#my sweet little lavender boy <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[lemonthepotato]

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (1)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Word count: 2.8k

Chapter Warnings: jungkook is kind of an annoying jerk in the beginning, but we still love him. as of now, i have no warnings, but i will mention them when necessary as the series goes on.

A/N: hello, welcome to my very first series. i've been reading fics for as long as i can remember and i've always wanted to start a blog of my own. please read through this and let me know if this story is worth continuing <3

my blog is still "work in progress" and i have many ideas and plans that i wanna give life to, so please stay tuned. your opinions, constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome.

thank you.

part 1: throttle and stem

The quiet hum of the early morning filled your flower shop as you stood by your workbench, your hands deftly arranging a vibrant bouquet of stargazer lilies, queen of the night blossoms, and delicate sprigs of baby’s breath. As you tied off the bouquet with a soft ribbon, you pulled your phone from the pocket of your apron, glancing at the screen.

"8:09 am."

You sighed to yourself, shaking off the early morning grogginess that still clung to your mind. The air around you was sweet with the mingling fragrances of the flowers, an invisible balm for the weariness you hadn’t quite shaken.

The shop was your sanctuary. Its walls were adorned with climbing vines that had been lovingly nurtured over the years, and its shelves were lined with terracotta pots of miniature bonsais, fiddle-leaf figs, and succulent terrariums. It wasn’t just a workspace… it was your rhythm, your peace. Here, surrounded by blooms and greenery, the world felt like it moved just a little slower.

You turned towards the bay window, where golden sunlight poured in, illuminating an assortment of hydrangeas and snapdragons on display. It was the kind of morning you cherished… peaceful, predictable, and entirely yours to savor.

Shifting closer to the window, your gaze naturally drifted to the storefront beside yours. The faded "For Rent" sign, hanging crookedly in the glass, caught your eye like always. Ever since Mrs. Lee shut down her cozy little bakery and moved away with her husband, the space had remained lifeless, the once-welcoming aroma of fresh pastries replaced by silence and dust.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you remembered the way the scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon rolls used to drift into your shop every morning. Now, the vacant building had become an eyesore you had grown used to ignoring… a dull, empty reminder of what had once been.

Turning away from the window, you wandered through your shop, watering the orchids in their clay pots and adjusting the arrangement of lavender sprigs by the counter. You opened sharp at 9, but these quiet moments before customers arrived were your favorite. It was a time to bask in the stillness, to let the beauty of your flowers fill every corner of your mind.

You settled back at your workbench, pulling another bundle of roses and eucalyptus stems from the cooler. Your hands moved automatically as your thoughts wandered, appreciating the rare silence that surrounded you. Most of the shops on your street wouldn’t open for another hour, leaving the block in a peaceful lull.

The quiet wasn’t just comforting, it was necessary. It was the space where you could breathe, think, and just be.

And just when you were basking in the silence you oh so appreciated, your train of thoughts are harshly interrupted by a sharp growl that tore through the air, so ridiculously loud that it startled you into dropping the shears you were grasping in your hand. The noise grew louder, rising and falling with an almost deafening rhythm. Engines revved outside, followed by the sharp, repetitive beeping of trucks reversing.

Frowning, you stepped towards the window, peeking out from behind a display of yellow roses. Two enormous moving trucks had pulled up in front of the vacant building, their engines rumbling as a group of workers began hauling furniture and equipment onto the sidewalk.

Your chest tightened as you took in the scene: huge wooden crates, motorcycle frames, and oversized toolboxes haphazardly scattered across the pavement.

The stillness you were treasuring just a minute ago was shattered in less than a second by the disgusting sound of chaos arriving at your doorstep.

Still confused, your eyes suddenly fall on the huge stack of oversized toolboxes placed on the sidewalk, partially blocking the entrance to your shop. You scoffed, your mind unable to wrap itself around this bizarre situation.

Before you could fully process what exactly was happening, your feet carried you towards the front door of your shop and you stepped outside, breathing heavily. “Hey!” you called out, trying to dodge around a burly man carrying a huge box labeled FRAGILE. “What’s going on here?” you question, still looking around, trying to take in the state of your surroundings.

The closest person to you wasn’t a mover or a worker. You could easily conclude that just by the way he was leaning lazily against one of the trucks, scrolling through his phone as if oblivious to the commotion. A thick leather jacket, adorned with intricate patches and scratches that told untold stories rested on his left shoulder.

Tattoos crawled up his toned forearms, disappearing under the ripped sleeves of his black t-shirt. A loose silver chain around his neck glinted as he shifted his weight, and when he glanced up, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mix of curiosity and disinterest.

"What's going on here?" you ask again, this time trying to sound as civil as possible. Your fists are balled and you regulate your breathing as you observe the man in front of you. “Moving in.” he simply answers, his voice smooth but laced with indifference. “What’s it look like to you?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by his audacity. You're generally a calm person, that is, until someone provokes you in the weirdest ways. “It looks like you’re turning the sidewalk into an obstacle course.” you snapped, unable to remain civil like you had previously planned. “My customers won’t be able to get into my shop!” you added.

His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that instantly made you think, this was someone you would never get along with. “What customers?” He chuckles, glancing theatrically up and down the empty street before meeting your gaze again.

Your blood boiled as you heard him mock you. “Excuse me?” He stepped closer, the faint scent of leather and motor oil lingering in the air between you. “Relax, sweetheart. We’ll keep it tidy. Don’t get your roses in a twist.” he says, eyeing a bouquet he was able to spot through the window of your store.

You bristled. “First of all, don’t call me sweetheart. Second, those are lilies, NOT roses.” You jabbed a finger towards the bouquet in the window. “And third, I don’t need your promises. I need you to move your chaos somewhere else and not disturb my business!”

He tilted his head, clearly amused. “You really care about those flowers, huh?” he asks. You can easily tell he thinks nothing of your business. “Of course, I do! Unlike some people, I actually respect my work and the space around me.” you argue.

The man rolls his eyes, and that only drives you more mad. His nonchalance and his lack of empathy itches your brain the wrong way. “Whatever.” he casually shrugs, turning away as he hears one of the men call out to him. “Jeon, where do you want the bike stand?”

Jeon? You realize that's probably his surname. “Right here.” he replies, pointing towards the storefront. Without sparing you another glance, he strode over, his gait relaxed and confident, as if he hadn’t just ruined your morning.

You stood there, fists clenched, watching as the chaos unfolded further. The reality hit you hard—the quiet, vacant space beside your shop was no longer empty. It was now home to this infuriating, leather-clad biker who had just walked into your life like a hurricane. And somehow, you knew, your peaceful little flower shop would never be the same.

//

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of irritation. Every time you tried to return to your flowers and reclaim the peace you once cherished, another burst of loud noise would jolt you out of focus. The metallic clang of tools, the rumble of engines being tested, and the shouts of movers unloading endless boxes were relentless. Even the cheerful chime of your shop door opening, signaling the arrival of your first customer, couldn’t lift your mood entirely.

“Busy morning out there, huh?” Mrs. Park, one of your long-time regulars, quipped as she admired a bouquet of tulips on display. You forced a smile, standing up from your workbench. “You could say that.” you answered, looking back at the window that gave you a view of the happenings next door

She chuckled, picking up a small pot of baby succulents. “Looks like someone’s finally opening a business there. Hopefully, it’s something good and the owner is nice. I miss Mrs. Lee’s bakery, though. Her strawberry tarts were divine.” she says, walking towards the counter with the pot she had just picked out.

You bit back a sarcastic retort about how this newcomer was something way from from “nice” and nodded instead. “I miss her too. But yeah, we'll just have to wait and see what the new business is going to be about.” you sigh.

//

By the time the clock struck noon, the chaos outside had died down enough for you to risk stepping out again. Boxes had been cleared from the sidewalk, though a few crates still lingered near the entrance of your shop, their presence a glaring reminder of the morning’s disruption.

You spotted him immediately—Jeon. He was crouched next to a sleek black motorcycle, his hands busy adjusting something near the engine. A few workers milled around, chatting, but this man seemed entirely absorbed in his work.

You purse your lips and stepped back on the sidewalk to get a better view of the building. The sign "Throttle and Torque" hung up high, right beside yours that read "Garden's Grace."

You look back down at the man, who still seemed so immersed in whatever the heck he was doing. Against your better judgment, you marched over, fueled by lingering frustration. “Excuse me.” you say, waiting for him to respond. He didn’t look up. You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you tapped your foot impatiently. “Excuse me!” you snap.

This time, he glanced up, wiping his hands on a rag before standing to his full height. Up close, he was even more infuriatingly confident, his dark eyes glinting which barely concealed any sort amusement. “What?” he asked, completely unbothered. You gestured towards the lingering crates. “Your stuff is still blocking part of my entrance.” you reply, trying your level best to keep your voice at a respectable volume.

He glanced at the crates, then back at you. “Looks fine to me.” he shrugs. “It’s not fine. It’s in the way.” you argue, fighting the urge to just run and kick the crates away from your entrance. His lips curved into that maddening smirk again. “You’re really particular about your space, huh?”

“Unlike some people…” you pause, taking a deep breath “I respect boundaries.” you state. He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly casual. “Alright, alright. I’ll move them. Don’t blow a gasket, sweetheart.” he says causing you to roll your eyes at the nickname but you bite your tongue, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your temper again.

As he turned to call out to one of the workers, you noticed something—a small, intricately designed patch sewn onto the back of his leather jacket that he was wearing. It depicted a phoenix rising from flames, the design bold and vibrant against the black leather.

Shaking yourself out of the observation you had just made, you look around and finally question him. "What exactly is your business?"

