#jack benjamin x fem!reader

[radiant-reid]

300

him in cult episodes >>>>

Summary: Reader recalls something Spencer told her months ago when he’s taken hostage by a cult (based on 14x01)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst/fluff)

Content Warning: mentions of most of spencer’s trauma

Word Count: 3.4k

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Everything’s a mess.

Y/n’s used to the BAU lifestyle, and today is not the first day a team member has been abducted. It’s not even the first time that it’s been Spencer’s life in danger. Last time it was a three-month-long nightmare that seemed never ending during his time in prison.

It was different now. After what he said, everything between them changed.

She’s not expecting anyone when Spencer slides open the door to the balcony, and she whips her head around to see him.

It’s late in the evening, and she’s escaped the ground floor of Rossi’s mansion, where everyone’s partying, to a quieter balcony upstairs. Cicadas chirp in the spring night air, and there’s a faint beat of the bass of the music from downstairs. Rossi lives far enough outside of DC that the stars are bright, shimmering in the dark sky.

The balcony has a comfortable outdoor couch and armchair, perfect for sitting there and tuning out the world. She needs to do that. Spencer, her fellow BAU team member and friend, has been out of prison for a month, but the stress hasn’t dissipated completely. If she thinks about it hard enough, she’s back sitting at the round table while Penelope reads over an arrest report from Mexico, feeling completely helpless.

“There she is.” He greets her with a kind smile.

His smiling is something she seriously missed when he was away. “Hey.” She replies.

He holds out her jacket that she’d left downstairs, helping put it on her shoulders. “I thought you might be cold up here.” He explains the thoughtful gesture. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, not at all.” She shakes her head, nodding to the armchair she’s not occupying. “Sit, please.”

He accepts her offer eagerly. Then he follows her eyes out over Rossi’s perfectly maintained yard to the sky. “Wow.” He comments.

She hums at his tone. “I know.” She agrees. “Has everyone else gone home?”

Spencer shakes his head. “No, but they’re onto karaoke.” He informs her, laughing before his following statement. “Very alarming sounds.”

She chuckles slightly. He wouldn’t believe it, but he’s funny. She appreciates their time together more now, having gone without it for three long months.

“They’re missing out on your singing.” She jokes, smirking at him.

It’s mostly in reference to karaoke at The Benjamin all those years ago, where they sang all night long. It seems like a long time ago, and so much has changed, but despite what he’s been through, Spencer’s glow never diminished. He’s still the guy who somehow knew how to deliver a baby when he needed to.

“They don’t need to hear that.” He assures her, chuckling. “Again.”

“I thought it was great.” She admits or teases: she’s not sure which. “A highlight was Bohemian Rapsody.”

He cringes, shaking his head at the foggy memory. “I was hoping by then you’d had enough to drink.”

“Oh, I had.” She assures him, earning a confused look from the genius before she reminds him of something he had happily forgotten. “Hotch videoed that whole night.”

Spencer does something he rarely does then, sharing the feelings in his big brain. “I miss him.”

Y/n does too. She’d never missed someone more than she missed Hotch when Spencer was in prison, knowing that his skills as a prosecutor would have been insanely helpful.

“Me too. I’m happy he’s spending time with Jack, though.” She reminds them why it had been his time to go. “The kid deserves it.”

Spencer agrees, but he doesn’t feel the need to say anything, so they sit there in silence. It’s the most peace he’s felt in a long time.

“Y/n?” He asks, briefly getting her attention when she turns to look at him.

“Mm?” She replies, prompting him to continue.

It’s now or never. He draws in a deep breath, preparing for what he needs to say. There’s been so much weight on his shoulders for the last month, and this confession will lift some of it off. One thing he’s learned since prison is that he needs to say what he feels before it’s too late.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He admits, voice wavering slightly. “I think I was always meant to be in love with you.

There’s a beat of silence. And then another. One more.

She’s taking the information in at a slow processing speed, and the words don’t reach her mouth.

He takes it as his answer. He didn’t tell her expecting anything, like her to love him back, just to feel lighter, which works. “I just- I need you to know that.”

She should kiss him. It’s the right thing to do. Not right as in socially acceptable, but right for herself. In her heart, she’s meant to be with him and now is the perfect opportunity. A literal confession spoken to her. There’s no room to worry about him not returning her feelings and their friendship souring. He’s in love with her, and she can’t reply.

More silence, and he decides that it’s getting awkward. He spirals about making her uncomfortable, so he stands up, walking back to the door. “Good night, Y/n.”

She wills her legs to work, to run after him and catch him on the stairs, eagerly jump into his arms and kiss him like she’s wanted to do since she met him in front of Rossi’s expensive artwork. 

She doesn’t.

It’s what she’s thinking about on the jet. Maybe it’s selfish when everyone else goes over where the cult could have taken him, but she’s replaying that evening. How his hand felt when he grazed her bare shoulder, the sound of his shoes as he shuffled away, and how sweet the air tasted that night compared to the bitter resentment she tasted after she didn’t follow him.

“He told you the truth, huh?” JJ asks, sliding into the seat across from her before she even notices someone’s focus on her.

“You know?” Y/n asks in reply, slightly shocked. Sure, they’re best friends, but she didn’t expect Spencer to be spilling his romantic feelings about a colleague to JJ.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know for so long.” She remarks, met with a confused look from her friend. In her mind, Y/n had assumed Spencer had been in love with her for a few months, maximum. “He’s been in love with you for years.”

Her heart sinks in her chest. Is it wrong for her to feel warm? Knowing Spencer’s out there alone- hurt, from what Penelope said- it seems inappropriate. “He has?” She repeats. 

“Since he met you.” She answers before amending her speech. “Maybe a week or two after.”

So about as long as she had loved him. And she might never get to tell him. 

She can’t help but think about how she might stand over his casket and cry next week, wishing she had told him that night, back when everything was perfect.

JJ sees the panic, how her face goes pale, and she reaches out to touch her friend’s arm. “He’ll be okay.” She promises. She has to have that faith, too, if she’s going to be able to function.

Y/n nods, willing herself to keep it together. “I know. Let’s get him back.”

She must have spent most of the flight before JJ came to sit with her in shock because soon the plane’s landing, and they’re in SUVs driving to the cult’s compound.

Her heart races in her chest, pulse thumping once they arrive, and Emily initiates the infiltration plan. They’ve got to be quick and quiet, knowing the cult will claim Spencer as their 300th victim without being talked down. To them, his being there is a decade in the making. It’s spiritual, and there’s no way they’ll let him go. 

He’s completely tied up onto a structure, standing upright, when she gets a peek at him, his hands strapped by his side, legs tied, and a band wrapped around his head to keep his head in place. It’s very sacrificial with The Messiah and Agent Meadows standing around him. 

He’s bruising, too, red marks around his face that will develop into a deep purple. She can’t see into his mind, but she wonders if he’s formulating an escape plan because he looks like he’s accepted it, conceded defeat, and come to terms with dying. Even from far away, his eyes are watery and his breathing steady, like he’s finally admitted to himself that they’re not coming to save him. 

It’s easily the most terrifying expression she’s seen on anyone’s face. It’s bone-chilling.

They move in quickly, knowing he has seconds, not minutes. Y/n dashes to Spencer with JJ, the cult members around her getting shot or arrested being blocked out of her mind. 

His face softens when he sees her, fingers flexing as she and JJ untie his restraints. When his hands are free, he falls forward onto her, clutching her tightly, one arm over her shoulder, one under. 

It’s the tightest she’s ever been hugged, his grip making her feel like she’s his lifeline and he’s coming back to life. He pants out a breath like he hasn’t breathed since he was tied up. His hands spread out on her back, he buries his chin in her neck, and they rock side to side. 

“Y/n.” Spencer whispers, closing his eyes and focusing on holding her. “You came.”

“Of course.” She replies. “Always. You good?”

“Can I have another minute?” He asks, practically begs. Even if she’s not his, he needs to hold her for a bit longer before he can’t ever again.

She squeezes him tighter, assuring him it’s okay. “Always.” She repeats. 

It feels like it’s just the two of them, despite the chaos behind her. She takes in his cologne and how right it feels to be comforting him. Her feelings for him are much more straightforward in her head than they were that night at Rossi’s. 

His breathing calms down, so it’s not erratic hyperventilating, and he loosens his grip around her, more than ready to get out of there now that he feels alive and whole again. 

She loses him after that, keeping some distance while he hugs everyone else and thanks them in true Spencer fashion. There isn’t an opportunity to talk to him when they’re on the jet home since Emily is. She just sits and watches him, reminding herself that he’s okay.

She can’t stop thinking about his expression from the cult compound when she saw him, how unafraid he looked despite knowing he was about to get sacrificed. Maybe he knew they were there, like something deep inside him told him he’d be okay, but he looked prepared to die.

There are more hugs when they get back to Quantico, Penelope practically unwilling to let him go or out of her sight. The case has to end, and exhaustion falls over them when the adrenaline wears off, despite a new day dawning. 

That night, she runs after him like she should have done at Rossi’s, barely making it to the elevator before the doors shut. 

He looks surprised to see her. “I thought you went home.” He says.

She couldn’t. She’s not sure she’ll be able to leave him in the BAU ever again. “I didn’t.” She reports then immediately feeling like an idiot because that much was obvious.

“Why?” He asks caringly. 

“You were still here.” She admits honestly, looking up at his gentle brown eyes. They’re always more golden in the morning.

“I just had to do a psychological counseling thing.” He explains.

Her eyebrows furrow, confused about why someone would make him do that only hours after he was saved. “This soon?” 

He nods. “Damaged goods.” He says, like it’s his label. And he fully believes it. 

“You’re not.” She firmly tells him, mostly angry the FBI would subject him to something invasive so early.

“Y/n.” He says in a tone that sounds like he’s begging her not to sympathize with him falsely. 

Y/n shakes her head, eyeing him with fiery irises as she dares him to continue speaking negatively of himself. “You saved yourself, Spencer.” She informs him sincerely. “Are you hungry?” She asks.

The change of topic disorients him, but it seems a better conversation than arguing over how much of a mess he is. “Starving.” He answers. He didn’t have much time to think about it, with being abducted by a cult, but he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, if you can call a packet of chips lunch.

“Do you want to get breakfast?” She offers before quickly retracting any implications her suggestion could have. “Unless you just need some time alone or don’t want to hang out with him. I won’t be offended.” She wants to tell him, needs to confess what she should have before, but he’s in such an emotional state that she would hate to take advantage of that.

She couldn’t get further from the truth. Spending time with her, specifically, has always made things easier. “I’d really like that.” He admits, sending her a soft smile. 

They barely speak on the drive into DC. There’s a lot of tension in the air, words left unspoken, but Spencer needs time to look at her. He’s at a point where he knows nothing will happen between them, but there’s still a life he imagines when he needs a quick spike of dopamine. She, and an imagined future between them, is his drug of choice now.

He orders pancakes, copying her, rather than getting his usual meal of eggs, bacon, and toast. He ditches coffee in favor of juice, knowing he’s going home to sleep after breakfast when the rest of the adrenaline wears off. 

No deep conversation gets brought up at breakfast, either. Instead, there’s laughter, and every time she looks up at him, Spencer smiles. 

He’s used to going home alone after any trauma in his life. Even after prison and Mr. Scratch, he returned to an empty apartment. After he was abducted by Tobias Hankel, when he got out of the hospital after getting poisoned by anthrax, and even after he got shot in the neck in Texas after Alex dropped him at home, he was by himself.

It’s better with someone else -he decides while they’re sitting there- because he can not think about it in favor of thinking about her.

He eats like he’s been without food for a week, even getting a refill of juice, although everything he’s been through would make anyone hungry.

And he pays, despite her telling him she would, so she drives him home through the traffic-less streets, thanks to everyone being at work.

He hesitates before he gets out of the car once they arrive at his apartment. “Do you want to come up?” 

She accepts, following him up the stairs. It’s a good time to do it, now that they’re alone and in private. 

His apartment is lighter than when she saw it when she went with Penelope once to water his plants while he was in prison. It’s neater with the curtains open, and he might have added even more books to the impressive collection she previously noticed.

Unsure of how long she’s staying, Y/n takes off her shoes on instinct. Spencer’s not sure why he invited her up other than wanting to spend more time with her, so he’s not sure what to do now that she’s there. 

She speaks before he can offer her water. “Were you scared?” She asks before realizing the insensitivity of her question. She doesn’t want to sound like a shitty Bureau psychologist, just his friend, haunted by a snapshot in her mind of his expression. “I just mean... we were, and Penelope was when she came. JJ was because you’re her best friend. You weren’t even shaking. Sorry I didn’t-”

Spencer cuts her off before she can spiral. “I wasn’t. Not when Penelope was safe.” 

“Why not?” She asks. It makes sense, his wanting to protect Penelope, but she can’t understand why he wasn’t scared when he was moments away from death. She’s thought about it enough without coming up with an answer for it to be necessary to ask. 

“Because, Y/n, what I told you that night at Rossi’s.” Her breathing hitches at the mention of the best, or maybe one of the worst, nights of her life. “If that’s the last proper, non-case-related discussion we have, I’m okay with that. I couldn’t die without you knowing I love you.”

She shakes her head, eyes tearing up at the confirmation of his acceptance of dying. “There’s more for you than that.” She says, hoping he knows it. 

He does. 

He’s got three perfect godsons, he’d love to go back to Paris, he’s always wanted a family, a wife and a big house, there are still books he hasn’t read, there are still sequels being written, there are classes yet to teach and profilers yet to train, there are chess games to win and to lose, and old friends left to see. 

They both know his life isn’t close to be finished. 

“You knowing is what mattered.” He repeats. “Right from when I realized I wasn’t going to get out by myself, I knew it would be okay since you knew.”

“It wouldn’t be okay!” She says a little too loudly, close to crying. “You can’t be okay with that.”

There’s more in her head, and he’s reluctant to push her to find out, but he does. “Why?”

She sighs, feeling small standing there in front of him. “Because if you died, I couldn’t have told you I love you.” She reveals one of her deepest fears that she hadn’t realized until recently. 

