#but like the care and worry in his eyes PLEASE

[nephynes]

afab reader finding out boyfriend!jake has a huge dick (fulfill my fantasy please)

fantasy fulfilled!

MDNI

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You're giggling into Jake's shoulder, the both of you tangled up in his sheets, half-dressed and entirely wrapped in each other. It's warm, safe, and so stupidly comfortable that you almost forget you're in someone else's bed and not in your own.

He made some dumb joke about your favorite romcom, and you shoved at him with a mock glare before collapsing back against his chest.

"God, you're annoying," you laugh breathlessly.

Jake grins, flushed from how close you are. "Am I really?" You roll your eyes, shifting to sit up a little, using your hand to push yourself up by his thigh.

Jake flinches, groaning sharply as your hand lands squarely on something very much not muscle or bone. You freeze. He slaps his forearm over his face like he's embarrassed and laughing all at once.

"Fuck—ow," he winces with a strangled chuckle.

Your eyes widen, your face heating up fast. "Oh my god—Jake, I'm so sorry, I thought—I thought that was your thigh!"

He's still wheezing under his arm, teeth sunk into his bottom lip like he's trying to hold it together. "It wasn't, baby," he mumbles, peeking at you through a grin that's somehow both smug and bashful. "Definitely not my thigh."

You're still hovering over him, hand clutched to your chest, mortified. "Wait... but—" You glance down, then back at him. "Jake. That was like—halfway to your knee."

Jake groans again and lets his head fall back against the pillow, arms thrown out like he's giving up. "I didn't want to freak you out," he says, quieter now. "We've been taking it slow, and I didn't... I don't know. I like you. A lot. I didn't wanna rush you or scare you away."

You blink, lips parting slightly. "You were worried your dick would scare me off?"

He nods, a little sheepish. "Deadass."

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh because he's being honest, but you're still mildly in shock. "Jake. You've made me cum with your fingers. Twice. You think I'm gonna run away over your dick?"

"I didn't know!" He lifts his hands in surrender. "You're so sweet and soft and perfect, and I didn't want to be the guy who—who whips it out and ruins everything. I meant it when I said I don't care if we have sex or not. I just like being with you."

Your heart twists a little at that, warm and fond. You reach out and touch his cheek gently. "I'm not going anywhere, Jake." He leans into your touch like it soothes something deep. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah. Also..." You tilt your head playfully. "Now I'm kinda curious."

Jake groans again, dragging a pillow over his face. "Lord have mercy." You stare at him with wide eyes, one hand tentatively cupping him over his sweatpants, and the outline alone has your head spinning.

"Jake," you whine, your voice pitching higher with disbelief. "It's not fair. You've been hiding this from me."

He's propped up on his elbows now, looking absolutely wrecked already just from the way you're touching him. His chest is rising and falling faster, and the flush on his cheeks runs straight down his neck.

"I wasn't hiding it," he breathes. "I was trying to be good."

"But I wanna see it," you say, tugging at the waistband of both his sweatpants and briefs. "Please?"

Jake lets out a choked sound and lifts his hips just enough for you to slide them down. You weren't even trying to tease, but the second he springs free, your breath catches audibly. Your hand wraps around the base, then your other joins—and there's still length left over. You look up at him, slack-jawed.

"Jake."

"I know," he whispers, voice wrecked.

"I can't even..." You try to close your fingers over it, both hands working slowly. "My hands don't fit. How am I supposed to—"

Jake's watching you like he's starving, his eyes heavy-lidded and fixed on your mouth as you lean closer like you're going to try. But then he cuts in with a voice so low it makes your stomach flutter.

"Sit on it."

You blink up at him. "W-What?"

He reaches out and strokes your cheek, guiding your face up so you're looking at him fully. His touch is gentle, but his voice is firm. "C'mere, baby. Sit on it. Let me feel you."

Your entire body lights up. It's not like this was the plan, but the way he says it, like he's offering you the sun and begging you to take it, it has you trembling a little as you climb into his lap.

"Are you sure?" you ask, fingers clutching at his shoulders. Jake groans, one hand gripping your waist, the other slipping down to cup you through your panties. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

And when he slides them aside and runs two fingers along your folds, the heat in his gaze turns molten. "You're so wet already," he mutters, kissing your throat. "Fuck, baby, you're gonna take me so good."

You whimper when the tip of him nudges at your entrance, your thighs shaking as you start to sink down. You're halfway down and already shaking, nails digging into his shoulders as your thighs tremble around his hips. "Jake—" you gasp, breath catching. "It's—it's too much—"

He cups the back of your head and presses his forehead to yours, voice strained and low. "You can take it, baby. Just breathe for me." You do—shaky, shallow little breaths, but it barely helps. Every inch of him stretches you wider than you've ever felt, your walls fluttering around the thick pressure of him splitting you open.

"Fuck," he groans, hips barely rocking up into you. "You feel so tight baby, like your pussy's never been touched before." "Gonna flip you over, okay?"

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he does so, pushing in deeper, slow but relentless, like he's determined to mold your body to fit him. You cling to him helplessly, whimpering when the head of his cock nudges something that makes your stomach flip.

"Look at me," he murmurs, brushing your hair back, gaze dark and wild. "Gonna stretch this sweet little pussy out, yeah? Make it fit me. Make it mine."

You nod fast, lips parted and teary-eyed, and he groans at the sight, gripping your hips harder. "So fuckin' small," he breathes. "So damn tight. Can feel every twitch—baby, you're squeezing me like you don't wanna let me in."

You cry out when he shifts his hips and finally sinks the last few inches, fully seated inside you. You're trembling all over, overwhelmed and breathless.

"There," Jake hisses, jaw clenched as he holds still, trying not to lose it. "Fuck, you did it. You took all of me. Knew you could." He starts moving, in short shallow thrusts.

"Fucking perfect," Jake snarls against your throat, one hand fisting your hair while the other bruises your hip. "So tight—squeezing me like you were made for it. You were, weren't you? Made to take this cock."

You can barely nod, tears on your cheeks, your moans coming out broken as he thrusts into you—deep and filthy, every snap of his hips knocking the breath from your lungs.

"Look at you," he groans, watching the way your tits bounce with every rough stroke. "So fucking pretty when you cry—so fuckin' good for me. Bet your pussy's never been stretched like this. It hasn’t right? I’m the biggest you’ve ever had? Gonna keep you stuffed until you can't even walk straight."

And the way he has you pinned down, fucking into you like he's starved, you know he means it. Jake's obsessed—wrecked. And now that he's had you like this, he's not stopping until you've cum on him again and again and again.

You're not just his favorite, you’re his new addiction.

And he's gonna ruin you for hours.

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• a/n: spent the whole day working on velvet vice and writing hard thoughts, i need a sunghoon req next please.

[blchwaaaan]

You know that tomorrow is the day you die. You heard your wife conspiring with her lover that they will kill you and inherit your wealth. You did not marry her for love. You knew that her parents made her marry you, for status, for connections, and both of you were your families' puppets since you were born.

You never resented her. The mansion is so big that you didn't see her for days at a time. You've only met her at the gate sometimes, and when you had to visit your elders. You lied and said that you're trying for a child, just to please her parents and your parents, and your wife sat by your side and held your hand for as long as she was expected to. She had confessed on your wedding night that she couldn't have children even if she tried, and didn't say why. You left her to her own devices. Your marriage bed was left untouched. You didn't care who'd inherit the fortune that you didn't do anything to earn.

Most of your days are uneventful. You've never had to work one day in your life. Your butler manages your estate. Your butler hires people to manage your farm, and your factories, and all you ever do is own things. You pay your butler well. You ask him to pay everyone who works for you well, and you choose to trust him like your father trusted his father. You don't mind if he takes more money for himself without telling you. If he steals anything, he already deserves it.

He's the one who tells you that your wife has taken a lover. He is sorry for you, but you feel happy. You have never seen her smile, but when you approach her side of the mansion, you hear laughter. Her joy echoes in the walls. Her handmaidens giggle to themselves. She wears colorful dresses and puts roses in her hair.

Today your wife is running through the hedge maze with her lover. You hear their laughter and playful cussing and other noises that you know you're not supposed to hear. Your wife doesn't know that you come here to read and that you like when the butler calls your name and fetches you from the middle of the hedge maze then scolds you for making him worry. But today you don't hear the butler's voice. Instead, your wife's lover says, "we'll kill him tomorrow, then we'll have all of this to ourselves."

She agrees with him, but her voice is uncertain. You listen a bit more and it's so easy to tell. How could you have missed it. He coerces her and she just wants to be loved. He has no love to give, only greed.

You wait until they're gone, then make your way back to the mansion. Your butler is surprised that he doesn't have to go out and fetch you. But he is glad and doesn't dwell on it for long. Stacks of paper tower over him and he reads through each one, signs some and puts others into envelopes. His eyes are brown and there are bags underneath them. You know this, because you see him everyday. You tell him to rest for the week. He doesn't need to be here when it happens. And you don't want to risk your wife's lover killing him for fear of witnesses.

The butler is astonished. He tells you no, these papers are important. Everything is important. He scolds you for not knowing anything about your businesses then apologizes for stepping out of line. But he is right. You wish that you could help him. Instead you slip into the kitchen and make little chocolate tarts, because you know they are his favorites, and in your infinite boredom you decided to learn this for him one day, and you did. You eat some of them with him and he feels guilty for scolding you still. But he thanks you and retires for the night.

You go to bed in your soft blankets and silk sheets. You wonder if your wife and her lover will come for you in the morning or in the afternoon, or perhaps in the night. You don't mind. Your fortune, everything you own, none of it matters. It was passed down to you and someone was bound to inherit it at some point. But then you are plagued with worry for your wife. Her lover will kill her next, no doubt.

You regret not watching over her, letting her fall prey to such a man. Perhaps you can bargain with her and make her see the truth. But does it matter? You don't have anything to live for, not even her. Not even...

The butler sleeps a few doors down. You remember his tired eyes. They are so clear to you. You could draw them from memory if you wanted. You could draw his hands smoothing down the edge of an envelope before applying your seal. The little smile that he does when he's divided the shares of the harvest and everyone's got enough for the winter. The frenzy of panic he'd go into whenever a worker was hurt. Today was the last good day for him too. Or maybe your wife will leave her lover and your butler will be safe. Maybe everything will be alright once you're dead. Your butler will no longer have to scold anyone for being late to dinner.

In the night you wish he came to fetch you one last time. You wish you could get him to rest until the bags under his eyes disappear, and that you knew enough to help him with the piles of work he does in your stead. You hope that if your wife's lover comes for him, he'd be smart enough to find an escape. He should be. You know he is. You've never trusted anyone more, after all.

In the morning you look into your coffee. Its color is nothing unusual, nor its taste. You drink it and nothing happens. Your butler is dressed the same as yesterday and the day before. His stack of paper hasn't gotten any smaller. You go to the hedge maze because your wife and her lover don't know that you spend your days there, and it may buy you time. You hear their voices eventually, then your wife's lover says, "we'll kill him tomorrow, then we'll have all of this to ourselves."

She agrees in the same uncertain tone, and you wonder about all of it. Have you hallucinated the entire thing? are you hallucinating now? You run back to the mansion and your butler is happy to see you come back early in the day, then worried when he sees your shaking hands. He tells you to sit down with the cats but you are restless. In the end you sit by his side and read through the letters he's writing, if only to have something to do.

His handwriting is neat and pretty but has quirks that you remember, the Rs look like the Ss sometimes, and you can tell when he's made a conscious effort to make them look different. You make him tarts like the night before and he accepts with a thanks. "Are you hiding something from me," he asks with a grin. He thinks you're apologizing for something. You laugh. You tell him again that he could take the week to rest and he waves you off all the same.

You go to sleep and try not to think about anything. Perhaps this is all a fever dream. Your wife has already poisoned your coffee this morning and you're bedridden and hallucinating. How nice it is that in your fever dream you sat at the butler's side and read his business letters. And that you went up to make him the chocolate tarts that he likes. Perhaps this is it. Or maybe your wife and her lover decided to wait another day, and they're coming for you tomorrow.

The day comes and again, your wife's lover tells her the same words in the hedge maze. Her voice is too low for you to hear. This time you wait till the butler comes to fetch you, and he does, he is exasperated but not angry. He is never angry with you, he is too fond of you to be upset. You have counted his lashes once, just for fun. You look at him and they're all there, every single one, and this couldn't be a dream. You are trapped into something beyond your understanding, repeating the same day. In the real world you must have already died, and this is the afterlife you are trapped into.

In the beginning you counted the days. Every morning you asked your butler what day it was, and he gave the same answer, April 1st. You lose track of your count because what does it matter anymore. Everyday is the same chilly air, the same rain falling at dawn. Everyday you barge into the study and pluck the butler from his precious paperwork, he is reluctant first but he says he'll indulge you today, and only today. You make him run with you in the fields then sit in the sun like cats. Maybe go for a swim, or sneak into the kitchen and make him try out all the new things you've learned to cook because he might like them.

Some days you almost have the courage to tell him how much he means to you. It's difficult to put into words. The world could burn and you wouldn't care as long as he is happy. But it is such that he needs the world. He is happiest when he's making sure your workers are looked after. His contentment comes from his work, so after the day loops around enough times for you to understand this, you let him be. You sit by his side and help him with his stacks of papers. He is astonished but teaches you what you need to learn. Ten loops later he is also astonished, at how much you know, which he doesn't remember teaching you.

The days loop around and maybe now they have meaning. You muse this as you take in the smell of paper and heated wax seals. Your butler took you to meet the managers at your factories and they were so human, so normal in ways you could never fathom, their lives so far away from yours yet so much more real. At the mansion your wife and her lover conspire in their bed and none of it matters, tomorrow repeats again.

You wish he would remember, but he never does. You got to know him so much, you told him secrets you've never told anyone, and every morning he wakes up a new man and you bear the burden alone. You gather your blankets and show up at his room in the night. You tell him you can't sleep, which is true, and he lets you snuggle up to him. You want so much more but you cannot ask. To him you are a benefactor, the one he serves. At most, if he was being generous, a childhood friend. It would be most shameful and unfair to ask him. You imagine how he would look at you, trapped, unable to say no, and unable to love you in return. You cannot subject him to such power imbalance. The days have meaning now indeed. The meaning is the pain you have to endure.

The morning after you do not approach him. He does not find this strange and of course he wouldn't, he remembers nothing while you suffer alone. You go to the hedge maze and decide that even if he calls for you, today you will not answer.

You expect your wife and her lover to have that same conversation where they plot your demise. You think about confronting them, perhaps they will kill you then and there and you would be free. Except that today only her lover's voice rings into the distance, calling out for her, so lovingly. A little after, the sound of running, then there's your wife bleeding from her arm. She is frozen in shock when she sees you, then walks over to you and takes your hand. She leads you to hide into an opening in the tree growth, and her lover passes by, unknowing. When he is gone and she leads you back to the mansion, what she says is enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

Her days have been looping the same as yours, and she is perpetually stuck in April 1st. She had known about your ordeal for sometime, but couldn't reach you. Everyday her lover tries to kill her and she runs from him. Whether he kills her or not, she wakes the next morning in the same day.

So, you and your wife are trapped. You stare at her, helpless, desperate for an answer. She then says, "it's all for the butler. It is him who must die."

You are stuck in a time loop, but you have no intention of ever breaking out of it. After literally millions of resets a new person appears in the loop and asks you why you are still in the loop.

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Clumsy

Love and Deepspace boys x reader

Words (for all): 2.1k

This was requested:

What would all the love interests' reactions be to a clumsy MC who easily gets injured from the simplest things?

I decided to write a small passage about how would they be, with what they might say, and then a small story to follow-up.

I hope that I did the boys justice and that I got a good sense of who they are and how they would act in that situation. 

English is not my first language

Masterlist

Zayne would pick up on your clumsiness right away, though he’d do his best not to make a big deal out of it. A raised eyebrow, a subtle smirk, maybe a dry remark would usually follow. And if it is something more serious, his doctor mode would be immediately activated. No sugarcoating, no false reassurances. Every word, every action would be centered on your well-being as someone who would do everything possible to help you heal.

 “Very impressive. I didn’t know tripping over thin air was a skill. Should I just start bubble-wrapping you now?”

“Perhaps you should slow down. I can't keep patching you up every time you lose a fight with a doorframe.”

“Careful, or I will think the only reason you are with me is for my medical knowledge.”

“Tell me exactly what is wrong.”