He doesn't answer, still busy with the worker as he guides him on where to place the crates. But as you stood there by yourself, you feel the realization dawning on you as you took in the scattered parts and tools. "Is this a motorcycle shop?" you ask again. He glanced over his shoulder, finally nodding. “Custom bikes. Repairs. The works.” he answers, his tone still the same, low and unbothered.

Of course. The universe had gifted you a neighbor who was the exact opposite of everything your flower shop represented—loud, chaotic, and disruptive. “Just great.” you muttered under your breath, feeling yourself get a headache as you imagine the wild things that you will have to go through with a store like this right beside yours.

“Something to say?” he teases, as he looks at you, finally taking in your appearance. His eyes roamed over you for a moment, his gaze lingering on the effortless beauty you carried. There was something captivating about the way your long, dark hair framed your face, the sunlight catching in the waves and adding a soft halo around you. The earthy tones of your apron only highlighted the warm glow of your skin, and the faint blush on your cheeks gave you an endearing, almost ethereal charm.

You don't say anything and just stand there, trying your best to stay calm. "I'm Jungkook, by the way." you hear him say. You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to introduce yourself to him, but you think that might be a little immature. "Y/n." you simply say, avoiding his eyes.

"Didn’t realize such a pretty flower came with so many thorns." he comments, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he crosses his arms, observing the way you tried so hard not to throw hands. You rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment. “Didn’t realize bikers had this much trouble respecting other people’s businesses.” you retorted, matching his tone.

Jungkook chuckled, clearly unfazed. He leaned against the wall beside him, his dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and challenge. “Well, sweetheart, I guess we’re stuck with each other now. Might as well get used to it.” he says, almost like he's challenging you.

You huffed at that stupid nickname again, your fingers tightening around the hem of your apron. “I would REALLY appreciate if you wouldn't call me sweetheart." you pause, slightly stepping forward. "And for the record, being neighbors doesn’t mean I have to put up with your... chaos. My shop values tranquility, something your—” you pause again to gesture towards the motorcycles and tools scattered around, “whole vibe seems to be allergic to.”

Jungkook tilts his head, pretending to consider your words, though the teasing smirk never leaves his features. “Tranquility, huh?” he echoes, his tone mocking. “I can see why you’d like things quiet in there.” His eyes flicked toward your shop window, where the vibrant display of flowers created a stark contrast to the metal and oil-laden aesthetic of his business.

You cross your arms, as you firmly stand your ground. “Exactly. Garden’s Grace is a place where people come to find peace and beauty. Something your Throttle and Torque doesn’t exactly scream.”

He snorted, looking genuinely amused for the first time. “Peace and beauty. Cute. I’m more about the adrenaline and grit side of life. Opposites, huh?” You frowned, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Maybe opposites, but that doesn’t mean you have to make my life miserable.” you said, glancing pointedly at the workers still unloading equipment nearby.

“Alright, alright.” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll make sure my guys clear out your entrance. We wouldn’t want to scare off all those peace-seekers now, would we?” he says, in a tone that irks something ugly inside of you.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to come up with something but you know it would be of no use to argue with someone like him. “Thank you.” you breathe out curtly, turning on your heel to head back to your shop, not wanting to deal with him anymore because you clearly had a business to get back to.

“By the way…” he suddenly calls out, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder with a brow raised. “Those flowers in your display…” he said, jerking his chin towards the window. “Whatever they're called... they’re pretty. You’ve got an eye for detail and beauty.” he admits.

The unexpected compliment threw you off guard, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a snappy comeback. Instead, you muttered a soft, “Thanks.” before disappearing into the safety of your shop.

Inside, your heart thudded a little harder than you cared to admit. You shook your head, pushing the moment aside. “Nope, not falling for that.” you mumble to yourself, bringing your focus back on the vibrant bouquet in your hands.

From the corner of your eye, you glanced out the window one last time. Jungkook had gone back to his motorcycle, but there was a faint smile on his face now, one that didn’t carry the same teasing edge as before.

You sighed and shook your head, determined to forget the way it made your stomach flutter. "It’s just day one..." you reminded yourself. "I can survive this." you affirm.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of a storm neither of you saw coming.

part 2 ->

series masterlist

[glamourscat]

I LOVE UR TIM FICS SM HES LITERALLY MY BABY I LOVE HEARING PPL TALK ABT HIM MORE‼️‼️

Anyway I was wondering if I could request a fic of reader teasing/flirting with Tim to see him blush and maybe throw in some smooches stolen

TY IF U CHOOSE TO WRITE THIS 🙏🙏

Tim, are you blushing? | tim drake x reader

a/n: sorry for the wait, i hope you like this <3

For someone so brilliant, so capable of leading teams and solving impossible cases, Tim turned into an adorable mess when flustered.

And you? Well, you'd made it your personal mission to see that blush as often as possible. Because after all, if a loophole is present, why not take advantage of it? 

"Hey, pretty boy," you called out, leaning against the doorframe of the Batcave's computer station. Tim was hunched over the keyboard, analyzing some ridiculously complex case. Typical. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up. So absorbed into his work he did not even hear you properly. 

You grinned, skipping over to where he was sitting. "You know, for someone with such amazing detective skills, you're pretty oblivious."

That got his attention. "What do you mean?"

"Well," you draped yourself over the back of his chair, your breath tickling his ear, "you haven't noticed I've been wearing your hoodie all day."

Tim's typing stuttered to a halt. He turned slowly, those blue eyes widening as he finally noticed his favorite hoodie draped over your frame. His scent, the mix of tea, lavender and talk is so strong and most of all, it all over you. 

"I- when did you-" A pink tint crept up his neck.

"This morning. After you left for patrol" You hummed, moving to sit besides him. "It's super comfy. I might keep it."

"That's- I mean-" He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "You can't just steal my clothes."

"Why not? Do I not look good in it?," you grinned, showing off your figure teasingly. And there it was. That full-blown blush you'd been aiming for. "Besides, you love seeing me in your clothes. Don't even try to deny it."

Tim ran a hand through his messy black hair, a nervous habit you know too well by now. "You're– i.. Well, damn it" he stutters flustered as he bites his lower lip. 

His blue eyes looking at yours intensly, his face illuminated thanks to the batcave computer. And you did not miss how his eyes darted from your face to your lips. Well… who are you lose an opportunity, right? You lean over and quickly steal a peck. 

A rather embarrassing yet endearing quiet moan leaves his lips at the unexpected yet welcome contact. 

“You did not just..” he looks at you with his mouth slightly apart like a fish.

You reached out, gently brushing his bangs from his eyes. "Aw, so cute." it was not meant to come accross in a mocking way, but objectively speaking, you were feeling so damn cocky right now.

Your comment is what makes him react though. In a few seconds he stood up, his hands on your waist squeezing, as his forehead rests against yours. So close, damn he is so hot. Your heart did a little flip at the sudden proximity.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?"

"I know I am."

"Always teasing me," he murmured, leaning somehow even closer. "Always trying to make me blush."

"Can you blame me? You're adorable when you're flustered. I just wanna kiss you senseless."

His eyes flickered to your lips. "Maybe I should return the favor."

Before you could come up with a witty response, he was the one to closed the distance this time, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, soft kiss. It was your turn to be surprised, melting into him as one of his hands moved to cup your cheek.

When he pulled back, there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Now who's blushing?"

You laugh quietly. "Always needing to have the last word hmm?" Your hands go on his hips.

You two spent the rest of your afternoon kissing. Smiling maybe too much for it to be perfect, but somehow that made it even better. And if anyone noticed that Tim's productivity took a serious hit that afternoon, or the fact that he looked like he ran a marathon-- with his messy hair, panting breath, red cheeks and puffy lips-- well, nobody pointed it out.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 17: How Could I Ever Forget?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter seventeen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Past Violence reference, Soft Ben, Fluff,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Additional Warning: Soldier Boy is again, super OC and fluffy in this chapter. If you do not like that, you probably shouldn't read this?

Guide

Rosemary's Phone

Reader's Phone

You sigh softly as you wake, the light from under your curtains illuminates your bedroom and sends a warm glow over your bed. You had never been a morning person. The only motivation you ever had to get out of bed was the hope of a cup of strong coffee waiting for you in the kitchen. But as you lay there, mind still a little cloudy from sleep you can't help but think that something feels different, that you've forgotten something important.

Maybe a shower will make me remember.

Instinctively you start to move towards the edge of your bed to get up, but something heavy tightens its grip around your chest making it impossible to move from its embrace.

What?

“Where are you going?” Ben’s voice is slurred and muffled against the pillow behind you.

The events of the night before begin to surface from the sweet haze of sleep, Ben showing up, you yelling at him, him bringing you lavender and saying everything you always wanted him to, and finally him holding you while you cried. You still weren’t sure that last part happened. That or Ben's ability to open his heart to you and tell you what he was feeling rather than reverting back into the cold attitude he adopted as Soldier Boy. In fact, you hadn't seen one shred of Soldier Boy yesterday, you'd only seen Ben, and deep down you hoped that you'd never see Soldier Boy ever again.

“Stay.” He murmurs, pulling your back into his muscular chest. “Please.”

His body is wrapped around yours, shielding you from your door, face buried in your hair, while one arm rests around your abdomen and the other is somewhere above your head bracing against the headboard. It feels natural and it makes anxiety electrify your veins.

Because what if he was going to leave again?

You turn your head to look over your shoulder.

Ben’s head is laying on the same pillow yours is, his eyes are closed, and his hair is falling forward into his peaceful face. Deep down another memory of this exact scenario surfaces, of you waking up before him when you were children and wishing that he wanted this as much as you did. Of course now he said he had wanted you the entire time time, and that he wasn’t going to leave, but deep down you dreaded what would happen when he opened his eyes.