“Oh,” Spencer says, jaw going slack. He’s rarely speechless. “Recently or...” It’s the only thing he can think to do: establish a timeline.

“For a long time.” She admits. “I just- I froze that night. I couldn’t say it, but I felt it.” 

He senses the apology that’s about to spill and shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He believes it when he says it and walks closer to hold her hands in front of her. She’s surprised by the contact, but it’s nice, even if his hands are slightly cold.

For a moment, they just stand there, and she admires his gorgeous cheekbones and those honey-colored eyes that make her weak when he looks at her so intensely.

He doesn’t rush his next move. Slowly, he drops her hands and cups her cheeks, smiling softly. Then he leans forward, giving her what she’s been waiting for for a long time. His lips are soft on hers like he’s testing the waters, giving her a chance to pull away before pouring passion into it. She matches his pressure while basking in the glow of kissing Spencer Reid. Spencer Reid, who loves her. 

They share a matching fond look when they pull back. 

Then he’s laughing, and it’s the cutest thing in the world, along with being confusing. The slight, amused frown on her face causes him to explain. “You love me, and I love you.” He says like he can’t believe it. “Wow.”

She knows that reaction from when she had it at Rossi’s, and he looks adorable experiencing it, grinning so hard his face might split. For a long time, he’s wanted to be loved by someone romantically, and now he is. After everything he’s been through, Spencer thought it wouldn’t happen, and for the first time in his life, he’s glad to be wrong.

“What are you doing today?” He asks when he’s collected himself.

“Well, I was going to go home and sleep.” She answers, wondering what he’s going to suggest they do while knowing she could be persuaded into almost anything by him.  

“Sleep here.” He says quickly. “Not like that.” A blush fills his cheeks. “If you want. Then we could go to dinner, lunch, a movie theatre, or the park, wherever you want.” 

She’s nodding before he finishes. He could ask her out on a date to watch paint drying in his spare bedroom, and she would eagerly accept. “Yes.”

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[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: I Will Run To You

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna learns more about her role and the dynamics of the household.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence.

Extra warnings for chapter: Mentions of medical malpractice, death in childbirth, mentions of male sexual assault via power dynamics, lots of complex feelings.

A/n: next chapter things ramp up.

3.1k words

A/N I gotta apologize y'all. this was meant to include so much more but I guess this chapter is getting split bc I just put so much Jonah lore. I hope y'all are formal about liking him. We finally get some backstory on the uprising, Tom, and Madonna's dad, who BTW, had a name change. JACK IS NOW MARCUS more info after the story!

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One so young, so changed Should not be left alone Two in love should confess And not be left alone And I will run to you Down whatever road you choose Yes, I will follow you down I will run to you ~I Will Run to You, Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty

“You paint a lot of fire”

Jonah’s voice startled you, making you turn around but you relax when you see it’s just him. Reyansh was watching you outside your studio, and Jonah coming meant you must be summoned somewhere. 

You were painting a picture of a burning house, something you saw in a dream last night. Ben and Will treated you normally, fucking you but also spending time together. You supposed Francisco’s behavior was normal too, considering that he continued to treat you like you only existed to fuck when he had to fullfill his duty. He never touched you alone. In the week since you got your period Santi was ignoring you. He’d call you to his room, fuck you with your face pressed into the mattress, and then toss you out. Last night he shoved you into the hall with your dress still bundled up in your arms.

“I paint what I dream.” You mumble, tired and not totally there. You were terrified to sleep, and after a second visit from the succubus it was getting worse, forcing yourself to stay up later and later. Lack of sleep was making it difficult to be alert, and little noises make you jump.

Jonah approached where you stood, keeping a respectful distance. He’d been distant as well since the night you saw him, and you still were unsure what you did wrong and why Iris was so upset with you.

“You dream of houses burning?” His voice was gentle but curious.

You take a deep breath, too tired to fight off any questioning. It’s best not to lie, anyway. “Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of fire. I dreamed I was dancing in front of it. I dreamed I caused it, and it was out of my control and now I must dance in the smoke and watch as the flames consumed things that I loved.” A pause, tears beginning to burn behind your eyes. “Sometimes, he stood inside them.”

“He?”

“My father.”

Jonah drew in a sharp breath and you worried he thought you were sympathetic to his traitorous cause. You weren’t, you had remembered how betrayed you’d felt that he’d thrown everything away to follow Deacon Davis, the judas who had killed the Divine Mother. As per tradition, when someone is sentenced to death, they burn at the stake and the unmarried women are expected to dance. The closer you are to the individual, the closer you are to the fire. You had been Marcus’s only family, him and your mom having adopted you as an infant. He died in front of you as you danced, embers blowing in the wind and singeing your white dress and sensitive skin. You were only 12, but you knew right from wrong, and your father was wrong. Sometimes you woke up still smelling his burning corpse. You had danced longer than anyone, keeping all the energy your child body could give you until you passed out.

You turn to Jonah with tears in your eyes, “I hold no mercy in my heart for him, please know that. I am loyal to the Divine Mother, I am loyal to my husbands above all else! I don’t know why I didn’t get pregnant but know I’d die for them happily should it came to that!” Crying now, you desperately plead to him but it’s not Jonah you are speaking to, truely. You know Pope is questioning you right now, and you cannot bear the thought that he doubts you.

“Honey” Jonah’s voice is strained, pain anguishing him. “How much do you know about the uprising…”

Your face is wet with tears, almost shaking in fear and frustration. You didn’t know how you’d messed this up so badly so soon. You just wanted to be held, you don’t remember the last time you’d been held without sexual desire… it was probably your father, may he be damned.

“Deacon Davis… he was an advisor to the Divine Mother, a friend to my husbands… he and Deliliah conspired against the Divine Mother and her family. Dad- um, Marcus, was a part of the traitors and he allowed Deacon Davis into Divine Mother’s quarters where he murdered her. Deliliah was Will’s betrothed before. She had seduced him for information and, and betrayed her husband! I would never do that, Jonah!” You realize now why he was questioning you, he thought a traitorous blood ran in your veins. Had Pope sent him? Had Francisco seen the evil in your heart, the evil that was inviting a demon?? Or had Jonah simply seen you for what you were. “I would rather die than betray them! You have to believe me!” You sob, closing your eyes as you are no longer able to look into his in shame. Strong arms wrap around you, practically holding your body up. 

Jonah held you tightly and you cried into his shirt, so tired, so sleepy… You just wanted to feel peace again. Jonah allowed you your release, wetting his shirt with your tears until your breathing slowed. It occurred to you that you were hugging and being held by a man who was not your husband, so you take a step back looking down.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I haven't slept well-”

“It’s okay, honey.” His voice gently reassures you. “It’s okay to cry sometimes.”

You shake your head. “No… no I’m happy, I should be happy here, happy with my husbands, I am!” You’d shown weakness, surely Jonah would tell Pope that you were unhappy, that this was proof of your doubt, of unworthiness… Instead, Jonah pulled a sleeve down on his hand, stepping up to you once more. He ran the sleeve carefully under your eyes wiping the tears.

“There is nothing wrong with feeling what you feel. Your husbands are blessed with a kind, beautiful, artistic wife and they should be so lucky you sit at their table, nonetheless someone who cooks them dinners and paint them pictures. It is they who are unworthy, not you.”

You gasp at the blasphemy. “Jonah! No, no they are-”

“Gods, I know.” He wipes snot from your running nose. “But you… you’re like a daughter to me, and a father is allowed to place his children above Gods. Marcus may not… he may not have made the right choices, but he wanted nothing but good for you, just like I do. So please, for me, show him and yourself a little grace.”

With a little sniffle, you nod. “Thank you, Jonah.”

He gave you a smile, the bright one you like that made his eyes squint. “Good girl. Now, I got a surprise for you that I think will brighten your day.”

*

Jonah watched as you practically skipped down the hallway. When he told you Frankie wanted to take you out for a picnic, you perked up so fast it was like you hadn’t even been sobbing in his arms a moment ago. He wished he could be honest with you, he wished he could tell you the truth about Tom, Delilah, and most importantly, Marcus… but you were so brainwashed, there was no way for him to break through to you. He couldn’t simple tell you everything you’d know and believed whole heartedly, your religion, your life, the very thing that you chose above your father was a lie… not yet anyway. Maybe one day you’d doubt, you’d question, and the first people you’d go to would be Iris or him, maybe even Reyansh. Rey played the part well of a good soldier boy, he wasn’t as overt as Iris was but he knew you trusted him.

Despite being late already with the crying, you insisted on stoping in your room to grab a ribbon for your heart. Jonah’s heart hurt watching you put so much effort into this.

Will treated you well. Despite Jonah and Will’s… past, he couldn’t deny Will  was a good husband. He took care of you.

Ben was a little shithead and was absolutely going behind your back with women still he just couldn’t figure out who. Ben had to be more sneaky now. This didn’t stop him from very loud late night fucks with Frankie that it seemed only you and Santi weren’t aware of. Still, he gave you affection and spent time outside of sex with you.

Santiago, he expected nothing less. Santiago’s moods were unpredictable, they had been ever since he was a child. Jonah had known Santiago and Beatriz since he was young, when all this was fairly new and traction was growing more and more. Jonah didn’t exactly believe, but his wife Jess did. Maybe he did for a while, it was hard to not with the things he saw… Beatriz had taken an interest in him and thus, despite being married, he spent a lot of time at the mansion with her. Jonah felt like a hooker, like his body was a commodity and up for grabs from anyone, and the worst part was how okay Jessica was with it. She fucking encouraged it. “Its an honor!” It wasn’t such an honor when she died giving birth to Iris and was denied medical treatment. Doctor said it wouldn’t have helped. Jonah knew Beatriz had something to do with it. He was luck Irish lived. She was his only reason for living sometimes.

It was Frank he was surprised about. Jonah had known all four men for most of the 3 decades of their life, and next to Santi, he knew Frank the longest. Frankie was raised with Santiago, practically as brother. Beatriz couldn’t adopt him, because something something divine blood, but that didn’t matter when Santi pissed her off enough. Jonah had witnessed the lashings and beatings he had taken, but what seemed to hurt the teen the most was when Beatriz would hang his godhood over his head, saying that it should be Frankie who was the savior, not him. After Jess’s death, Jonah was moved into the mansion and promoted to captain of the guard. It was just an excuse for Beatriz to demand sex even more.

Frankie was a good kid, but he always followed Santi like a lost puppy. Santi became obsessed with Frankie, forcing Frankie to become more and more withdrawn. Still, the nice young man was in there somewhere, and Jonah would bring it out. After the girl came to his room crying about Frankie not loving her, Jonah spoke to him and said he needed to do better by her hence the picnic.

Rey was out at the stables by the time Jonah got there, preparing the three horses. He was there a lot, knowing a lot about horses. If he has any choice, Jonah was certain he’d have been a vet. Another life, he supposed. Jonah and Rey would accompany them since they were going out a ways.

“Hello, Francisco.” She spoke softly, but enthusiastic. For all he and Santi hurt her, she loved him.

Frank gave a small smile. “Hi, Madonna. I thought maybe we could take a picnic. Get away from… everything else.” He brushed the mane of the horse.

Everyone else, Jonah thought.

“That sounds wonderful!” You walk over to him. “What’s his name?”

“This is Cielo. And those two,” He points to the other horses being settled. “Are Estrella and Flora.”

“Will we be riding Cielo?” You ask, but Frank turns away.

“I’ll be riding alone.”

You look dejected again, so Jonah steps up, frustrated with Frankie. “C’mon, you can ride with me.” Jonah puts a put in a stirrup, launching a leg over the saddle and onto Flora, his favorite horse.

“Actually” Frankie interjects. “I think she should ride with Rey.”

Of course. 10 years later and everyone was still suspicious of him. Frankie climbed onto Cielo, and Jonah rode up to him, whispering. “Compliment her ribbon. She picked green just for you.”

*

Reyansh pulled you up and onto the saddle, allowing you to ride the side saddle to protect your modesty in the dress. If you knew you’d be riding a horse, you’d have worn pants. It wasn’t the most comfortable, and you feared falling, but Reynash’s arm was strong around you. He was careful to keep his hands at appropriate places, which you were thankful for. 

“How is your painting going?” He asks, as since Jonah leads the group and Francisco is in the middle still not keen on talking to you. Still, this was a step forward.

“It’s good, thank you. It’s nice and peaceful. I miss-” You stop yourself. What you missed was when Santi used to sit and watch you paint, drinking his wine and intent eyes on you. It had been a comfortable silence. “I do miss having company sometimes…” You missed your husband, you missed his laugh, his smile, his praise.

“Hey, I’d love to sit in on a session!” You could tell by the tone of his voice he was smiling. “I’d love to see a real artist at work!”

You laugh just a bit, “I’m not an artist, but if you’d like to watch, I'd like that.”

“Deal.”

*

You sat against a tree, legs bent modestly in your skirt and eating the sandwich Iris packed. She also packed apple juice, which you loved.

Francisco was silent. He’d thanked you for your help setting up the blanket and spoken as he served his food, but now he simply sat there. He looked sad, but even then he was handsome. Francosco sported a mustache, which had remained consistent the whole time you’d known him. Santiago was growing out his hair and beard, which was making your heart ache even more that you couldn’t kiss and touch him like you wanted to. Still, the silence wasn’t awkward. You had begun to wonder if he was just… quiet.

“Thank you for taking me out.” You say, speaking quietly. Jonah and Reynash were circling the parameter and you felt… watched. “I hadn’t realized how much time I spent inside until now.” Had you even left the house at all since your wedding? When was the last time you felt sunshine before today?

To your delight, while still looking down, he smiled. “I’m glad. Don’t like seeing you cooped up in that house all day.”

Your heart warmed at his concern for you. Feeling emboldened, you scooch close to him.

“It’s not cooped up with the men I love.”

This makes his eyes flick up to you. He narrows them suspiciously, but not angry “You… love… me?”

Your heart nearly shatters at the question, and you can’t help but find him so endearing. “But of course I do!!!” Careful, you place a hand on his face and feel the patchy bit of stubble. “You’re my beloved husband!”

“But… you had to marry me.”

