snorts. “A stupid one, maybe.”

Steve hums, squeezing once more before dropping his hold on Jeff, suddenly realizing how stupid they must look, leaning toward each other, hands on each other’s shoulders like they’re having some sort of bro moment.

Steve turns back to the front of his car, cranks the engine, and smiles across at Jeff as the other boy takes the hint and drops his own hold. “Want a ride home?”

Instead of answering, Jeff puts on his seatbelt.

Jeff’s house is surprisingly close to Steve’s own. It’s a bit smaller than his, but there’s already a car in the driveway, and the shadows of silhouettes moving behind the pulled curtains, warm yellow light filtering through the fabric and onto the street.

Steve wishes he could go in with a fierce sort of longing that surprises him.

Jeff’s already got his seatbelt off and the passenger door open when he sighs, turning back around and settling back in his seat.

“You should come next week,” he says, all earnest in that way that seems to come so naturally to him and must have gotten him eaten alive in middle school.

“You can’t be serious,” Steve replies. There’s a tension headache growing, exasperated by the incredulous scrunching of his eyebrows. “That was a disaster.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Jeff says, but he’s grinning like he’s remembering something funny. Steve’s got a few guesses what.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, man.” Jeff clasps his shoulder again—maybe that’s just something he does?

Steve scoffs, the roll of his eyes making his head pound. He opens his mouth to retort, something about Eddie’s reaction to Steve sitting beside him, but Jeff beats him to the punch.

“I know Eddie. And that in there?” He points back the way they’d come, like if Steve just strains his eyes, he’ll be able to catch sight of Eddie’s stupid fancy chair, and the stupid musty drama room, and the stupid look on Eddie’s face. “—is him interested.”

Steve closes his mouth, swallowing all the spit in his mouth, hoping it’s not audible to Jeff no matter how quiet the car is. “In me?” he asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

Jeff doesn’t break eye contact, but his mouth twists uncomfortably. “Like you’re interested in him?” Jeff asks, continuing before Steve can reply. “I don’t know, man.”

Steve droops, the hope blooming in his chest curdling and sinking down into his stomach like old milk. He wants, desperately, to go home, turn out all the lights, and curl up alone in his bed to sleep away the rest of the day. But, Jeff’s still in his car, so he clenches the wheel between his fingers and says, “okay.”

“But, he doesn’t get you,” Jeff continues, voice gentling further. “And that intrigues him.”

Jeff’s still smiling like that should be some sort of boon to Steve’s ego, but it’s not. It lands like a brick. No one ever gets him, and whether he intrigues them or not, it always ends the same: him, alone in his big, empty house, waiting for a phone call that will never come, a doorbell that will never ring, a window that will never be snuck through.

He’d been through it before, with Donna in sixth grade, Nancy in tenth, hell, even Carol and Tommy for more years than he can count.

Intrigue has never gotten him anywhere. But, Jeff’s smiling, small and real, so Steve replies, “thanks, man,” smiling back until the other boy gets out of the car and he can safely drive away.

He’s got a dark house and a chilled bed waiting for him.

For the first time since this whole thing started, Steve writes the first draft of one of his secret admirer letters alone.

PART 9

[leighsartworks216]

Christmas Suprises

Zayne x AFAB!Reader

When I say I don't enjoy pregnancy fics or proposal fics, I NEED you to believe me cuz WHY did this fester in my brain until I put it down in a doc

Warnings: Christmas, fluff, domestic fluff, unplanned pregnancy, marriage proposal, crying, literal sleeping together, cuddling, anxiety

Word Count: 2,514

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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You stare down at the little white stick, mouth falling open in shock. You can’t even hear the grating alarm of your phone going off anymore, or the eager knocking on the bathroom door. It’s like your mind hasn’t caught up to your body yet. You don’t think about reaching out and opening the door; your body just does it.

“Well?” Tara asks excitedly. “Yes or no?”

The world around you comes back into focus. You blindly paw at your phone screen to hit the button to shut up its alarm. You think your hand is shaking when you look up at your friend.