Would he go cold again? Push me away? Say that he didn't mean any of it?

You try not to think that. You wanted him to mean all of it. You wanted him to fix it, to make it like it was before, make everything like the morning you woke up on his chest and he smiled down at you like you were everything he ever wanted. You wanted every day of your life to start that way, to be fused with wonder, love, and expectation. That morning you had woken up on his chest after your birthday, was one of the happiest memories you had, but what followed those few moments of happiness tore your heart out.

He said he wanted to fix this, that he wanted to be with me. You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s lied before. The thought fills you with dread.

“You’re thinking too much.” Ben sighs opening one green eye to stare at you. It’s a light green from sleep, but just as piercing as usual.

“I am not.”

Sometimes you though that Ben was psychic, because he was always able to read you, the same way that you always had been able to read him. Even when you were kids Ben was always able to tell what you were thinking, not to mention he always had a habit of showing up whenever you needed him.

Ben chuckles and opens his other eye. “I know you better than anyone else Sweetheart.”

“Maybe a little.” You admit.

“Hmm.”

You turn in his arms so you can look at his face and Ben adjusts his arm to drop over the curve of your hip, gently brushing his fingertips against you the base of your spine. But you don’t smile.

“What is it?” He whispers moving his face closer with a soft smile that tugs at something in your chest. “You can tell me.”

“You know.” You don't meet his eyes, the sour feeling in your chest growing with your confession as you level your gaze at his chin.

“Oh.” Ben's smile drops into a frown.

“It’s a little weird. That you’re here and you want to be-“

“I do.”

“I know. But I keep waiting for you to leave again, for you to push me away.” You hate that you have to say it out loud, but he might as well know what you're thinking. He needs to understand how much he hurt you and how worried you were about that. It was worse to keep it inside. That's what you had been doing for the better part of 40 years and now that it was all out in the open you did feel a little better, but it still hung on your heart. 

“I don’t want to leave you-"

“I know that. Or at least a part of me does. The other part…” You trail off.

Ben is quiet for a minute, before he brings his hand up to brush away the strands of your hair that have fallen into your eyes. “Do you still want me here?” His expression turns pained when he asks it, voice barely above a whisper.

You look at him, tracing the strong jaw you’d memorized, the unruly brown hair that you always wished to run you fingers through, the proud arch of his brow, and the gentle bow of his lips. “Yes.” You answer honestly. "I do."

Ben looks relieved. "Then I won't leave."

The weight of those words grounds you to this moment. He wants to be here. He doesn't want to go.

"How'd you sleep?" His right hand is still tracing your spine in smooth comforting circles over the back of your soft t-shirt.

"Good. Did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in forty years."

"I figured." You smile faintly. You allow your hands to rest on his chest, just over his heart between you so you can feel the steady beat against your fingertips. It solidified the fact that he was here with you. You stop the urge to trace your finger across his muscles, but instead focus on the warmth that soaks through his shirt into the palms of your hands. "Probably should get a little more sleep, those dark circles look like bruises." You trace the prominent purple marks that curve beneath his eyes.

You think about everything Ben told you about the lab that he was a prisoner in, all the experiments and torture he went through believing that he deserved it.

He didn't. You think to yourself as you search his face, noting again that Ben looks the same, but also different. I wonder if I'm the same way. Then again I didn't go through forty years of unrelenting torture in a Russian Lab.

The thought makes anger surge against your skin. When you were with Countess you had felt a little guilty about losing control, but now you reveled in it. She deserved more than what I did to her. If I had known what she did to Ben, I would have made it hurt.

You think about Noir, the TNT Twins, and MindStorm. You had been happy to lose touch with them after everything that happened with Ben, happy to leave behind the life you had when you were on Payback, but now you weren't sure. Ben telling you how they betrayed him made you reconsider your life in the shadows, made you reconsider turning your back on your powers. Because they deserved the same thing you did to Countess. 

"I was trying to, but somebody woke me up." Ben rolls his eyes at you, bringing you out of your thoughts of your teammates. "I remember you hating mornings as much as I do. Why are you awake?”

"I do hate mornings, but coffee makes them tolerable. Plus, I really need to take a shower."

"Oh good. I didn’t want to say anything but you really stink." Ben teases with a smirk.

"Wow." You scoff. "Big talk coming from the guy who smells like reefer, whiskey, and week old motel."

"You’re right I should probably take a shower too. But I’ll let you go first. Seems like the gentlemanly thing to do." Ben's smirk coupled with the mischievous glint in his eyes makes your heart warm. It was familiar in the best way. You didn't realize how much you missed it, how much you missed him. You'd tried to forget of course, how much you needed him in your life, how much you longed for him to be with you, and how much your friendship meant to you.

"Oh are you calling yourself a gentleman now? Because-"

“I am as much a gentleman as you are a lady and we both know that it’s a close tie.”

“Uh-huh sure.” You roll your eyes. "Maybe I would have been a lady if someone hadn't gotten me kicked out of the Dawson School For Girls."

"I never heard a thank you for that." Ben shrugs. His hand continues to circle at the base of your spine, his touch trailing warmth up your back. You weren't prepared for his touch to do the same thing to you that it did forty years ago.

It made you forget everything else, but him and it scared you. Because again you could feel yourself opening up to him, could feel yourself beginning to depend on him being there with you.

"I'll be sure to write you a thank you note."

“Hmm." Ben breathes. "Don’t use all the hot water.”

“Since this is my apartment and I pay for the water I feel that I should be entitled to use most of it.”

“Are you saying that I have to write you a check to take a shower?”

“Yep.”

“You’re fucking annoying.” Ben rolls his eyes at you playfully.

“I know. I’ve got forty years of sarcasm to make up for, so, might as well get used to it.” You smirk tapping him on the nose.

“I look forward to it.” Ben smiles back.

You try to get out of your bed again, but Ben tightens his grip on your waist pulling you back against his chest so that your faces are inches apart.

“Ben, I can't take a shower if you're holding me hostage." You joke pushing against his chest.

Ben leans his forehead against yours, making the next taunt vanish from your mind. “I missed you.”

You smile despite your mixed feelings over the two of you and the past forty years. It was hard to hold on to the fear of him pushing you away when he was holding you so close to him and gazing at you the same way he did the morning after he gave you everything you wanted.

“I missed you too.” You reply, gently smoothing a wrinkle in the front of his t-shirt.

It wasn’t a lie. You missed him more than life itself. Not just because you loved him, but because he was your best friend. He knew you inside and out, better than anyone else.

His gaze drops to your lips then flicks up to your eyes and you know what he wants but you're not ready.

“Ben-“ You breathe as he shifts his face closer. “I want to take this slow. I need us to take this slow.”

“I know.” He sighs, but then the edge of his mouth twitches. “That’s why I didn’t make a joke about saving hot water and taking a shower together.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Mhmm. It was difficult not to.” Ben pauses, his expression turns serious. “I’m going to make this right I promise. I’m going to fix this.” It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but it was nice to hear again.

The determination in his voice makes you hopeful. It made you understand that he wasn’t going to give up, even if that meant waiting for you to be ready. He was showing a considerable amount of restraint. The Soldier Boy version of Ben was not gentle or patient, but it made you feel special, as if it was only you that Ben reserved this part of himself for.

“I know.”

“I love you.” His hand comes to cup your cheek, bright green eyes searching yours earnestly.

“I love you too.”

Ben's thumb gently traces across your cheekbone. “Maybe don’t take a shower.”

“You said I stunk.” You reply with a snort, leaning your face into his touch.

“You don’t. I actually think you smell a little like me right now.”

“Oh great-“

It wasn’t that he smelled bad. Ben still smelled like his shampoo and aftershave, but there were a few other smells, all of which were stale, and ones that you attributed to the motel room Butcher made him stay in.

I can’t believe Butcher just left.

You hadn't asked Ben how he got him to leave or really why Butcher was so eager to help Ben get out of Russia.

“I like it. Plus that means you'd have to go and I don't want you to go yet." Ben’s voice softens.

Your eyes widen with his confession.

"Stay.” He whispers. The vulnerability in his eyes is back, striking you full on in the chest. You weren’t used to that, used to him being so open about wanting you, about wanting to be with you. Or really his want to do something so intimate without having sex.

"Okay." You relent and he pulls you closer.

 Your hands drift up into his hair before you can stop them, rustling through the chocolate strands, smiling as Ben sighs and presses his head into your right shoulder.

And as conflicted you are about all of this, it does something to you, makes a piece of yourself fit back together that you thought you lost long ago, because you saw that Ben was trying. He was making an effort to fix all of this. And you really hoped that he could.

When you get out of the shower Ben isn't in your bedroom and the dread comes roaring back like an old enemy.

Did he leave?

The thought is immediate, followed by how empty your bedroom looks without him in it.

Shit. How can I be so dependable on him being in here already? Why am I doing this to myself again?

"Ben?" You say cautiously, shaking out your wet hair around your shoulders onto your soft t-shirt.

"Out here." Ben shouts from the kitchen.

The amount of relief you hear when he answers in his warm timbre again makes you anxious, because you hated how much your body responded to him and how quickly you had reinserted him into your life. It was like your heart wanted to break again.

You had opted to put the same clothes on that you had been wearing before because the sweatpants and t-shirt were preferable for a lazy morning and you weren't expecting to go anywhere today.

Well, not really. Then again I might have to go talk to Rosemary. How do I tell her that her dad is back and he showed up at my apartment? Or better yet, how do I tell her that he spent the night?

You press your lips together.