You shake your head. “No, Francisco I chose you, I chose all of you and I love all of you. Is that why you’ve been distant? Is that why you’ve been so cold to me?”

“I-” He stutters over his words. “I don’t think this is good for you… I don’t think I’m good for you…”

If there were ever words you hadn’t expected from him, it wasn’t that. Francisco was a God, he was holy, good and righteous, how could he not be good for you. It didn’t matter. Clearly he was hurting, and as his wife, it was your duty to make him happy again. “Francisco Morales, you are my husband, you are the foster child of the Divine Mother, and the love of my life. I chose you before, I choose you now, and I will choose you in heaven, Divine Mother willing.” You bring your face closer to his. “I adore you, in all your God and human.” Feeling brave, you bring your mouth to him and tenderly take his pouty lower lip into your mouth, making him whimper. You liked that sound.

“You choose me?” He whispers, slowly kissing back. “Out in the open, no secrets?” His voice is slightly higher now, almost whining as he begins to chase your mouth. 

“Always” The desperation growing, you give him everything you have. You don’t care that it’s an open field surrounded by trees, you don’t care that Reyansh and Jonah could ride up at any point, and you don’t care who might see you. You were divine and if you wanted to make love to the god of nature in his own fucking land you will. You had Francisco Morales, demi-God, whimpering for your touch. You had HIM, finally had him and you weren’t going to waste it for one second. He wanted thing sout in the open, you would show him you weren’t ashamed to be seen getting filled by his seed. Before you, your husbands were not celibant, that much was known. The sex parties were stuff of rumors and you couldn’t decipher the truth from fact. However, it was clear that public sex was not off the table. Shame is a punishment for the sins of Adam and Eve, and for men born without original sin, there was no shame in sex. “I choose you, always.”

Frankie entangles his fingers into your hair, feeling the green tie in your locks. His other hand slides up to cup your breast.

“I love this ribbon, it suits you.”

*

“Whatcha think’n, old man.” Rey asks as he rides up to Jonah. Both are perched up on top of a hill overlooking the field you lay on and he watches you kiss Frankie. 

“I’m thinking,” Jonah turns to Rey, nodding his head back home. “That I got it here, and since the others are out, you should run back and try and sneak some time with Iris.”

Rey smiled at that, but hesitated. “You sure? Morales didn’t seem like he wanted her with either of you.” 

Jonah rolled his eyes, but it was good natured nonetheless. He liked Reynash, loved him even. He was a good kid. Iris was put in the position she was in, not any older than the girl was now, because of his shortcomings, his weaknesses. She was punished to punish him. She deserved all the good she could get, and Reyansh Saha was about the only bit off good left in this world, beside Iris and now Marcus’s kid he was looking after. He reminded Jonah of Delilah in a lot of ways. Always smiling. Always kind.

“Look at ‘em.” Jonah referenced the pair kissing below. “She’s going home on his lap.”

Rey laughed brightly, turning his horse. “Oh yeah, you’re quite the matchmaker!” And he road off, long dark hair wild behind him. Handsome devil.

The words matchmaker hung in the air. Was Jonah giving her false hope he wondered? Or was he giving her the time she had left and filling it with better memories. He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was delaying the inevitable. It was always going to end one way for her. There was no way to live up to what Santiago wanted.

Because what Santiago wanted was Frankie with a womb.

SO MUCH JONAH HAPPENING!!!!!!!!

And poor madonna bc Jonah christ smelling your dad burn is a lot

So Marcus's face claim is David Habour, this came out of some chats with. @umnitsa in my romanaverse discord server. He is now your adopted father to keep things inclusive, but this is important as he has background info and ties in a lot. Think hopper in stranger things. Also May is already shipping him and Jonah so that ship name is Jonus lmfaooooo

If you are an active participant in one or more of my universes and have a discord (this means commenting or comment Reblogging, im looking for people who want to theorize and chit chat) dm me for a link! This is primarily focused on giving you extra content and sneak peaks but a lot of cool people are there too and you can share your work!

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

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[ladamedusoif]

An Inspecteur Calls

A Visiting Pedrotober One-Shot - Day 20, Merge Mansion

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Lyd is stressed and frustrated, and hit with a bad dose of Parisian nostalgia. Thankfully, Ben knows of a detective - sorry, inspecteur - Roquefort, who is free to investigate the cause of her woes, shoulder holsters included.

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (series/one-shot specific): Visiting fic one-shot; Professor Ben College AU; Ben and Lydia are contemporaries; canon is not a thing here; smut; fingering; oral sex (f receiving); safe PiV sex; enthusiastic consent; strong language; praise kink; references to stress; bad French; terrible French accents; role playing; these two are fucking dorks; extreme silliness

A/N: This is @jack-whiskey-daniels' fault. I wrote up this smutty little vignette, heavily inspired by the photo of Tim Rockford above, last night. Today, Luce informs me that it's Merge Mansion day for Pedrotober and I should post this. Well, who am I to say no?

With apologies for Ben's deliberately terrible attempts at role-playing a cliched French detective (inspecteur is the more common title). No apologies for me using Lydia to work through my love of Tim "Shoulder Holsters Tight Shirt Undervest" Rockford.

(And, seeing as it's his birthday and these two are film nerds, I had to throw in a reference to a film by the French director Jean-Pierre Melville, creator of several exceptional French crime dramas in the 1960s and 1970s. Le Cercle rouge is one of his finest, but they're all brilliant and highly recommended.)

Read the main story on the series Masterlist.

Usual Visiting taglist: @jack-whiskey-daniels , @julesonrecord , @tessa-quayle , @vermillionwinter , @iamskyereads , @tieronecrush , @perennialdoll247 , @love-the-abyss , @imaswellkid , @intheorangebedroom , @javierisms , @fuckyeahdindjarin , @littlemisspascal , @khindahra , @pedrostories , @readingiskeepingmegoing , @rhoorl , @red-red-rogue , @princessanglophile, @katareyoudrilling @survivingandenduring, @trulybetty @fictionismyreality @sunnywithachanceofjavi, @joeldjarin , @lahoozaherr, @s-u-t, @its-nebuleuse, @lizzie-cakes

His warm, broad hand rests lightly on your shoulder as he passes you at the dining table. You turn to look up at him, handsome face full of concern.

“You’re not yourself. What’s up?”

You sigh and stare into your coffee. “It’s dumb.”

He pulls out a chair and sits down, quirking an eyebrow. “If it’s bothering you, I doubt it’s dumb. What’s wrong, love?”

“It’s this stupid essay I’m trying to get finished. I’m missing some of the stuff that would be really useful for it, and I should have gone to see it last time I was in Paris, and I’m frustrated with myself.”

“That’s not dumb, darling. Even if you are being too hard on yourself, as usual.”

You slump forward on the table, mumbling against the wooden surface. “And then I thought about how easy it used to be to just…pop over to Paris, whenever I could, and then I started thinking about it and how much I love it.”

He pats your arm affectionately. “Still not dumb.”

“And then we watched Le Cercle rouge last night and even all those dodgy cops and inspecteurs in their trenchcoats and hats and crime were making me miss Paris. See? Dumb.”

Ben shakes his head and smiles softly. “Not dumb at all. It’s a part of you, of who you are.” He traces a circle on the back of your hand. “And anyway, didn’t you once tell me you had a thing for dodgy cops with moustaches?” He looks at you mischievously and you grin.

“You, Benjamin, are a very tolerant man.” You reach out and trace your fingers over the coarse hair on one side of his face, and he closes his eyes and hums happily.

“I love you, Lyddie. It’ll be okay.” He pushes himself away from the table and heads towards the hallway. “I gotta go for my early seminar, but keep Hemingway in mind.”

You laugh and roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course, the answer is in literature.” He pauses at the door, waiting for you to acknowledge the quotation. “‘Wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.’”

He does that half-smile that never fails to make you melt, blows you a kiss, and heads off to work.

You meet him later for lunch, having worked at home for most of the morning. In between bites of his sandwich, he excitedly talks about the graduate seminar he’d taught, and you discuss your plans for your workshop on gender and visual culture that afternoon while Ben listens attentively.

“You feeling any better?” he asks, as you brush a stray couple of crumbs from his moustache. 

“A bit. I’m sorry, I just spiralled. Probably mostly stress and frustration at my own shitty work ethic and crap ideas.”

He kisses the tips of your fingers swiftly and discreetly, and you giggle. “You have to be kinder to yourself. You’re working too hard, thinking about it too much.”

You clear your table and bring your trays to the designated area, hands brushing lightly against each other as you stroll out of the cafeteria and back towards your building and your offices. You smile to yourself at how, even now, the slightest touch from him sends a current of electricity sparking through your body.

Ben opens his office door and pulls you in for a quick kiss before you have to go and teach. He pulls away reluctantly as you whine softly. 

“Please be kinder to yourself, Lyd.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as you move into the hallway. “I’m happy to help distract you, you know.”

“I’m home, love!” 

You drop your bag beside the hall table and hang your coat up on the rack before kicking off your shoes and stretching upwards as you walk towards the kitchen, where you expect to find him. On days when you have a later teaching schedule, Ben likes to get home earlier, finish his work in his attic study, and then get dinner started for both of you.

Something delicious is cooking away in the CrockPot, but there’s no sign of your boyfriend. You pass into the dining room, noticing the light from the living room coming through the glass-panelled doors. 

Ben is sitting on the sofa, wearing his glasses - nothing out of the ordinary there. But he’s also clad in the trenchcoat he wore for his Dave Toschi costume on Halloween, which is decidedly weird. 

“Uh, baby? You okay?”

He turns to face you, arching an eyebrow and running his eyes up and down your body as if he’s appraising you. 

“Ben?”

“Bonsoir, mademoiselle.”

You scrunch your face up in absolute confusion, and wonder if you should call Jen. Maybe some kind of accident happened at work? Did he take a knock to the head?

“Ben, I’m…what the fuck is happening?”

He holds a hand up to one side of his face and does a sort of stage whisper. “Go with it, Lyd! Just an attempt at cheering you up. You want to stop, just say the word.”

You burst out laughing and shake your head. “No, I’m… I’ll see where this leads, monsieur.”

He grins in satisfaction and stands up. “Je suis Inspecteur Timothée Roquefort, and…uh, I mean, et je suis un…Parisian police homme.”

“Baby, I know your French is better than this.”

Ben holds up a hand and continues speaking in what can only be described as one of the worst comedy French accents you have ever heard. “Mademoiselle! Do not interrupt moi.”

You bite your lip, body shaking with laughter. “D’accord, monsieur.”

“I received une message at the commissariat de police that une jolie femme was…” He looks away as he thinks. “Triste parce que she is not in Pareeeeee.”

“D’accord, mais je ne sais pas pourquoi les flics doivent intervenir dans une question personnelle, en fait, et alors -” [Okay, but I don’t know why cops have to intervene in a personal matter, really, and anyway -]

Ben looks panicked, and starts to rub at one side of his moustache with his pointer finger.

“Uh… HON HON HON. OMELETTE DU FROMAGE.”

That does it. You collapse against him in a fit of laughter, eyes creased and tears rolling down your cheeks. He holds you close against him as you look up at his open, handsome face. 

“You are a very goofy man, Benjamin Morales, and I love you for it. Though I don’t really understand how I want to fuck you this badly even with that accent.”

He grins. “You want to fuck moi because je suis a sexy Parisian police homme, non?” 

He plants a kiss to your forehead as he hugs you tightly. “L’Inspecteur did have une question de plus, Lyddie.”

“Eh bien?”

You can see him struggling not to laugh as he makes a cheesy, cliched “sexy” face at you. 

“La question, s’il vous plait.”

“Well, mademoiselle…” Ben shrugs off the trenchcoat to reveal the shoulder holsters he’d worn at Halloween. The ones that had helped show you just how beautifully broad he was. The ones you’d held onto as the two of you sat as close as it was possible for two friends to sit, both taking any opportunity to make contact with the other’s body. 

The ones you’d asked him, a while back, if he’d kept. “Just because,” you’d explained. “They were kinda hot.”

You reach out and trace your fingers over the leather of the straps, biting your lip and feeling the flame of your desire building steadily into an inferno.

“La question, monsieur l’Inspecteur.”

He arches his brow and gives you his most seductive smile. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

You make it to the bedroom in record time, laughing as you race up the stairs and sit down on the bed as he stands in front of you. 

“Where do you want me for the, uh, investigation, monsieur l’Inspecteur?”

Ben grins delightedly and leans forward, encouraging you to lie back on the mattress as he shifts his broad form over you, arms caging your body as you run your hands over his warm, solid chest and that tummy that makes you absolutely feral. His white shirt is perfectly snug, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, and your hips are already shifting upwards to meet his crotch, desperate for him.

You grip the shoulder holsters as Ben chuckles, bringing his head lower and whispering in your ear. “Je think that les clues are hidden dans your body.”

You both burst out laughing, but your eyes stay trained on each other, never breaking the intense intimacy and erotic power of the shared gaze. 

“You should probably do some searching, then, Inspecteur.”

Ben kisses you deeply as he moves you towards the middle of the bed and loosens his tie before unbuttoning your blouse, bringing his mouth to every new area of skin exposed. “Might be here?” he murmurs, lips brushing off the velvety flesh of your breasts before sucking on your nipples through the pink lace of your bra. 

Your back arches as you gasp. “No, don’t think so…sir.”

You feel his cock twitch in his pants at that and you smile wickedly. “Liked that, did we? Sir?”

Ben hides his face against your tummy and laughs. “Maybe.” His broad hands roam up to your shoulders as he helps you out of your blouse, before tracing the outline of your waist and the curves of your hips and ass as he unbuttons your dark green pants and slips his fingers into your panties. 

“Fuck, Ben, fuck, that’s -”

“Maybe the clues are here? What do you think, mademoiselle?”

He shifts his body down the bed and looks up at you lasciviously, eyes burning black with lust as he pulls your pants down and discards them. He eases your legs apart and you react with a gasp and a giggle as he works his way up your thighs. 

“Looking for treasure, sir?”