“Are you alright?”

“It was just a little fall….”

“Just a little fall? Maybe try watching where you are going next time.”

It happened during a late-night walk back from the restaurant. You were chatting about something when your foot caught the edge of a curb you hadn’t seen. One second you were upright, the next you were stumbling forward, arms flailing for balance.

Zayne didn’t lunge or panic. He simply reacted, his movements fluid and instinctive. His hand shot out to catch your elbow, as though he’d done it a hundred times before. Without a hint of surprise, he helped you regain your balance.

“I see that gravity is still winning with you” he said in his usual dry tone.

You groaned, brushing off your jacket, embarrassed.

 “I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Zayne didn’t buy it. He gave you a quick once-over, his sharp gaze scanning you thoroughly. His fingers grazed your wrist, the touch careful, to ensure you won’t walk away before he was sure you were fully alright.

“You twisted anything?” he asked, his voice lower now, more concerned.

“No, really, I’m good.”  you said quickly, offering a small smile.

His eyes didn’t leave you. “Nothing hurting? Be honest.”

“No. I promise I’m good.”  you repeated, hoping to ease the worry you saw in his eyes beneath the surface of his calm exterior.

 “Good.” A beat. Then, with a sigh and shake off his head, he added, “Please stop trying to pick a fight with the sidewalk.”

Still, his hand wrapped around yours, just to be certain you will manage to stay unscraped. At least for now.  An unspoken promise woven into that simple touch. You knew that even if you did stumble, even if you ended up with the most absurd, self-inflicted injury, he’d be there, and he’d patch you up, every single time.

Sylus would probably tease you about it—affectionately, just the way things always were between you two. He’d be quick to help you up or check if you were hurt. Whenever you tripped over nothing or spilled a drink on yourself, he’d be right there instantly. His teasing would always carry real concern, no matter how casual he sounded. Over time, Sylus would start keeping an even closer eye on you (as if he weren’t already…) 

“I swear, if you hurt yourself again, I’m putting you in a padded suit. Maybe I should have one custom-made for you.”

“Here we go again… Keep this up, and I’m assigning you a personal bodyguard — namely me.”

“It’s quite extraordinary how you manage to hurt yourself so easily, sweetie. You like to keep me on my toes, don’t you?”

“Honestly, how do you even manage to injure yourself on thin air, kitten? You're going to give me gray hair.”

“You already have gray hair.”

“Come on, sweetie, don’t be like that. You do want my help, don’t you?”

You’d agreed to do some boxing with Sylus. The moment you put on the gloves, you felt a rush of adrenaline. Excited, maybe a bit overconfident, you started making your way toward the ring like you knew exactly what you were doing.

And then you tripped.

You heard Sylus chuckle behind you.

“We haven’t even started, and you’re already down, kitten.”

But before you could deliver a proper comeback, Sylus was already at your side. The teasing in his voice melted away as he crouched next to you, his hand on your arm as he gently helped you sit up.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, eyes scanning your face, your knees, your hands. Everywhere you might’ve scraped or bruised. “Are you hurt, sweetie?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled.

 He raised an eyebrow.

 “Sure? Not too injured to throw a few punches at me?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

 “You wish.”

Sylus smiled, standing up and offering his hand again.

 “Come on then. Let’s see if you can stay on your feet this time.”

You took it, and as he pulled you up with tenderness, you had a feeling that even if you tripped ten more times, Sylus would be right there. Every single time. It felt like, no matter how often you stumbled or fell, Sylus would be there, ready to catch you and steady you with all-encompassing care.

After being by your side for so long, Caleb barely even blinked anymore. His reactions had become second nature. One arm would shoot out to steady you before you ever hit the ground, already guiding you back to your feet. Or he would just use his evol for that. Before you could even laugh it off or mumble an apology, he was already checking you over. And once he was sure you were okay that nothing was bruised, he’d flash you that familiar smile. Then came the teasing—some light joke, maybe a story from your childhood when you’d tripped over your own feet chasing after him, just to make you laugh and remind you that you’ve always had him there to catch you.

“You’d think, after all this time, you’d stop tripping over thin air.”

“At least you didn’t trip over your own feet this time. Progress.”

 “Honestly, we should just get you a helmet. Maybe the pink one, like you used to have?”

“You’ve been tripping over your own feet since childhood. Some things never change, huh, Pipsqueak?”

You sat curled up with a book in Caleb's apartment in Skyhaven. Just as you turned a page, a sudden, sharp sting made you flinch, the paper’s edge slicing through your finger. 

“Ouch!” you muttered under your breath, inspecting the small cut. How typical of you, to get hurt while doing something as peaceful as reading.

Before you could even think about finding something to wrap it up, Caleb appeared, crouching down beside you and handing you a tissue. 

“It’s just a paper cut, Caleb. It’s not a big deal.”

“A paper cut? Pfft.  We can’t have that. Let me handle this.”

He stood up with a dramatic sigh and dashed off.

Less than a minute later, he was back, holding up a small, brightly colored bandage box. He opened it and pulled out a bandage, and that’s when you noticed it—the exact type you used to insist on using when you were a child. They were cartoon bandages, with animals, the same ones you begged for every time you scraped your knee as a kid.

You chuckled. “You seriously have these?”

Caleb grinned, already working to bandage your finger. “Of course. When I saw them, I thought of you immediately. No way I’m letting you suffer without the proper gear.”

“Do you remember the time I insisted on wearing them even after I scraped my elbow just a little? I must have looked ridiculous walking around like that.”

Caleb let out a low laugh. “Oh, I remember. You wore them for days, even though your elbow wasn’t hurting anymore. And then you tried to convince everyone you were tough because you had the bandage on for so long.”

You rolled your eyes at the memory. “I was very dedicated to my toughness,”

With the bandage secured, Caleb patted your hand gently. “There. Now you’re all patched up, just like old times.”

You laughed, banking in the familiarity of Caleb's teasing and the small moments that made everything feel like home, regardless of where you were.

After every fall, bump, or accidental spill, Rafayel’s first reaction would be a perfectly teasing comment. If the situation seemed even slightly serious, all that playfulness disappeared in a heartbeat.  He’d spiral into dramatic panic in an instant—equal parts worry and flair—yet still be right there at your side, checking you over with remarkable tenderness beneath the theatrics.

“You know, walking is a pretty basic function. Want me to give you lessons, cutie?”

“If you were trying to turn falling into an art form, I think you’ve mastered it.”

 “Any lasting damage, or just your pride this time?”

“I didn’t realize that bodyguards could be that clumsy. Should I hire someone else?”

It was a calm afternoon in Rafayel's studio.

You reached out for a nearby can of paint, hoping to add a splash of color to a small project of your own. But your elbow betrayed you, nudging an unopened can beside it. Before you could catch it, the can tipped over, and in an attempt to save it, your hand hit the can just enough to redirect it… straight onto the floor.

The bright purple paint splattered everywhere, the content spilling across the floor and right onto a half-painted canvas. 

“Ouch,” you winced as you felt a slight sting in your forearm. 

“Are you okay?” Rafayel rushed over immediately.

You blinked, taking a second to process what had just happened. Your arm hurt a little from the unexpected movement, but nothing too serious. “I’m fine, just a little surprise, that’s all.”

“You're sure?” His eyes watched you with worry, his attention now divided between you and the mess.

“Yeah, all good,” you reassured him.

Rafayel sighed, though he couldn't completely hide the relief on his face.

“Well, this is quite the spectacle,” he teased. “A perfect example of how your love for art is… explosive.”

You laughed awkwardly. “Sorry about the canvas,” you muttered, feeling bad for ruining his work. “I didn’t mean to—”

He waved it off. “Nah, no need to apologize. This is truly beautiful,” he exclaimed, gazing at the purple lines that had now covered the canvas. “It’s a perfect expression of the chaos and beauty that you are.”

It was one of the things that drew you to him. His ability to see the whole picture, to embrace imperfection without judgment. To embrace you exactly as you were.

Xavier would tease you about your clumsiness, but it would never come from a cruel place.  He'd never make it obvious, but over time, you'd notice how he was always just a little bit closer than necessary. As you walked, he'd casually shift his position, putting himself between you and any potential obstacles. His movements would be so seamless you might not even notice how often he seemed to anticipate your next misstep, subtly steering you away from harm without making it a big deal.

“You’re lucky, I make a great human safety net.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I always do.”

“I swear, it’s like I’m training for a rescue mission every time we go anywhere.”

“Let’s nap, hopefully you won’t get injured during that.”

The silence of your apartment shattered with a loud thud followed by a sharp, “Ow—dammit!”

You winced, gripping your shin where the corner of the coffee table had introduced itself violently. Your laptop had clattered to the floor, screen thankfully intact, but your dignity… less so.

You strained to pick it up when, without warning, the door burst open.

“Are you alright?”

You froze, blinking in disbelief, as Xavier stepped inside.

“Xav?” you said, still processing. “How—?”

“I heard the noise. The crash. You.” His eyes scanned you slowly. “You're hurt.”

“It's nothing,” you said quickly, feeling more self-conscious than injured. “Just my pride. The table and I had a disagreement.”

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he crouched down beside you. “I’m not just going to stand by if you’re hurt. Let me see.”

You hesitated but relented. He gently lifted the fabric of your pant leg, inspecting the bruise forming on your shin.

“You’ll live,” he said after a moment, offering a small smile. “But you should ice it. And maybe move the table.”

You laughed, and he finally did too. His voice dropped, more thoughtful now. “Still. I’m glad I was nearby.”

“Thanks for checking on me,” you said.

He looked at you, serious again. “Always.”

And you knew he meant it. Not just as a passing phrase, but as a promise. One that would hold true, no matter what came next.

[rottingghosty]

Wayne Enterprise DILFs | DP x DC

this just in local 23 year old forgets they wear glasses and i’m at work lmao

in this prompt / au ish kinda thing, danny’s around i would say late 20s so he gets along well with the younger bat clan members because he’s just an honorary family member at this point. he’s also an enabler to bruce and thus a retaliation had to be made (im a firm believer that danny gets tall and buff when he gets proper nutrition and is built like a tank)

☁️☁️☁️☁️

Danny squints at his notepad, the words were small and blurry enough that not even squinting helped clear up whatever was written on it. He’d forgotten his glasses— something that occurs occasionally when he’s trying not to be late to work and it always ends with him struggling. Beside him was Bruce who seemed to equally be squinting at the tablet but at an arms length compared to when Danny brought it up to his face.

“I think this is why my kids keep telling me to get my eyes checked.” Bruce mumbles and Danny can’t help but let out a small snort in amusement. Danny’s aware of how often Bruce’s children nag on the older man about getting his eyes checked now that he’s ‘getting up there in years’ as one Tim Drake said.

“Tell me about it, my youngest— Eleanor but we call her Ellie always nagged on me until I finally went to our family doctor to see. She turned out to be right but I forgot my pair today.”

His pair that were gently coated in ectoplasm since apparently normal glasses couldn’t help with his heightened senses that his ghostly side leaks over to his human side and it’s why he needed them. Frostbite had been eager to get him a pair, something that Danny wanted to be upset about but the gentle yeti was too caring for Danny to deny him.

“Don’t worry about it chum, I’m sure we’ll figure out what’s on the schedule for today.” Bruce says and Danny gives the man an encouraging smile.

“Danny.” Tim’s voice says with a heavy sigh and instinctively Danny wilts like a flower and hangs his head low. That was Tim’s ‘disappointed but being polite about it’ tone and Danny hates that tone because it means Danny made a mistake. Mistakes made by Danny must be made better by Danny by doing something like joining the Wayne family dinners or even— he shivers— modeling for when one of the Waynes can’t do a photo shoot.

“Tim.” He curtly replied as Tim shook his head and placed his hands on his desk.

“Please tell me you didn’t forget your glasses today.”

Danny pressed his lips together.

“Well.”

“Danny.”

He huffs as he picks his head up and crosses his arms, leaning back against the comfortable couch in Tim’s office because that man took power naps like it was his third job. Danny isn’t stupid, he knows the Waynes are the vigilantes that go out but he dutifully ignores that fact and doesn’t say anything because he likes this well paying job even if he’s really a bodyguard posing as a secretary for Bruce.

“I may have misplaced them today.”

Tim groaned loudly in response as Bruce’s lips curled in amusement, Bruce waited for Tim to turn away from them to slide Danny a hundred dollar bill which Danny silently pocketed.

He wasn’t going to snitch out his boss that the reason Danny and Bruce Wayne were seen at an aquatic center to help teach kids to swim that ended up with Bruce ‘tripping’ and falling into pool nearby was because a kid ‘pushed’ him. Really, Tim should know better than to think Danny was going to say no to acting undercover so Bruce can get clues about a case he was working on.

It’s Batman! He’s not going to deny Batman. Even if the two completely scrapped whatever schedule was made to do their own thing.

“I’m telling Alfred. We’re also getting you glasses old man, I’m not accepting any excuses anymore!”

Both Bruce and Danny gave offended gasps.

It’d be later in weeks time where Danny would be on the phone with Jazz, coffee cup in hand as he spoke to her about any recent things and how life was.

“So are you going to tell me why people in Gotham and on the internet are calling you a DILF?” Jazz asks and it causes Danny to choke on his sip of coffee, the heat burning briefly before he managed to croak out a weak.

“What- Who… Tim.”

His work phone rings and all he sees is a message from Tim with a simple smiley face as if the man didn’t drop multiple photos of Danny, Ellie and Dan (whose faces are thankfully blurred) on the internet as revenge. Especially when Danny sees the caption.

Tim Drake ✔️@ceoTDW

Wayne Enterprises loves supporting single fathers! I’m sure you’ve noticed Bruce Wayne’s secretary but are you aware he’s a single father raising his son and daughter? Here’s our photo shoot with him to celebrate one of our loved employees!

How cruel Timothy Drake-Wayne. How cruel. It’s even worse when he sees fucking Gotham Gazette make an article about how people have voted that Danny is a DILF alongside Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox. As well as the fact that W.E. ‘collects’ attractive employees to boost morale. What the fuck who wrote this— Vicki Vale.

“I’m never going to show my face again.”

Jazz laughs in response.

[tojiizm]

ENOUGH.

—

jjk! men || cw: allusions to suicide and depression. gn! reader. angst/fluff. hurt/comfort. mental health. very short. i think thats it.

an: i am in no way glorifying depression. please reach out if you’re ever feeling down. my dms are always open and i’m here. you’re loved. i love you all.

—

he had noticed you changed. he noticed when you started puttng things off because “you could do them later.” but you never did. he noticed when you brush him off when he asked if you were okay with a “just tired.” he noticed when you didn’t eat anything and watched as you lied to his face about it. he noticed when you wouldn’t come out of your room and would stay in bed all day. it worried him, a lot.

he comes through the front door, to a silent home. it claws at his chest and he could feel his heart breaking. he remembers when you would be in the kitchen, making dinner or in the living room, watching tv. he sets his things down before making his way to your shared bedroom. he quietly opens the door, seeing you still in bed and in the same clothes from a couple days ago. it breaks his heart but he holds it together. your back was facing the door, he knew you could hear him.

you feel the bed dip behind you. “hi baby.” he says in a soft, quiet voice. you turn towards him, “hi.” your voice is quiet. “you okay?” he asks as he brings a hand to your cheek and strokes it. you could hear the concern in his voice. yeah, it’s the same question he asks all the time but this time, something in you breaks. you feel your eyes well up with tears as you shake your head. his heart breaks even more at the sight, he pulls you into a hug when you sit up. “it’s okay, baby.” he mumbles into your hair. he’s pressing little kisses to your head and it makes you sob even more.

“i know, baby. i know.” and he’s holding you, tight, as if you’re going to disappear if he lets you go.

you don’t even know why you’re sad, all you know is that you are. you had always dealt with these things on your own and you always came out okay. but this time it felt different. it felt much more heavier and at one point, you actually thought you would go through with it. and it never went away. every single day, that thought was stuck in your head and it weighed you down. to the point you were bed bound. you just didn’t have the energy for anything anymore. but you were grateful for your husband even though you didn’t tell the truth. he cared.

you two stay like that until you stop crying and all that is heard is your breathing. your heart feels less heavy but guilt is starting to form. you’re the first to pull away. “i’m sorry-“ “no. don’t do that. you’ve got nothing to be sorry about, okay? i love you so much. please talk to me, you can tell me anything. or you can tell me nothing and just cry in my arms. i’ll always be here for you, okay?” he’s got both of his hands cradling your tear-stained face. you nod, afraid that if you speak, you might burst out in tears again.

he pulls you in again, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i love you, sweetheart. don’t forget that.”