I mean I didn't sleep with him, but I did sleep with him and I don’t think she's going to be ecstatic that he's back in my life. Or our lives? Is she going to actually want him in her life?

You think about what Ben said about not leaving and his want to stay with you.

How am I going to explain any of this to her? She's just going to say that I forgave him and not listen to me. She's just so damn stubborn.

Another thought crosses your mind just as quickly.

How am I going to tell Ben that he’s a dad?

You had considered that exact question in the past, when you wondered what would have happened if Ben hadn’t died. If you would have told him that you were pregnant and if he would have even cared. Especially after everything he said that night and everything he did.

And now that he was back and said he didn’t want to leave, you weren’t sure how to tell him he was a dad. He was still trying to get used to living in the present, not to mention you were still trying to get used to him wanting to be there with you and the idea that he loved you.

But I can’t just avoid Rosemary. She needs to know this, needs to know that he’s back. Why is my life so complicated?

Ben's reply is followed by a loud crashing noise and some muffled curses, that draw you out of your thoughts about your daughter.

"Are you okay?" You run out of your bedroom into the hallway, but stop in shock just as you enter the edge of your living room. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Come on you stupid, fucking thing!" Ben shouts. He’s standing in your kitchen, holding your coffeemaker in a chokehold against his chest, and aggressively jabbing his finger against the digital interface.

“Wait stop! You’re going to break it! And I’ll never forgive you if you break Sully!” You rush over to where he's standing in your kitchen, taking the machine from him and placing it back on the counter. It looks okay, but not having coffee this morning was not an option for you. Not having coffee after the night you'd had meant that someone in the apartment was going to die and it wasn't going to be you.

“Sully?” Ben asks confused.

“The coffeemaker.” You begin to hook it up and type in the normal settings you use, before going to look through your cabinets for the bag of coffee grounds.

I know I still have some in here somewhere.

“You named your coffeemaker?”

“He looks like an Sully." You shrug as you look over at him with a smile.

You didn't tell him that it was Lou that named the coffeemaker after you watched Monster's Inc. with her and she imprinted on the closest blue object.

"And what are you doing?” You ask. The smell of the coffee grounds gives you a jolt of energy as you scoop out the correct amount for the machine.

Ben watches you go through the steps. “I wanted to make you coffee.”

The thought was surprising, given that Ben had never made you coffee, ever. Whenever he woke up at you apartment all those mornings you both either went for coffee at the café down the street, or you made coffee while Ben took a shower.

“It’s okay I’ll do it. It’s a little more high tech than what you’re used to.” You start to push him gently out of the way so you can reach the glass  decanter where it sits on the drying rack next to the sink.

“No.” He says firmly, refusing to budge. “I want to know how to make you coffee.”

“Why?”

“Because you love coffee and maybe one morning I’d like to- I don’t know- make you some or something?”

“Do you see yourself in my kitchen? Because that’s something I’d never imagine-“ You try to think of him walking around, making breakfast or dinner but the image doesn’t fit. Ben didn’t know how to cook, not to mention his usual misogynistic attitude usually meant that he never set foot in the kitchen except to find a bottle of booze.

He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. “Well this is where I live. I imagine that I’d be in the kitchen at some point.”

You freeze, your hand still pressed against his bicep from when you tried to move him out of the way.

“What?” Ben realizes what he’s said. “Oh- um- I know you want to take things slow, but I figured I could just sleep on the couch. I didn’t need to sleep in bed with you like last night. I-“ He scrunches up his face, unsure. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t going to leave you again and I thought I might as well be living here. But if I assumed wrong I can get an apartment if that makes you more comfortable. I mean I didn’t  use the one I had forty years ago, I spent most of my time at your apartment with you and I kinda thought-well-“ He’s watching you with wide eyes. “Fuck. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed-“

Ben was blabbering, nervous despite his inability to admit it, afraid in his own way that you were going to reject him, think him less of a man for revealing how much he wanted you to be in his life. And it does something to you, understanding that you're not the only one who's afraid of what comes next.

You smile at his obvious discomfort, heart clenching to see how much he wants to stay, and recognize how much you don't want him to go. How despite everything, you want him to stay here with you, and that you don't want him to live somewhere else. Because living somewhere else means that you wouldn't wake up in his arms and you wouldn't see his sleepy smile when he first opened his eyes.

You hug him around the waist and tuck your face into the hollow of his throat. “You can live here Ben.” You say, your voice no more than a murmur.

“Are you sure? I know that you don’t want to rush things. You want to take this slow and I understand how important that is to you.“ Ben's hands come up around you to hold you closer to him.

“Kinda hard for you to fix things if you’re living somewhere across town.” You mutter into his shirt, nuzzling your face into the soft fabric. “Plus I like the idea of you bringing me coffee in the morning.”

“And I like the idea of living with you.” He whispers into the top of your head. “So does that mean I’m entitled to hot water?”

“We can discuss terms later. Right now I really need some coffee.”  You place you chin on his chest and look up into his deep green eyes.

“So you’ll take payment in the form of coffee?” Ben's smile is contagious.

“Perhaps.”

Ten minutes later Sully is buzzing pleasantly as it brews, glinting  blue in the light that streams through the large windows on the opposite side of your apartment, and Ben knows how to use it without swearing and breaking it in half. 

He drifts over to the part of your living room that serves as your art studio, examining the canvases splashed with color and the half-full sketchbooks on the large wooden table pressed under the windows. It was messier over there than  the rest of your apartment, but you thrived on the mess, thrived on the chaos of art supplies that were scattered over the table top like multicolored fish.

“I followed your advice.” You smile leaning against the counter to watch him. “Started selling my art. It’s selling pretty well. Has been for a while.”

It was still weird that he was here in your apartment. Each time you looked up and saw him, you were surprised, but at the same time there was something deep down that was happy to see him there, dressed in normal clothes. Waking up next to him and having him make you coffee was the domestic relationship you had wanted with him so long ago. It was what you used to imagine when you were curled up on your couch in your old apartment downtown.

“Of course it is. You’re talented.” He replies while flipping through your sketchpad, the flick of the pages drowned out by the bubbling of the coffee.

"I actually have a show coming up in a few weeks-" You weren't sure if you were still going to make enough pieces in time, especially given everything that was happening in your life with Ben or what would happen when you told Rosemary.

"Good." Ben glances up from the sketchpad. "I want to go."

"I'd like that." You blush under his gaze before your eyes drift back to the box of letters smiling faintly.  “I still can’t believe you kept them.”

“Got kicked out of boarding school number nine because of them.”

“I thought you got kicked out because  you were in a fight.” You raise an eyebrow. “You never told me why.”

“Because someone stole the letters and read them out loud in the cafeteria.”

“You’re kidding!” You snort.

“No.”

“So he exposed you for being a simp and your immediate reaction was to fight him in the cafeteria?” Your fingertips brush over the faded script on the sheets of paper.

“Being a what?” Ben looks confused as he walks slowly towards you.

“Oh right.” You press your lips together to think of a way to explain it without insulting him. “It means being head over heels for someone.” It was a bit of a stretch but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know that the meaning was closer to something Ben would ascribe to being a pussy.

“I am.” His hands go on the counter around you pinning you between the metal and his muscular chest, looking down with so much love and care in his eyes that it makes you dizzy.

It was jarring. How could he flip the switch so easily? How could he be so open now to me and not be like this before?

You think about the moments you spent in bed together 40 years ago, the look in his eyes the perfect morning, how he held you like he never wanted you to let him go and you didn’t want him to.

“Are you now?”

“Mhmm.” Ben tilts his head down towards your forehead, but just before it rests against yours,  your phone buzzes where you left it on the counter the night before, drawing your eyes to the illuminated screen.

“What is that?” Ben asks. You gently push him away to pick up the phone that continues to vibrate.

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself. You had ten missed calls from Rosemary not to mention a barrage of texts that each got more and more unhinged as they were delivered.

Rosemary: Hey.    Rosemary: Did you land? Rosemary: Mom? Rosemary: HELLO?     Rosemary: Mom are you in trouble? Rosemary: MOM.   Rosemary: Please you’re scaring me. Rosemary: Pick up the phone. Rosemary: PICK UP THE PHONE Rosemary: PICK  Rosemary: UP Rosemary: THE Rosemary: PHONE Rosemary: If you don’t pick up I’m going to buy a plane ticket. Rosemary: I bought a plane ticket. Rosemary: I’m packing a bag- Rosemary: I’m calling Lou’s babysitter. Rosemary: I’m scheduling an Uber!

Rosemary: Alright to whoever  has my mom’s fucking phone, I’m coming and when I get there she better be okay. Because if she’s not, there will be nowhere for you to hide.

You tap out a quick message to sate her ridiculous descent into madness, before thinking of what you need to say next.

You: Rosie it’s okay. I’m fine!

She Immediately texts back.

Rosemary: What’s the safe word?

You: Pineapple.

Rosemary: What’s the second safe word?

Your fingertips hover over the screen as you try to remember if Rosemary had decided a second word that gave the all clear, but you can't remember one.

You: We don’t have a second safe word?

Rosemary: I know I was testing you. Where the hell did you go? Why didn’t you text me? I thought the plane was supposed to land early this morning?

You: My plans changed I didn’t have to go to Russia. I’ll tell you later. Lots happened and I need to work a few things out.

Rosemary: What happened? Did you find out he wasn’t there?

You: No I didn’t need to go.

You stop typing to try and think of a way to phrase that her father showed up out of the blue and slept over.

Well he didn't sleep over, sleep over, but he did stay in my bed with me and… she's going to kill me.

Rosemary: Because?

Rosemary: BECAUSE?