He laughs, low and warm, and brings his face to your core. “Found it, mademoiselle.” The heat of his mouth hits your pussy through the fabric of your panties, and you moan loudly. He hums happily as he kisses your soaking cunt, pulling the fabric aside to grant him more access before he drags them off you completely and buries his mouth between your legs. His tongue moves between your folds, flicking your clit every now and again before diving into the warm wetness of your entrance while the strong line of his nose keeps the pressure on the sensitive nub. 

The first orgasm hits you hard, and your hips bear down on Ben’s face as he groans with pleasure. He slips two fingers inside you to sustain the climax a little longer, and with the other hand unbuckles his belt and undoes his zipper, slipping off his pants and boxer briefs while he continues to massage the spot inside you that he knows, having had you so many times, will deepen the orgasm and build to an even stronger one next time.

“Need you, baby,” you whine, eyes drifting to his hard cock, tip glistening with pre-come. “Need you so badly.”

You reach up as he shifts his weight over you, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his white undervest, clinging perfectly to his gorgeous, solid form. He makes as if to take off the holsters. 

“Don’t you fucking dare take those off. They’re staying on, sir.”

He raises his eyebrows and laughs. “Oh, mademoiselle likes them, does she?”

You giggle, feeling his warm breath against your lips, and slip your fingers under the straps around his shoulders. “She really likes them, monsieur. Liked them from the first time she saw them on you.”

He kisses you hard, one hand groping your tits while the other gives his cock a few strokes as he shifts into position. “Sometimes I wish you’d told me back then, that night,” he murmurs, sucking lightly on your neck and making you cry out.

“Think we made up for lost time, though,” you gasp, tilting your head to look at his hard length notching at the wet folds of your cunt. “Please fuck me, baby.”

He slides into you in a fluid motion, moaning long and slow as he bottoms out and the tightness of your pussy takes hold around his cock. He drags back out of you slowly, luxuriantly, savouring every bump and ridge inside you and trying to restrain himself from driving back into you too quickly.

“Jesus, baby, your pussy is fucking incredible. So warm and tight for me.”

He starts to fuck you, picking up pace quickly as you keep hold of the shoulder holsters.

“Tell me, darling.”

He closes his eyes, face a perfect expression of ecstasy. “It’s just fucking perfect. Like you’re made for me, made for my cock. Made for each other.”

You tilt your pelvis slightly so that he’s grinding a little more on your clit as he moves in and out of you, and before long the friction has you coming again. Ben groans at the sensation as your pussy clenches around him and you ride out your orgasm on his cock. 

“Fuck, Lyd, I - oh, fuck.” He seems surprised at how quickly his own release comes, spilling into you while he buries his face against your neck, muttering a litany of curses and praise. 

“Oh fuck fuck fuck baby, that’s fucking it, that’s - my good fucking girl, fuck.”

When he lifts his head again, his face and upper body are drenched in sweat, dripping onto your neck and chest. He kisses you slowly, deeply, before he pulls out. You whine with pleasure at the taste of yourself, of your cunt, on his lips.

He flops back onto the bed, turning to kiss you again and stroke your cheek as he whispers his love for you, over and over.

You return the gesture, nuzzling against him, sated and feeling completely loved, completely adored, completely safe. 

The sight of the shoulder holster makes you giggle affectionately. This beautiful, goofy, sexy man, who would come up with something so silly and so sweet and so insanely hot, just to make you feel better.

“Can the inspecteur come by another time, baby? I think there might be more cases to solve.”

(tape warning by @cafekitsune; star dividers by @saradika)

[eyelessjackspuppyshark]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Basic Info HC ɞ˚‧｡⋆

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Creepypasta

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 This is just a list of my Creepypasta Headcannons of age, gender, pronouns, sexuality, race, species and height!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 It’s very likely this will change but for now this is what it’s at!! But this is for my personal AU! I’m still willing to write a lot of these characters as a different sexuality for x readers :3

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Canon Characters ɞ˚‧｡⋆

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby Erin Rogers

˚₊⊹ᰔ 24, Cismale, He/It, Pansexual, German, Human, 5’8

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Timothy Wright(Masky)

˚₊⊹ᰔ 38, Cismale, He/Him, Homosexual, Caucasian , Human 5’6

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Sully Woods

˚₊⊹ᰔ 28, Cismale, He/Him, Bisexual, Mexican, Human, 6’1

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Lucille Vicky Woods(Liu)

˚₊⊹ᰔ 28, Cismale, He/Him, Pansexual, Mexican, Human, 6’1

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Eyeless Jack

˚₊⊹ᰔ Died at 25, Has been around for around 68 years, He/Him, Homosexual, Taken by Ark and monogamous, Korean, Eldritch creature (Son of Chernobog), 6’9

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Jeffery Woods

˚₊⊹ᰔ 24, Cismale, He/They, Bisexual (Masc lean), Mexican-African American, Human, 5’11

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Sally Williams

˚₊⊹ᰔ 12 Doesn’t Age, Cisfemale, She/Her, She’s a child and doesn’t understand sexuality, Indigenous-French, Poltergeist, 4’3.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Nina Hopkins

˚₊⊹ᰔ 22, Transfemale, Demi-girl, She/It/They/Him, Pansexual (Fem lean), Blasian, Human, 5’8

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Cody Rogers (X-Virus)

˚₊⊹ᰔ 20, Transmale, He/They/It, Bisexual (No lean), German-Indigenous, Undead, 5’5

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Lazari Swann

˚₊⊹ᰔ 15, Cisfemale, She/They, AroAce, Hispanic-French, Zalgoid, 5’1

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Brian Thomas (Hoodie)

˚₊⊹ᰔ 38, Cismale, He/Him, Pansexual, Caucasian, Human, 6’3

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Helen Otis (Bloody Painter)

˚₊⊹ᰔ 34, Cismale, He/Him, Bisexual, Caucasian, Human, 6’1

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Benjamin Lawman (Ben Drowned)

˚₊⊹ᰔ 12 Doesn’t Age, Cismale, He/Him, He’s a child he doesn’t know, Japanese, Poltergeist, 4’8

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Lucille-Tiffany Greatfeild (Lulu)

˚₊⊹ᰔ 13 Doesn’t Age, Cisfemale, She/Her, She’s a child she doesn’t know, Filipino, Zalgoid, 5’3

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Alex Kralie

˚₊⊹ᰔ 29, Cismale, He/Him, Bisexual, Caucasian, Poltergeist, 6’2

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Jay Merrick (Skully)

˚₊⊹ᰔ 29, Transmale, He/They, Pansexual, Caucasian, Undead, 5’10

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Jane Arkansas

˚₊⊹ᰔ 26, Cisfemale, She/Her, Lesbian, Russian-African American, Human, 6’0

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Natalie Ouellette (Clockwork)

˚₊⊹ᰔ 24, Demi-girl, She/They/He, Pansexual, Indigenous, Human, 5’6

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack

˚₊⊹ᰔ Millenniums old, Genderfluid, He/They/She/It, Pansexual, Demonic Clown Shapeshifter, 4’0-8’0+

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Jason The Toymaker

˚₊⊹ᰔ Millenniums old, Cismale, He/They, Pansexual, Demonic Creature, 6’3+

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Candy pop

˚₊⊹ᰔ Millenniums old, Nonbianary, He/She/They/It, Pansexual, Demonic Creature (Maybe an Incubus), 5’8+

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Slenderman

˚₊⊹ᰔ Older than time itself, Cismale?, He/It, Queer, Eldritch Lord, 7’5+

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Zalgo

˚₊⊹ᰔ Older than time itself, Genderfluid, He/She/They/It, Pansexual, Eldritch Lord, 6’4+

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Puppeteer

˚₊⊹ᰔ 34, Cisman, He/Him, Pansexual, African-American, Demonic Ghost(?), 6’3

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Original Characters ɞ˚‧｡⋆

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Ark Willows

˚₊⊹ᰔ Died at 20 Has been dead for years, Genderfluid, Pup/Mutt/It/They/He/She, Bisexual (Masc Lean), Taken by Eyeless Jack but Polyamorous, Indigenous-Irish(?), Zalgoid, 4’8

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

[ggnggh-asterisk-fixates-asterisk]

♢ Hello

This is just a general post overseeing my guidelines on requests, and clarifying who I will write for.

A date as to when this was last updated will always be present at the bottom of the post.

I will make a master list once I complete 3 requests.

♡ Before you Request;

As of current, I will not be doing straight up NSFW. I don’t mind to lean into suggestive topics, but I will not be providing smut— apologies. This may change in the future, but as of current I am simply uncomfortable with it. (You may still request suggestive things, just do not straight up request sex.)

I will not be making any of the characters “abusive”. If you request that, I will crawl into your window and get you (/nsrs)

I will not be enforcing any stereotypes with my writing. Period.

I will not write anything morally iffy, such as; proshipper-esque content, xenophobia, transphobia, homophobia, racism, etc.

Be patient with me. I am hosting another side blog (which is.. scarily active..) on the side, along with just having my own life. I do requests in order of me having received them, and can take up to a few days to complete them— although I will try my very best to complete them within the same day of asking / soon.

Please clarify if you’d like your reader to be Gender Neutral (GN), Feminine (Fem), Gender Non Conforming (GNC), or Masculine (Masc). If you do not specify, I will automatically make it Gender Neutral.

This may be updated at any time.

♧ Who I Write For

*Keep note, this is an entirely “creepypasta” based x reader blog. I use that term loosely, but it’s just to hollar over the audience I’d like (I am, in fact, shaking a treats bag and ‘pspspsing’ at all of you /j)

Jack Nyras (Eyeless Jack) [Platonic/Romantic]

Benjamin Lawman (BEN Drowned)[Platonic]

Jane Arkensaw (Jane the Killer) [Platonic/Romantic*¹]

Tobias Erin Rogers (“Ticci Toby”) [Platonic/Romantic]*²

I’m aware the list is short as of current, but it is prone to being updated and/or changed as time goes on.

*¹ Due to Jane’s creator confirming her sexuality as a Lesbian, I will not accept romantic requests with her unless the reader requests to be Feminine or Gender Neutral.

*² I am aware of the.. situation with Toby— but as far as I could find; content can still be created, so long as not associated with the Creepypasta fandom? But I cannot find the actual boundaries anywhere, and I’ve scoured for a while. I could usually only find threads talking about it— all of which had conflicting info. Due to this, I will still write for Toby, but if I am informed of the Creator’s boundaries better and they do not allow me to make content of him in the way I am— I will stop writing for him. Please do not be afraid to send me info regarding this, it would be deeply appreciated.

♤ This entire post is prone to being updated at any time. Thank you for your understanding.

✑ Last Updated; April 5th, 2023

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Monsters under your bed (Jack Benjamin) (Pt. 2)

PART 1

Characters: Bi!Jack Benjamin x Maid!Fem!You

Summary: You are carrying an heir of Gilboa. Everything was all planned by Jack, yet getting your heart involved too much wasn't your intention that you could surpass your dead step-brother's love for the prince himself. Challenges may come that could even get the Queen of Gilboa involved between you both, or maybe she had been the player all along?

Warning: ANGST. Homophobic mother. This could make your blood boil for you and Jack. I do not know how the royal monarchy works except for those kdramas that I watch (and I know it is very much different from the western type of royalty) but I hope I give justice to this because I've watched his parts and I have wikipedia as reference? Jack can be quite one manipulative son of a gun here! Probably non/con as well if you squint at it closely? 

Words: 2,450+ This is long! Prepare for it! Especially the angst and sadness!

A/N: (READ PART 1 OF 'Monsters under your bed'!) I'm in a Jack Benjamin thirst! You want Jack? I'll give y'all Jack! He deserves more loveeee yo! 

Disclaimer: GIF'S and pictures used are not mine. Only the edits are and the oneshot of course. 😉 Credits to the owners of the GIFS. PLEASE DO NOT PLAGIARIZE MY WORKS! Thank you!

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

THE SMELL OF ROYALTY AND PROSPERITY DANCED AROUND THE PALACE'S FUNCTION ROOM. Fabricated smiles and swindling minds of people who held power stood on the palace grounds as prince and princesses came sauntering in with grace and pompousness. The air became quite thick as the party started as the soon-to-be-queen entered the function room with tainted innocence plastered on her face, holding Prince Jack's elbow as she looked at him like she was madly in love.

Though, that wasn't the case. They both needed the power. She needed Jack to be the righteous king and Jack had that in mind as well.

They finally shared such a sweet kiss to the media who had been harassing them with pictures which seemed to only be a part of your imaginations because servants weren't allowed to step foot in the party as requested by King Silas. You were just one of the palace's chamber maids and you've dreamt of dressing up in a beautiful silver gown just like what Kristina has been wearing since the start of their engagement party.

It was Jack's engagement party and you've never felt more wrathful then ever. Your mind was in a berserk as the day finally came. You knew it was coming, you knew it was inevitable from the start and having the royalty in becoming Jack's wife will never be yours. All the title you had was a lowly maid of his and having his heart will never happen because it has not been yours from the start.

Since the death of your step-brother, you had no family besides Jack. You have been alone in the palace and had no one to save you, no knight in shining armor to save you from a palace where revenge takes place or a fight over the power they hoped to have.

Yet, your step-brother even had the audacity to leave such baggage as to having Jack around 24/7. Never even thinking you would eventually fall for his antics.

Unluckily getting your heart involved in it without even thinking that he probably only see you as a pawn to his plan in getting the throne.

Jack had been ineffable in terms of decisions. His plans could get people to think that it wasn't actually his doing. From the day your step-brother died, he was indescribable, difficult to read and see through his soulful eyes unlike before. He was a freaking time-bomb that even the littlest things would began to irritate him.

You were walking through the hall, strolling past the function room and up towards the magnifescent carpeted stairs, taking a flight to the palace's library until somebody had to grab your wrist, spinning you around till you were caged in between the arms of the man who has you wrapped around his fingers, including the peaceful life of leaving the palace never succeeded because of his ignoble decisions for you.

"Why does it feel like you only want to escape from me?" Jack seethed through gritted teeth. Jaw tight and tense from the idea of ignoring him and planning to escape from his shadows since the past few weeks.

Especially now that you officially had a living person inside of you due to heedless reasons.