“i love you too.”

[rin-may-1103]

"What are you, a cop?" Danny blurts out, his eyes darting around to double-check that he isn't hallucinating. (wouldn't be the first time, but this was definitely nowhere close to his usual hallucinations. those usually focused on living hotdogs, his dad's face plastered everywhere, and tests.) But no, he knew instantly that this was a soul switch; there was no mistaking how real everything was to his senses.

Dick was silent, mouth hanging open in surprise, while someone burst out laughing off to the left of them.

"Oh my god, this is perfect!" Spoiler, because there was no mistaking that purple suit, cackled, slapping her knees as she leaned forward.

Danny grimaced, glancing at the group of people scattered around; none of them were wearing a mask for some reason. (like come on, isn't Batman supposed to be paranoid about stuff like this? There's no way he hadn't thought of this exact situation happening.) He recognised all of them, mostly due to Tucker and Sam's rants, but still. Who wouldn't know on sight who Dick, Tim, and Bruce Wayne where?

"Yeah, nope." Danny sighed, pinching his nose and closing his eyes.

What horrible timing, really. Fate had it out for him; if the half-dying, and all that came with it, hadn't told him this fact, this practically confirmed it.

"I ain't seen shit, I definitly didn't just see Dick Grayson dressed up as Nightwing without his mask. Nope. Definitely not," Danny grumbled, his voice echoing in the almost silent cave now. Spoiler's laughter had cut off as soon as he started speaking. (Someone had covered her mouth, and Danny could still hear the muffled laughter. Even without his super hearing, and oh, Ancients, Damian was probably going to hate him. Dear lord, please let Sam have his headphones on hand.)

"Because surely, surely, Batman of all people would be paranoid enough to see this kind of situation and not let literally ALL of the Bat's identities get out."

Someone coughed.

Danny opened his eyes and glared at Red Robin. Tim Drake, Tucker's favorite tech person in the whole world. (right behind Oracle, of course, but considering no one actually knew who they were, Tim was the default first.)

"Uh, so are you going to tell us your name, or?" Duke, aka The Signal, asked, glancing at the others standing around and sharing looks.

Batman grunted as he shoved himself up and started marching his way over to Danny.

Standing from his crouch, Danny darted to the side and quickly scaled the cave wall and shoved himself into a crevice just big enough to fit in. He didn't care if Batman and the others where worried about their safety or not, he was NOT going to let any of them touch him.

"Wow!"

"Hey!"

"Don't-"

They shouted, but stopped once Danny stuck his head back out and glared at them. "First of all," Danny held up a finger, "don't even think about getting near me. I don't know you guys, and I've had enough of strangers thinking it's perfectly fine to invade my space. I don't care if you're close with Damian or not. He's not here, I am."

He ignored the shared glances as he continued, "B," Batman straightened ever so slightly, which was kind of funny, but Danny kept talking, "My name's Danny. I ain't telling you more than that because Damian deserves to be the first to get my full name. Weather he figures it out while switched or not."

"Thirdly, I'm going to ignore the fact that this just confirmed that all rich men are insane fruitloops and focus on finding out why the hell you guys work so close to one of the most contaminated pools of ecto I've ever felt."

They were silent for a second before Dick glanced at the others and then back up at Danny, "ecto?"

"Like ectoplasm? The stuff ghosts produce?" Red Robin Asks.

"The stuff-, what, no?" Danny huffs, glaring at the man. They were detectives, shouldn't they know all about ghosts by now? (The GIW's nonstop research, ghost hate propaganda, and his parents' research were publicly available for literally anyone to see.) There's literally a magical division of the Justice League; they have all the info available to them, so why don't they know this?

"Ectoplasm, the glowing green liquid that makes up a whole entire dimension and is the building block of the afterlife. THAT ecto, Ancients." Danny grumbled, glaring at the opposite wall for a moment. "ThE stUfF GhOstS ProDucE, what kind of backward ass occult book rip off have you guys been reading?"

"What?" Spoiler laughed, sharing an incredulous look with the others. Batgirl, who had been the one who covered Spoiler's mouth earlier, was now watching Danny with a tilted head, ignoring that Spoiler was playing with her hand like a toddler.

Danny rolled his eyes. This was going to be a long couple of hours. He just knew it.

~

Damian lurched to the side, his mind scrambling to catch up as his body slammed into a wall that hadn't been there a second ago. Suddenly his ears were bombarded with all manner of sounds; creaking of leather, frying oil, laughter, cars speeding past, the sound of Breathing, blood rushing through viens.

"Danny?" someone asked, a blurred figure moving closer. Opening his eyes from their semiclosed position, Damian glanced up and grimaced. One of his eyes was blurred still, black (no, it was white, but then, no, it wasn't anything. It was just an absence of something), tree-like streaks cutting through his vision and making it difficult to process what he was seeing.

Two people, an oddly familiar girl and a boy he didn't recognize, stared at him in concern, sharing glances once they saw his eyes.

"shit," the girl mutters, he can just barely make it out of the sound of a mop slapping the ground with a wet squeltch, and someone burping with a disgutingly satisfied sigh.

"Quick, put these on," she whispers, handing over large, bright green headphones. Damain quickly shoved them on his head, trusting the people in front of him. Surely they knew what his soulmate's body needed better than he did, seeing as they were obviously friends with them. (the blurry homework, phone with a picture of a meme, and tray of fries on the table pointed to friends; close enough to share food and jokes with.)

Immediately, the excessive noise quieted down to a manageable level, his shoulders relaxing in relief, which then promptly made him notice just how stiff and in pain his body was.

Glancing down, Damian noticed scarring covering his left arm and trailing up and under his shirt. They looked like electrical burns, but older than they should be. These should have faded, but instead they were pale and raised, irritated but not inflamed. Ignoring the scars, Damian focused on the dark purple and blue bruises covering both arms, and if what he was feeling, covered his whole body. (That was a hand print. who the hell did this?)

"Yeah," The boy grimaced, drawing Damian's attention. "Danny's had a rough couple of days."

Rough was an understatement; it looked like he had been Superman punched into the ground repeatedly, and then beaten with a bat as the cherry on top. it sure felt that way at least.

"Hey, fenturd!" someone shouted, slamming their hands onto the table and jostling the drinks into almost tipping over with the force.

"Not now, Dash!" the girl hissed, also slamming her hands onto the table.

Damian glanced up, taking in the white leatherman's jacked and styled hair. classic bully if Stephine was to be believed. (which she was, considering she had easily picked out who had been bullying Damian the one time Dick had forced him into telling them why he was upset after getting home. The girl had easily picked them out, then called them stereotypical bullies.)

"What? Is he so punny he needs his girlfriend to step in?" Dash laughed, turning back to focus on Damian, then stopped once he saw his eyes.

"Oh," he blinked, then rolled his eyes with a huff, "fine, I'll leave him be this time, but just a warning, your soulmate's a loser."

Damian glared, but kept himself from leaping up and punching the guy. He wasn't sure how much strain his soulmate's body could take, and he wasn't going to risk finding out. He refused to hurt him, like so many others obviously did. Regularly, too, if the fact that no one even blinked an eye at the behavior meant anything.

"I'M NOT HIS GIRLFRIEND, YOU INTOLIRANT ASS!" the girl shouted at the guys retreating back. He scoffed, but didn't respond, just pushed the door open and left.

"Sam's gay," the boy whispered, getting smacked by the girl. (Damian ignored the relief he felt at the news; it wasn't his business who his soulmate was dating or not.)

"Shut up, Tucker," the girl hissed, "anyway."

She sat down and straightened her hair before focusing back on Damain.

"I'm Sam, this is Tucker," she held out her right hand for a handshake, smiling as she continued talking. "It's nice to meet you, as unexpected as this is."

Damian shook her hand, but continued to glance around, trying to see what information he could get before he had to resort to asking questions. They were talking with a midwestern accent, so he wasn't all the way across the continent. They were in a small diner, something he'd see more in small towns than in the more modern cities and such. So, a small midwestern town.

His soulmate was partially blind in one eye, had super hearing for some reason, and his body felt like it would fall apart if he so much as sneezed.

"So, what's your name?" Tucker asked, leaning back and pulling out a Pda. (which, what?) Who uses pda's these days? Tim would have cried at how old the thing looked. Even Damian knew this thing was outdated.

"Damian," he answered, turning to focus on the two in front of him.

He still couldn't remember where he had seen the girl. She had on a black knitted shawl, a black crop top with a cartoon ghost, and a pleated purple skirt with a chunky green belt. she had bold dark make up on; purple eyeshadow and green eyeliner, with black matt lipstick. (he could see Raven wearing something similar, though probably not the neon green parts. maybe white?)

She had lesbian pride flag earrings paired with large black and green plugs. The colors clashed, but she didn't seem to care.

The boy was wearing a soft and worn-looking jumper over a light blue button up. he had a bright red beanie and thick black glasses. he had an old messenger bag crossed over his chest where he had pulled his Pda from, a smattering of pins and decorations covering the thing.

"Cool, nice to meet you, Damian." Sam huffed, glancing out the window and then back again. "Look, we were planning on packing up and heading home, but now that you're here, that's not an option."

Damian blinked, but didn't interrupt.

She shared a look with Tucker before continuing, "Danny's been through a lot of shit, none of which I'm going to tell you about. He deserves to get to tell you himself. No, instead, I'm letting you know now that it's probably safer for you and him to just sit here and, if absolutely necessary, to go home with one of us."

Damian hummed, but nodded his head. From what he's seen, Danny's life wasn't painting a good picture. And like he said earlier, these friends would know what's best.

He's not to worried about his families reactions, they should be able to handle the situation until he gets back. until then, he'll just get as much information about his soulmate as he can.

~

Danny watched as the people below him devolved into chaos.

It's sad to think he had actually looked up to these people not less than an hour ago. Who would have guessed that dropping well-known facts would make such a big mess? Clockwork, probably.

Through your eyes

One moment Danny was sitting with Sam and Tucker at the Nasty Burger, and the next he found himself being knocked to the ground. Landing hard on his back, which only added to the disorientated feeling.

Despite his head being shaken he knew what this was. A soulmate body switch. It was something that happened randomly in a person's life—some never even get it at all—with no warning, and lasted for a couple hours. The only visible change that anything is even happening is the fact that the eyes will turn a vibrant white while the two are in each other's bodies.

With his eyes closed Danny tried to take a moment to get his bearings. It was hard to do though when a worried voice suddenly yelled out, "Damian!"

It seems his soulmate's name is Damian, Danny thinks as a thud sounds out next to him, and hands appear on his face and shoulder. Finally opening his eyes he sees a, surprisingly, familiar face. The face of no one other than Dick Grayson. Which is the last person he expected to see.

Wait. Damian? As in Damian Wayne?

Dick, who looked as shocked as Danny feels right now, makes a move that looks like he's going to cover Danny's eyes. Before he can though Danny is breaking free from his grip rolling away from Dick to finally take in the area around him.

Which is a cave. Why is he in a cave? A cave with a frankly massive looking computer? A cave with at least one Batman symbol in every direction he looks? The Batcave? The Batcave.

Oh no.

Looking at Dick, Nightwing his thoughts whisper, looking at him with a strange mix of panic and acceptance. Knowing that there is nothing he can do right now to stop Danny from putting the pieces together.

"So…What's your name?" Dick asks him. Despite the tone being friendly Danny can tell that an interrogation of a lifetime is about to start.

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss!lando norris x reader

part thirty-eight: trouble's calling

word count: 4.9k

warnings: this chapter contains themes of grief, alcohol abuse, and attempted suicide. reader discretion is advised.

if you or someone you love is struggling, please - reach out, and let someone help. you are never on your own.

thirty-seven | thirty-eight | thirty-nine

The car rolled to a gentle stop outside the Norris estate’s black iron gate. Max had already stepped out, the others trailing behind with the energy of soldiers after battle — relieved, sore, and very much exhausted.

The driver’s door didn't open. Lando was still sitting in the driver’s seat, his hands loose on the wheel, and his gaze somewhere far beyond the windshield. He certainly didn’t seem to be in any rush to get out of the car.

Max turned back, leaning into the open window of his passenger side door. “Mate, you comin’ in?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“Nah,” he murmured. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Max frowned. “You good?”

There was a beat of hesitation. Then Lando nodded, a tired smile on his lips.

“Yeah.”

Max opened his mouth — maybe to say be careful, maybe to say you’ve done enough tonight — but before he could even begin to form the words, the car was already rolling away, taillights vanishing into the dark.

Fewtrell couldn’t help but worry, even if tonight had gone well. Usually they’d all celebrate together after a win like this – maybe not with cake and confetti, but they’d found some drinks and takeout did the trick just as well.

Max also knew how hard Lando had been taking everything. Everyone else still saw the ruthless leader that Lando showed them, but Max had known him for a lifetime. Something about him had been different lately, both for better and for worse. He’d disappear at odd times, sometimes not returning for days. 

Then there was the time Carlos had to call him because Lando was spiraling, obsessing over getting his revenge like a madman instead of the tactical leader they all knew him to be. There was also the night that none of them had talked about, the one everyone in the Circle would pretend never happened.

But Max could never forget it.

The first night Lando was back at the mansion after Daniel’s death, there was something hollower in his eyes. Everyone was grieving, of course. But there was something to be said about what it must’ve taken from Lando to be the one to sit by Daniel’s side the longest, talking and comforting and joking until it came time for final promises. It was Lando’s hand that blessed Daniel one final time as he gently closed the eyelids of one of his oldest friends, someone who’d been a mentor to him back when he was first starting to make a name for himself.

Everyone blamed themselves, at least a little bit. But no one blamed themselves as much as Lando Norris.

He’d come home that next night, his shoulders weighed down, his voice empty. Where everyone expected a moment of remembrance, or a rallying speech, or a battle cry or just something–

Lando Norris didn’t say a word.

Instead, he walked past everyone who tried to call out to him, and headed straight for his office. The door remained locked for hours.

None of them would forget the muffled sound of heaving sobs they heard that night. It was Carlos who had noticed when those pained cries finally dissipated into weaker whimpers–

Until there was abrupt silence.

Fewtrell had to break the door open, ramming his side against it with the full force of his weight behind him, over and over again until the weight finally gave out. The locking mechanism finally broke, and when Max entered, it felt like he did too.

He walked in, only to find Lando collapsed in a heap on the floor, an awkward mess of limbs in the center of his handcrafted rug. When he stepped closer, he saw that Lando was shaking, the trembling of his body sloshing around the bourbon of the glass in his hand.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, mate? You don’t look well,” he tried gently, knowing that Lando was a bit like a cat in that often approaching him with kindness outright only made him scamper away.

But even Max Fewtrell had never seen him like this before.

Lando had attempted to say something in response, but it was too incomprehensible for Max to make it out.

“What is it, hm? Talk to me–”

“Leave me… alone,” Lando slurred, voice caught somewhere short of anger but still past sorrow. “Go away.”

It was only then that Max became close enough to notice the wet glassiness of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks.

Lando was crying.

“Lando, buddy, talk to me, yeah? I’m here–”

“It won’t work,” he cried, words blurring into one another. “Why won’t it work?”

Confused, Max was just about to ask what Lando was talking about when he saw it.

His heart dropped.

Its black metal glinting in the loose, barely-there grip of Lando’s right hand, was his gun.

It won’t work.

“I tried,” Lando laughed –a terribly weak, heartbreaking thing– but it comes out alot more sniffly than he intended. “Two times, I tried. Stupid thing keeps jammin’.”

Taking a shaky breath, Max put on his most believable smile. His hand carefully reached for the loaded gun, speaking only in gentle tones. “Don’t worry about that’, yeah?” Max coaxed, his voice not nearly as strong as he’d hoped. Still, he plucked the weapon out of Lando’s reach, using his fingers like a pair of forceps.

“No, no,” Lando shook his head, eyes wide and innocent. ”Tha’s mine, give it–” 

In his inebriated state, Lando’s efforts to reach the gun were futile, practically missing Max’s hand by a mile. Tucking the now locked weapon into the waistband of his pants, Max wrapped his arms around Lando’s shoulders, locking the younger man’s arms in place. Lando struggled futilely against the gentle yet firm grip for a few minutes, until the exhaustion of his efforts gave way to the real storm that had been brewing inside.