“It says… I’m pregnant.”

She squeals and throws her arms around your neck, bouncing on her feet, bursting with joy. “Congratulations! Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

You cling onto her. She doesn’t seem to mind, even as you wipe your eyes over her shoulder and sniffle by her ear.

You can’t believe it. You’re actually pregnant. You really, really are. You’re going to have a baby. You’re going to have a baby.

Tara pulls away with a gasp. “How are you gonna tell him?” she asks conspiratorially.

“God, I have no idea.” You stare at the two pink lines on the stick. Pregnant. “He doesn’t even know I’m late for my period, Tara. How am I-?”

“Oh, oh, I know! Tell him on Christmas!”

“On Christmas? Are you sure? I mean, what if he doesn’t want kids? We’ve never talked about it before.” You scoff, rubbing your eyes at the mounting worry welling up within you. It swirls around in your stomach, growing larger and larger as your panic bleeds into it. “We’re not even married! What’re his parents going to think? Shit, what about his career?!” You grab Tara’s shoulders, jostling her slightly with the force. “What if his reputation is ruined because he had a kid without being married?!”

Tara grabs your shoulders in turn, rubbing them sympathetically. “Calm down first, okay? You don’t have to do my idea, but I think you’re overthinking this.”

You sigh. Slowly, you let go of her. “No, no, you’re right. I- I’ll think about it. Thank you for helping me out, Tara.”

“Of course! Just keep me updated, okay?” She giggles. “I need to know how he reacts!”

Even as you’re led to her couch and offered a soothing cup of tea, the panic doesn’t untwist from your guts.

-

You’re awake first. This doesn’t usually happen, but it’s only fitting that the anxiety that kept you from falling asleep easily last night also wakes you up earlier than needed. You study Zayne’s face in the dim moonlight.

He looks utterly at peace. There’s no tension in his brow. His eyes are relaxed, fluttering under his eyelids to watch a dream play out. Lips slightly parted with soft breaths.

His parents called yesterday, wishing they could be here and apologizing for their gifts being sent late due to the inclement weather where they’re stationed. Zayne always got this childlike sweetness to his expression whenever they were involved, smiling without restraint and allowing himself to be more outwardly affectionate. You’d seen it before when you recorded a video of him on his birthday to send to his parents, but seeing it now, picturing that same happiness on his face with his own child… He’d caught you staring at one point. You’d smiled and tried to play it off. You’re not sure he bought it, but he didn’t say anything about it after the call ended.

You really can’t sleep now. Your heart is beating too fast, tight in your chest with worry. You slowly roll onto your back. The white ceiling stares down at you. You stare right back, chewing mindlessly on your bottom lip.

Time passes by in a blur. You’re not sure how much has gone by when a finger carefully frees your lip from your teeth’s assault. You turn your head to see a freshly-woken Zayne. His hand falls to rest on the bed between you.

“What has you so worried?” His voice has a quiet rasp to it in the morning, especially when he whispers. You could listen to it for hours.

You shift to lay on your side, facing him once again. You distract yourself by playing with his fingers. “Nothing,” you lie with a placating smile. “I’m just hoping you’ll like the gifts I got you.”

He hums, but he doesn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, he captures your restless hand and brings it to his lips. Those pretty hazel green eyes of his close with the kiss he places on your knuckles. “I’m sure you chose the best gifts,” he says. “You know me too well to get me something I wouldn’t like.”

“True…”

He guides your hand to rest on his face. He’s warm from sleep, the barest hint of stubble starting to come in along his jaw.

“Can we open the gifts first today?” He opens his eyes to look at you again. You can feel the way he studies you. You try not to falter as you add, “I know we usually have breakfast first, but…”

A flicker of confusion, gone in a flash. “Of course. But it’s still early. You should try to get some more sleep.”

Maybe he can sense the exhaustion underneath your anxiety, or maybe he can see the bags under your eyes in the dim light. Or maybe he just knows you better than you think he does.