"Because you did this to me! You ruined my life, Jack!" You barked back, never minding the echo dancing around the empty hall. His grip around your wrists grew tighter, and you knew you heard him emit a feral growl beneath his chest while you scramble to take his hold off you.

"I only did that..I only did that--" he stuttered, promptly glancing down the red, carpeted floors before intently staring into your defeated eyes. "You did what? You planned this didn't you? For what selfish purpose, your majesty?!"

"I did it to keep you by my side!" Jack answered back, his voice in a hush. "--I didn't want to lose you too, so I did it!" he throttled like he was beginning to be in tears. Jack gazed into your clouded vision, your soul was ready to kneel before the royalty in front of you as if you had no right to object but to kneel before the prince. You definitely had no right, because he was royalty and you were nothing.

"But, it was with consent, Y/N!" he continued like saying it would make you support his plans. "I've told you the night before! All of my plans!"

Your heart was starting to feel numb, it was starting to feel tight and suffocating and the wrath flowing inside your veins became tears that were finally unconfined around your eyes, falling down towards your face like a fallen star whom had never gotten a simple girl's wishes. "But that didn't involve myself in becoming your concubine!"

"I knew you were going to leave," he barked back, the Jack you know finally becoming a vengeful person who wanted nothing but power. "I can sense it," Pause. "So, I created a plan to cease you before it even happens,"

The hall was eerie as two hearts were in a battle. One who held nothing but an invalidated soul trapped inside a body who held his true self to the public, and the other was a generous heart who never contemplated on giving the heart she preciously held dear with open arms.

"I hate you," Wrong. You whispered darkly. Voice trembling with the need to lash out on him but you never did. "W-what?"

He was sure he didn't heard you right. Jack knew how you felt about him, and those words were utter lies. The man just knew it deep inside because of that certain night with him which seemed to be a mistake.

"I hate you, I never wanted to get involved in your monarchy,"

"But, I love you--" He didn't. You knew he was lying or maybe not? Though, his actions tells otherwise because if he did love you, he wouldn't have knocked you up when he got a fiancè to marry. It would just make you a paramour who held an heir of a prince who was soon to be king.

A paramour, only a paramour and not a queen.

"Lies," you spat back with much ferocity, sobbing a little before trying hard to stop the tears from falling. You could feel his fingers softly grabbing your chin, kind of almost convincing that he actually cared for your feelings and you knew you were close to breaking apart in his presence.

Jack made you look into his hypnotizing blue eyes, a soul which seemed to be locked up for his mother's wishes. "You're only saying that because I've been the person you've depended on whenever you had your triggers," you slapped his deceiving fingers away from your face, completely feeble as you slightly pushed him away before he could have you surrendering before him for the hundredth time.

Finally, you've managed to talk your heart out to him. The painful reality slipping past your lips like it was bane to your love for Jack Benjamin. Silently praying to the heavens or specifically to your brother up in the sky and saying your apologies for loving his boyfriend a little too much than he does.

Your knees were trembling and so was your untainted heart which is the purest out of all in the palace. But, you were slowly starting to become tainted, your heart was slowly becoming one just like his. The stigma of having such a royal baby inside of you will never give you a peaceful life.

Hence, having your feelings not be reciprocated needed retribution and also for your brother who have committed suicide because of the prince.

"You only want me because I could keep you balanced and in-check," you added, taking deep breaths and trying to keep your mind straight, "Or probably because I am Joseph's step sister," Jack had kept his mouth sealed in a straight line. Probably because all you said was true and so you thought.

You weakly took a step forward, in an arms reach before Jack whom had nothing to say after all the things that was bubbling up his mind, trying to understand what was going on. The game that you both had been keeping up, those cat and mice kind of games that kept him furious and tetchy was finally coming to an end.

One knee falling and therefore the other fell as well. You succumbed to his majesty, an act that could have Jack clapping for his succession, yet the sound of your defeated voice like you had no other choice deeply broke his heart. Even though, his expression seemed insensate.

"--And that I remind you of him," you continued, whispering to yourself and harshly wiping your tears away before Jack could even kneel in front of you and wipe your tears instead. He ceased his actions in wiping your tears away, seeming to see you do it faster than he does.

"Your majesty, ruin me."

All Jack saw was a soul that he did not manage to take care of, Joseph was probably disappointed of what he just did towards his baby step-sister whom he treasured so much and here he was, ruining the heart of his step-sister just like how he ruined Joseph's.

"--For all I care, ruin me just like how you ruined my brother's heart. I don't care, Jack. I already know I'm ruined before you even become king,"

You peered up into his hazy, reddish eyes. Watching you break down on his feet was shameful in his part. How did it even end up like this? How did he end up like this? "As long as this child I am holding dear will soon become the prince or princess of Gilboa--," you seethed through trembling, chapped lips. The need to have your child to never be invalidated or out of the picture will become your number one priority, despite of how it sounded like you had a motive but it was a motive that will benefit you in the future.

A future that held too many rough destinies for the both of you.

"--And I will be by your side, even though I am only your concubine which will never be the same degree as the queen," Another tear fell as if the dignity you've been holding up high was now falling down like leaves of trees from the autumn wind, "I will accept your wishes, your highness."

Jack felt his heart sinking as the image of you kneeling before him like you were inferior was making his blood boil for himself. Why did he ended up having you to act like this? Was he too much of a simpleton to follow his mother's words? Every plan he made was everyone's doing. It was everybody's manipulation.

It even got to the idea of throwing you away because a fool once said that you and your child would be a hindrance just like how Joshua was and it didn't end up that well because all he got back was his death.

The clung of a woman's heels came echoing closer, stopping beside you was a high-end black heeled shoes and your eyes were ready to pop out of your eye sockets because somebody had to see you look lowly in front of the prince, mentally ruining your integrity around the palace.

"That's good to hear, Y/N." Queen Rose Benjamin muttered as a matter of fact, stopping her son from kneeling on the ground in level with you because some people were watching like an audience, and it wasn't just any ordinary audiences because they were people who Jack knew by heart. "--because you never suit being the queen," she continued as she loomed above you like a hawk watching its prey.

"--Having the suicidal blood of a boy whom my son has ever loved will never suit royalty," She said with utter spite, her eyebrows in a twist. "It even got to the point that my own son began to make such rebellious decisions and closeted mistakes because of your disgraceful step-brother," The queen lowered her voice down till you and Jack could only hear her. She tightened her hold around her son's arm, signalling him that she never knew Y/N was now bearing a child of royalty. Jack's child.

"Jack, sweetheart?" she called, breaking Jack's hazy, bombarded head as he looked empty and defeated just like you. He was just like a chess piece that his mother controls, and he had been getting tired of it. Though, he never did notice that he have been using you like how his mother does to him as well. You were both just victims, yet Jack could become a hero if he wanted to clean his name in vain, unlike you.

"You never did learn," His mother spat back, roughly spinning her son just to slap him out of his senses, surprising you to say the least as you immediately grabbed Jack's pant sleeve once you saw his mother slap him out loud.

Jack could not do anything but tighten his jaw. She was his mother after all. All he could do was tighten his fists on his side, wanting nothing but to pick you up and never let his mother touch you because you held his very own heir.

Though, that didn't happen because he was too late to react as the queen discourteously kicked your hold away from Jack's leg, making your stumble a little on the ground. Both palms on the carpeted floor like the servant you were.

"Now, I would want you to kiss the ground he walks on and follow my son's wishes, Y/N."

So, you did despite of his family and even King Silas who have been watching you both from afar. A thought bubbling inside the king's mind as if history repeated itself because of what Jack has just committed.

"Because that's all you'll ever be. A mere, pathetic Proletariat; more so much lower than your suicidal step-brother,"

THIS..THIS..I DON’T KNOW WHY AND HOW I DID THIS. Why did I even write this? It’s so...painful! 😥😥 FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MCUH APPRECIATED, TATER TOTS! 

XOXO,

TATA

[fbfh]

prolonged bisexual panic - steve harrington x fem reader x billy hargrove

genre: angsty bisexual pining + smut

wc: 5k

pairing: steve x fem reader, billy wants to be in the middle, background jonathan x nancy

warnings: everyone's beat up after an ambiguous monster fight, billy has a lot of self loathing and internalized issues, you kiss billy thinking he's steve cause you're half asleep, billy is actually a good brother and not abusive in this, billy has to come to terms with the fact that he's bi and in love with you and steve, morning wood, dream that takes place in a hospital, jacking off in the shower, billy thinks about you and steve while jacking off in the shower, did I mention boners enough yet, billy cries like twice because you're both nice to him, you call yourself mommy as a joke, let me know if I missed anything I don't have any braincells rn

spoilers: billy and max (cause they're introduced in season 2), brief mention of ambiguous monsters and monster slime

summary: caught between you and steve the night after a battle, billy has nowhere to run from the warmth he feels around you two. he doesn't want to admit how badly he wants to be with both of you because he obviously doesn't stand a chance, but he doesn't really have another option at this point.

music rec: i actually made a playlist this time!! you can listen to it on shuffle if you want but it's in chronological order w the plot yk it's only a few songs so I can link them here too

arms tonight - mother mother, water fountain - alec benjamin, caught in the middle - paramore, i/me/myself - will wood, verbatim - mother mother, sudden desire - hayley williams, bizarre love triangle - new order

a/n: why did the writers do billy so dirty.... I could have made sure he was okay.... "i can fix him" yeah well I can add him to my f/o list

also I'm about to start season 3 so no spoilers lol

also also I feel like this is probs some of my best work so far so PLS let me know!!!! give me feedback and validation!!!! rant to me on anon!!!! I wanna hear it you can not possibly annoy me bc I'M the annoying one!!!!! <33

ALSO I've decided to be that bitch and start including outfits in fics again so enjoy this and follow my shoplook!!

as with all nsfw works, all participating characters (steve, billy, and reader) are aged up to 18+, minors obviously dni <3

One benefit of Steve’s parents barely ever being home is that when shit hits the fan, and you’re up late into the night fighting interdimensional monsters, everyone can crash at his place, no questions asked. The older kids - you, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and Billy - had gotten everyone over to Steve’s place, ordered some pizza, and set up movies and a giant pillow fort in the living room for the younger kids in hopes that it would help them sleep, and gotten to bed yourselves before three in the morning. It doesn’t sound like much, but after the night you’ve all had, you’ll consider it a victory. You told them more times than you can count, if they need anything you’ll all be right upstairs, wake someone up if you need anything. Jonathan and Nancy had taken the guest room, for obvious reasons, leaving you, Billy, and Steve to crash in Steve’s (in your opinion, garishly plaid) room.

Asleep on your feet, getting ready for bed through nothing more than muscle memory, you and Steve peel off your superfluous layers, leaving you in a baggy tee shirt and sweatpants respectively, and fall into bed without a second thought, asleep within minutes. Neither of you notice the compromising position you’re in, or the intimate touches and soft breathy kisses you share out of habit.

Billy, however, does notice. Mainly because as you fell into bed with each other, he got caught in the middle. He was half asleep minutes ago, but he’s definitely awake now. He barely had time to pull off his jeans, much less put on the pajama pants Steve had tossed at him, so clad in nothing more than boxers and a tank top, you and Steve press your forms into his. Part of him wishes he'd left his jeans on, but with your hand already slipping under his shirt and Steve’s on his thigh, he doesn’t think it would have made much difference.

Steve’s arm is under Billy's head, face in his hair, his other hand sleepily caressing Billy's thigh, sending heat to his core. Warmth radiates off his bare chest, and Billy feels a part of him that was always a little annoyed that Steve was never on the skins team during basketball, one he never let himself acknowledge, flood with catharsis. Curiosity, he always told himself, a type of curiosity only satisfied by locker rooms and… whatever situation he finds himself in now.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, and he lets out a quiet, breathy sigh. He can't stop himself from resting his hand on the dip of your waist. Your shirt riding up from the curve of your hip, his hands seem to move on their own, brushing up and down your waist. He finds a subtle indent on your hip where the elastic of your underwear rests, and he traces the soft material, digging in his heels as his mind wanders places he knows it shouldn’t go.

Laying between you, touching and cuddling you both is such a bizarre sensation; as campy as it may sound, he truly never thought he’d be close to both of you like this. There’s no doubt that he’s wanted to be, desperately, for some time, but he’d always written it off as another self destructive pipe dream.

He’d tried earlier today. He really did. You had just finished patching up and settling down the kids, and were passing around first aid kits to the older siblings. One was given to Jonathan and Nancy, one to Billy, and you and Steve had used the supplies in the bathroom. He had lurked outside the bathroom door, trying to work up the nerve to join you, even just existing separately in the same space would have been enough.

He watched you two through the bathroom door, with you standing in between Steve’s legs while his hands skimmed up and down your hips, finally resting on the small of your back. Your hand under his chin, guiding his face around, you assessed his injuries. He’d gotten away with just a black eye and a busted lip, as he always seems to, and you dabbed at the skin gently with a cotton ball. Steve winced slightly at the sting, and Billy could just make out your voices, quietly floating to the doorway.

“Y’know,” Steve started, “I think I’m gonna need a lot of get better kisses to recover from this one,” he trailed off, pulling you closer to him. He just had to walk in the room. Just enter, and make conversation, and keep doing what he was doing before.

“Woah, tiger,” you said with a laugh as he leaned in, grabbing antiseptic cream from the counter, “you won’t be able to kiss anyone if you don’t let me fix your lip.”

You patted his chest, readjusting his face to get a better look. Steve’s eyes got a dreamy sort of look to them, and in that moment, anyone in the room could feel how profound and tangible his love for you is.

He couldn't do it.

Breath pulled from his lungs, Billy returned to Steve’s room, your laughter echoing down the hall at something one of you had said. Misery seemed to pump from his heart through his veins, spreading throughout his entire body.

Now he doesn’t have to wonder what your hands would feel like on his chest, or what Steve’s arms would be like loosely wrapped around him. He doesn’t have to wonder what your shampoo would smell like, or what Steve’s sleepy sighs feel like against his skin. Now, lying here with you, both of you, it’s surreal how fast the tides have turned, how fast that deep resounding sadness has turned into overwhelming warmth and fulfillment. Even if it doesn’t mean anything by sunrise, he knows it will to him.