That night, Max sat there, holding Lando as he cried until he finally passed out in his hold, exhausted by the toll of his own emotions. That night, Max rambled on and on, saying all the nice things Lando would have never let him say if he wasn’t absolutely blackout drunk. 

Later, as he poured a spare blanket over Lando’s sleeping form, Max didn’t look at Lando and see the same man he did every day. Instead, he saw a boy, one whose heart was in unimaginable pain.

And when Lando woke the next day and said nothing about the events of the previous night, Max and Carlos exchanged a look, silently vowing to never speak a word of this to anyone.

Now, as Max watched the taillights of Lando’s car fade into the distant darkness, he was torn between hope and fear.

Hope – that Lando would find himself knocking on a familiar apartment door, instead of picking up the bottle. That Lando would leave his gun untouched tonight. That instead of locking himself alone somewhere, that maybe he’d find his way to the only arms he’d ever really allowed to hold him. That maybe when he’d return to the mansion in the morning that little bit more sated, something warm in his expression and lax muscles.

Hope, that Lando would find his way to the one that makes him better.

She must have fallen asleep waiting for him. 

Again.

The lights in her apartment were dim, just the amber glow of the kitchen under-cabinet lights, and her small figure curled up on the couch under a throw blanket — like she’d tried to stay up and just couldn’t quite make it.

The apartment was mostly dark when Lando arrived, save for the lamp Y/N always left on when she waited for him. Y/N hadn’t meant to fall asleep — that much was obvious from the blanket tugged halfway over her shoulders, a plate of untouched cookies sitting on the coffee table beside a mug of cocoa now gone cold. Beside that table, her figure was curled up on the couch in a quiet doze.

His chest ached, in an alarmingly familiar, fluttery way.

Lando stood in the doorway for a long moment, the night’s weight still pressing against his ribs. Then he stepped in and quietly locked the door behind him.

Without a word, he dropped his coat by the door and stepped inside. He carefully and painstakingly closed the door behind him, silent as a ghost. Then crossed the room in four slow strides and knelt beside her, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. When she stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked into the darkness until she found him.

“Liam?”

He didn’t answer. He just leaned in and, as gently as he could manage, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him  — not because she needed it, but because he did.

She was half asleep still, eyes half-lidded, but something in her just knew. Knew it was him, knew he had come home by touch alone, by smell. Even without really opening her eyes she knew it was him, simply by the way his breaths came and his feet made the floorboards creak in familiar tones. 

“Hey,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep, “how was work?”

He didn’t answer, and just held her tighter.

“Come,” Y/N invited softly. “...Sit with me?”

They shifted together until they were both curled on the couch — him half-sprawled, her tucked against his chest, his arms still locked around her like he didn’t trust the world not to take her away if he let go for even a second. It was only after a few long beats had passed, that he finally spoke.

“Needed this,” he mumbled into her shoulder, barely above a breath.

Her heart stuttered.

“Yeah?” she asked.

He nodded again, but slower this time, his cheek brushing against her collarbone.

Her fingers kept stroking his hair. She felt the way he softened under her touch, tension slowly bleeding out of his shoulders.

“Long day, huh?”

“...How’d you know?” he muttered, voice rough with exhaustion

She laughed softly, then kissed the crown of his head. “Lucky guess, I s’pose. But sometimes you get all clingy like this after you’ve had a long day.”

A beat passed.

“M’not clingy.”

“You’re literally on top of me right now.”

He spoke against her, words muffled by the fabric of her sleeping shirt. “Shh, don’t move.”

She laughed softly, before shifting slightly. “Actually, that reminds me, lemme get up a sec—”

“Noooo,” he groaned, arms tightening.

“Oh, c’mon,” she said, smiling as she gently pried herself loose. She laughed again, breath warm in his hair. “I’m just getting your dinner plate. Food will make you feel better, I promise. I bet you haven’t eaten, huh?”

Lando rolled his eyes. 

Of course, she’s right.

Naturally, that only made him more annoyed.

A minute later, she returned with the plate she’d tucked away for him in the microwave — still warm, perfectly portioned. He stared at it like she’d handed him the world on a paper plate instead of just a burger and fries.

“Here,” she said, nudging it toward him. “Eat.”

He took the first bite of the burger without a word, and she watched the way his shoulders sank with each chew, like the weight of his day finally could finally evaporate.

“How’d you keep the fries, like, crunchy?”

“Magic,” she deadpanned.

“N’ you didn’t put the tomatoes by the bread,” he breathed, his tone filled with awe. “You made sure it wouldn’t be soggy?”

When she looked at him, the way his eyes were wide with wonder, like she’d performed a miracle instead of simply remembering how he liked his sandwiches, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Duh,” she smiled. “Of course, stupid.”

She didn’t say anything else after that – just stayed close while he ate, her thigh pressed against his and her presence a steady heartbeat beside him.

And for the first time that day, Lando breathed easy.

It didn’t take him long to finish the food.

Not with her curled beside him, teasing him with those little glances and the occasional pleased hum when he actually paused to take the time to breathe and chew his food slowly instead of just wolfing it down. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the food was right in front of him.

He wondered how she’d known.

Is it possible for someone to know you better than you know yourself?

Finally, once he was done, she nudged his arm. “Here, I’ll take it. I’ll only be a minute.”

She took the empty plate from his hands, letting her fingers brush his for a beat longer than necessary.

He made a sound between a groan and a sigh, lifting the plate with an unnecessary amount of effort, like even that motion exhausted him. Even if he looked a little foolish, maybe it was worth it if it made her smile at him like that.

He must’ve gotten lost in some unknown train of thought, however, because he found himself brought back to the present by the sound of her voice.

“You know,” she said lightly, “this might be the quietest you’ve ever been.”

Lando offered a lazy, sideways smirk, but didn’t reply. He seemed perfectly content to just watch her, the outline of her growing smaller as she walked over to the kitchen to take care of those dishes. 

“You feeling better now?” she asked as she disappeared down the hallway.

Lando only hummed in reply — noncommittal, eyes heavy-lidded, his body already leaning into the couch cushions like they were trying to swallow him whole.

She called something back over her shoulder after that —maybe another question, or perhaps she was teasing him again—  but by the time she rinsed the plate and returned to the living room…

He was already gone.

His body was splayed across her couch like a crooked painting, and with one arm behind his head, the other rested loosely on his chest. 

Just like that, he was fast asleep. All of him had gone completely still, save for the slow rise and fall of his breath. His curls were a mess and there was a tiny crease between his brows, like he was still thinking away, even in slumber.

She ran warm water into the sink, the clink of plates and the faint hum of the faucet oddly comforting. She easily rinsed the plate before tucking it into the dishwasher. “So, you wanna tell me about your day now?”

Drying her fingers with a dishcloth, the scent of soap mingled with the warm night air. There was a beat, then another, where there was only silence as she waited.

No answer.

She dried her hands and turned back toward the living room, tossing her question lightly over her shoulder. “Li?”

Still nothing.

When she re-entered the room, she found him completely gone — fast asleep, his arm draped over the back of the couch where she’d been sitting just moments before. His head lolled slightly to the side, curls flattened from her fingers, his breathing slow and steady. Out cold.

And somehow, even like this, he still looked vaguely annoyed — his brow furrowed like even his dreams required sharp angles and unfinished business.

Aww.

Once she was done admiring the sight, she hovered for a moment, unsure as she glanced at the clock. 

Midnight.

It wasn’t even worth trying to move him. And god knows he looked like he needed the sleep. She should’ve just grabbed a blanket and gone to her room.

But yet, her feet didn’t move.

She hesitated, chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek.

It’d been a long day. For both of them, maybe. She could go to bed, sure. Let him sleep it off here, leave a blanket and a note for when he woke.

But…

She hesitated.

She thought back to the way he’d curled around her earlier, holding her so easily like he needed it as much as she did. And she couldn’t shake the way it felt, lying in his arms, the unspoken comfort between them. No one had ever made her feel like this — like it was okay to not pretend, to just be… here.

Liam didn’t talk much. But sometimes, silence was better. And sometimes, she thought, she could almost feel the words he didn’t say, the weight of his world in the moments where everything just slowed.

What did it mean to let someone stay? To want them to stay?

She glanced back at him, his face now a little more relaxed, eyes closed in that deep sleep that made him look younger, vulnerable in ways he never allowed anyone to see. 

She always did sleep better with him. 

Not always beside him, even. Just… with him. In the room. In his orbit. 

There was something about the steady sound of his breath and the way his body went warm and boneless when he let himself relax – the kind of rest he never seemed to get alone.

So maybe she was selfish for it.

But Y/N was tired too, and if this was what they were, whatever this was…

Then maybe it was okay to let herself indulge in these comforts.

Just a little, she told herself.

Cautiously, Y/N lowered herself beside him, trying not to disturb the quiet. The couch wasn’t huge, but she tucked herself in — back to the cushions, knees bent — and before she could even settle properly, Lando shifted in his sleep.

It wasn’t weird. It wasn’t anything other than natural, even. By now, she knew how her body gravitated toward his. He’d made space for her countless times before, whether that be on the couch or the floor or that one time on her bed or even in her favorite armchair, all without having to say a word. And there was something comforting in that.

Her eyes dropped to the space beside him. 

It was certainly narrow. Probably cramped. Definitely not designed for two.

She crossed to the couch and knelt beside him, trying not to disturb the sleep he’d clearly been starved of. His face had smoothed out now — not a trace of his usual tension in his jaw. Whatever worries chased him in daylight had finally, at least for tonight, let go.

Carefully, slowly, she lowered herself into the space next to him.

As soon as she settled, Liam’s body shifted, like he was aware of her — even in sleep. His arm moved a fraction, just enough to make room for her, his torso inching closer as if they’d done this a thousand times, as if this was their natural rhythm.

Her body melted into the space he created, a perfect fit, and she exhaled a long, peaceful breath. The rhythm of his breathing matched her own, deep and steady, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to relax completely. There was nothing forced, nothing rushed.

It was as if he knew. As if his body recognized hers before his brain could catch up. The way his arm dropped over her waist like it belonged there, his chest pressed lightly against her back, the heat of him sinking into her like gravity.

There was just that intuitive way he had of molding to her shape like he’d been doing it forever — his arm finding her waist, palm flattening like memory, his leg hitching slightly over hers to make space. Still mostly asleep.

Her breath caught. She didn’t dare move.

Instead, she just tucked herself into the blanket she’d messily stretched over the both of them before she let her eyes slip shut and her breathing slow.

There was one last thought she remembered before the haze of drowsiness washed it away, the quietest of questions.

I wonder if soulmates are real.

Before she could find herself an answer, sleep wrapped her in its warm embrace, and Y/N finally slept like nothing was missing.

She woke to the distant, shrill sound of a phone ringing.

At first, she thought it was part of the dream—some strange, hollow melody echoing through a version of her apartment that wasn’t quite right. But then it kept going, a shrill, persistent ring, slicing through the fog of sleep like a blade. 

She groaned softly, her head buried into the back cushion of the couch. Her neck ached. Her arm was numb beneath the weight of his chest. Her face was buried in something warm and solid. Lando’s shirt, she realized after a moment, already rumpled from the night before. He was still out cold, one arm curled beneath her, the other across her hip like a weight he didn’t want to give up.

Raising her head, her eyes blinked blearily into the dim apartment as she noticed the light seeping faintly through the curtains. Her body was still cocooned in the warmth of Liam and his body heat, his limbs still wrapped around her like sleep had erased whatever boundary they might’ve once pretended existed.

Apparently it had been a long sleep, because her muscles felt like they’d melted and then reformed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that deeply.

Liam didn’t even twitch — somehow completely dead to the world, his jaw slack, his breath slow. It was almost like he’d had such a long day that even the adrenaline gave up. It was rare for him to sleep this long.

Hell, it was rare for her to sleep this long. But they must have slept for quite some time, judging by the fact that the light filtering through the blinds was far too sharp for early morning, and her mouth tasted like she hadn’t spoken in hours.

The phone rang again. She grumbled softly, squeezing her eyes shut tighter before cracking them open.

She blinked slowly, the air cool against her face. 

I should probably turn the heat up a bit.

Her back ached in that specific way the couch always promised after too many hours, but the weight across her waist was solid and warm. 

Still asleep, his breath warm against the back of her neck, his body curled around hers like he had no plans to move. He didn’t stir, didn’t even move an inch despite the incessant ringing noise. If it weren’t for the rise and fall of his chest against her spine, he could’ve passed for a corpse.

Dumbass, she thought fondly.

She groaned softly and peeled herself away, wincing as his arm that draped over her waist like a stubborn paperweight refused to let go for a beat too long before eventually sliding off.

“Liam,” she whispered half-heartedly, lazily nudging his shoulder. He didn’t even stir. “Liam, your phone’s goin off…”

Nothing.

Y/N didn’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed.

This man could survive a war and sleep through an earthquake, she thought wryly, rubbing the side of her neck as she reluctantly decided to actually get up. 

With a quiet sigh, she slipped off the couch, wrapping her arms around herself as she padded across the apartment in her socks, still half-asleep and squinting at the brightness of the morning light spilling in through the windows.

The phone was on the kitchen counter where he’d dropped it the night before. The stupid thing was still vibrating, still ringing.

She reached for it just as it lit up again.

Max Fewtrell.

She recognized him instantly — not just from Liam’s stories and the grainy pictures he’d show her every once in a while, but also of course from the one time he’d dropped a completely wasted Liam at her doorstep, mumbling something about how Liam could probably use her company.

Her thumb hesitated for half a second, but then she answered.

“He—”

But she didn’t even get the full word out.

“Lando, thank god— mate, where the fuck have you been?” Max’s voice was loud, frantic, all in one breath. “I’ve been calling you for hours. No one’s heard from you, we didn’t know where you were or whether you were alive. Do you even realize how much chaos that causes?”

She blinked. Her mouth opened, then closed again. 

She was frozen.

“I mean, I always tell you to check in. You said you would. Did you forget what happened last time you went dark after a job? I thought maybe something went wrong, or— Lando? Wait, are you there? Fucking say something—”

“…What?”

The word came out so quietly she might as well have not even said it. Then there was silence, for a beat too long.

She didn’t breathe.

“Lando?” Max again, his voice lowering, seeming to slow down a bit compared to the earlier spiralling. “Lando, are you there? Fuck, just say something, will you—”

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

Her thumb hovered over the button to end the call. Her heart spiked, throat dry, brain catching up to the name.

Lando.

Not Liam.

It wasn’t some nickname, wasn’t some casual slip of syllables.

The thoughts formed a tidal whirlpool, slamming into her so hard that it felt like her mind was blanking and she’d had the wind knocked out of her. 

So she hung up. It was immediate, instinctively – like the phone itself had burned her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

With slow fingers, she set the phone back down, as if moving too fast might trigger another hidden landmine. As if the very idea of being seen holding it might further implicate her in something she wasn’t prepared to carry.

With her heartbeat still hammering in her ears, she spared a glance back at the couch where he still lay, peacefully unaware. There, nothing looked out of place — his lashes casting soft shadows across his cheek, the blanket half-twisted around his waist, the corner of his mouth barely curved in his sleep.

She looked at the man still fast asleep on her couch. The same man who said he worked in “business.” The same man who came home that one night with bruises and blood on his knuckles. The same man who made her tea and called her “sweetheart” and fell asleep with his nose tucked into her hair like he’d always belonged there.

Her hands suddenly felt cold.

Who the hell had been in her home all this time?

Max’s voice still rang in her ears. 

Lando?

Lando.

Lando. Not Liam. Not the man on her couch. Not the man who’d just spent the night wrapped around her, holding her in a protective embrace like she was something precious.

She stared at the phone on the counter like it might explode.

Missed Call: Max Fewtrell.

Her breathing was too loud in the quiet. Her heart wouldn’t settle. Instead, her grip on the counter tightened. Her heart beat too fast. Something cracked inside her — not loudly, not all at once, but quiet. Like glass under pressure, fine and fragile.

Y/N was startled from her thoughts when behind her, she heard the soft scuff of movement.

She turned just as he walked in, sleepy and loose-limbed, dragging a hand through his curls. He looked like he was still warm from sleep, still him. 

There was a yawn then, soft and lazy, before his bare feet padded across the hardwood and stopped in the doorway of her kitchen. His voice was rough with sleep, still warm with leftover affection.