He reaches under the blankets to grab your hip, drawing you toward him like he has on so many restless nights before. You’re powerless to refuse the silent request. So you scoot closer, forming yourself to fit perfectly against his chest. He slips his arm under your head, letting you use his bicep as a pillow. You tuck your head under his chin and press your face against his neck.

Arms wrapped around each other, holding one another close before the breaking dawn of Christmas Day. He traces soothing shapes against your spine. You count his heartbeat as it thumbs by your ear. Somehow, you’re able to find sleep again.

-

Wrapping paper - neatly undone or carelessly torn - sit in a pile on the floor. Various gifts sit stacked or folded in neat piles on the coffee table, organized by Zayne. There aren’t many gifts in all. Really, you both had most everything you could ever wish for.

But now it’s time for the final gift. You jump up from the couch with a smile. “I have one more gift. Lemme go grab it.”

He shoots you a look. “And why isn’t it under the tree?” he teases.

You wish that simple question didn’t pour gasoline into the firepit of anxiety in your stomach. You wave him off, covering up your uncertainty with playfulness. “It was too important to go under there. I’ll only be a second.”

He hums, but doesn’t say anything more about it, watching silently as you retreat back into the bedroom. You pull the present out from your nightstand drawer. Is it the most secure place to keep something? Well, there’s nothing else really in there; nothing you’d need on a daily basis, anyway. And Zayne would never go in here without your permission. So, you trusted it more than your other idea of hiding it in your jacket pocket.

You hold the box tightly to your chest. God, please, please, please, let this go well.

You almost want to curse Tara for convincing you to go through with this. If the news ends up ruining Christmas and your relationship with Zayne, you’re going to unleash hellfire down on her.

With one last, steadying breath, you head back out to the living room.

Zayne is still waiting patiently, taking this opportunity to look at the cases of the games you got him. He sets them back down when you round the couch and sit down beside him once more. You hope he doesn’t notice your hands shaking when you pass it over.

The gift is small and thin, rectangular and lightweight, he turns it over to find where you’ve taped the decorative paper down to begin unwrapping it. You readjust to sit on your feet with your knees to your chest. Your body screams for you to hide, to escape all the possible outcomes of this situation you’ve forced yourself into. But you want to watch. You need to see his reaction.

He pauses in his unwrapping to look at you. “Are you alright?” he asks, frowning as he wraps a hand loosely around your ankle to rub soothing circles into the jutting bone there.

You force a smile you hope isn’t as strained as it feels and nod. “I’m okay,” you lie. You nod toward the present. “Open it.”

He doesn’t let go right away. You think for a moment he may not even continue. But, thankfully, he pulls away to finish removing the paper. He drops it onto the pile with the rest.

The box itself is a blank white. There are no marks, no labels, no details of any kind that could give away what lay inside.

You hug your legs to yourself. You can’t bear to look away from his face, not even to watch as he unfolds the tab at one end and slides the little stick out. It’s ultimately more rewarding, you think, to see the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. To see him lean forward as he flips the test over in order to read the results. To see the way his mouth falls open with a quiet breath.

He turns his whole body to face you. “You’re pregnant…?”

You nod shyly. “Are you upset?”

He sets the test on the table quickly, but as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world, before holding your face in both of his hands. “Why would I be upset?”

God, he looks at you so earnestly, so tenderly, you’re tearing up before you can stop yourself. Choking up over words that have suffocated you since you were hiding away in Tara’s bathroom.

“‘Cause we never talked about it before and-” A whimpering sob cuts through your words. You inhale shakily. “And we’re not even married or anything, and your job-”

“Hey, shhh.” He brushes away your tears with his thumbs. He leans forward to brush a soft kiss to your forehead, ducking down to stay close to you as he meets your eyes once more. “I have one last present for you, too,” he whispers. “Can I go get it?”

You sniffle and wipe your face with your sweater sleeve. You probably look like such a mess; you can’t seem to get the tears to stop now that they’ve started. “Why isn’t it under the tree?” you tease.