Even still, he feels like he's being torn apart. At this point, he can’t deny how badly he wants this, how he'll take any scraps of attention, or even passive inclusion, you and Steve might throw him, but for reasons infuriatingly beyond his understanding, his instincts keep telling him to run. That this warmth he's feeling is too much and he'll get burned, or worse, accustomed to it, never able to survive in the inevitable coldness of solitude again. And then what? He just curls up and dies? He lets out an irritated sigh. Frustration, many kinds of it, continues to build.

He squeezes his eyes shut, blinking heavily as he tries to stay awake. He can’t dwell on that distress, as much as he might like to; every breath, every touch of your skin on his, the warmth radiating off of you and onto him keeps him painstakingly in the present. Touching both of you like this, soft and gentle, is so intense, a strange sort of high he’s never felt anywhere else. His long building panic begins to plateau, as he settles into the unwavering sensation of being between you like this. He finds himself blinking more and opening his eyes less, your comforting touches and his prior exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t want to risk the miniscule chance that something might happen, and he would sleep through it. He feels you moving, heart in his throat, looking at you nervously. He doesn’t want you to wake up and be disgusted at being so close to him. You’re so kind to everyone, he knows you’d never say that, but he couldn’t live with himself if he knew he’d made you feel that way.

But you don’t wake up. You stretch, arms and legs elongating, your hand getting dangerously close to his hips, before settling back into a comfortable position. Your hips rock against his thigh a few times as you get comfortable, and he bites his lip, trying desperately not to make any noise. Your hand, no longer resting on the bare skin of his stomach, grabs onto the collar of his shirt, pulling it gently. And it stays like that. There you are again, Steve’s breath ghosting steadily over his face, you pressed into his side. In this new position, he can feel the soft flesh of your chest against his.

It’s too much. He wants to get up and leave, and he wants to stay here forever, leaning into this newfound warmth, but he does nothing. He lays there, paralized, choking on conflict. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing growing ragged as he tries to calm himself, stay in control of his emotions. He’s really glad you’re both sound asleep and not awake to see the stray tears that slip down his cheeks.

He feels you stir again, and tries to force his breathing to slow down. Your hand leaves his chest, and rises softly to his cheek. He flinches slightly as you brush away the tears rolling down his face with the most gentle touch he thinks he’s ever felt in his life. A new wave of deep sadness hits, the tenderness of your gesture making him want to cry more. You shift, pressing a soft, sleepy kiss to his formerly tear stained cheeks. The feeling amplifies.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you murmur in his ear, emulating nothing but pure love and warmth, “I’ve got you, you’re okay…” You continue pressing soft kisses into the side of his face and neck, hand rubbing soothing circles on his chest and stomach.

“You’re okay Stevie.”

In spite of the reassuring tone of your voice, he thinks being split open and gutted with a cleaver would hurt less. He stares at the ceiling, your touch hypnotic.

“I love you.” you say into his ear, pressing a kiss into his jaw. “You’re just… the sweetest person, and I love you so much…”

Slowly, turning his head toward yours, he watches your silhouette in the dark room, moonlight illuminating everything in a surreal, blue cast. Slowly, tenderly, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You hum in approval, pace of your hand on his chest and stomach slowing down. He begins to get caught up in the soothing, hypnotic current of your movements, unaware that he’s even closed his eyes.

He soon finds himself in an uncomfortable plastic chair along the hall of a hospital. He’s filled with a visceral sense of disgust and sickening dread. He’s waiting, stuck stagnant on news that may or may not come. A hand comes up, and he recognizes it as Steve’s. He gently guides Billy’s head to the side, resting on his shoulder, arm around him. His free hand rests on Billy’s leg, and Billy places his own shaking hand on top of it. Soon after your hand covers his, thumb rubbing his skin reassuringly. Your free arm wraps loosely around his waist as you sit curled up in the seat next to him, resting your head on his chest.

And you stay like that.

As doctors and nurses and hospital staff rush around, completely ignoring him, he waits. He’s still full of that sickening, miserable, cold feeling, but you and Steve are completely unshaken, unbothered; still, but not stagnant. The waiting, not even bothering to beg doctors and nurses for any kind of information because he knows they won’t give him anything, is still horrible, but with you and Steve here, beacons of peace and tranquility, it’s enough to take the edge off. Enough to make it bearable. He’s not sure what happens next, as his consciousness is pulled quickly back to a waking state.

His head is turned away from you, resting on Harrington’s arm, his eyes damp again. He’s awake, Billy realizes, from the comforting shushing noises he’s making.

“It’s okay, I’m right here baby…” he mutters, voice thick with sleep, and presses a kiss to the top of Billy’s head.

“You know I love you, right?”

His words hang in the air.

Billy nods slowly in confirmation. Just to make sure he doesn’t wake up, he tells himself, nothing to do with how much time he’s spent avoiding imagining what a love confession from Harrington would be like. Even he can see how thinly veiled that load of bullshit is.

“Cause I do.” Harrington says, breaking the late night silence once again, “I love you lots.”

There might have been more, but he’s asleep again within moments. It’s not what he thought it would be like, not even close - even his wildest fantasies never would have placed him in this situation - but he’ll take what he can get. He feels his breathing fall in line with yours and Steves, eyes blinking slower and slower.

His mind is awake before his eyes open. All of the muscles in his body are relaxed, and he’s so warm. He’s hit with the distinct, resounding feeling that something really, really good has happened, but he shouldn’t question what it is, or it will just disappear from his grasp. If he plays his cards exactly right, and doesn’t move too fast, he won’t break this beautiful delicate thing he’s been given.

Someone moves behind him, and his eyes open. Your face is barely an inch away from his, his arm slung over your waist. One of your legs rests between his, his dick rock hard and cushioned by your soft thigh. Steve shifts behind him, letting out a sigh that fans over Billy’s neck as he wakes up. Face flushing, Billy realizes that he can feel Steve, who has the same problem, hard and right up against him.

You stretch, and sit up, turning to face them. As if you couldn’t get any sweeter, you very politely ignore the fact that Billy was practically just grinding into your thigh.

“Morning,” you yawn, and his chest squeezes. How are you so fucking cute? Steve rolls over, either not noticing or not caring that he’d just had his dick up against Billy’s ass. Billy’s not sure which is worse. He picks up the clock on the nightstand.

“What time is it?” he says, still obviously groggy. His hair is messy and his cheeks are flushed from sleep.

“God, I don’t even know,” you say with another stretch, your shirt riding up and exposing your hips and waist. He can handle this, he can just be normal. Act like nothing weird happened. You let out the softest, breathy little moan when you stretch.

“Last night was really something, huh?” You ask rhetorically, with the jovial, almost conspiratory look you get from sharing an inside joke or a secret with someone. Billy’s heart is pounding. He looks over at Steve, who looks between you two with the same look.

“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle. He wonders if this is it, if… he doesn’t know what would finally happen. He just knows he’ll say yes if it’s with you two. Steve continues.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many monsters in one place.”

Right.

The big event that happened last night was fighting a horde of monsters, not three people sharing a bed. He stands up abruptly, his flight response going into overdrive now that he’s not at risk of waking you up.

“I’m going to take a shower.” he says, quickly making his way to the door.

“Yeah,” Steve starts, “the bathroom’s right down the-”

He’s out the door before Steve can finish. A few feet down the hall, he hesitates, and circles back to Steve’s door, hearing your voices faintly through the small opening.

“I know, I did too! You’d think we’d be up all night from the adrenaline, but I was out like a light.”

“Yeah, maybe we should have Billy sleep with us more often…”

A fresh wave of heat hits his cheeks, and his cock is straining against his underwear. He rushes to the bathroom and closes the door firmly.

Maybe we should have Billy sleep with us more often. You don’t say shit like that unless you’re into someone, right? Maybe… maybe he wasn’t completely delusional about how he felt last night. If you didn’t want to be with him, you would have hated waking up next to him, right? God, he wants to be with you so fucking much.

He looks over at the sink and remembers you patching up Steve. He braces himself against the wall with one arm, imagining Harrington's arms around his waist. He mimes tilting Steve's head back, tending to his injuries. He can almost hear his voice asking him for get better kisses, his tone cocky in a way that makes a wistful smile ghost over his face. He sits on the closed toilet, head tilted back like Steve's had been, and imagines your soft, caring touch. He wonders what little nicknames you’d come up with for him… maybe cowboy, or hot shot. He lets out a weepy, yearning laugh rubbing his hands over his face. Whatever it is, it would sound so cute coming from you. It always does. He wonders if you’d pat his chest like you did with Harrington, or maybe run your hand through his hair a few times.

He tries to catch his breath but memories from last night won’t stop replaying in his head, and he finds himself touching all the places you did last night. His hand grips the collar of his shirt, mimicking yours, fingers trail along his thigh like Steve's did.

"You know I love you, right?"

He's palming himself, hand already sticky with precum, almost poking out of his boxers. Steve's voice echoes in his head and he feels you kissing tears off his face.

"Cause I do. I love you lots." Your hands rub soothing circles on his chest and stomach, his pace increases… He's still there mentally, lying between you, perfume and cologne mixing and mingling into something completely intoxicating that he doesn't want to stop breathing, even if he's getting high off it and- Jesus Christ, he has to get rid of this morning wood right now.

He turns the water on hot; he gave up on cold showers a while ago. They don't help him, not when it's you two he's thinking about. He strokes himself as he peels off his clothes, frustrated and desperate and heavy. He steps into the hot water, wishing his hands were yours… or maybe your mouth. Maybe Steve’s hands... your hands, Steve's mouth?

Any of it.

All of it.

He throws his head back against the tiles, cool in contrast with the water so hot it's already making his skin pink. He can't fight his mind for much longer, can't stop the torrent of images and desires, imagined touch ghosting over his skin. He pants, breath heavy with lust and steam in the air. He wishes something would happen, wishes you'd have the sudden desire to break down the door and join him. He wishes you'd barge in together, one shoving their tongue down his throat, the other sucking hickeys into his neck. He increases his pace, finally getting somewhere.

You would bang on the door before entering, tear off your clothes and squeeze into the tight space with him, because…

“Because we can’t keep our hands off you,” he imagines your voice, so breathy and cute and close to him. Your hands would touch him all over, quickly making their way to his cock.

“Besides, do we need a reason?” Harrington would ask from behind, caging you both in with his strong arms, his lips dangerously close to Billy’s ear.

God, he wants you so bad, wants your cute little body pressed up against him, wants to feel Harrington’s hands grope him, going down, down, down… he wonders if he could actually have sex with you, both of you, or if it would be too much for him.

“I guess we’ll just have to practice,” you’d say, hands in his hair, pulling him down into an open mouthed kiss.

“We’ll have you trained up in no time,” Steve would murmur into his neck before sucking another hickey. What he wouldn’t give for you to ravage his body, have your way with him. He knows he’d love it too. He never thought of himself as submissive before but…

His mind continues to wander.

Harrington, he realizes, he’s seen naked before, in the locker room. A shameful heat rises to his cheeks as he recalls every carefully stored memory, every carefully defined muscle. He can picture him here now, hair wet, strong arms glistening, hand grabbing Billy’s chin. He’d run his thumb over Billy’s lips with that fiery look in his eyes he only gets when something is really important.

You, however… he’s never seen you like that. His imagination takes off running, thinking back to how you felt pressed up against him, the soft skin of your bare legs rubbing against his.

He slides down the wall of the shower slowly, growing closer. He wonders what you’d feel like in his hands, in his arms, for real this time. He’d slide down the shower wall like he is now, you coming down with him. You’d straddle his hips, body soft in front of him against the hard wall. Your nails dragging down his chest and through his hair, you’d look up at him taking all the breath from his lungs. You’re so pretty, you’re both so pretty. He wants to be pretty. He wants to be pretty to you.

He wants both of you.

He wishes you were both in here, as desperate to be with him as he is to be with you. He wishes he was sandwiched between you again, four hands groping him, pulling at his hair, helping him out, touching him where he needs it most.

A loud knock at the door, followed by your voice snaps him out of his train of thought. He stands up, startled.

"Billy?" You call again. He freezes.

"Yeah?" His voice cracks. He can't make out what you say.

"Can we come in?" You ask again. His heart is in his throat. There is nothing he wants more than for you to come in right now. But god, he was so close. He waits, cock still hot and throbbing in his hand. He can’t keep jerking off to the thought of his friends absolutely ruining him when you’re right there, right?

“Yeah,” he says again. The door creaks open, and the temperature drops as steam billows out, your voices taking its place.

“We’re doing some laundry to get the rest of the… slime… out of our clothes,” you say, recalling how repulsive those monsters were, “so which one do you want?”

He barely processes what you’re saying, terrified you’ll somehow find out exactly what he’s doing and why he’s doing it, terrified you can somehow see through him and into his thoughts. In spite of how impossible it is, he’s terrified at the thought of either of you being… disgusted with him? With everything he's thinking about you? He's terrified, terrified you’ll hate him, cast him out like a horny lusting pariah. It’s not like you’re even that close to begin with, no matter how much he might like to be.

“What?” he asks, brain fogged with confusion and thoughts of you.

“Detergent. What are they again?” you ask the second part more quietly, and Steve’s voice now bounces against the walls, still groggy from sleep.

“Clean linen or April fresh.”

“Uh…”

“Blue or pink?” Steve asks again, simplifying the question.

“Both.” he blurts before he can think.

“Okay,” you say, “we’ll let you know when your clothes are clean.”

“I have some stuff for you to borrow until then.” Steve adds, “I’ll leave it on the counter.”

“Sounds good.” Billy says, trying not to sound snappy. He lets out a shaky, haggard breath.

“Breakfast is cereal and leftovers,” you begin.

“And a lot of coffee.” Steve interjects. You continue with a chuckle.

“You can come whenever you’re ready.”

“Right.” he can come whenever he’s ready.

“Thanks.” he blurts as an afterthought.