You: He kinda showed up here.

Rosemary: HE WHAT?

You: He showed up at my apartment.

Rosemary: Are you okay? DID HE HURT YOU? ILL BE THERE IN TEN MINUTES-

You: No he didn’t hurt me. I promise. All we did was talk. If anything I hurt him.

Rosemary: Good.

You watch the three dots flicker across the screen of your phone to signify that she is responding, waiting with your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Rosemary: Is he still there?

You: Yes.

Rosemary: Do you need me to come over?

You: No. He’s been through a lot. The last thing he needs is for you to show up guns blazing. I haven’t told him about you or Lou yet-

Rosemary: You fucking forgave him didn’t you? WHY?!!

You: I didn’t forgive him. It’s complicated-

Rosemary: What happened to just slapping him around a bit then telling him to fuck off? That was a good plan. I LOVED THAT PLAN!

You: Well I did tell him to fuck off but it got more complicated.

Rosemary: OH MY FUCKING G-

“Hey you okay?” Ben’s voice jars you from the barrage of messages on your phone. His gaze is leveled on your face, noting the worried frown that pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Sorry someone was texting me-“ You try to wave him off, afraid that he can see the texts on the screen of your phone.

I don't want him to find out this way. Not by glancing over my shoulder and seeing the manic, overprotective texts from our daughter.

“They were what?” He looks down at the phone in your hand confused, but you lock the screen.

“Oh right. Sorry I forgot that you’ve  been living under a rock the past forty years. It’s kinda like sending a message, instantaneously so you can talk to someone else.”

You really didn't feel like explaining texting and Wi-fi at the moment with him. You were too worried about the introduction between Ben and Rosemary that was looming over you like a guillotine.

But he still looks confused.

“I’ll get you a phone, don’t worry.”

There's so much he's missed.

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you know it’s Rosemary.

She's not going to give up.

Ben looks down at it again curious. “Sounds like someone’s trying to get ahold of you.”

“She can wait.”

“She?”

“Friend of mine.” You answer quickly.

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I know.”

The phone buzzes again and you sigh, knowing that the longer you ignore her, the worse it will be. And the last thing you needed was for Rosemary to show up and kick down the door of your apartment with Lou in tow.

“Impatient isn’t she?” Ben comments, noting how the phone continues to vibrate.

“Yeah she is. She’s also incredibly stubborn.”

“Huh sounds like someone I know.” The edge of his mouth quirks in a familiar smile that makes you wish that you had the courage to tell him.

“You have no idea.”

“So?”

“So?”

“Are you going to answer her?”

“I should.” You press your lips together trying to think of a way to bring this up. “Ben I have to tell you something.”

“What?” He brushes back your hair, tenderly stroking his finger along your skin and trailing warmth with his caress. It distracts you for a moment.

“Well after that night we spent together I-um- I stopped being a hero.”

How the fuck do I say this?

“Yes I assumed that given what we talked about at the premiere.” He frowns remembering that night.

“And it wasn’t just because I wanted to leave it was because-um- well, I was different.”

How is he going to react? Is he going to be happy? Angry? Upset that we weren't more careful?

“Sweetheart I know you’re different, that’s why I love you.” He’s watching you softly, eyes a light green, filled with more love than you can comprehend.

It makes it difficult to find your words.

“No not like that I was, well, there’s no easy way to say this.” You pause and take Ben’s hand, raising your eyes to his and stroking your thumb over the warm skin. “I left because I was pre-“

Butcher kicks open the front door of your apartment interrupting what you were going to say next. “Good morning lovebirds. Did you kiss and make up yet?” Butcher flashes a salacious grin, eyeing Ben and your close proximity.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” Ben snaps his eyes narrowed at the man standing in the doorway.

“Touchy.” Butcher raises his hands in a sarcastic surrender.

“Why are you here?” You ask turning to look at him.

Could he have chosen a WORSE time to come here? 

Hughie is loitering in the hall behind him as if deciding whether or not to come in. You couldn't blame him. The poor guy looked like a deer in the headlights yesterday when you threw Ben across the room.

Butcher walks into the kitchen straight for the coffeemaker not asking for permission before he pours himself a cup. “Well I found those TNT fucks that your boyfriend was looking for. Thought he’d want to pay them a visit.”

You turn to look at Ben surprised. “You’re going after the twins?”

Ben and you hadn’t spoken about his next move. He’d only talked about his plans to stay with you and hadn’t mentioned anything about going after your old team.

Not that you were against it. You weren't against making them pay for what they did to him. You weren't against making the remaining members wish that they hadn't sold Ben out. Of course, you hadn't said that to Ben. If anything you were going to give it a few days to get settled together before you brought it up. And you certainly weren't going to bring it up in front of Rosemary, who had been less than pleased when you killed Countess, and wouldn't approve of a bloody rampage all over New York. It definitely wouldn't make her like Ben any more than she already did.

"Yeah." Ben's expression darkens as his eyes flick from your face to Butcher. “Where are they?”

“A few hours outside New York. Brought your suit.”

You didn't like how eager Butcher was to help Ben and remember what Legend said about how Butcher liked killing supes. It made you anxious, because why would Butcher want to help Ben? Was it for the thrill of it? But the last thing you were going to do was leave Ben with a guy who likes killing supes.

Hughie holds up a plastic bag that must contain Ben’s old supe suit and you try not to shudder when you remember the last time you saw him wear it.

“I’ll be a minute.” Ben mutters to you squeezing your hand once before taking the bag and disappearing down the dark hallway towards your bedroom.

But you're not done talking about this with him and as you turn to follow, Hughie steps in front of you.

“Hey I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry."

“About what?” You ask confused.

What does he have to apologize for? He saw Ben and me yelling at each other and saw me throw him across the room. If anything I should be embarrassed about them hearing everything that I shouted at Ben yesterday.

“If I had known what happened between the two of you I would have tried harder to keep Butcher from bringing him here.” Hughie rubs the back of his neck and scrunches up his face sheepishly.

Again, what is he doing hanging around Butcher? Hughie seems to care about other people. And Butcher just seems like-

Your eyes skate to where Butcher is drinking from his cup of coffee unamused. And Butcher is just an asshole.

"It's okay. I'm glad you did. I've been holding on to some stuff for a really long time and Ben has been too. I’m glad that we got to talk things out.”

“So you're okay now?" Hughie raises an eyebrow. "He didn't-“ He pauses as if he's uncomfortable saying what comes next and you try to understand why.

“Didn't?” You ask confused.

“He's kinda rough I was worried that he would-“

He thought that Ben would hurt me.

“Ben might seem a little gruff, but not with me. He's never-“ You stop remembering the premiere and adjust your sentence. “He wouldn't hurt me. And if anything you saw that I can handle him pretty well.” You can't help, but smile and nod your head back towards the couch.

“Yeah. That was intense.” Hughie cracks a nervous smile.

“Yeah” You laugh awkwardly. “ I didn’t mean to lose my shit like that. I’m usually pretty good at controlling myself-"

“Is that what happened to Countess?” Butcher interrupts.

You blink at him surprised. “Yeah. She tried to kill me and she- she said a few things not worth repeating. I didn’t go there with the intention of killing her, I actually just wanted to talk but it got out of hand.”

"What exactly are your powers anyway? Vought's files said you were like him." Butcher nods his head in the direction of where Ben disappeared to.

"I am." The lie is easy. It was the secret that you kept for eighty years, the secret that only Ben and Rosemary knew. Because you knew that particular power made you different than other supes. You had been disappointed to learn that Rosemary's power also made her different than the usual roster of other supe powers that you had encountered in your lifetime. And it made you worry about Lou. Rosemary and you were waiting for the day that Lou's powers manifested and you hoped that Lou didn't have any.

Butcher's eyes narrow like he doesn't believe you, but you shrug it off.

“But I’m going to go check on him so I’ll be right back.”

And you leave your kitchen before Butcher and Hughie can ask you anything else.

When you walk in through the door of your bedroom, Ben is changing into his suit. He’s wearing the dark pants, but the top half of his suit is aying on your bedspread, and that means that you can see every perfect indention of muscle on Ben’s torso. 

You'd seen him without a shirt before, obviously, many times, but each time it did the same thing. Again you curse him for looking this good after being trapped in a Russian lab for 40 years.

Did they let him work out there? Was the lab the same place Ivan Drago trained before he faced Rocky? How is any of this fair?

Your cheeks warm and your heartbeat thuds loudly in your chest as you gaze at him, so you turn back to close the door behind you to clear your head.

"You also get me pretty excited when you take your shirt off Sweetheart." Ben smirks at you with a wink as he picks up the top half of his suit, sliding it on over his head, but his helmet is nowhere to be seen.

Guess he wasn't trying to hide anymore.

You stand there for a minute watching him. "Are you sure about Butcher?"

"What about him?"

"I don't know. I don't understand why he's helping you with all of this-"

Ben goes silent and he turns towards his toolbelt, gun, and knife on your bed.

"What did you promise him?" You take a step towards Ben, to catch his eye.

He doesn't answer immediately, instead he buckles his toolbelt around his waist. "He wants me to go after Homelander. He said that he would help me find what's left of our old team if I do."

"Homelander?" You sputter. "You're kidding right?"

"What? He looks like a pussy-"

You could see some of the macho version of Soldier Boy beginning to unfold from the man who stood in front of you and you didn't like it. It wasn't that you hated the protective side of Ben, the side that always made you feel safe, it was the other side, the side that beat others into submission after they had surrendered that you didn't like.

"Do you even know anything about him?"

Honestly you didn't know too much about Homelander either, just that he was Vought's new golden boy and seemed incredibly shallow, not to mention each time you saw an interview or a picture it unnerved you.