He smiles. “It was too special. Wait here, okay?”

You nod. He presses another kiss to your head before he gets up and disappears down the hall.

While he’s gone, you try to collect yourself. You lower your knees, wipe your eyes until they burn from the friction, and try to even your breathing. Right now, each breath comes in little hiccups, jittery and broken up and unproductive. You haven’t improved much by the time he gets back.

He sits down close to you, wrapping a warm arm around your shoulders to pull you even closer into his side. A small velveteen box rests in his hand. He offers it to you. “I didn’t expect to be giving it to you today,” he admits bashfully, resting his cheek against your head. “But I can’t think of a better time than right now.”

You don’t have to open it to know what’s inside. All the fear that suffocated you for the last couple weeks goes up in a puff of smoke. Instead, it’s like a soothing orb of light has taken its place, healing the burns left behind and filling you with immense happiness. You turn your body into his and wrap your arms tightly around him. He rubs his thumb methodically over your shoulder.

“Should we start talking about children now?” He kisses your head. “Assuming you agree to my proposal.”

A choked, relieved laugh jostles out from your chest. Your tears get on his shirt as you nod stupidly against him. “Of course I agree!” You pull away just enough to meet his eyes. “You’re really okay with this? You… want kids with me?”

He smiles warmly, openly, as if his parents have just called and he’s already given them the news of your engagement. “I couldn’t imagine a better partner to raise a family with.” He brushes the back of his fingers across your cheek, still holding the ring box. “Are you okay with it?” he asks softly, brows pinching together slightly and eyes sharpening. “We never did talk about it. Are you comfortable with carrying a child to term?”

“It’s scary,” you admit. “But… I want this. I want a family, with you.” Your smile feels sure and solid as you whisper, “I love you.”

The seriousness in his expression fades away, replaced with contented joy. This conversation isn’t over, not by a long shot. You know there are still so many things to ask about. Questions about your future together. But they can wait a few more hours.

He sets the ring aside, right next to the pregnancy test. Both hands free, he pulls you into a secure hug, head lowered to rest on your shoulder, cheek to cheek with you. He absolutely envelops you. All you can see, feel and hear is Zayne.

He presses a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. It’s not feverish and seeking. It’s soft, reverent, grateful. It pours out every emotion that wells up inside of him that can’t seem to fully escape. “I love you, too,” he whispers back.

You slide a hand along his back until you can tangle your fingers in the soft hair at the back of his head. He releases a shuddering breath, heavy with the relief that this is real.

Struck with an idea, you drag your other hand from his back down his arm, gently coaxing him to let go of you. Even in his confusion, he does what you want, slipping his hand from around your body. You guide it to rest over your belly, holding it there with your own. He buries his face further into your neck with a shaky sigh. “How long have you known?”

“If I tell you, you’re going to go into Dr. Zayne mode,” you tease. You press a sweet kiss beside his ear where you can reach.

You feel the grin that curves his lips. “Alright,” he relents quietly. “I’ll stay in fiancé Zayne mode for a bit longer.”

You release his hair in favor of wrapping your arm around his upper back, squeezing him closer, as if such a thing is even possible with how you’re already holding one another. “I’d like that.”

He squeezes you gently in return. “Me, too.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi

[madthetruemad]

behind his back | prince!jinwoo x maid!reader

many people teased and mocked the prince behind his back for how weak he is, but not you. never you.

You enjoyed being Jinwoo’s friend even if his status was far higher than yours. Ever since childhood you both would sneak around and play together, and as you both grew up, well, the sneaking around didn’t happen as often, but you enjoyed any little piece of time with him you could get.

“They’re talking again,” Jinwoo muttered as you fixed his hair.

“They always do,” you said as you made sure none of his strands were tangled and his haircut was as he wanted.

He shook his head, “no…, their words are louder than usual. They always say how weak I am when we go to the dungeons, and I…”

You stopped messing with his hair and went to stand in front of him, “none of that now, prince. After this dungeon you will be crowned king of this land, and besides, who cares how strong or weak you are, you go out there to protect us – the people who can’t even wield the amazing power that you have.”