After what feels like an eternity (and simultaneously not nearly long enough) the door is closed and he’s once again alone with his thoughts. He braces himself against the wall, water dripping down his face, right hand lazily holding his cock, now gripping it with a newfound fervor. He pants, grinding into his hand, wishing he had something or someone - or someones - to help him out a little.

He wonders what you would do if you were getting Harrington off. Images of you pumping his cock and pulling his hair, whispering dirty shit in his ear flood Billy’s mind. For the thousandth time, he imagines being right in the middle of it. Back pressed against Steve’s broad chest, you straddling his lap, telling him how to touch himself… Finally, it’s enough to send him over the edge. He humps into his hand, and muscles contracting, balls twitching, and climaxes hard. Riding out his high, he pumps out all the thick hot cum that’s been building up - and hopefully the feelings building up along with it.

He sinks to his knees and watches it go down the drain, panting and light headed. Once he catches his breath, he stands back up. Right as he reluctantly turns off the water, the door opens again. His stomach drops. If he had come in any sooner… he wonders if you could hear him over the running water.

“Clothes are on the counter.” Steve says, now sounding more awake, the smell of coffee wafting and mingling with the steam in the room. Billy runs a hand through his wet hair, brushing it back, and thanks him.

“Need a towel?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Billy says, and he watches as a moment later Steve’s hand pokes past the shower curtain, handing him the fluffy material, their fingers brushing as he takes it from him.

“Thanks,” he says, slightly breathless.

“No problem.” Steve says casually. The door opens and closes, and Billy is alone again. He wraps the towel around his waist, stepping out into the rest of the bathroom. He looks at the clothes on the counter; gray sweatpants and a led zeppelin tee shirt, knot tied in the front. He recognizes the sweatpants as Steve’s, and the shirt as yours. A soft smile kisses the corners of his lips.

Once he’s dried off and dressed, he decides to leave the shirt tied up, even though it shows a lot more of his midriff than he’s used to. He can picture you clear as day in this exact shirt, casually gathering the material and twisting it until it’s knotted up. He looks at the folds in the fabric, face warm, and is struck with the sudden realization that if this shirt ever got untied, it would never be tied in the exact same way ever again. It will always be different.

A sudden outburst of laughter from down stairs snaps him out of his train of thought. He has to face you eventually, he thinks, opening the bathroom door and beginning his descent down the stairs to rejoin everyone, he can’t put it off any longer. He heads down the stairs and into the living room, ruffling Max’s hair and exchanging good mornings.

“Did you sleep okay?” he and Max are newest to all this stuff, and he the last thing he wants is for her to be afraid of anything. He takes solace in the fact that it’s not everyone’s first time at the rodeo.

“Yeah,” she replies, seeming as normal as could be expected under the circumstances, which puts his mind at ease. “How about you?”

“I…” he trails off, knowing this is the worst possible time and place to bare his soul and confess his sins, “slept. I guess.”

“Coffee’s in the kitchen.” she replies without missing a beat.

“So I heard,” he mutters, before heading in that direction. He enters the kitchen, stopping in the doorway

Steve is smothering you in kisses, turning you into a giggling mess. You playfully smack his chest, and he barely pulls away enough to talk.

“Y’know, you really should be nicer to me. I have a booboo eye.”

“Oh, of course,” you say, feigning concern, “I’ll call an ambulance right away.”

“Y’know, a sexy nurse would probably do the job,” he says quietly, nuzzling into your neck.

“Oh… my god.” you laugh in disbelief, “You really are the worst, Harrington, you know that?”

It gets hard to breathe for a minute, as everything he felt last night, and this morning come rushing back, full force. He lets out a soft laugh at the situation. He actually thought he had all this under control for a minute. All of this is amplified as you hand him a cup of coffee.

“Morning sleepyhead,” you smile, passing by. Steve pats his chest

“Will you tell her she’d be an amazing nurse?”

Billy, too flustered to think but just fucking overjoyed to be included, scrambles for an answer.

“I mean…” he says with a smile he hopes comes across as cocky and not lovestruck.

You turn to Steve.

“You’re a terrible influence. I don’t want you around my kids.”

“Oh they’re your kids now?”

“Call me mommy!” you call over your shoulder. Steve and Billy watch you walk away, and Steve says, partially to himself, partially to Billy, “I can not get enough of her, you know?” Steve follows you back into the living room. Billy watches both of you drink coffee and eat breakfast, chatting with the kids.

“Yeah,” he breathes, once again wracked with a visceral sense of longing, a deep empty feeling, the cure for which is painfully within grasp but still intangible, in spite of how much he might try, “I do.”

tag list: @hopefullhearts

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Pairing: Jack Daniels x fem. Reader

Warnings: fluff, kissing, implied smut

It was late. The kids were in bed and you felt your eyes getting heavy too. You smiled as you heard footsteps from the hallway, your head turning just in time to see someone dressed in a Santa Claus Costume, the beard missing, walk into the living room.

You giggled.

“Ho, Ho, Holy shit this suit is hotter than I thought it would be,” Jack said with his southern drawl and you shook your head as he walked over to you.

“Is that some kind of new kink you forgot to tell me about, cowboy?” you asked and Jack smirked. He took your hand, pulling you up towards him and you smiled as he wiggled his eyebrows. You let your hand run over the soft red fabric of the Jacket he was wearing.

“Thought I went all in this year and put the gifts under the tree with the appropriate outfit,” he hummed and you nodded.

“How very in character of you,” you said and he grinned.

Growing up you never really really celebrated christmas. With your mother leaving your father when you were little he spent most of his time working, leaving you with whatever babysitter he could afford to pay. There were no decorations, no dinners, no gifts.

When you had met Jack and he had invited you to stay with him for Christmas all those years ago it was like a world unlocked, you had only read about before.

Jack loved christmas.

He went all out. The ranch was decorated with so many lights outside, you were sure it could be seen from space. But you loved him for it. And his love for the holidays rubbed off of you during the years. And now with two little kids to experience it with, Jack knew now boundaries.

He pecked your lips before he turned away from you and started to arrange the presents under the tree. You couldn’t wait to see their little faces light up in the morning. With a smile you turned away to walk into the kitchen and clean up the leftover mess from dinner. You were humming a song when two arms wrapped around you kissing up your neck.

“Are you ready to go to bed?”

“Are you ready to get out of that suit?” you asked, turning your head to look at Jack.

“Only if you are the one getting me out of it,” he whispered against your ear and you closed your eyes. You decided the kitchen was clean enough when you pushed him off of you. He gave you a questioning look when you walked out of the kitchen. He caught up with you easily, pushing you against the doorframe.

“Mistletoe,” he hummed, making you look up, to see the mistletoe you were standing under, before he was on you. Kissing you breathless as his hands pushed the fabric of the sweater dress you were wearing up… up… up until his hands finally landed on your ass, squeezing it, making you moan against his lips.

“Take me to bed and fuck me, baby,” you whispered and he nodded before he picked you up and brought you upstairs.

On the next morning you were all sitting around the tree in matching pyjamas. Your youngest, Benjamin sitting in Jack’s lap, showing him the plush penguin Santa had brought him.

“Daddy?” you heard Ben whisper and Jack leant down.

“I think I saw Mommy kissing Santa last night,” he mumbled and you looked at Jack with big eyes.

“Really? That’s weird,” Jack frowned, shooting you a look.

“Why?” Ben asked.

“Because I know Mommy only kissed Daddy all night and morning. See?” Jack grinned as he pecked your lips and Ben climbed into your lap.

“Mkay,” Ben shrugged and crawled towards his sister, playing with a matching Penguin.

“All night and morning, huh?” you asked as Jack put his arm around you, your head resting on his shoulder. He kissed your temple.

“Good thing he didn’t see what else Mommy did with Santa,” Jack said and you pushed against his shoulder, making him huff a laugh.

“You loved it.”

“That I did, that I did,” he said before he kissed you.

Taglist:

@cherry-gemz / @melchills-j / @justpedropascal / @raspberrymama / @parkjammys / @novicepearl / @perropascal​ / @hotspacepilots​ / @sleep-tight1 / @freeshavocadoooo / @princess76179 / @pumpkin-stars / @evyiione / @princesssterek / @palaiasaurus64 / @turkish276 / @maciiiofficial / @re-reads / @trippedmetaldetector / @liviiii98 / @greeneyedblondie44 / @darnitdraco / @tobealostwanderer / @gracie7209 / @rosiefridayrogersunday / @dindjarinneedsahug / @autumnleaves1991-blog / @sharkbait77 / @elegantduckturtle / @marvelousmermaid / @stevie75 / @dihra-vesa / @idreamofboobear / @peoniarose / @anaaaispunk / @paintballkid711 / @castleamc / @just-here-for-the-moment / @littlemisspascal / @christina-loves / @alexxavicry / @linkpk88 / @theamuz / @doin-stuff / @tintinn16 / @allanawinchester/ @kirsteng42 / @beskarboobs / @thevoiceinyourheadx / @elinedjarin / @dobbyjen / @quicksilvermad / @lowlights

[flightlessangelwings]

Here is my posting schedule for the month of December!

I usually like to post on Mondays sometime in the 4pm hour EST. And anything else I add (like a random drabble or hc or a writer Wednesday) will be added here and reblogged at the end of the month for the wrap up. For December, I’m also doing a few of @aerynwrites December writing challenge which will be posted on the corresponding days.

If you’d like to be tagged in anything, my google form is on my Masterlist or you can also follow my update blog @flightlessangelwings-updates and turn on post notifications to stay up to date!

And as always, my blog and fics are 18+ only! Minors please do not follow me or read/interact with any of my works!

~

1 - Quiet Desperation (Benjamin Greene x afab!reader, smut, for Writer Wednesday)

2 - The Pedestal I Hold You on (Boba Fett x plus size fem!reader, smut)

5 - FirePlace (Benny Miller x fem!reader x Frankie Morales, mpoa verse)

8 Strength in Vulnerability (Comandante Veracruz x fem!reader, smut)

12 - Lonely (Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x gn!reader)

15 - Designed Destiny (Pero Tovar x fem!reader, smut, prequel to this kinktober)

20 - Take You Out Warm (Din Djarin x gn!reader, modern tinder au, link to the art here)

28 - Huddle for Warmth (Joel Miller x gn!reader)

30 - Fireworks (Benjamin Greene x fem!reader, smut)

[winterscaptain]

a parent thing.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: here we have some ajf hotchner family history! evelyn comes to visit and it's all very soft. i hope you enjoy it :) as always, let me know what you think. 

words: 1.2k warnings: language, children, egregious sentimentality

summary: “our daughters are the most precious of our treasures, the dearest possessions of our homes, and the objects of our most watchful love.” margaret e. sangster. au!june 2018.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“You know these are the first Hotchner daughters in six generations, right?” 

Your head whips toward Evelyn, who’s rocking Caroline in the corner of the nursery. “What?” 

“Benjamin told me that once,” she continues as if you hadn’t said anything. She knows you heard her. “He said there hadn’t been any girls in Aaron’s direct family line since the Hotchners left England.” She looks up and meets your eyes. “Yours are the first girls in almost two hundred years.” 

You look down at Sophia, snoozing across your chest with her little lips pursed. 

Two hundred years. 

“Aaron, of course, is the oldest of two boys. Benjamin is the oldest of four, his father one of five, his father one of three. It’s all in a book somewhere. Aaron will get it when I’m gone, then Jack after him and his children after that.” 

There’s a little smile playing at her mouth. “Benjamin’s grandmother started writing it all down, tracking the family, just to keep tabs on any girls that might show up. She didn’t know the names of the girls born before the family came to America - they aren’t in any of the immigration records so they may have stayed behind or escaped documentation.” 

Her fingers brush the soft hair on Caroline’s head, running over the ridge of her tiny tiny ear. “Caroline and Sophia will be the first girls in the book.” She smiles. “And what fine additions they’ll be.” 

+++

“Is it true there haven’t been any girls in your family in -”

“Six generations?” Aaron answers for you with a sardonic little smile. “Evelyn telling you stories today?” 

You huff a laugh. “She’s bullshitting me, isn’t she?” 

“With that one? No.” He offers you a hand and you climb into bed beside him, propped up with some pillows. “Don’t listen to a word she says about my high school years. I invoke the fifth and refuse to comment. Haley took that shit to the grave and I intend on keeping it that way.” 

“Yeah, right.” Snorting, you take a sip of water and fold your legs under you. He watches you, his eyes soft. You decide not to tell him about the photos you’ve seen, or the fact that you plan to hang them in the hallway once all the boxes in the garage are finally unpacked. 

He sighs, changing the subject without really changing the subject. He takes a moment to look at you soaking you in from the soft light of the bedside lamp. 

Nights, after the kids are asleep, are really the only time you have to spend together at all - between Aaron keeping a full schedule at the office and Isaac and Jack and the girls, you hardly have time for each other during the day. 

“That’s crazy. No girls at all?”

“None.” His eyes wander to the door. “It’s not just the team, you know? It’s my family. The first girls.” He shakes his head. “I can really explain it. There’s no reason to be proud, I mean, it’s just chance -”

“It makes sense, though,” you insist, picking up his arm so you can tuck yourself underneath it. “You’re allowed to be proud. Like sure it’s a little silly because it is the luck of the draw, but it’s fair to feel proud. It’s a parent thing.” 

You bump his shoulder. “You’ve managed to do something nobody in your direct line has done in two hundred years.” 

He rolls his eyes and kisses your head. “I do that every time I use an app on my phone.” 

“That’s a bad analogy and you know it. Don’t be stupid.” 

“Too late.”

+++

Jack curls up under your arm with a granola bar, watching Caro eat. You’re not shy about feeding the girls outside of the nursery anymore, and Aaron’s more than pleased that Jack has an opportunity to learn about the practical nature of anatomy in addition to whatever crazy shit he’s learning on the playground. 

“Do you like having sisters, Jack?” Evelyn asks, bottle feeding Sophia from across the room. 

He shrugs. “They’re not that different from brothers right now. Loud, sleepy, squishy.” 

You give him that one, and even Evelyn laughs. “But you don’t mind having the girls around?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.” He reaches over, brushing Caroline’s cheek with his finger. “I forgot how small they are.” 