“Morning, Angel,” he mumbled, before grinning – a lopsided, dorky thing. “Do we have somewhere to be, or…?”

Once-familiar brown eyes sought hers, his whole expression immediately pausing when she didn’t smile back, when she didn’t say anything at all.

That was when he saw it, something foreign swirling and clouding those eyes he’d come to love.

Not surprise. Not confusion.

But fear.

It was a subtle, visceral kind of fear. It made her take a step back before she could stop herself. Her fingers curled into her palm like it’d somehow protect her, but at the same time her breathing was becoming too shallow.

His smile dropped.

“Hey,” he said more gently, his hands automatically reaching for her until she flinched back from him. Hurt flashed across his face, like it hurt him to be away from her, like he couldn’t possibly understand what the hell was going on right now.

All he knew was that she looked upset, that she looked afraid. His instinct was to reach out, to hold her, to comfort her. Confusion was written clearly across his face as his eyes searched hers, desperate to decipher why she wouldn’t let him soothe her.

“Hey, sweetheart. S’alright, it’s okay,” he tried, but she could still barely look at him. “What happened?”

Her eyes darted to the phone on the counter, then back to him. She looked like she wanted to ask a thousand things and none of them, all at once. But she really wanted was to go back to twenty minutes ago, where al she’d known was sweetness and warmth and safety instead of this fear that threatened to split her chest open.

Lando only grew more worried and more confused the longer she didn't answer him. In all the time he’d gotten to know her, she’d never looked like this. 

For once, he was at a loss, unsure of what to do.

Her voice came out quiet, uncertain. It took all the strength she could muster to keep the words from splintering halfway in her throat.

“…Who's Lando?”

a/n: i'm just gonna go ahead and leave this here...

[tojigasm]

Bucky would just understand the need to be taken care of, and he'd do it soooo well I love that man

"I just really need someone to take over for me. To just make my decisions for me and pay my bills and tell me how proud I make them." You vent, making your way through the tower kitchen, biting into baby carrots.

"You just want a dad." Bucky states rather blase as you sit down beside him in the same moment.

The astonishment must be evident on your face by the way that Bucky raises his brows at you derisively.

"What?" he shrugs at you, and you're instantly drawn to the thick building muscle of his biceps where his arms are crossed against his chest.

"Bucky..." youre nearly at a loss for words, "That's so inappropriate."

"I'm not the one who described my type in man as a parental figure."

your face feels hot, and suddenly, the temperature in the room feels all the more warmer and heavy.

"I didn't mean it like- like that!" You scramble for the right words and realize there are none.

"Sure you didn't." Bucky says rather boredly from his seat, eyes fixed on the TV screen once more.

"I dont want a dad I just -" You stammer, "I just want someone who'll take care of me, and I don't have to worry about anything. just want someone who is there for me and can fuck me so good I forget about everything else and someone who I can just turn my brain off around."

Bucky sighs, rolling his head on his shoulders.

"Okay, let's try this a different way then. "

"Okay..." you pull your legs up onto the couch, biting at the nail of your thumb.

bucky goes through your list once more, "Okay, so you want a dom then."

For some reason, that hadnt occured to you before. the statement makes your head go mushy for a moment as you imagine what it'd be like to have someone like that.

Someone controlling every aspect of your life out of genuine care and wanting to see you succeed or even just regulate your day-to-day life.

the hair on the back of your neck stands up as you imagine that someone being Bucky.

the thought of Bucky checking up on you throughout the day -- texting you or calling you to see if you've eaten enough or if you need money to go shopping.

You imagine him guiding you by hand, both metaphorically and literally -- talking you through intimate scenes and keeping you grounded as he holds you to his chest, pressing soft kisses to your hair.

Or the two of you making dinner — you sitting on the countertop while he cuts vegetables, passing by you with an excuse to kiss you ever so often.

And the thought of him talking you down from the high of something so vulnerable and intimate all in the same with soft kisses to your temple and the contrasting touch of his hands on your skin, murmuring "Always my good girl, y'know that." Into your hair.

You have to pull yourself out of your own head before it becomes too much.

Your thighs rub against one another under you and you dig your hands into the fabric of your sweatshirt.

If Bucky notices, he doesn't say anything. Perhaps he's decided to take mercy on you.

"Yeah, maybe that is it." You offer.

You know you've been too quiet for too long.

Your mouth feels dry and your tongue feels heavy against your teeth all the same.

"Or, you want someone to play daddy." Bucky says.

Your eyes meet his instantly.

You stutter, trying to find the right words but words don't seem to make sense. Unable to even form a thought as Bucky stands up from the couch.

"Need someone to be daddy fr'you?" He asks, cautious as he rests his hand on the curve of your jaw.

You're speechless under him.

"Can daddy touch you, baby?" He asks, stroking the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

"Please." You nearly whimper, letting yourself relax into his hand almost immediately.

And you've been needing this for so long — needing to relinquish yourself and just let someone else take the weight of everything.

Bucky coos at that.

"Just need someone to take care of you, huh sweetheart."

You nod.

"Tell me what you need."

You think Bucky might be the right one to give that vulnerability to.

"Need it to all go away," you say quietly.

Bucky hums, pressing the pad of his thumb against your lips and letting you take his digit into your mouth.

"Let daddy take care of it then."

[banquetwriter]

୨୧ rock ୨୧

pairing: Bob Reynolds ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ lots of negative self talk, nudity (in a non-sexual way), kissing, Bob being confident, not proofread

summary: ʚ you always take care of Bob but what if you needed caring for? ɞ

Words: 1.7k

A/N: self indulgent… also I haven't written a full fic in like 8 months lolz

As you gripped the steering wheel the cold air from your car's AC blasted through the vents and what felt like right into your eyes. That plus the urge to break down and cry was making you white knuckle your grip on that steering wheel you desperately clung to. It was just one of those days.

Nothing seemed quite right for you, no matter how much you wanted and needed it to. You felt so ugly and stupid. And after everything that happened, you had yet to cry. So here you are driving home from a very annoying and pointless meeting with some higher-up in Val’s team.

You sat waiting at the red light, and your mind started to flicker with thoughts of a warm shower, good warm food. And a nice clean bed… wait. Shit. You were supposed to clean your sheets, but you never did… well, you’d have to wait for those to be done, but at least you’d be home, right?

You zoned out waiting for the light to turn green so long that you missed when it was your turn. But thankfully, someone blasted their horn from behind to remind you it was time to go. You let out a broken sigh as you approach the underground tunnel for parking beneath the old Avengers tower.

Your face scan lets you in as you park your car and head to the elevator for a very long ride up to your floor. You had the topmost floor of any other member of your team. You liked it. The distance you could see New York was beautiful.

But right now it feels cold. It feels cold as you walk in and set your keys down on the counter. You stepped into your bedroom and collapsed. Finally allowing the tears to spill from your eyes. Leaving a wet trail in their absence. You let the worry and anger from today spell from your eyes. Your small sobs started to wrack through your body as you let yourself go of everything you held in.

You hadn't seen Bob yet, but you knew he had arrived when you heard the small pitter-patter of his feet slowly bring your attention to the door. He peeked his head in. Your light wasn't on, but he could clearly see your tear-stained cheeks.

His eyes filled with worry as you sat up and just looked at him. He stands staring at you. You let your head fall as he rushes up to your side. “A-are you hurt?” he asks, unsure of how to help or even if you wanted help.

You don't answer simply by holding your arms out begging for intimacy. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around you, terrified as you didn't speak to him. Your tears fell onto his shirt. “What's wrong?” he whispered.

You take a shaky breath in, pulling away from him slightly. He doesn't take his arms off you. Just looking at you, begging you to please let him know what was wrong. “I-i’m fine,” you say, your words nearly catching in your throat. “I've just had…” You pause, looking into his eyes.

“Just had a really hard day,” you say, your lips slowly quivering into a small child-like pout. “Oh, I m-I'm sorry,” he said.

You dismissed his worry as you continued to cry. “No, it's fine. I'm fine,” you repeated as your voice cracked.

In a lot of ways, you were Bob’s rock. You kept him grounded, safe, and happy. You were always there to take care of him. To ward off any evil thoughts that plagued him. But perhaps he had been too selfish.

So selfish, he hadn't noticed your struggles. “D-do you wanna take a shower?” he asked. His voice was small, but he meant well. Whenever Bob had bad days or weeks when he couldn't get up, telling him to take a shower was always the first thing you said.

You told him it not only helped calm his nervous system, but it also got him clean and moving. At first, it was just a suggestion from a friend. Then you started waiting in his room for him to be done. Then, once the romantic feelings of your relationship bloomed, you started showering with him.

Holding his body close to yours as you bathed him. So that's why he suggested it. Metaphorically, you could clean all the stress of today right off. And physically get clean and cozy for a night of good rest. You nodded your head sadly as he softly guided you into the bathroom.

You sat on the counter as Bob began to prepare a shower for you both. He slowly fiddled with the packet of smelling diffusers. You had a few scents, but the lavender was his favorite. It sorta smelled like the lotion his mom would use, and while not every memory of his mother was a good one, the smell brought him so much safety.

He hoped it'd feel the same way with you. The shower's steam slowly built with the diffuser as he turned a lamp on and turned the overhead light off. Everything was prepared as it should be for a nice shower, and he turned to you.

His face was half lit in the glow of the lamp. You felt so broken. You were a protector. Bob needed you to be strong for him. You were failing miserably. “Did you wanna take your makeup off? Maybe…” his voice was quiet, but you could hear the tremble in it. You nodded sadly, scooting off the countertop.

You faced the sink, even with low lighting, the only thing you saw was all your imperfections staring back at you. You robotically took your things out of the drawer and began to remove the makeup that caked your face. Bob, being unsure of where to put his hands, slowly wrapped himself around your waist. Holding you flush against him as you finish your task.

You slowly turned around, his arms still loosely holding your body. “Shower time?” he asked tentatively. “Shower time,” you confirmed. It was the first time you had spoken in minutes, your throat was dry and sore from your sobbing earlier. He slowly slides his hands up to the bottom of your shirt, looks up, and asks for permission to remove it.

You nod your head, allowing him to remove the article of clothing. Even though he had taken your shirt a thousand times at that point, he always made sure to ask. If not with words, then his eyes. He slowly pulled it off of you and removed each piece of your clothing, You took a breather as you were finally bare and free from your restrictive formal pants.

Bob then took his clothes off and opened the shower door for you. Yet another perk from living in the Avengers tower: big showers. Big enough for two, that is for sure. Steam swirled around as you stepped into the water. The warmth filled the cold, empty part of your soul. Breathing in the lavender scent puts your mind at ease.

Bob yet again slid his big hands around your waist, and you fully leaned into his touch. The water hits your skin with a calming effect. Bob knew he wasn't very good at comforting, but he wanted to try. You deserve someone who would try. He just held you, trying to ground you.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly, his voice tickling your skin. You sighed, and your tongue peeked out from your lips. “I just- I feel so ugly and worthless sometimes. It's not just insecurity, it's like it consumes my whole being. And that meeting today, I just…” You shook your head.

“Y-you aren't ugly.” He whispered, his hand finding the side of your face. “And you are far from worthless. Y-you have helped me so much, you've helped his team so much.” His voice was quiet but strong. You've never heard him sound so sure of himself before.

“You have been there for me. For every good day, every bad day.” His face was getting so close to yours, your nose nudged him. Your mouths collapsed under the water, feeling his entire body against yours as he slowly started to consume you with his kiss.

He pulled away from your lips but not from your body, his lips dragged down your jawline, and neck. Each kiss was a promise. A promise that none of the awful things you thought about yourself were true.

“You promise?” you whispered, which did cause him to pull away completely. “I promise. I couldn't be in this world if you weren't in it with me,” he said, his eyes holding yours for what felt like years. “I love you so fucking much Bob.”

You could see his face and neck turning a bright crimson red. “I-I love you too,” he said in a quiet voice. Your worries for the time were gone, and you could just enjoy showering with your boyfriend. That's what you did as you lathered your soap on yourself and him. It's what you did as you rinsed off.

You dried yourself and put on lotion as Bob went into what was basically your shared bedroom. You stepped into the room and looked at your bed, a pair of your comfy clothes. (Bob’s shirt and some Sweatpants.) You changed into them as he sat on the edge of the bed, just admiring you.

As you changed, your body felt the exhaustion creeping in and how badly you wanted to lie down in bed, but at last you must still wash your bed sheets. And as if Bob could read your mind, “Oh, I washed the sheets today. Well, I did all the laundry. So we can just go right to sleep, or maybe we can eat food and watch TV,” he said with a small smile, proud of cleaning today.

“Sleeping sounds so good,” you whispered, sitting next to him. His hands hold the sides of your face. It was a small gesture, but one that made your heart swell. He moved his hands, scooting up the bed, opening the blanket for you to curl up on his chest, and that's exactly what you did. Lulling yourself asleep to the beat of his heart.

[81pastrys]

Qatar Heat Wave

Summary— When she gets too hot at Qatar the boys band together to make sure she’s okay

Warnings— overheated reader ; caring grid boys ; mention of Luke but not explicit

A/N— I love the grid boys 🫶🏻

Multiple driver fic list

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Request— hi love ur work so much. Could I request a new rookie female driver on the grid and shes debuting on one of the most hottest circuits ever and shes really struggling and the grid helps her and when they do the weigh in shes lost like too much weight and shes feeling like shit and the grids helping her

The FIA has this amazing sense of stupidity that they let their drivers do a race during a fucking heat wave of all things. Not to even mention that Qatar was hot as is already.

She never did well in heat, but she was a damn good driver. The podium was actually a relief. Flooding through the cold sparkling water sprayed over their sweaty race suits. Her trainer promised a very icy cold bath, knowing her body elements never regulates in weather like this.

Charles and Carlos nearly had to catch her at weigh-in. They noticed her ticket had a warning symbol and that she was underweight as fuck. She kept stumbling and eventually they made eye contact and texted the group to watch over her.

Oscar then noticed her dazed look from the cooldown and realized she was in fact not cooling down. After the podium, Oscar grabbed her arm for stability, not for himself but he could see her swaying after the pictures.

“Okay, sit.” Oscar said once they got down the stairs from the podium. This caught Charles’ attention. He whipped around and saw her panting like she ran a marathon.

“Merde, is she okay?” Charles asked. She herself shook her head no and Oscar could sense more bad things ahead, asking for a bucket. Charles asked for them to grab her teammate, Kimi. Not that the teenager could do much but he knew her best at this point.

Oscar gave her the bucket and that apparently upset her stomach enough to use it. Kimi and Toto ended up by them almost instantly. Toto got her to stand and they unzipped her suit. She looked weak. They brought her back to Mercedes and her trainer took over.

The ice bath was set up but she couldn’t just shock her body, she had to cool down naturally a bit first. “No, ice, please.” She mumbled when he told her that. “Hot.”

“I know but if we throw you in ice when you’re this hot you might injure yourself.” He explained. They got her suit off and rolled the sleeves of the fireproof up. Kimi kept shoving water to her and Valterri was nearby in case the teen himself got nauseous or too hot.

“The group chat is going crazy over you.” Kimi said worried. She waved him off and he sighed. “Seriously they want to know if you’re okay!” He insisted.

“Do I look fine? Fuck, tell them to give me a minute.” She snapped. Unusual for her to snap at Kimi but she did not feel good. Her trainer finally gave her the go ahead for the ice bath and she sunk in, only a sports bra and spandex shorts on.

Kimi handed her the phone and it was a group call of all the drivers. She glared at Kimi and he held his arms up in innocence. “They wouldn’t stop.” He said.

“How’s our girl doing?” Ollie asked teasingly.

“Oscar told me you were sick after the podium how are you feeling?” Lando asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Dios Mio, don’t scare us like that.” Carlos chimed.

“Oui, don’t do that!” Charles added. She rolled her eyes. “Cherie, we care about you.”

“I’m fine now, I’m in an ice bath.” They all giggled and laughed over the phone.

“You know it’s bad then, she hates ice baths.” Alex laughed. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I don’t know maybe I’ll pass out just to get more attention.” She joked and Kimi laughed, seeing her teasing smile.

“She’s joking.” Kimi said quickly when they went silent. “Now can she enjoy her ice bath in peace?” The boys agreed and hung up the phone.

They didn’t leave her alone for long, once she was cleared and deemed fit to return to her hotel, it was crowded with flowers and get well soon gifts.