His smile was small and you wondered if you were getting through to him, you hoped that you were.

“You’ll also one day cure your mother, your sister will be so well off she won’t have to worry about a thing, and you’ll even meet a beautiful woman who you’ll cherish forever.”

He closed his eyes when you bent down to wrap him up in a hug, “and I’ll still be your maid cheering for you and taking care of all those pesky chores.”

“Right…”

You went to stand behind him again and made sure everything was in tip-top order, “now future king, it’s time for you to go!”

He stood up from his chair and turned to you, “you’ll still be here when I return, right?”

“Always.”

You and Jinwoo were eighteen years old when he and his group left for the dungeon that day. You remembered it quite well as it was marked the day that the crown prince disappeared along with all who went with him.

Six years later, on the anniversary of his disappearance, you expected nothing to change as you set about your chores for the day. You dutifully tutored his sister in her schooling, took care of his sick mother, and of course tended to most of the chores. It was going to be another long day it seems, you thought almost solemnly as you carried the new bedsheets to Jinwoo’s room.

His sister would often go in there and cry herself to sleep on some days that were tougher than others, so you always made sure to give her clean sheets so she wouldn’t get sick.

Turning the knob and letting the door swing open, you were momentarily frozen in place, your lips parting slightly as a man you didn’t recognize was sleeping peaceful on the bare mattress.

“You-!”

The man stirred a little as he sat up, a yawn escaping his lips.

“How dare you! This is the crown princes’ room!”

After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he had glanced at you, his eyes blinking for a moment before he smiled, “you haven’t changed at all.”

That voice… it was deeper than you remember, but you still recognized it.

“…Jinwoo…?”

“The one and only,” he said before plopping back into his bed causing you to make an immediate fuss.

“Hey! At least let me put the sheets on first!”

“Later,” he mumbled.

“No, now!”

You went over to him and pulled at his sleeves, his new muscular build not going unnoticed by you, but you focused on the task at hand.

He ignored you and instead shot his hand out to grab your wrist. The grip he put into holding your wrist scared you a little, but you weren’t let to dwell on that fear as he hastily pulled you forward causing you to drop the bedding and fall onto the mattress with him where he snaked his arms around your waist and held you close to him. His face easily smooshing itself into your chest as you panicked.

“Jinwoo-“

“You’re the only one, you know,” he mumbled against your chest. Your clothing did little to shield you as you could still feel the warmth of his breath, “you’re the only one who never talked behind my back, the only one who kept coming to the place that I disappeared from, the only one who bothered to take care of my family. Why?”

“Because,” your voice shook a little, “we’re friends… always have been.”

He tilted his head up to look at you then, “and if I wanted something more?”

You couldn’t look directly at his face, why was he so hot?!

“We- we can’t”

“Why not?”

He reached up to turn your face back to look at him.

“I’m just your maid,” your voice wobbled out almost weakly as if that excuse alone wasn’t good enough not with the way he was looking at you with such a determined face.

“You don’t have to be,” his arms tightened around you as he pulled you down a bit which surprised you. He wasn’t strong enough to pull you like that before-

By now, your noses were brushing against each other, your eyes level, the intensity of his stare was too much for you, you never really did well with eye contact to begin with.

“Won’t you, be mine?”

“People will talk…”

“They always do,” he fired back easily.

“But your reputation-“

“Is already ruined, but I’m strong now, stronger than I was. Nothing they say will change how I feel about you. Because I don’t want you to be just a maid who cheers for me or takes care of me.”

He turned your face again to look at him, he was determined to keep your eyes only on him, “I want you as my wife.”