Homelander's eyes were cold, lifeless, and empty. Each time he smiled you could see a glimmer of something dark behind them.  You had seen it before, seen it in the eyes of supes like Liberty who believed that nothing could stop them, supes who believed that they were gods and everyone else was below them.

"Doesn't matter. Butcher thinks that whatever the fuck is in my chest will wipe him out."

"And you believe him?"

"Maybe-"

"Ben."

"What? You don't think I'm strong enough to take him?" His entire body turns back to look at you, something dark lurking behind his eyes that reminds you of the day you stood between him and Noir.

"That's not what I said. It's not about being strong enough to kill Homelander, it's about you trusting Butcher. You don't know anything about him and he's using you to live out his fantasy of killing Homelander. Legend told me that Butcher has this thing about killing supes and he has a bone to pick with Homelander because he did something to Butcher's wife."

"So?"

You shake your head in frustration, trying to get Ben to understand what you were saying. "Ben please, listen to me. I don't care about Homelander, I don't care about Butcher, I care about you-"

Going after Homelander was crazy. The one thing you knew about him, was how Vought continued to stress how indestructible he was, the exact same thing they had said about Ben and you. But leaving Ben with Butcher was crazier. Butcher didn't give a damn about Ben, he was just using him to do the one thing that he couldn't do himself.

"I know that." Ben sighs. "I care about you too."

"And I don't think it's a good idea for you to be doing everything he says-"

"I'm not doing everything he says. We have a deal. And if this is about you being upset with me going after our team, you can't talk me out of it."

“No Ben-“

“Fuck whatever Butcher says about Homelander. I have to do this.” Ben's jaw tightens, eyes flashing with anger as he remembers what happened in Nicaragua.

“Ben-“

“You weren’t there when it happened. You don't understand what they did to me, what it was like to be in that fucking lab! And I’m not going to let those incestuous fucks get away with it.” His teeth grind down together. "I'm not going to let any of them get away with it."

The air in your bedroom begins to get unnaturally warm, a orangish tinge beginning to peak through Ben's suit as his new power begins to manifest.

“Ben!” You shout, stepping towards him and laying your hands against his chest to snap him out of it. Your hands burn as they press against his suit, but you don’t let go of him.

He blinks a few times, gaining control, the brightness fading as he does so, but you don't drop your hands from over his heart.

“What?”

“I know.” You say gently.

“Huh?”

“I know you have to do this and I’m not going to try and stop you from going after our team. They deserve to pay for it. I was going to say that I’m going with you.”

“No.” His answer is immediate.

“What?”

“No.”

“What happened to not wanting to leave me?”

“I don’t want to leave you. But I have to, just for a few hours. I’ll come back I promise-“ Ben's hand falls on your waist, right where your shirt meets the top of your sweatpants, allowing you to feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric.

“No. The last time I let you go alone Countess told me you died and then you got taken away to Russia. I'm not letting you go alone."

The fear of him getting taken all over again squeezes your heart in your chest, because yes, maybe Butcher wanted Ben to go after Homelander, but what would Butcher do when Ben finished the job? Would he send him back to Russia? You weren't going to sit around and find out, you were going to make sure no one did that to Ben ever again. And if that meant him not leaving your sight, you were okay with that.

Ben continues to frown at you, before an odd look crosses his face. "Did you kill her?"

"Yes." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I didn't mean to, she said a few things and she killed me-"

“She killed you?” Ben growls and he begins to lift the bottom of your shirt to find the scar forgetting himself, but you drop your hand over his to stop him.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s dead now.”

She might be dead, but what she said rings in your ears and the proud smile Countess had flashes through your mind. The triumphant look on her face after she told you why she had sex with Ben. The same look that was on her face, before you ripped her head off.

"What did she say?" Ben asks, but then he realizes after the question passes through his lips, noting your expression and remembering what you yelled at him yesterday. "Sweetheart-“

"It's okay-" You shake your head to dissipate the memory of Countess.

“No it isn’t.” Ben's hand cups your face. “What she said wasn’t true. That night meant everything to me. It wasn’t a mistake and it wasn’t disappointing in any way. Believe me.” His thumb brushes against your cheek and you lean into his touch.

“I do. I shouldn't have let what she said get to me and I shouldn’t have believed her. I can't remember the last time I lost control. I hadn't used my powers in a while-"

"Which is why you shouldn’t come."

“I don’t want you to get taken or hurt." Your hand comes up to hold his hand against your cheek.

Ben rolls his eyes at you, cracking a smile. "I won't get hurt."

"It doesn't matter what you say. I'm going."

His smile drops. “No.”

You really couldn't figure out why Ben was doing this. You both had powers and you trained together. You had been on "missions" for Vought before, and before everything happened, you were going to be in Nicaragua with him. So why was this any different?

“Why not?  I’m just as strong as you. I’m just as indestructible-“

Ben pulls his hand from your face. “But you’re not indestructible! You die."

"I come back-"

"Have you thought that maybe I don't want you to come because I hate watching you die?" He snaps angrily.

"What?"

"Do you have any idea what that’s like for me?" He shouts eyes blazing through the soft light in the bedroom. “Hearing your heartbeat stop, watching you take your last breath, knowing that there’s absolutely nothing I can do?”

Whatever thoughts or words you were going to say shrivel up on the tip of your tongue. You'd never thought about it like that before. You'd thought that your ability to come back to life after would have reassured him.

He knows what my powers are. He knows what I can do-

"I hate feeling fucking helpless and every time you get hurt I’m reminded that I can’t help you! That I’m not strong enough to protect you!” He sits down on your bed, hands clenching into fists where they rest on his thighs.

"Ben-"

“When you came with me I promised that I would be strong for both of us, that I would always protect you and every time you die it just makes me feel like I’ve failed!” His gaze is leveled at you feet.

You inhale sharply with his confession. It was what he promised you the night he told you to say no to Howard, the night that you thought he was asking you in his own way to marry him. You could remember the promise, remember the way he held you close to him, eyes wide and vulnerable when he spoke it to you. That night anything had seemed possible. And despite everything that happened with Countess, Ben had never broken that promise to you. He had protected you, he had been strong for you when you needed him to be.

You remember the night of your brother's funeral when he drove all night to be there for you, and how he continued to show up in your life when you were having a hard time as if he seemed to know when you needed him the most.

"Ben-” You try again, this time a little softer.

"Do you have any idea what it’s like to exist in those thirteen fucking seconds wondering if you’re going to come back or not? If that’s the last time I’ll ever see you smile? If you’ll ever open your eyes and look at me ever again?" This time he raises his green eyes to yours and you see a lifetime of emotion reflected in them. It's the same look he had when you woke up after you took a bullet for him and died for the first time. He had yelled at you for it, told you never to do it again, shouted that he could take care of himself and he didn't need you to protect him.

And you suddenly understand, you understand why Ben knew it was thirteen seconds, why he was the first one to ever tell you that it was thirteen seconds. Because each time he counted hoping that you would come back to him.

He doesn’t say anything just continues to sit on the end of the bed, dropping his eyes to the floor again, and wringing his hands together.

You sit down next to him, the bed dipping beneath you, and reach for his hands, but Ben has other plans. He grabs your waist and pulls you up into his lap so you're straddling his thighs. You don't have time to be shocked, because Ben presses his face into your neck and brings both of his arms around your torso to hold you to him. Deep down you know that this is the opposite of taking it slow, but you can't bring yourself to push him away. Because again he was showing the vulnerable side of himself that made you want to comfort him, the side of him that he hid from you for so long.

"You’ve seen me die before.” You breathe, running your hand up and down his back in a soothing motion.

“Doesn’t mean it gets any easier.” He mumbles and you feel his lips brush against the half moon shaped scar over your heart, a reminder of the bullet you took for him all those years ago.“I thought I lost you that day.” Ben mutters into your shirt. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had-“

“You didn’t.”

“But I could have. “I hated that you did it. That you were willing to die for me. You’re worth so much more than I am-"

“The fact that you think that means the opposite.” You run your fingers through his hair, feeling his arms tighten around your hips. “Your father may have made you believe that, but I don't. You’re not a failure Ben. And you could never disappoint me.”

“I already did.”

“Hey we’re moving past that. And I’m sure that I’ve disappointed you plenty.”

“Never.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You snort, and for a moment, you think Ben is going to look up at you and smile, but his face stays buried against your chest.

“Hmm.”

You wait for a moment, stroking your fingers through his hair. “How do you think I felt when they told me you were gone? That I’d never see you again?"

“You were angry at me-“

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t devastated when they told me you died. I thought that the last thing I’d ever said to you was that you were like your dad and that I regretted having you in my life.”

That was something that you had to live with over the past forty years, because even though what Ben did hurt you, you hated that the last time you saw him was like that. You hated the thought that Ben died believing that you didn't care about him.

Maybe in some ways he did die believing that. All those years at that lab weren't easy for him.

 “I-“

“I swear if you say ‘I deserved it’  again I will kill you.” You say pulling his face up to yours and frowning at him.

“I won’t.”

"Good. Now are you done coming up with ridiculous reasons why I can't come with you to see our old friends? Because I'm genuinely curious to know if they're still pretending that they're not fucking."

Ben cracks a smile. "Yes. But only if you promise me that you'll stay behind me."

"Can't." You start to get off of him, but Ben tightens his grip preventing you from leaving.

"Why not?"

"Because I've never broken a promise to you and I'm not going to start now."

"I just don't want you to get hurt." Ben sighs.

"I know. And I don't want to lose you again." You press your forehead against his, threading your fingertips in his dark hair.