She groaned and sent a middle finger to the group chat with all the gifts behind it and a simple: ‘I’m not a baby, quit treating me like one assholes’

Such sweet boys

@il0vereadingstuff @itznotsophia @angelluv16 @kallanfiona @pandabiiissh

[therobbycuepitt]

Crazy, Stupid - J.A.

(Jack Abbot x Cop!Reader) You get injured on the job and have to pay a visit to your husband at his beloved workplace.

warnings: just fluff 🙇 probably inaccurate info on police protocol and medicine, thats about it i guess?? not proofread/spellchecked!

This went a bit longer than a short blurb that i planned to do but I got carried away lmao

"He's not going to like this," you mutter and hiss in discomfort, trying not to shift in your seat too much as the car quickly turns on the corner. Your colleague pulls up to the Emergency entrance at PTMC and hastily parks your police cruiser to the side.

"C'mon. Let's get you inside, Lt." Officer Jordan ushers you out the car, careful with not having contact with the right side of your body. The damage wasn't severe by your judgement, but the pulsing pain from your broken wrist and dislocated shoulder almost made you pass out when the EMTs first checked you.

While on patrol, a small group of drunk and disorderly men were having a shouting match outside of a bar. A regular occurrence at this hour of the night. Handling the situation on your own was a big miscalculation on your part. Ten years in the force made you think it was an easy situation to handle.

Any amount of experience didn't really matter when one of the men--practically a beast, six foot six and three hundred and thirty pounds large--was charging you towards oncoming traffic.

Luckily, the driver passing was alert enough to slow down and stop short the moment the big blur of a body came towards you. The big guy loses his footing and flattens you on the gravel.

Not quick enough to brace your landing, the combination of a loud Thud! Cruch! Pop! reverberated throughout your body and the wind getting knocked out of you leaves you stunned on the ground. The big drunk beast gets lifted off of you by his intoxicated friends, all inebriated and scrambling. Slurred and loud 'Oh my God!'s and 'We're sorry, please dont arrest us!' hound you with a mess of hands helping you up. More pain blares at your body as one of them accidentally grips your broken wrist.

"Enough!"

Like an irritated mother, you yell at all four men to shut their mouths and sit on the curb. They comply immediately and look at you wide eyed while you radio for back up and paramedics. Officer Jordan arrives within minutes, a look of concern quickly flashes on his face seeing the state of your arm.

"What the fuck-"

"Language, kid. Drunk and disorderlies. Breathalyzer for everyone. Book the O-Liner over there with assault of an officer," you quickly breathe out, the pain finally catching up to your senses. You glance at the four behind you, all of them practically tipping over eachother on the pavement.

Much to your dismay and expert persuasion skills, the EMTs refused to set your shoulder back in place since its not allowed. You knew it was pointless effort, but you wanted to save yourself from the lecturing you'll absolutely get from your husband once he finds you in his territory.

Shen was the first one to see you walk in, grimacing at the state of you. "Ooooh, you're in trouble... " he greets like a giddy kid. You roll your eyes and quickly glance around the room, finding your husband with his back to you, charting on a computer. Parker slowly taps him on the shoulder and tips her head toward your direction.

Hazel eyes quizzically scan through the ED and finally land on you, his shoulders instantly tense. He makes his way to you with haste. Visually trying to take in every part of your body that could be damaged. His hands cup your face examining your head and check your eyes with his pen light.

"I'm fine, Dr. Abbot. Just need a cast on my wrist, my shoulder back in place and I'll be on my way," you try to ease his worries using a lighter tone in your voice. He ignores your efforts though, and quickly finds you an open bed much to your protest. Shen was already rolling in a portable x-ray and Parker was helping ypu out of your uniform to examine your shoulder.

"Seriously, guys. All three of you?" your protests fall on deaf ears complaining about special treatment. Jordan watches in amazement as his superior--which he mostly fears, gets babied by the experts at PTMC's Emergency Department. He gives the run down of what happened when he arrived at the scene to Jack, as if he was reporting to his supervisor.

What if you hit your head and cracked your head open?',

'You shouldn't be alone handling that many people',

Don't you roll your eyes at me. I'm being serious'.

By the time Jack's whole lecture finished, x-rays were done, a nurse was on her way to get supplies for a cast and Shen was working on how to set your shoulder back in its socket. You grit your teeth and try to suppress the painful groan fighting to escape your lips, keeping your eyes glued to Jack who was focused on the senior attending.

Officer Jordan was excitedly showing off the dashcam footage of your little stunt, basically pancaking to the floor. A collective sound of flinches and 'Oh my God's echoed from the central bay.

"Do you think I can get a copy of that video?" John asks when he finally gets your shoulder fixed. Your tightly shut eyes turn into a glare at the man.

"Shen, get out," Jack clamps his hand on his shoulder a little too heavy than friendly as a warning. He raises his hands in surrender and backs out of the room, probably going to Parker who most definitely has her own copy of it by now.

"I'm in love with a maniac," he mutters assessing your shoulder if no other injury took place. The nurse arrives with a tray full of the materials needed for your cast which Jack insisted he should apply.

"Yeah, and you were dumb enough to put a ring on it," you dip your head to try and catch his eyes as he sits on a rolling stool next to your bed. He looks at you--less irritated now, and smiles shaking his head.

He gets mad but forgives you the second he feels it because he knows you'd never purposefully put yourself in harms way for nothing. You sit in silence the whole time he works on your wrist, letting the usual sounds of the ED to fill the space.

"See you at home, Stupid," walking out of the room to fetch your colleague by the ear, haughtily flirting with the nurses at the central bay.

Jack finishes and repeats a million more questions of how you were feeling or if anything else hurts on your body. All of that is met with a stern look coming from you, amused by your husband's thoughtfulness but also annoyed he's putting himself in more stress thinking he might have missed a diagnosis. Getting off the bed and glancing at the open door, you quickly take your chance at shutting your yapper husband's mouth with yours. It was only meant to be a quick peck but Jack had kept you against his chest by a firm grab on your waist, kissing you longer.

"Get out of here, Crazy," he says, lips still brushing against yours.

[luvly-writer]

Aretia: Missions gone wrong

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

The mission had gone to hell.

The sky burned a bruised red above the shattered forest line, smoke rolling in waves that stung Y/n’s eyes as Tiamat veered hard, dodging the flames licking upward. Her hands burned from summoning light too much. The air reeked of scorched trees and blood, of magic spent and twisted into chaos.

But none of it mattered.

Because she couldn’t see Sgaeyl.

She couldn’t see him.

Her heart pounded against her ribs like it was trying to break free of her chest. She scanned the battlefield below, her voice sharp and panicked as she barked commands to Tiamat. “Search again! Take the left side. I don’t care if it’s clear—he’s not there.”

The emerald dragon let out a low growl of worry, matching her rider’s rising distress.

Y/n’s breathing was ragged now, bordering on hyperventilation as her mind raced through every possibility—He fell. He’s injured. Sgaeyl was hit. He’s not moving. He’s not—

“No,” she choked out loud, pressing a hand to her mouth as her vision blurred. “No, no, no.”

They landed hard near the edge of the treeline, her boots barely touching the dirt before she was off Tiamat’s back and sprinting into the fray. Smoke obscured everything—faces blurred past her, dragons circled overhead, screams of injured riders and the ring of steel still echoed.

She looked everywhere.

“XADEN!” she screamed.

“SGAEYL!”

Nothing.

She turned frantically, her hair whipping free of its braid, her pearl choker tight against her throat like it might choke the air from her lungs. Her charm bracelet clinked with her shaking hands, her fingers tugging at it like it might give her strength.

“Where is he—where is he—where is he—”

“Y/n!” Ridoc was suddenly in front of her, catching her by the elbows. “Hey—look at me.”

She tried to shove past him. “Let me go!”

“He’s not dead!” he said firmly, eyes wide. “You’d know it if he was. You’d know—”

“I didn't see anything!” she yelled, her voice cracking in a way that made everyone nearby freeze. “I don’t feel him. I always feel him and now—now I don't know.”

Ridoc’s face fell, horror flickering across his features as she turned again in a frenzy, scanning the chaos, running—limping slightly from a graze to her thigh she hadn’t even noticed.

Tears stung her eyes, slipping down her ash-covered cheeks as her panic spilled out like a dam bursting.

She felt Rhiannon’s hand brush her back. Violet murmured something about “Tairn is reaching Sgaeyl, he'll be fine,” but Y/n was spiraling. Spiraling with the image of his empty leathers, of Sgaeyl’s lifeless body, of her waking up tomorrow with a heart severed and nothing left.

And then—

“By the ridge!” someone called.

Her entire body froze.

She whipped around so fast she nearly stumbled.

And there he was.

Xaden stood in the distance, Sgaeyl beside him, one arm pressed to his ribs, his uniform darkened with blood and soot. He looked exhausted. Bruised. But whole. Alive.

The ground shifted beneath her feet as she ran.

She didn’t scream his name—didn’t make a sound—just ran.

Her braid had fallen, her ribbon flying behind her, her dragon’s roar echoing behind her like a war cry of joy. Tears blurred her vision, chest heaving with sobs she didn’t care to hide anymore.

He saw her coming and dropped everything—his blade, his pack, his composure.

When she finally reached him, she slammed into his chest with a force that made him stagger, and she gripped his jacket like if she let go, he might vanish into the smoke again.

“You’re here,” she breathed, again and again. “You’re here, you’re here, you’re here.”

“I’m here, love,” he rasped into her hair, voice raw. “I’m right here. Gods, Y/n—don’t cry, please—”

“I thought— I felt nothing,” she sobbed. “I felt nothing and I—”

“Shh, shh,” he whispered, cupping her face, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, her mouth. “The wards—there was interference— I was trying to get back— I swear—”

“I couldn’t breathe.”

“You never have to be without me again.” His forehead pressed to hers, his thumb brushed away her tears. “You hear me? I will always come back to you.”

And there, in the middle of a field still burning from battle, Y/n finally inhaled her first full breath since the mission began.

Because she was in his arms.

And he was alive.

Later...

The infirmary was dim and hushed, lit only by the amber glow of dragonfire lanterns hanging from the beams. He sat on the edge of the cot, stripped of his jacket, tunic half undone, bandages wrapped around his ribs—burned, bruised, and still reeling.

And she hadn't moved more than a few feet from him since they’d returned.

Y/n paced at first. Silent, tense, like her body couldn’t believe he was still solid in front of her. Her hands shook even as she fetched water, even as she dabbed blood from the corner of his mouth and smoothed his hair back from his temple.

Now she sat beside him, one leg curled beneath her, fingers tracing slow, aimless patterns along the inside of his wrist like if she kept contact, he wouldn’t vanish.

She hadn’t spoken much.

She didn’t need to.

Xaden watched her with quiet reverence, feeling every tremble in her hand, every deep breath she took as if trying to anchor herself. Her charm bracelet clicked softly with each motion. Her choker was still fastened tightly around her neck, her lips slightly chapped from the wind, her eyes rimmed red but no longer frantic.

She was still in battle gear, blood and soot streaked across her collarbone, but she’d never looked more devastatingly beautiful to him.

Sgaeyl’s voice slid into his mind with a low, knowing rumble: She loves you more than air, boy. You're her safe place. Then, smugly: She looked like she might stab someone when she couldn’t find you. He almost smiled. Almost. She still hasn’t stopped watching you. And you love her back so loud it’s giving me a headache.

He bit back a chuckle.

Y/n’s fingers drifted up to his neck, brushing the cord where her seashell pendant hung. She’d given it to him a few months ago, from her hometown—a small white shell smoothed by tide and time, now worn from where his thumb had rubbed it endlessly in her absence.

“Still have it,” he murmured.

Her eyes flicked up to his. “Of course you do.”

She reached toward her own neck, tugging the black ribbon of her collar aside so the chain with a small emerald ring he’d given her—his fathers’s, now hers—was visible against her skin.

“I wore this every day you were gone,” she said softly. “Didn’t care if it was reckless. I needed something of you.”

His chest ached.

He cupped her cheek, his thumb gently brushing her skin. “You have all of me.”

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a long moment. Then, in a whisper: “I couldn’t breathe without you.”

He moved closer, sliding his hand to the back of her neck. “I know, love. I felt it too.” His voice broke just slightly. “Seeing you run to me… I’ve never felt more alive.”

Her lips brushed his collarbone, the place that bore the bruises from the crash. She didn’t kiss him like she was trying to seduce him. She kissed him like she was trying to remind herself that he was there.

That he came back.

He watched her after, how her gaze scanned him again, just to be sure. How her hand slid to rest over his heart. And how her breathing only started to even out once his arms were around her.

Sgaeyl, ever smug, hummed: You are so thoroughly hers it’s embarrassing. And you like it. Xaden buried his face in Y/n’s curls and smiled into her hair. Yes. Gods help me, I love it.

She curled closer against him on the cot, and he let her stay.

Because for the first time since the mission, Y/n was breathing right.

And so was he.

A few nights later...

The room was still, the kind of silence only found deep in the hours before dawn. The only light came from the moon filtering through the sheer curtains, casting soft silver shadows across the stone walls and the large bed where they lay tangled beneath the blankets.

Xaden stirred first—not from a nightmare, but from hers.

At first, it was just the faint rustle of sheets. But then he felt it— Y/n's body twitching, her breathing sharp and shallow, her fingers curling into the blanket like she was bracing for impact. A soft whimper left her lips. Then another. Her brows furrowed, and she turned her face into the pillow, like she was trying to hide from whatever she was seeing.

“Y/n,” he murmured, instantly awake, his voice low and gravelly. He propped himself up on one arm, pressing his other hand gently to her shoulder.

She flinched.

“No,” she breathed, still trapped in the dream. “No, no, please—don’t fall—”

His heart clenched. “Y/n.” He leaned closer, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. “Love, wake up. I’m here. You’re safe.”

But she twisted again, the sound that escaped her throat broken, desperate. A whisper of his name—not in comfort, but in terror.

That did it.

Xaden cupped her face, not forcefully, just enough to anchor her. “Y/n. I’m alive. Look at me, sweetheart. Please—look at me.”

Her eyes snapped open, glassy and unfocused. Her chest was rising and falling like she’d just sprinted miles. There were tears on her cheeks.

“Xaden?” Her voice cracked.

He was already pulling her into his arms, cradling her against his bare chest. “Right here,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got you. It’s over. I’m not going anywhere.”

She clung to him—like she needed the feel of his heartbeat to believe him. Her arms wrapped around his ribs, and she tucked her face into the crook of his neck, still trembling.

“I couldn’t find you,” she choked. “In the dream—I was there again. You were just gone.”

He didn’t say I’m fine or It was just a dream. He knew better. He remembered the panic in her eyes the moment she saw him alive. He remembered the scream she’d bitten down when she first landed, and how she hadn’t let him out of her sight since.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice raw. “I know it’s stupid—”

“Don’t,” he said firmly, tipping her chin so she had to meet his gaze. “It’s not stupid. You love me.”

That broke her again. Her face crumpled, and she buried it in his neck.

He kissed her temple, then the top of her head, and just held her. "You kept me breathing out there. I'm home because of you."

Minutes passed. The storm inside her began to quiet. Her grip eased slightly, but she stayed curled against him, his arms wrapped around her like armor.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, pressing a kiss just below her jaw. “You can sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

And she did—eventually, slowly, with her cheek over his heart and his hand tangled in her hair, whispering her name like a prayer until her breaths evened out and the nightmares finally let her rest.

The next few days were chaotic. Venin movement everywhere. People coming and going on patrols and missions trying to push them back and stay alert.

Then came another incident. They were supposed to just be patroling.

The clearing reeks of smoke and blood. The wind howls low, like it knows something is wrong.

Xaden's boots hit the ground hard as Sgaeyl lands. His eyes sweep the scorched battlefield—shattered rocks, a collapsed ridge, still-burning brush—but none of it matters.

Not when she’s not here.

“Y/n?” he calls out, already ripping off his riding harness, voice sharp and ragged. “Y/n!”

Nothing.

No answering voice. No flash of dark curls tied in green ribbon. No glow of her light signet or the shimmer of her pearl necklace. Nothing.

Just silence. And the burn of dread rising in his throat like acid.

Sgaeyl?

I don’t see her. I don’t see Tiamat. Her tone is strained—too restrained for the bond they share. She’s trying to stay calm for him.

But beneath that calm is worry. Sharp and biting.

“She was right behind us,” Xaden says out loud, turning to scan the skies, then the ground again. “She was right fucking behind us!”