[gublernatural]

Hiii! I absolutely love your writing and I was wondering if you could write something about Spencer reid and reader who have just started dating and they get into their first ever argument and it’s a bit angsty but cute(?) cause he gets all worried while reader is more experienced in the relationship department so she (or gn!reader, your choice) doesn’t worry as much cause she knows it doesn’t mean they’re over? And then he gets all pouty and clingy when they make up cause he hated being far from her sm🫶 I know its very specific and idk weird so its totally okay if you don’t wanna write it but I’d really appreciate it!!!

as an insecure certified lover girl i love this request and i am so sorry it took me so long to get to <3

spencer was not expecting you to leave. to argue, to complain, even to berate, but to leave? the thought the didn’t even cross his mind.

the argument had started over something stupid, probably like a teasing remark that had gone too far, or the fact that he had been nagging you about doing the dishes. he wasn’t sure. all that filled his mind now was the fact that you walked out the door and slammed it behind you. he wasn’t sure where you went to, or if you were coming back.

yet, he was frozen in place. his knees had begun to shake as tears started to well up in his eyes. for a genius, you are really fucking stupid, he thought. he couldn’t believe he blew things with you, already.

you two hadn’t officially been together long. only around 3 months, but had spent much more time together prior to that. he was truly falling for you, something he wasn’t expecting to do. he loved the way you laughed and the way you listened to him. he loved that you were always there to greet him with a wide smile and a tight hug when you he came back from cases. he loved being around you and he loved the positive energy you put out.

and he just ruined all of that over some stupid argument.

spencer was rarely one to be unsure. after all, he is a genius, so there wasn’t many things he didn’t know. but, standing alone in front of his apartment door, he was clueless. should he run after you? should he wait it out? should he start packing up all of the things you’ve left at his apartment over these three months? he didn’t know.

so, like with most things he didn’t know, he was going to research. sure, to the common person googling “what to do after a fight with your girlfriend” would be corny, maybe even a little dumb, but not to spencer. when he couldn’t figure stuff out, he found other sources that could. so that’s what he was trying to do now.

much to spencer’s dismay, he was met with a whole bunch of editorials. not a single academic paper, dissertation, or research project had been conducted on the topic. so, he took what he could get and began reading over the newest People Magazine article titled “steps to making your girlfriend happy after being a bad boyfriend”.

he wasn’t sure how long he’d been reading, or how many different pop culture magazine websites he’d accidentally signed up for on his old desktop by the time his phone rang. it startled him, but he moved quickly to get it, assuming it was hotch calling him to come in for a case.

his heart sped up but his stomach dropped when he saw your first name, with the little otter emoji next to it. you had picked it, spencer didn’t even know there was an otter emoji.

his thumb slid over the answer button as quickly as he could move it, but once he brought the phone up to his ear, spencer couldn’t find any words.

the line was silent for a minute. you weren’t sure if he was even breathing on the other side. you wanted to give yourself time to cool off, separate from spencer. his little remark about your poor cooking skills had gotten to you, and you didn’t want it to become a massive argument. you didn’t know that spencer had spiraled after you left.

“are you going to come over or what?” you couldn’t help but let the residual anger you were holding slip out. despite this, spencer’s breath caught in his throat. you heard him take a deep exhale before saying, “you want me to come over?”

the desperation in his voice was so apparent, it broke your heart. any anger you were holding onto, or any bitterness about the comment he made completely wiped away when you heard spencer’s voice. you guessed that he had probably been crying. you softened your tone, and spoke slowly as you answered him, “of course i want you to come over, spence. we don’t get to have two sleepovers in a row very often.”

spencer’s hand was shaking as he listened to your words. he thought for sure you were going to break up with him. all he said was, “i’m on my way.” before hanging up.

you shouldn’t have been surprised at spencer throwing himself in your arms when you opened the door for him. he always craved physical touch, despite his fear of germs. he knew you and he cherished you, and all he wanted was to be close to you.

your hand snaked around his back as he buried his head in your shoulder. you tried to pretend you couldn’t feel the tears escaping from him. he wasn’t sobbing, there was just other way for him to have the emotional release he needed than to allow his tears to fall. your hand rubbed lovingly over his back, letting him adjust to being back with you.