You weren't sure what it would do to you if you did lose him, if he walked out of your life or if he went by himself to face your old teammates and vanished. You had been destroyed when everything fell apart the first time, and you knew this time would be worse if it happened. You could feel it in every fiber of your being, just like somewhere deep down you could feel that what was happening now between him and you was different somehow, that it had changed, but not in a bad way.

"I don't want to lose you either Sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too."

And when Butcher beats his fist against your bedroom door a few minutes later, you're still in his arms, allowing him to hold you close and allowing yourself to begin to trust him again.

A/N: Sorry it took me a long time to get this one out! I had a hard time writing this chapter, and honestly it's still not my favorite, but big things are coming!!!

Thank you so much for reading!! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

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@daisy-the-quake

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 4

<;-----part 3, part 5----->

A/N: Making these a little bit longer for you all, enjoy!

Everyone in the Playcare that I walked past stared at me hard. I tried my best to ignore their glances at myself. I didn’t think that I looked that bad, but when I went into the restroom, I saw how wet my clothes looked, even though I did my best to dry myself. My hair looked a little rough as well. No way was I going to work looking like this; I needed to go back home fast and shower. I exited the bathroom and saw Sarah, CatNaps helper. I decided to talk with her first before heading home. 

“Hey Sarah.” She slowly turned towards me and moved her eyes up and down my body before slowly forming a smile. “Haha, what happened to you?” “Oh, just the aftermath of washing DogDay. How did it go with CatNap?” She took out her phone, snapped a picture of me and started texting while answering my question. “It was like fine, I guess. I don’t really wash him ever, just spray him with his lavender scent.” “Okay...well hey when you see him tell him I want an apology for what happened earlier.” I couldn’t tell if she was listening to me or not because she just continued to text on her phone. “Yeah, sure.” I rolled my eyes and started to head over to the cable car before saying something else to her. “Oh, and could you please tell DogDay that I’ll be back later? I gotta go home quick.” “Sure whatever.” I’m not sure how she got hired but I needed to hurry home before Playcare opened. 

--------------- 

I hurried home and threw the wet clothes into the washer and showered. The warm water felt nice, and I no longer felt cold. I finished showering and threw my clothes into the dryer. I had until the dryer stop to redo my hair, should be enough time. The dryer stopped just as I finished my hair. I went to take out the clothes and they were nice and warm. I got dressed and was about to head out before I realized something. I was supposed to smell like DogDay, but I didn’t have vanilla scented softener or soap. Crap. I didn’t want to get in trouble for not having a scent on me, so I decided to use strawberry poundcake perfume. I grabbed my nametag and headband and quickly headed out the door. 

--------------- 

“Wait don’t leave!” I called out but it was too late. The cable car doors had shut and started moving down to Playcare. I groaned in frustration. It took at least sixteen minutes in total for the cable car to go down and come back up. I looked at my phone and saw that I had five minutes to get down into Playcare. I had no choice, I had to take the stairs down. I sighed and quickly headed towards the stairs. 

I underestimated how many stairs there were to get down. I saw how many flights of stairs I had to take. It looked like at least eighteen flights. “Oh boy.” I started making my way down the stairs as fast as I could. The whole time I went down I kept hoping that I wouldn’t fall. Today was just not my day. I was on the last few sets of stairs when I somehow missed a step and fell down a set of stairs. I hated today. The fall didn’t hurt really but I did feel sore. I groaned and slowly got back up and decided to take the last two sets step by step. 

--------------- 

I opened the door that led into Playcare and saw that the lights had turned on. Time for the kids to wake up. I walked over to the Home Sweet Home building, in need of some pain medication. I was about to walk into the building but got scooped up by DogDay. “Angel! You’re back!” He hugged me a held me tightly. “H-hey DogDay!” My body was in a little pain so a hug from someone strong was not feeling the best. DogDay set me down and sniffed into the air. “Hm, I’m smelling something new.” He continued to smell the air and then leaned down and started sniffing me. I hope he wouldn’t be upset that I wasn’t in ‘full uniform.’ “Angel, you smell good! What scent are you wearing?” “It’s called ‘Strawberry Poundcake.’ When I went home and washed my clothes, I forgot that it’s supposed to smell like you, so I just sprayed my perfume.” “I love it!” Good, my boss wasn’t upset with me.  

DogDay asked why I was heading into Home Sweet Home, and I told him what happened, and he started to inspect my body. “Are you okay? Did you get a bruise? You’re not bleeding are you?!” I couldn’t help but smile at him. He was a good friend for being so concerned. I took his paws, held them in my hands, and looked up at him. “I’m okay, my body just feels a bit sore so I was going to see if I could get some pills for the pain.” DogDay sighed in relief and told me how to get to the infirmary. “When you’re done in there head over to the school, that’s where we’ll be at today.” I nodded and went inside Home Sweet Home. 

--------------- 

I got some medicine and started walking towards the school. In the corner of my eye, I saw Damian outside drawing with chalk with CraftyCorn. I walked over to both of them and said hello. “Hey Ms. Y/N.” Damian spoke out. CraftyCorn just shyly waved hi to me. Her voice box was having problems, so they took it out to fix it. “Whatcha doing out here? Shouldn’t you be inside with me and DogDay?” “Yeah, but I did well on an assignment, so Miss Delight gave me a pass to miss the first ten minutes of class. CraftyCorn will keep an eye on me.” He went back to drawing and CraftyCorn gave me a look that said, ‘He’s in good hands.’ “Okay well I guess I’ll see you inside in a bit.” He nodded and continued to draw as I headed inside. 

I found DogDay and he grabbed my hand and led me into the classroom. “Why hello there Y/N! DodDay here has told me so much about you!” The teacher who I’m guessing was Miss Delight spoke so cheerfully to me. She looked like a tall Barbie doll. “Nice to finally meet you Miss Delight. DogDay has also told me a lot about you.” She shook my hand and then turned to face the class. She clapped her hands to get the children's attention. “Alright class listen up! We have a new person joining us here today so please give a warm welcome to Miss Y/N.” In unison the kids said, “Hi Angel!” Miss Delight stared at them in confusion but me and DogDay laughed. 

--------------- 

Me and DogDay sat in the back of the classroom while we watched Miss Delight teach the kids about multiplication. The door to the classroom opened and in walked Damian. CraftyCorn was right behind him and stood in the doorway. “Ah welcome Damian! Thank you for looking after him Crafty!” CraftyCorn nodded and smiled before closing the door and walking away. Damian took his seat at the front and Miss Delight continued with her lecture. 

--------------- 

The bell rang and it was now lunchtime. The kids lined up and DogDay and I led them to the cafeteria. “You feel better Angel?” “Yes, I am thanks for asking.” DogDay smiled and we continued to lead the children into the cafeteria. 

As we entered the cafeteria, I spotted KickenChicken. He started walking towards us but then DogDay picked me up and started heading out of the room. “C’mon Angel let’s get some fresh air, plus there’s something I need to tell you.” I didn’t argue with him and let him carry me outside.  

We made it outside and he sat me down and sat on his hind legs. “You know the little girl wearing the overalls today? Her name is Darla, and I was told that today is her last day here in Playcare.” When DogDay spoke, he sounded a little upset. “That’s good, isn’t it?” “Oh yes, it is Angel, but it always makes me sad when someone from my group gets adopted.” That’s understandable. He’s been with them forever and now they get to leave, and he stays here, forever. “Well, I say you go back inside and spend as much time with her as you can today, and we’ll worry about her leaving tomorrow. I don’t want to see you sad right now, especially since you’re with your Angel.”  

I laughed playfully and DogDays ears perked up. “Haha. You’re right. No need to feel sad when I’m with you.” We looked at each other smiling before DogDay cleared his throat and stood up. “Wanna head back in?” “In a moment, just need to re tie my shoes.” DogDay nodded before saying “Don’t be too long Angel!” and he went back inside the school. My face felt a little warm when he said that. I might need to get my temperature checked later. I tied up my shoes and got up to head back inside before I spotted the drawing that Damian did. It was DogDay, me and him all holding hands. Above us was the word ‘My Family.’  

A/N: Next part will include more of DogDay and you talking. Thank you for the comments in the last part!!

[81folklore]

little life - SARGEANT

pairings: logan sargeant x secret!reader (fc: chazlyn yvonne)

summary: logan is spotted liking and following an anonymous instagram account, a few sweet posts follow

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: starsandsun is your username! and nala is the cat! i love this song so much and this idea has been rotting in my brain!!

authors note 2: kinda ran out of pictures but i dont want to make a part 2 (im going to try leaving this in one part) so its a bit rushed and not really how i wanted,, i hope you guys enjoy and as always my requests are open!!

masterlist

posted 15 june 2023

starsandsun

liked by user3, user62, logansargeant and 936 others

🐈🧺☀️

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user3 my favorite account!!

posted 26 july 2023

starsandsun

liked by user8, user11, user00 and 1,142 others

smiles from books and beaches 🌊

view comments

user11 wheres the dress from?

starsandsun wildroseandsparrow !!

logansargeant ☀️☀️

posted 3 august 2023

liked by user63, logansargeant, user05 and 1,218 others

scrapbook of summer memories 🎀���‍♀️🩰🌷

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user05 10 10 10 across the board🌟

starsandsun 🥹🩷

(sorry for the typo in the user🫶)

logansargeant and starsandsun added to their stories

seen by oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 306,261 others

logansargeant replies:

alex_albon date night??

user72 WHERE IS THIS MAN

starsandsun

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, user10 and 3,172 others

feeling prettier everyday🌸🍀🎀

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logansargeant i thought it said to not pick the lavender☹️

starsandsun but its pretty💜💜

logansargeant like you!! this comment has been deleted

lilymhe pretty pretty girl🌟

starsandsun ahh thank you lovely🥹💫

starsandsun

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, user71 and 5,271 others

i think i like this little life🌊🐈🌅🦌

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logansargeant my favorite lady💫🌷

starsandsun my pretty boy☀️☀️

logansargeant missing you and nala😕

starsandsun we miss you too!! we always leave a seat for you🩷🩷

user111 oh my god theyre so cute😭😭☹️☹️

user78 they fit eachother so well :’)

user40 shes so cute what☹️

lilymhe im so obsessed w you

starsandsun i love yooooouuu🌟🌟🧚‍♀️

oscarpiastri can i see the deers??

starsandsun come visit and we can all go see them☺️☺️

logansargeant and we’ll take you too the beach!!!

user62 oh theyre already my faves

[slttygeto]

don't be so reckless, don't break my heart —MITSUYA T.

synopsis: an argument with your childhood best friend leads to sweet confessions in the middle of the night.

tags: fluff, confessions, childhood best friend! mitsuya, fem!reader, arguments (so, angst if you squint a little), mentions of the reader being in a panicked state, mentions of mitsuya having injuries and bl00d all over him.

word count: 4,2k

note: thank you to the amazing @jean-kirsteins-real-gf for commissioning me! I enjoyed writing this piece a lot :) what a way to start the year! happy 2024 <3!!