“Maybe she landed somewhere else,” Sawyer says, approaching with his sword still slicked in blood. “There was a lot of chaos. The ridge—collapsed right after her dragon passed it.”

Rhiannon speaks, gently. “We’ll find her. We always do.”

But Xaden’s heart is already fracturing.

Because he remembers—he remembers—what it felt like when she thought he was gone. Her broken sobs, the way she ran to him like she couldn’t breathe without him. The way her hands had trembled when she held his face.

Now it’s his turn.

And gods, it’s worse than anything he’s ever known.

Ridoc’s voice, desperate, cuts through the air as he runs back toward him, wild-eyed. “Nothing. I checked the south ridge and the eastern ledge—there’s no trace of them.”

Her twin’s voice is cracked. Barely holding together. “I can’t see her—she’s hurt. I know it. I know it, Xaden.”

That breaks something in him. Fully.

Because if Ridoc can’t feel her… if Tiamat hasn’t responded…

He grips his sword so tightly his knuckles go white. “No. No, she’s alive. She has to be.”

He turns, pacing in a tight circle, his mind unraveling as panic claws up his spine. The bond with Sgaeyl pulses with worry and pain.

“I should’ve stayed with her—gods, I should’ve—”

There. Sgaeyl’s head jerks to the left, her tone urgent. There, Xaden. Look.

He turns.

A flicker of movement by the edge of the distant tree line. A shape limping. One set of wings folded tight.

Dark green scales shimmer.

Tiamat.

And there—slumped beside her, favoring one leg but walking—Y/n.

Her hair is half-fallen from its ribbon, her bracelet glinting dully in the sunlight. Blood streaks her temple, and her uniform is torn—but she’s alive. She’s alive.

Xaden doesn't think—he runs.

He shouts her name as his legs carry him faster than they ever have. His vision blurs. His lungs burn. His heart hammers so hard it nearly stops.

She looks up.

And the moment their eyes lock, she tries to break into a run too but can't— limping, highly pained.

They crash into each other in a bone-crushing, soul-healing embrace.

“Gods—” he breathes, pulling her into him, burying his face in her hair. “Y/n—”

She’s trembling. Sobbing. But laughing too, in that broken way that means she knows how close it was. “I’m here—I’m here—Xaden, I’m here—”

His hands are everywhere, gripping her waist, her face, her back—like he can’t believe she’s real.

“I thought—” he chokes, voice cracking. “I thought I lost you.”

She shakes her head into his neck. “Not a chance, Riorson. I promised you forever.”

And Sgaeyl, through their bond, hums with warmth—There she is. Safe.

And Xaden clutches her tighter.

Because now he understands.

Now he knows what it is to live in a world where she might be gone.

And he never wants to live there again.

The infirmary tent is quiet now. Lanterns glow low, casting soft golden light across Y/n’s cot as a medic finishes bandaging the gash on her thigh.

Xaden hasn’t moved from his spot beside her. Not once. Not when she winced. Not when she hissed in pain. Not even when Ridoc whispered something about giving them space—because he needs this space filled. With her. Breathing. Alive.

Y/n gives the medic a grateful nod before settling back against the pillow. Her hair is damp from sweat and streaked with dried blood, and her face is pale beneath the warm brown of her skin—but she’s alive. Gods, she’s alive.

“You’re staring,” she says softly, cracking the faintest smile.

“I nearly lost you,” he replies just as softly. His thumb brushes along the edge of the bandage on her arm. “I’m allowed to stare.”

She reaches out with her uninjured hand and curls her fingers into the hem of his jacket. Like she needs him anchored to her as badly as he needs to stay.

He doesn’t make her ask.

With gentle movements, he slips out of the chair and into the cot beside her. She makes room—immediate, instinctive. Their bodies slot together in the cramped space as if made to.

Y/n buries her face in his chest, drawing in a long breath. “You smell like fire and smoke,” she mumbles. “You always do after a fight.”

“I was trying to find you,” he whispers, his voice rough. “Tore through half the ridge before I even let myself feel the fear.”

She tilts her chin up, eyes shimmering. “Now you know what I felt… when it was you I couldn’t find.”

Xaden presses a kiss to her forehead. Then another, slower one to her temple. “I’m your boyfriend, Y/n. Of course I’d burn the world down just to find you.”

Her breath shudders.

Then she shifts, one leg draped over his, fingers slipping under his shirt to rest over his heart. Feeling it. Needing the beat of it.

“Don’t let go,” she whispers.

“Never.”

He wraps both arms around her, holding her close, his lips pressed to her hair. His eyes remain open long after hers flutter shut.

And when sleep finally takes him, it’s only because her heartbeat is against his chest.

Right where it belongs.

It’s only been two days since they found her—limping, bloodied, eyes wild with exhaustion—and yet Y/n is already pushing to be cleared for training and working.

“I said I’m fine,” she insists, trying to pull her arm free of Ridoc’s grip.

“You lost enough blood to fill a godsdamned tub, Y/n,” Ridoc snaps, not loosening his hold. “You're not setting a single foot outside this building.”

She glares at him. “You're being dramatic.”

“And you're being reckless,” Xaden adds from behind her, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Y/n whirls around. “Not you too.”

But the look he gives her stops her cold. It’s not stern. It’s not commanding. It’s… scared. The kind of quiet fear that lingers behind someone’s eyes even when everything is over. The kind of fear she saw in her own reflection days ago, when he had been the one missing.

“I couldn't breathe when I realized you weren’t on the ridge,” Xaden says quietly, voice rough. “I don’t think I have breathed properly since.”

She softens immediately. “Xaden…”

He steps closer, gently cupping her face. “So forgive me if I’m not ready to let you out of my sight.”

And behind her, Ridoc—arms still folded and eyes suspiciously glossy—mutters, “Same goes for me, and I don’t plan on sugarcoating you, so you know I’m serious.”

That earns a small laugh from Y/n, which seems to loosen the tension in the room just a little.

She looks between the two most important men in her life—her twin and her lover—and finally sighs in surrender.

“Fine. You can both keep your overprotective vigil.” She raises a brow. “But I am brushing my hair. Alone. And you’re not following me to the bathroom, Ridoc.”

“No promises,” he mutters, and Xaden barks out a short laugh.

She walks off, finally, leaving them both watching her go.

And even as she disappears around the corner, Ridoc mutters, “We’re gonna take shifts, right?”

Xaden doesn’t even blink. “Already planning the rotation.”

Days later...

It’s a quiet evening—too quiet for a war camp, too still for Ridoc’s liking.

Xaden had finally eased up on the protective hovering, reassured enough by Y/n ’s return and her slow recovery. But Ridoc… Ridoc hadn’t let go.

Y/n finds him sitting outside her quarters, knees pulled to his chest like he used to do when they were children and the thunder outside their window grew too loud.

She doesn’t say anything at first—just sits beside him, shoulder brushing his. He exhales shakily.

“I felt it,” he says after a moment, voice barely above a whisper. “When you were gone. It was like… everything in me cracked.”

She swallows thickly. “I know. I’m so sorry, Ro.”

He finally looks at her. And for once, there’s no teasing in his gaze. No mask. Just the raw ache of a twin who almost lost his other half.

“I need to be near you. Just for a bit.”

Y/n nods, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he leans into her, head resting on hers. “As long as you need,” she whispers.

They sit like that, breathing in sync. No words. Just heartbeats and the sound of safety found again.

Later, Xaden peeks in to find Ridoc fast asleep on the couch in Y/n’s quarters, clinging to the edge of her blanket like he did as a boy. Y/n meets Xaden’s eyes and simply shrugs, lips tugging into a soft smile.

“He needed me,” she mouths.

And Xaden only nods, quietly grateful that the woman he loves is made of so much heart.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosyfire @shadowhuntyi @bubble300 @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life

If you want to added to the taglist, leave a comment. <3

[alexrogers-kazansky]

Bucky presents him in a random day, saying that he is his husband ("he is steve barnes" "hi, i'm steve barnes") and he needs to stay in the Watchtower for a few weeks because their house is renovating.

This is how i think each one finds out and the order:

Bob looks like someone who has insomnia problems, so, a night he goes to the living room and sits on the sofa. Thirty minutes or so later, Steve goes downstairs (he is thirsty) and sees Bob there and worries about him because he's a damn mother hen. He sits next to Bob and the two of them talk until at one point Bob is leaning on Steve's shoulder almost dozing off while Steve is telling one of the many stories with the Howlies ("and then we were in Austria without much food, in the middle of the forest and in winter" "hmmm"). The two continue, neither of them telling anyone Steve tells Bucky because they share every second of their lives with each other. Four nights later, reading an article that pays homage to the 107th Infantry (Fourth of July or something), Bob realizes where he knows the names of the stories that Steve tells.

Alexei finds out in the example above, but it was during a clean-up in the living room (he doesn't look like someone who would mind the noises). He was watching a soccer match on TV, excitedly letting popcorn kernels fall to the floor and carrying on a one-sided conversation with Steve about the game. Suddenly, he felt himself getting lighter and a few seconds later the sofa rocked and made a slight noise as it came into contact with the floor. It was as if something clicked in his head. After that Alexei stands still and is careful not to let any kernels of popcorn fall, intimidated.

Yelena and Ava discover together. It's morning, they're in the kitchen talking to Steve who's cooking breakfast. Yelena isn't quite awake, with her hand resting on the side of her face, so the conversation is just between Steve and Ava. She interrupts the conversation when her eyes find Bucky's worn copy of The Hobbit on the kitchen island and comments: "What an old thing, why doesn't he just throw it away?"

Steve stops what he's doing to look where Yelena is looking and laughs when he sees the book "I think it has more sentimental value than anything, there are even some words that are illegible" *picks up the book and runs his fingers over the faded cover with sudden nostalgia* "I bought this book for him, you know?"

Ava stops and stares at Steve, half-doubting, half-disbelieving, half-shocked that she hadn't noticed before (she's had this conversation with Bucky before so it was easy to connect the pieces), but Yelena doesn't understand (she's sleepy) so she replies: "Oh yeah?". Steve nods and gestures to the living room, handing the book to Ava: "Put it on the shelf, please? Thank you - yes, that was me. I bought it right at the launch, stood in line for hours and almost froze, and had one or two asthma attacks, I don't remember exactly. I thank God to this day for the serum that freed me from that damn disease."

Yelena frowns "Asthma? How...?" Ava, still holding the book in her hand, stares at her deeply as if trying to send a telepathic message. The thought takes a full minute and is visible on Yelena's face. She stares at Steve as if he were a completely different person.

John grew up with images of Captain America, as a child he replayed over and over again the commercials and movies Steve made, he became a military man because of this guy, he accepted the post of Captain America because of this guy. So when he and Steve are arguing about who's going to carry the packages to their floor (they've gone to buy furniture or food) and John wins the argument, he freezes when Steve turns, winks at him and says: "Okay, go ahead, Johnny" in that voice he always heard in those movies and commercials and accompanied by that brilliant smile from the various advertisements.

i just love the idea of steve casually being in the tower with the new avengers team but nobody really recognizes him/pays attention until he lifts the fridge without strain while he's vacuuming or something

[little-diable]

Cherry - Dean Winchester (smut)

I dedicate this one to @waynes-multiverse since we still haven’t managed to meet up (us busy bees). But I hope this little piece will still be fun to read!! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. Xxx

Summary: Dean has been a subscriber of Cherry’s page for quite some time, so it feels like an absolute dream once their paths cross in real life.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car sex, strangers to lovers, reader posts spicy videos online, loverboy Dean, choking, spitting, handjobs, the full program

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.9k words)

With a sigh Dean stepped into the bathroom, thankful that Sam had fallen asleep a while ago. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub, green eyes focused on the screen. It was a routine by now, hiding away in the depth of the night after another exhausting day, only to find her profile for a few moments of distraction. 

Dean couldn’t remember how he had first found the profile, but he was grateful for it. He loved seeing her pop up on his screen, offering glimpses of the body he wanted to feel beneath his hands. His tongue ran along his lower lip, waiting for the shitty motel wifi to finally load her full profile and the new posts she had uploaded, which forced a groan out of him the second he finally saw all of her. 

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Dean undid his trousers, set on quickly getting himself off before catching a few hours of sleep. He leaned back further, back pressed against the old tiles while he clicked onto the newest video she had uploaded. Fuck, he loved watching her, loved the sounds she made while touching herself for all the people paying for her content. 

His hand took care of his aching cock, stroking himself to match the rhythm of her moans. Dean swore that he had never seen something this beautiful before, the lace barely covering her breasts, the perfectly painted fingernails which circled her bundle of nerves with enough pressure to make her tremble. He hated how much power this woman he had never met before had over him, but Dean wouldn’t ever pull back from her. She was everything he wanted, everything he’d never have. 

…

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Dean mumbled the words while Sam kept looking at their notes, combing through their research. With fast steps Dean entered the shop, set on buying some more beer before they’d leave for their next appointment at the sheriff’s office. 

He hummed a song while walking down the aisle, hoping that the following hours would pass quickly enough for him to be able to check her profile again. But just as Dean rounded the corner, he bumped into someone, arms reached out to catch the falling person. And then everything stopped moving. 

“Cherry?” The name rolled off his tongue as he took the familiar face in. Wide pupils stared at him as she cleared her throat while letting go of an embarrassed chuckle. 

“Well, this is awkward.” Dean couldn’t stop staring at her. She was even more beautiful than in her videos, he was utterly fucked. 

“Sorry, that was probably creepy of me, huh?” A small giggle left her while her eyes took in his features, and slowly Dean began to relax. He was all too used to the effect he had on most women, loving the way they stared at him with big eyes, taking in every inch of his features as if they were scared to miss something. 

“Don’t worry, I guess I should expect this to happen more often. But thank you for catching me, -“ she looked at him expectantly, with her smile only growing wider as he introduced himself with his first name. “Thank you, Dean. I should let you get to it, but how about a beer tonight, as a thank you?”

“I certainly won’t say no to some beer and a pretty girl keeping me company. Give me your phone, then you can text me a time and a place.” Dean typed in his number before he gave her the phone back with a smile. Both held eye contact for another second before she turned from him with a small wave, disappearing from his sight. 

The second she was gone, Dean had to let go of a deep breath to ground himself and to realise what had just happened. His head was spinning, even as he stumbled back to Baby and almost fell into his seat with a smirk so wide even Sam began to pick up on it. 

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened.”

…

“So, you’ll leave tomorrow?” She leaned closer, fingertips firmly pressed against his lower arm. (Y/n) had met Dean at the bar hours ago, easily falling into a conversation both didn’t ever want to end again. 

“Mhm, probably. Why? You’ll miss me?” (Y/n) threw her head back with a laugh, but her hand tightened his grip on Dean. A part of him revelled in the fact that she wanted him close while she undoubtedly could have any guy she wanted. Another part cursed him for giving into this longing when he knew he’d struggle to let go of her. 

“I don’t know yet, I guess you’ll have to show me what else there is to miss.” Without understanding what she was doing at first, Dean watched her lean close enough for her lips to ghost over his. After a second or two he gave in, deepening the kiss with a gritty laugh leaving him. Even kissing her felt more perfect than he could have imagined, only worsening the inner struggles he felt. “I want you to fuck me on the backseat of that nice car of yours.” 

“That car has a name and I don’t play around when it comes to her. I only fuck the special ladies on Baby’s backseat.” The grin he wore only grew wider as (y/n) broke out into another fit of giggles. Giggles that were drowned out by the sound of Dean pushing back his chair to stand up before reaching his hand out for her to take. He pulled (y/n) out into the night while his hand found its way to her ass, disappearing in the back pocket of her jeans. 

Wordlessly he helped her into Baby before he started the car, set on driving a few miles down the road until they’d find a quiet enough spot. It didn’t take Dean and (y/n) long to move into the backseat, lips connected, hands fumbling with one another’s clothes. 

“This feels like a fucking dream, you’re even prettier than in all of your pictures.” Dean mumbled the words against her lips the second he felt her breasts against his hands. He had to part from her for a second, green eyes taking in her upper body as (y/n) rolled her hips. It was a sight for sore eyes, a sight so beautiful, Dean feared he’d cum in his pants before he even got a chance to fuck her. “Careful there, sweetheart, I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to hold back, Dean. Definitely not.” The devilish smirk she wore made his cock twitch in his pants, drawing a groan from Dean’s lips. He kissed her again, firmer this time while he silently thanked her for wearing a skirt which allowed his wandering fingers to find her already damp panties. 