That draws a smile from you. “They’re cute when they’re not screaming, huh?”

“Yeah.” There’s a little laugh in his voice, and he focuses on the TV again, munching on his snack. 

Your son, the teenager. Insane. Your eyes wander to the hanging photo of Haley on the wall, the photo of Jack and Aaron close to eight years ago resting beside it. 

As you look, the door opens and Aaron steps through, looking exhausted. 

“How was court?” You ask, in a more chipper tone than is entirely necessary, just for laughs. 

Jack sits up, leaning on the back of the couch as Aaron toes his shoes off and drops his briefcase. “Yeah, Dad, did you wipe the floor with them?”

Aaron chuckles and you catch Evelyn hiding a smile. 

“Almost, bud. I’m back tomorrow. Apparently, two hours wasn’t enough time to determine whether I’m an expert in my field.” He kisses your forehead when you look up to follow his movement around the back of the couch. 

“You have a JD from a top-thirty law school and nearly thirty years as a profiler to your name,” Evelyn says, her eyebrows raised. “And they need more than two hours?” 

“Well, mother,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek and stroking Sophia’s head. “Some lawyers... “ He feigns deep thought. “Are stupid.” 

You’re so tired that makes you nearly howl with laughter, bracing Caroline against your body to keep from jarring her too much. Even then, she startles and starts to cry, but you can’t stop laughing. 

Aaron rolls his eyes and takes her from you as you tuck yourself back into your shirt. Almost instantly, she quiets, looking up at him with big brown cow eyes. 

“I’m with her all day, I gave birth to her, I feed her, and yet…” You gesture broadly to Aaron’s entire person. “She’s obsessed with you.” 

Aaron winks at you and looks down at Caroline, speaking in the voice reserved only for her. “You just get me, huh, my little love?” 

Jack snorts. “Yeah, you and the three-week-old just vibe, Dad.” 

Aaron hardly spares him a glance, grinning down at his daughter. “When you’re older, just trying to vibe with your kid, I swear I’ll bother you so much.” 

You and Jack look at each other, identical dubious expressions plastered on your faces. When you look over at Evelyn to include her in the joke, there’s something in her eyes as she looks at Aaron that makes you feel like you’re interrupting. 

Training your eyes back on Aaron, you try to see what she sees, but can’t quite manage it. 

Maybe it’s a parent thing. 

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @prentisswrites @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @luciilferss @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @happyvol7 @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder @rebel-flying @nuvoleincielo @rqgnarok @ssa-volturi @reidyoulikeabook @schlooper @itsmytimetoodream @bau-baby @ssagube @oreogutz @lexieshuntingsstuff

[nonstoplover]

nonstoplover's one-shots

about: this is a masterlist for all the one-shots i’ve written for actors, movie and book characters, musicians, occasionally complemented with a second part.

a/n: i’d like to note that i mean no disrespect for the real people, these are only fruits of my imagination.

SEBASTIAN STAN:

☆ those thin bathroom walls | s.s. x fem!reader — this is the story of how in lockdown because of the pandemic Sebastian and (y/n) become shower singing buddies.

.*☆

JENSEN ACKLES:

☆ passing grey clouds | j.a. x fem!reader, age gap — at an 'end of college' party, his negative thoughts regarding their age gap come back and cloud over his head - leaving it to her to chase these clouds away once and for all.

.*☆

DAVE FRANCO:

☆ 36 questions | d.f. x fem!reader — as part of an experiment two complete strangers, Dave and (y/n) have to answer thirty-six question to see if in the end they actually fall in love.

☆ photoshoot | d.f. x photographer!reader — (y/n), an emerging photographer finally gets a chance to have a major photoshoot with someone famous - who eventually turns out to be none other than her favourite actor.

☆ café pt.1 | d.f. x fem!reader — (y/n)’s favourite time of the week is when she goes to her favourite café and enjoys the taste, the scent whilst reading a book. though one day it becomes more than that, when a specific brown haired boy asks to sit down at her table…

☆ café pt.2 | d.f. x waitress!reader — after meeting him, (y/n) doesn’t think much of the man, already feeling the luckiest to have met him. Dave on the other hand truly can’t stop thinking about her, and goes to get her.

.*☆

TOM HIDDLESTON:

☆ suffering from separation | t.h. x fem!reader — after quite a long time spent apart from each other, (y/n) and Tom can’t wait to see each other again, and when they finally do, events swiftly taking a turn only to make it one of the happiest days of their lives.

.*☆

JAKE GYLLENHAAL:

☆ oscars | j.g. x pregnant actress!reader, requested, drabble — after a successful evening at the Oscars, (y/n) and Jake get ready for bed in a love-filled atmosphere once back at home again, memories of the night flashing back.

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW:

☆ unstoppable apologies | b.b. x benjamin!reader — Rooster can't find the courage to ask Penny's daughter out, right up until one especially tipsy night when things take a turn.

.*☆

FRED WEASLEY:

☆ all that i need | f.w. x ravenclaw!reader — when the Weasley twins prank the possibly shiest girl of Hogwarts, what they don’t expect at all is her performing a similarly playful, mischievous and very much impressive revenge on them, but oh boy, what a pleasant consequence it leads to.

☆ happily ending catastrophies | f.w. x muggle!reader — Fred is accidentally (and fortunately) at the right place in the right time, and is able to save a muggle girl’s life.

.*☆

MICHAEL CORLEONE:

☆ for the better pt.1 | m.c. x wife!reader — Michael scolds his wife for acting without his approval and things escalate quickly, not quite the way Michael imagined.

☆ for the better pt.2 | m.c. x wife!reader — (y/n) is back to living life alone, and it’s not long until she finds company to divert her thoughts from the fight whilst Michael keeps on trying to find a way to win his wife back.

ZACH HERRON (why don't we) :

☆ it's all an act | z.h. x fem!reader, requested — when Zach’s too nervous to tell her crush how he feels, Jack - fed up with his best friend’s cowardice - pretends to make a move on the girl to get a reaction out of the younger boy.

© 2023 all rights reserved — nonstoplover. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, or claim my work as your own.

[d0llygard3n]

♥ bnha various as: songs that describe yours and his/hers relationship ♥

♥ pairings: dabi, hawks, kaminari, jirou, momo, toga x fem! reader ♥ warnings: implied toxic/unstable relationships, reader is female ♥ requested?: no ♥ a/n: thx for 76 followers :)) requests are still open in case you were wondering (also these are just specific to my x readers)

♥ todoroki touya | dabi | blueflame ♥

animal - sir chloe

play with fire - sam tinnesz and yacht money

sucker for pain - lil wayne

505 - arctic monkeys

partners in crime - set it off, ash costello

me and my husband - mitski

michelle - sir chloe

rumors - neffex

♥ takami keigo | hawks ♥

fly love - jamie foxx

someone to you - banners

line without a hook - ricky montgomery

hooked - why don’t we

bad romance - lady gaga

guys my age - hey violet

genius - sia, diplo, labrinth, lsd

troublemaker - olly murs, flo rida

♥ kaminari denki | chargebolt ♥

cooler than me - ethan fields (cover)

best friend - rex orange county

hooked - why don’t we

teenage dirtbag - wheatus

cupids chokehold / breakfast in america - gym class heros

stereo hearts - adam levine, gym class heros

teeth - 5sos

cloud 9 - beach bunny

♥ jirou kyouka | earphone jack ♥

all i wanted - paramore

stereo hearts - adam levine, gym class heros

bad idea - girl in red

i wanna be your girlfriend - girl in red

feelings are fatal - mxmtoon

i kissed a girl - katy perry

girlfriend - avril lavigne

we fell in love in october - girl in red

♥ yaoyorozu momo | creati ♥

we fell in love in october - girl in red

still into you - paramore

little miss perfect - write out loud

golden - harry styles

sofia - clairo

pretty girl - clairo

sunflower vol. 6 - harry styles

would you be so kind - dodie

♥ toga himiko ♥

saccharine - jazmin bean 

an unhealthy obsession - the blake robinson synthetic orchestra

if i killed someone for you - alec benjamin

joyfulthought - mom

paparazzi - lady gaga

my axe - faesinth (female cover)

michelle - sir chloe

pacify her - melanie martinez

[abovethesmokestacks]

HBC Drunk Drabbles

Drabbles written for HBC Drunk Drabble nights. Drabbles with * next to it are nsfw and should not be read by anyone under 18.

Soft and Smooth - Sebastian Stan x reader *

T(h)rust - bi!T.J Hammond x fem!reader *

Grace Interrupted - Jack Benjamin x omc

Morning Glory - Hal Carter x reader *

A Home For the Heart - Hal Carter x reader

Our Kind of Love - Bucky Barnes x reader

Two Princes - Hal Carter x Carter Baizen *

Lace and Sugar - Hal Carter x Carter Baizen *

Feels Like Home - Bucky Barnes x reader

Food For Thought - Bucky Barnes x reader

Spilling Sin Like Honey - Hal Carter x reader *

Rain On Me - Clay Appuzzo x reader *

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Monsters under your bed (Jack Benjamin) (Pt.1)

MY FIRST JACK BENJAMIN CONTENT! YAY!

Characters: Bi!Jack Benjamin x Maid!Fem!You

Summary: You are carrying an heir of Gilboa. Everything was all planned by Jack, yet getting your heart involved too much wasn't your intention that you could surpass your dead step-brother's love for the prince himself. Challenges may come that could even get the Queen of Gilboa involved between you both, or maybe she had been the player all along?

Warning: Kinda suggestive on the end? Jack being cheeky and mysterious?

Words: 900+

A/N: JAAACKK BENJAAAMINNN IS MY BABY BOY. Nobody can stop me from writing him. I didn’t watch the show entirely, just his parts. So, this prolly doesn’t follow the timeline of the show of course. HAPPY NEW YEAR, TATER TOTS! THIS IS THE FIRST POST I MADE THIS 2020!

Disclaimer: GIF'S and pictures used are not mine. Only the edits are and the oneshot of course. 😉 Credits to the owners of the GIFS.

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

Loud padded footsteps came echoing outside his door. There was always nuisance when it came to living in the palace. Even people surrounding them whom you couldn't trust was not much of a surprise. Perhaps, the normality could be such a shock instead.

Being a royalty has much disadvantages more than its perquisites.

When he got a glance of her earth-like brown Edwardian skirt and her half sleeve white ruffled top that ended before her wrists, Jack knew it was her.

Nonetheless, her fury wasn't a shock to say the least.

"Marry me? Seriously? What the actual hell, Jack?!" You exploded once you managed to find some extra time in between work. Jack Benjamin sat in the middle of his room, his stance slouched and feet perched on the chair in front of him. He appeared to be in an indolent mood, after the stunt he just pulled back at the party.

You sauntered till you stopped in front of him. His bright, green-grey eyes peering up before you like he was being punished when he wanted nothing else but to laugh out loud. An arm leisurely folded in front of him, resting on top of the table as he subtly licked his Scarlet lips. Those beautiful eyes watching you burst in rage.

"You told your parents that your plan is to actually marry the heck out of me? marry the heck out of one of your chamber maids?!"

Jack began to snort out his mirth, trying hard not to laugh out loud. "I know you're the gay prince of Gilboa," you glared before the prince, having so much will and power to do that to the Prince of Gilboa and if people knew about it, you were dead meat.

"But, have you seen their faces?" Jack uttered, chuckling in the process.

"I am not in the mood!"

"Okay--" he started off, his chuckle dying softly and slowly. "Shut it!" you boldly interrupted in a harsh-whisper, alert of the fact that his bodyguards were out on his door. "Then, do I get to explain first because if my feelings were actually valid, I do not want to marry a woman who had a mind of a--"

"NO! You do not get to explain, Jack!" You instantly cut him off. The rage going to your head at his sudden, impulsive decision that would ruin the peaceful life you had. "Didn't you choose to marry her for whatever purpose you plan for her? For God's sake, Jack! You're her fiance!" You were okay being his chamber maid, but a thought constantly erupting inside your mind was knocking that you needed to find another job that would not involve the palace. He avoided your gaze, thoroughly inflammed by your cut-offs because you were making him sound like he was below you.

He quickly raised his brows, keeping his mouth in a thin line as he tried not to burst right in front you. Besides, it wasn't like you weren't important to him. You were despite of who you were in the palace.

Flashback to the days you comforted him through his depressing nights. It was entirely prohibited, though you were the only one who actually cared and showed true emotions after his secret lover's death. Even understood what he was going through.

Only you and nobody else because everybody surrounding him were monsters that he was even turning to become one because of such beneficial purposes.

"Aren't I the prince here?" he simply stated, grinning beneath the tight lipped mouth he had and finally voicing out the mixed thoughts inside his head.

"Seriously? Don't you remember the night where I had you wrapped around my fingers?" Jack slyly uttered, creating a gun with two fingers as he pointed and pulled the trigger at you, feigning the whole action without a real gun. He would never.

"After everything that has happened between us, I am sure you may be carrying an heir of Gilboa, Y/N."

Thus, the smirk just couldn't seem to wipe off his face from a distinct memory that wouldn't leave his mind plus a special taste that surely captured his interest since that night and it has left you holding your stomach with your mouth ajar.

JACK BENJAMIN IN DA HOUSE! THIS GOT A 2ND PART, ALRIGHT? REBLOG, LIKE OR COMMENT IF YA WANT TO READ THE SECOND PART TO IT! IT’S KINDA ANGSTY! Do y’all know what Jack is thinking tho?  ಥ_ಥ

XOXO,  TATA

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

TATER TOTS!

Anybody wants some angsty Jack Benjamin imagines? DO Y'ALL KNOW ABOUT HIM?! Heehee! WHO WANTS TO BE TAGGED?! I HAVE SOME FOR Y'ALL! Even a Carter Baizen one!

GIF CREDITS: @elves-n-angels

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

God I love your series with Jack Benjamin, can't wait for moreeeeee!

Thank you SO SOOOOOOO much, doll! I hope to continue the 3rd part to it soon! (i've already started it before) Though, it'll prolly take longer than it used to because I'm working for my Witcher fic and a Henry Cavill with the Chris Evans one! I'll get to it soon enough! 😘😘