“i’m so sorry,” he muttered against you. his hands were balled up between you two and you could feel him nervously squeezing his fists tighter. “spencer, it’s okay,” you assured.

you pulled away from him, only to wipe his tears away and move his hair out of his face. despite his height, he looked so tiny and vulnerable. “i didn’t mean to upset you,” he whined. “it’s okay,” you repeated, grabbing his hand to move him to the sofa.

you sat across from him, but he stared at the floor. “i thought you were breaking up with me,” he muttered. his voice was quiet and gentle. you couldn’t help but laugh at his statement. “why would i do that?” you moved closer to him, tucking his hair behind his ear to get him to look at you. “i-i don’t know! you just left and you were angry and i thought you weren’t coming back,” tears were filling up his eyes again as he finally met your gaze.

“spence,” you cooed, “couples fight and sometimes they need space. a little argument like that is nothing. we’re okay,” you promised him. he nodded, then reached out to pull you into his chest. “i don’t like when you storm out like that,” he said. “‘m sorry,” you mumbled against him. he just nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

[t1oui]

@jegulus-microfic | may 3rd: rush | 727 words

“Do I look alright?” James asks for the hundredth time. His voice sounds funny. “Merlin, do I sound alright? What am I even supposed to say?”

Sirius marches over to him, forcefully grabbing his shoulders and turning him around, away from the mirror.

“You say nice things,” he says sternly. “Because he is my baby brother.”

Sirius has been very supportive, James thinks.

“Right,” he agrees. His voice sounds a bit better now. Sirius nods.

“Don’t worry, Prongs,” Remus says, wandering over from his desk by the windows. “He’s crazy about you already.”

Sirius punches him in the arm. “My baby brother,” he says, an aggressive reminder. Remus holds his hands up in surrender. He turns back to James, waving his wand to cast a tempus. “Best get going,” he says. “You don’t want to be late.”

James checks the time: 10:53. Fuck. He’s supposed to be in the entrance hall by 11.

“Fuck,” he says out loud. Remus snorts. Sirius narrows his eyes.

“You better make this good, Potter,” he almost snarls. Remus places a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Peter rolls his eyes. He’s behind them, so only James can see.

“Bye,” James calls. It’s still warm enough out that he doesn’t need a coat. A little chilly, sure, but James has always run warm. He knocks on one of the wooden columns of Peter’s four-poster. “Bye, Pete.”

“Good luck, Prongs,” he replies, not looking up from his book.

James flies down the stairs and careens into the common room. He’s halfway to the portrait hole when someone grabs him for the second time today. He whirls around to find Lily smiling up at him, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding a pink rose.

“James,” she says softly. “Hey. Calm down.” She holds out the rose, and he takes it hesitantly. “Dora brought me a bouquet the other day,” she explains. “Thought you might want one?”

James stares at her for a moment. Then he nods. “Thank you, Lils.”

She waves him off, stepping away. “Don’t mention it,” she says. She nods to the portrait hole. “I’d get going if I were you.”

He nods, shouting one last thanks over his shoulder as he steps out. Lily shakes her head with a smile, heading back to her room.

James is going so fast that he nearly falls through a trick step. He stumbles, shakes it off, and continues running through the castle. He trips over a group of first years playing exploding snap on a landing. “Sorry!” he calls over his shoulder. The first years watch him with bewildered, confused expressions before going back to their game.

James steps into an alcove once he’s reached the bottom of the stairs, casting a tempus. 10:59. He has one minute. He flattens down his hair and regulates his breathing as much as he can before finally putting on a smile and stepping out. He spots Regulus almost immediately, standing in the entrance hall right where they agreed to meet. He’s got a book in one hand. As James approaches, he looks up from an expensive-looking watch, aristocratic features spreading into a warm smile.

“Right on time,” he says. James stutters to a stop taking him in. Regulus is wearing a dark blue button-up over black slacks and boots. His hair is neatly parted in the middle, pushing his short curls to either side of his face, hanging over his ears. He cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright?”