(Y/n) was just as impatient, set on burning her touch into his body as if it was a map people would find centuries from now, using it to decode an old secret. She was quick with her hands, undoing his pants to grasp his aching cock with skilled fingers, pumping him at the same time he pressed his fingers against her bundle of nerves.

Both moaned in unison, pushing even closer to use more pressure for their touch. They were ready to lose themselves in the moment, unable to think of anything but the somewhat stranger they were ready to give their body to. It was a dance, a dance both seemed to have perfected years ago but were only now getting the chance to fully pull through with.

“Fuck, you’re so big, I can’t wait to fuck you.” (Y/n)’s moaned words made Dean groan into the darkness. His lips found hers with one hand pressed to the back of her head, not daring to leave any room between them. Their tongues met, tangling themselves together as their bodies burned from inside out. 

“Babygirl, you can fuck me any way you want.” It was all (y/n) needed to hear. She pushed back on his lap to get lost in his eyes while Dean reached for a condom she then rolled down on his cock. Deep down he wanted to drag out this moment, well aware that this was probably the only chance he’d ever get to fuck her, but his body was too eager, needing to feel her wrapped around him.

They held eye contact as (y/n) sank down on his cock, panties pulled aside. Baby seemed to grow hotter with every passing moment, allowing their moans to fill the car like it was the only song Baby would ever be able to play. With one hand placed on (y/n)’s hips, the other found her throat, as if Dean needed to hold her to remind himself that all of this was very much real. 

“Look at that fucking perfect pair of tits, shit, I fucked my hand to them too many times.” A breathy chuckle left her at his praising words, a chuckle that turned into a moan the second Dean tightened his hold on her. He stared at (y/n) for a second before he shifted them around, pulling out of her to press her down on the seat. 

“Oh God, Dean.” Her eyes fluttered close the second he entered her again. Their hips met with every ferocious thrust, burying him deeper and deeper inside of her as if he was closer to heaven than ever before. “Right there, fuck, please.”

He fucked against the spot again, set on making her cum with his eyes fully focused on her pleasure-drunken features. Wordlessly he tapped her chin, proudly grinning as she opened her mouth, staring at him while he spat down on her tongue, making her swallow as if she had always been his. 

“You’re mine, hope you’ll fucking remember this.” His raspy words made her whimper, all she could do was nod her head while tightening her legs around his waist. She was about to cum, walls fluttering around his cock, while she rubbed her bundle of nerves with trembling fingers.

And then she came. And Dean could have sworn that he’d never seen a sight this beautiful. She choked on his name, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back. He kept snapping his hips, high on the feeling of her walls clenching around him so tightly he feared he’d never be able to pull away again.

“Christ, baby, you’re perfect.” Dean groaned the words the second he came, filling the condom with his release. Both were panting, unable to let go of one another while she chased his lips for another kiss. 

“I don’t think I can let you leave tomorrow.” (Y/n) whispered the words into the darkness, feeling Dean chuckle against her throat as he kissed her there. 

“So I managed to show you what’s there to miss, hm?”

[mullermilkshake]

Meet the family

Part 11 <- Part 12 -> Part 13

It's that important time, you're nervous and Jinwoo can't wait to share the news.

At 14 weeks, the twins are around the size of lemons.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags- Pregnant reader, slight manipulation, arguing.

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I drew this baby bootie divider and I think IT'S CUTE AS FUCK, I'm no artist but I'm pretty proud.

At fourteen weeks, you agreed to try again and visit Jinwoo’s mom and sister.

Anxiously standing there, you fiddled with your sweater and tried your best to keep your baby bump hidden before the public announcement. Jinwoo had managed to convince the Chairman to hold off on it until he could inform those close to him.

He wanted to tell his mom and Jinah immediately when he found out you were pregnant, but you were able to change his mind and wait just a little while longer.

Your oversized sweater was more of a tool than a fashion statement when leaving the apartment, just until the public announcement. Many people who recognised you and Jinwoo were none the wiser. Some made eyes at your radical clothing change, their gaze shifting down to your stomach with nothing more than a suspicious gaze.

There was only so much time before others would notice you carrying twins and not attending gate raids anymore. Time was running out. Jinwoo was growing impatient. Your moods were all over the place.

Organised chaos.

“Don’t worry.”

“Hm?” You met his gaze, chewing on your bottom lip.

“I said, don’t worry. They’ll love you, especially my mom. And Jinah will be great, I practically raised her while my mom was unwell.”

“It’s not that, I just… you’re taking me to meet her with the add on of ‘oh, by the way, the girl I’m seeing is also pregnant with twins’. It doesn’t make for a good impression, Jinwoo...”

You saw yourself as the girl he was seeing? Talk about making progress. Jinwoo wanted to smile, to kiss you right there on the doorstep.

But you sunk down with a slouch, clearly with more things on your mind. "You're closer with your sister then if you cared for her like that... We never really talked much about our families- What if she doesn't like me? That can happen- they could both take one look at me and decide not to like me."

God, you were adorable.

“To be honest, I think my mom will be really pleased. I’m twenty five and my sister’s always harping on at me about bringing a girl home so, it’ll go better than you think.”

It should have settled you, yet Jinwoo saw the way the distance between your eyebrows closed ever so slightly. You did this cute little thing with your face when you were conflicted, a worried stare that Jinwoo saw as adorable.

“Just stay close, okay?” Jinwoo took your hand and laced his fingers in between yours, a happy smile playing in his face as he knocked the door. “I’ll always be here.”

The door opened quicker than Jinwoo expected, like his mom was waiting for his visit.

“Jinwoo, I’m so glad you’re here- and this must be your girlfriend.” She smiled softly and placed a hand to her cheek. “Aren’t you pretty. Oh, Jinwoo, come on in and settle down, Jinah will be home soon.”

He took you through to the living area whilst his mom hurried through to the kitchen.

“Girlfriend?” You whispered, it shouldn’t have stung as much as it did.

Jinwoo shrugged reluctantly and played it off as best as he could. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure what to tell her.” 

He wanted you as his girlfriend, more than a girlfriend. You were to be the mother of his children and the only way to make everything right in the world was calling you his wife. Eventually, he’d ask you and you’d say yes when you were most vulnerable and understood that you could only rely on him.

Probably after the twins were born.

“So, tell me all about how you two met.” Jinwoo’s mom tiptoed in with a tray of tea, carefully placing it down on the table with one extra cup for Jinah.

It was surprising just how easily a lie dipped from Jinwoo’s lips, explaining some random story to him mom about how you and he met. It had nothing to do with the Hunter’s association. 

And then came the kicker.

“So… about us, mom.” He took your hand again. “There’s something else that I wanted to talk to you about-“

“Hey, I’m home!” It was Jinwoo’s sister.

“In here, Jinah! Jinwoo’s here with his girlfriend!” It sounded pretty nice to hear his mom say your name.

I guess now’s a better time than any. 

Jinah came into the living area beaming, grinning right at you. “Hey! So my brother finally brought a girl home, huh? Hey, I recognise you from the television, you’re a hunter too- you’re so pretty-“

“Woah, Jinah.” He practically pushed her away, taking note of how well you were enduring the overwhelming presence of his baby sister. “Give her some space, there’ll be plenty of time to get to know each other. There’s something important we wanted to talk to you both about before it’s made public, so would you listen?”

“Sorry! I can get carried away sometimes.”

Jinwoo’s mom smiled and put her hand on his knee. “Go ahead. Tell us all about what you want to say. We’re listening.”

“Uh…” The colour drained from your face, looking to Jinwoo for an answer.

“Mom, Jinah…” He looked at you with such adoration when he said your name. “She’s pregnant.”

“Oh my god…”

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful news!” The reactions Jinwoo expected, but they were expecting one baby. Not two.

“That’s not all.” He said, pulling up your sweater to show your little baby bump. “We’re having twins.”

That’s when the shock really sank in. “Twins?”

“You’re going to have two of you running around, Jinwoo?” Jinah was ever the one to put it eloquently.

“Yeah.”

“Jinwoo, is that apartment big enough for two babies? Do you need me to come and help when they’re born?”

“Well…” You cut in, looking everywhere except the three people in the room. “The Chairman has offered support from the hunter’s association to help us, there’s a facility that has resources to help us… so…”

Your voice trailed off when you saw Jinwoo’s involuntary expression. He didn’t mean to look at you the way he did, but it sounded a lot like you were thinking of giving his babies away to the association’s facility.

Swallowing hard, you smiled at his mom and sister. “But we haven’t decided on the later stuff just yet…”

Jinwoo halted himself in the silent room, trying to stop is hands from shaking. “Mom, I think we better go now, I promise we’ll come over soon.” He stood abruptly and made his way straight to the door without you, knowing you'd follow.

“Now? You’ve only just got here.”

“Sorry, it’s been a long day. I just remembered that I forgot to do something… y’know, errands.”

Like hell you were going to give the babies to the care of the association. He wanted to get to the bottom of this and quickly, his compulsion to protect his children stung heavier than ever right in his gut to ensure their safety. He just never thought that he’d be protecting them from you.

The next ten minutes were a blur, he said goodbye and sat in the car with you for longer before he had the courage to speak with you and not say something he’d deeply regret.

You just needed to see that having a family with Jinwoo was the best thing for you, and for his babies. You still had time before they arrived to see that the only place they belonged was in your and Jinwoo’s arms.

“Jinwoo, will you say something?” You were close to crying by the time he pulled over in a random street away from Headquarters.

“Why do you want to give our babies away?”

“N-no, not give them away. Don’t make me sound so cruel. You're taking words out of my mouth. But we’ll need some sort of support when they get here… I’m terrified, Jinwoo.” He listened for the clicking of your seatbelt as you turned. “What can we give them that can ensure they’re raised right- we can’t do that our own.”

What were you even saying? Jinwoo was the strongest hunter to come out of modern times, he fought Beru for goodness sake, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.

“Yes we can. We can give them everything- please don’t do this.”

“How? How can we give them everything- Jinwoo, we aren’t ready to take care of one regular baby, and we have two with S-Rank mana, one tantrum and whatever abilities they might have, they could destroy half the city. How are we equipped to deal with that? What if both of them inherit something from us and it gets out of control? People could want to exploit that and we can’t be there all the time.”

“We’ll find a way to suppress it until they’re old enough, we can do something. We can stop it somehow, but we can’t give up on them and let them fall into the Chairman’s hands. You of all people should understand that-“

“I do understand it! That's the issue!” You were crying now, wiping your eyes as you talked faster, louder. More desperate. “I know we can't trust the association with them, but what other choice do we have? I can’t think of any viable options- I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t want to do any of this and now I’m pregnant with twins and it all changes for me, you get that, right?!”

He did, he really did. Even so, he would not have you raising any children on your own, it was his duty as the father to help raise his children. He’d be there like his dad should have been through his teen years, helping you and loving you to raise two beautiful children.

Still, he let you finish. “You get that the world keeps on turning for you, for Jong-in. But it stops for me, and for Hae-in. She’s being sent to this facility on her own so Jong-in can get someone else pregnant- they wanted me to go in her place. You can come and go as you please and I… I won’t be able to go on raids again- I still want to be a hunter, I can’t do it if I’m all on my own.”

Jinwoo shook his head vigorously, hoping the action alone would seek it to you. “You won’t be on your own. I’m here, I’m not leaving… Please don’t let the Chairman get his hands on our babies.”

“Jinwoo, you’re not getting my point-“

“I do get it.”

Should I tell her? Was it too soon to tell you how much he adored you, loved you and wanted to spend the rest of his life with you?

“I care about you, deeply. More than you know, and I want us all to be a family.”

You sat and watched him with wide eyes. He took the opportunity to continue. “I know you didn’t ask for this, and in another life, I would have asked you out and taken things slowly if you said yes. But we’re here, and we should make the most of this… we have the chance to have two healthy and beautiful babies that will no doubt look like you.” He chucked, taking your hand you gave him with no issue. “They’ll have your temperament, the cute thing you do with your nose when you smile and I’m sure they’ll have your taste in music too.”

You rubbed your belly, watching him with a look he hadn’t seen before. Total and utter fear. “Jinwoo… how are we going to take care of two babies, work and keep ourselves afloat all the time? The Chairman will want us to have more children if these two come out as strong as he thinks they will. He’s clearly taken an interest and I don’t think he’ll just move on to the next baby that has a mana reading like this.”

If you felt that way, why did you want to hand them over to the association? Jinwoo put it down to your changing hormones, lack of sleep and just wanting the best for your children. Your maternal side was late in showing, and even then it was inconsistent. In fact, your baby bump showed faster than your capability to adapt to motherhood.

Despite that, it was showing, little by little each day. When the babies were born, Jinwoo knew that from the moment you saw them wrapped up in their little blankets and woolly hats, you’d fall in love with them. Just as he would at the sight of the two little bundles in your arms after giving your all and making two wonderful little people.

On that thought, his frustrations melted away. “The Chairman won’t be a problem… I promise you.”

Jinwoo took both of your hands and held them tight, close. “He won’t demand us, not anymore. And money isn’t an issue, just let me worry about that. I’ll never leave you, you won’t ever be on your own. Ever.” 

“Promise?”

“Yes. I promise. I swear on my life.”

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[xavistarlight]

How could I ever be normal about you?

Description: one thing you didn’t expect was how much you would miss intimacy with your husband postpartum

cw: nsfw , smut , Caleb the man that you are.

Thinking about postpartum sex with Caleb.

Caleb was in the kitchen making breakfast for you to have ready when you got home, although he knew if everything looked good that breakfast would most likely be long forgotten

But it was mostly just something to pass the time, he chops tomatoes assembling them on top of a peice of toast.

Caleb then feels a tap on his shoulder, he turns around a bright eyed bleam in your eye giving him a nod.

He picks you up, your legs wrapping around his thick torso, giggling all the way to the bedroom

Caleb lies you down on the bed sweet sensual kisses all over your face.

You craved each other constantly so almost 2 months with Sex , not even just that the intimacy of being inside you, was rough on you both your hormones out of wack u just wanted your husband you craved your husband.

“ doctor said mmph-“ you try to get out inbetween kisses

“ I might still be sensitive, so be easy with me” you say shyly.

“ always pips” Caleb kisses your cheek.

Caleb pulls down his sweat pants revealing his dick, tip wet with precum

It almost makes your insides shudder oh how you missed the girth inside you.

Caleb runs his fingers through your wet glistening folds completely in awe.

“ ngh- Caleb don’t tease need you inside”

“I hear ya pips, wasn’t teasing though just admiring this pretty little cunt” he says as he grasps your hips slowly easing his girthy cock into you

The immediate clamp of your pussy onto his cock makes him want to shove his whole length up, but he can’t, he can’t hurt you not in a time that was so intimate and special to you both he’d never forgive himself.

“ Jesus pip, you feel heavenly” his head rolls back in pleasure

You moan out in sheer desperation that you’ve held in for months.

“ this okay honey? Need to make sure it’s as it for me , for you”

You glance up at him seeing pure desperation but also worry for you he was so hungry for intimacy but was so careful and sweet , you reach up and caress his cheek

He leans in to your touch like a puppy dog.

“ amazing baby , you can go faster if you’d like”

His hips develop a quickend pace no stopping in sight, he belonged inside you for Caleb being close to you wasn’t enough if he could be inside you 24/7 he would.

“Caleb so good, think my pussy was made to take you” you moan out

And that’s when u look up through your eyelashes

Calebs eyes welled up with tears, one escaping his eye rolling down his cheek.

“ fuck- can’t.. just say things like that pipsqueak missed you so much”

Raw, intimate moments like this always made Caleb emotional, seeing him had reminded you of when you had both lost your virginity to each other, Caleb breaking down in tears, he couldn’t believe you had given him the right to such a sacred thing” your sweet sweet Caleb

“ caleb it’s okay honey—“ before you can speak again he swiftly wipes his eyes

“ I know, just .. love you so much” he’d take the world on his shoulders if you asked him too , he’d pluck every star out of the night sky if you so pleased.

He was completely and utterly irrevocably in love with you.

Caleb’s thrusts begin to get more sloppy, needy and desperate searching for his release

His hand moves placing it above your head out of exhaustion not realizing you would take the opportunity to show your love through a simple action.

You held his hand managing to turn your head to kiss his palm.

Just a simple kiss sending shivers through his body his seed pumping into you like a river flood

This was your effect on him.

How could he ever be normal about you.