And it’s those three words, the way Regulus’s mouth moves around them, that inspire James to rush forward, closing the distance between them by swooping Regulus into a hug and pressing a kiss to his temple. Regulus laughs, tossing his arms around James’s shoulders. His laugh is so beautiful.

“Jamie,” he snorts. James presses their foreheads together and stares into Regulus’s eyes. They’re the color of clouds on a winter day. James could get lost in them. Regulus smiles at him. “This is a bit of a strong reaction for a first date, don’t you think?” he asks softly. James thinks. Thinks about the months of wanting, of loving, of needing. Thinks about Sirius gagging as loudly as possible when he kissed Regulus on Platform 9 ¾. James grins.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think.”

Regulus snorts, and James kisses his smile.

[seumyo]

tokoyami taking care of you when you’re sick.

“You look like you’re ready to ascend to the afterlife,” Tokoyami said, his voice calm but tinged with concern.

“Maybe I am, Fumi. Maybe this is it for me.”

“You have a mild fever and a sore throat. Hardly fatal.”

“But it feels fatal,” you whined, your voice scratchy. “I’m so weak. I don’t even have the energy to do my nails!” You wiggled your bare fingers in the air for emphasis, looking utterly defeated. “Ugh, they’re naked.”

He tilted his head, his beak twitching in what might have been amusement. You could hardly tell. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not. I can feel my soul leaving my body, Fumi. I’m… so… cold.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for the extra blanket folded at the end of your bed, draping it over you with a sigh. “There. Better?”

“Thank you. I felt like I needed to tell you about my last will and testament.”

“Your sense of drama is impressive,” Tokoyami replied, his tone dry.

“It’s a gift.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry, Fumi. I’ll haunt you lovingly.”

He reached for the tissue box and handed it to you. “You’re not haunting anyone. Blow your nose.”

With a pout, you accepted the tissues and complied. “Ugh, even my sneezes aren’t cute right now,” you muttered, your cheeks flushed not from embarrassment but from your fever.

“Your sneezes are rarely cute,” Tokoyami pointed out.

“Rude,” you sniffled.

Just as you were about to unknowingly fall into a deep slumber, Tokoyami reached for the small tray he’d brought with him, holding a bowl of soup he’d made earlier.

“You need to eat first,” he said. “Eat, then sleep.”

You stared at it like it was the most daunting task in the world. Plus, your exhaustion most likely killed your appetite.

“I don’t think I can lift the spoon.”

He sighed again but didn’t argue. Instead, he carefully picked up the spoon and held it to your lips. “Open.”

You paused. “You’re feeding me?”

“Would you rather starve?”

“No?” So you did as told.

Tokoyami fed you a spoonful of warm soup, a recipe he had to call his mother for, satisfied that you’re complying. “See? Not so hard.”

“Thanks, Fumi. You’re the best nurse ever.”

“I aim to serve,” he replied dryly, though you could tell he was pleased.

Such dramatics.

“Fumi?”

You looked at him with bleary eyes, trying to adjust to the dim light illuminating your room. “Fumi,” you said again just as he finished setting the tray aside.

“Yes?”

“If I don’t make it… promise me you’ll keep my sticker collection safe.”

Tokoyami stared at you, his expression utterly unamused. “You’re going to make it.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted.

“I’m not ready to take responsibility for your sticker collection. That is a big responsibility, even for me.”

You laughed, though it was a weak and raspy sound. “You’d love it! There’s so much glitter.”

“Glitter is not my aesthetic.”

“Well, maybe it should be.”

“Well, you should rest,” he shook his head, gently adjusting the blanket around you. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

As the hours went on, you grew quieter, your usual energy completely sapped by your cold. Tokoyami stayed by your side, of course, reading quietly while you dozed off just to make sure that there wasn’t anything too concerning with your cold.

He wishes that your sickness would go away sooner because he can’t stand seeing you like this. Though you can always count on him to take care of you, just like in the future vows of, “In sickness, and in health.”

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