Your first meeting with Mitsuya is a memory that is always present in the forefront of your head. It isn’t something that you could easily ignore or brush off, how such a sweet boy who was about your age had a baby to his chest and a kid younger than you both holding his hand so tightly you could see their knuckles turning white. What a rare sight it was, for a boy so young to guide his sister (after you heard her address him as big brother), the gentle tone to his voice, the carefulness when holding the baby to his chest—his kind gesture seals the deal for you.

Shy and scared as a shrinking violet, your teary eyes face away from the two boys who had pushed you off the swing. Young you was never able to speak her mind so bravely, so freely—yet you watch as Mitsuya—(a total stranger at the time), come to your rescue with a baby wrapped closely to him. It is ridiculous the way he fights and scares them off so easily. At first, they mock him for his soft features, for his lavender eyes and for the tiny human being latching onto him. Yet a single kick to one of the boys’ stomach is enough to send chills down your spine. That looks painful, you think.

As you wipe your eyes, you are finally able to look away from the bullies scurrying away with their tails tucked between their legs, facing your knight in shining armor. Your savior. What do you say in such situations? What do you do? You forget to stand up and dust yourself, only realizing your position when your neck starts to hurt from craning it to look up at your hero.

“Are you okay?” he presents a warm hand which you gladly hold, and he pulls you up with so much ease as you wipe away the excess tears on your cheeks. “I’ve seen them around here, never been nice to anyone.” He continues to talk and you continue to give silent nods as a response. At one point, he questions your ability to speak and your face heats up.

“I’m just…”

“Shy?” The slight to his head, the sweet smile—the crush you developed for the boy was all too expected with how nice he was to you.

As the years pass by, the friendship the two of you have developed turned into something that none of you could quite decipher—not that you wanted to. Strangely, you enjoyed the confusion that paints his friends’ faces as you walk up to him, scold him for missing lunch, for not answering your calls—and he doesn’t blush nor does he shy away from returning your hugs, even more passionately than the way you almost tackle him to the ground. His arms have grown stronger than when you were kids, and the way he smells has become so sweet…so intoxicating—you feel dizzy when you pull away from him, unable to look him in the eye for the next 30 seconds as you listen to whatever lame joke Draken has to say about the two of you.

Unbeknownst to you, the boy remembers the day he saw you as though it was yesterday as well. Pretty girl crying on the playground, heart thrumming in his chest when he saw the tears painting your face—he wasn’t in Toman at the time, wasn’t even a thing to begin with. He lies to himself and says that his brotherly instincts kick in when he saw you, that the protectiveness stems from the fact that he would’ve done the same if it were one of his two little sisters. Nevertheless, whatever he was telling his stubborn brain would not go through. He hears you sniffle and helps you up, gives you a tissue to clean yourself and even questions your ability to speak—when you part your lips, your soft voice is what seals the deal for him at the time.

At the time, developing a crush could be from something as simple as saying hi a bit too excitedly or in Mitsuya’s case, the way you had always been nice to other kids on the playground. You weren’t that talkative, but you played with kids on the swing, built sandcastles with them—until those two boys bullied you and the lavender boy knew he had to do something about it.

Watching you grow was a privilege. In Mitsuya’s eyes, having you was perfect. Knowing you, growing with you, embracing you in his arms—you’ve become more beautiful, your eyelashes brush over your cheeks when you blink and your lips pout instead of wobbling when you get sad. Your eyes still hold the same amount of warmth in them as that summer day he met you. You smell as sweet as a jasmine, handle his little sisters as though they are your own, delicate fingers brushing their hair, fixing their bangs, prepping their meals—you treat him and his family with something that feels so special but he would hate to be falsely reading between the lines.

Empathy and kindness have always been one of your traits, you put other people first and although Mitsuya loved it when someone realized just how much of an amazing human being you were, he hated seeing you get taken advantage of. So nice, so sweet—an angel.

You are present when Toman becomes a thing, celebrate alongside the first few members of the biker gang the birth of something so small yet so significant (with a future so big, nobody could ever foresee it). However, violence was never your thing. And so a frown sits heavy on your face whenever you see small scratches on Mitsuya’s face, remind yourself to scold him later for the bruise on his jaw—how would he explain it to his sisters? They’re probably worried sick about him!

“It’s me, can you open up?” it is a rainy summer night, your favorites. You are wearing light pajama pants and a tank top as you approach the entrance door with your heart beating in your throat. At around 11:32PM, soft knocks come to your door. You don’t move from the couch at first. Maybe they’ve mistaken the property for theirs.

Until a second round of knocks come in, and you hear the muffled voice and—wait, you know that voice! As you rush to undo the locks, nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the scene awaiting you.

Mitsuya Takashi was everything yet nothing—a leader, an older brother and a best friend, but when he comes to you so late at night with bruises and cuts all over his face—purple and red knuckles, the bones almost visible, he hisses at the feeling of the alcohol against his wounds. Tears welling up in his eyes, the sniffles--you realize how utterly small and vulnerable he is, sitting on your red couch with legs that would not rest. His limbs shake and his head hurts, you doubt that he has eaten anything all day and he watches as you sigh and rearrange the first aid kit before making your way to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounds harsh, the softness to it no longer there after having yelled so much during yet another one of Toman’s fights. You give no response. You don’t need his apologies, you do not need words right now—however, starting a fight was the last thing on your mind, and clearly not what Mitsuya was able to handle in such state.

“It’s alright,” you say as you make your way back to where he was and place food in front of him. Hot and delicious, the smell alone is enough to make his mouth water and he digs in with no regard to his wounds—you hear him hiss as he pulls the chopsticks away from his lips and for the first time ever, you give a small chuckle.

Mitsuya smiles at this, a little relieved that you weren’t that mad at him. However, he sees the way you sit and face away from him, how your eyes trail longer on the uninteresting, empty road out there rather than his face. This was unlike you. You were never one to avoid eye contact with him, having openly admitted that you find solace in his lavender eyes and his gentle stare. Clearly, something was wrong.

“Are you angry with me?” It is not a surprise that the emotionally intelligent man was able to pick up on the subtle hints you’ve thrown his way about your sour mood, and you suck in your lips for a bit before finally mustering up the courage to face him. Your eyes are tired, a deep frown sitting heavy on your face and painting your features in a darker light than usual. One that has the wounded man’s heart breaking for a bit.

“Only worried,” you want to say more, Mitsuya fixing his posture to look at you encourages you to do so. “Do you have to do this?” you whisper the question so softly, so afraid that someone in the empty apartment beside Mitsuya would hear. You don’t know why you are so afraid of being heard, perhaps because you know you are overstepping into a territory that wasn’t yours—something you’ve never had the chance to experience—Toman, the community, the people in it. They all meant so much to the guy sitting next to you, wouldn’t it be insulting to ask him if he has to put his life on the line for them every time?

Upon hearing those words, a sigh leaves the guy’s lips and you feel like sinking into the couch. Conversing with Mitsuya was easy, it felt natural and smooth—why was this topic so anxiety inducing then?

“You’ve been there… you know, when it all started.” His words serve as a reminder of the day it all started, the joy on everyone’s faces when Mitsuya handed them the old Toman uniforms. You’ve seen it, how dedicated all of them were. You were understanding—but this was too much.

“I have but—Takashi, this is ridiculous,” you turn to face him and Mitsuya’s eyes flicker down to your pouty lips before staring back at your eyes. He hates seeing you so upset.

“I know, I know…” his hand slides towards your own and you feel electricity through your body when you feel his touch, the way his fingers interlace with yours and his thumb brushes over the skin of the back of your hand. “I just have to and plus, kinda needed that beating as warm up.”

“Huh?” you stare at him confused, pushing him to continue.

“Toman’s been involved in something a bit nasty,”

“But you guys are used to nasty, right?” there’s nervousness in your voice.

“Yeah but this is… This is next level,” when Mitsuya leans forward with his elbows on his knees, the serious look on his face almost sends you spiraling.

“Who?”

“Hm?”

“Who are you fighting?” You’re fighting off high levels of anxiety as he keeps you waiting for a few seconds before replying.

“Tenjiku.”

“Tenji—“ you choke on your spit, unable to finish your sentence out of pure shock. “Tenjiku! You are fighting Tenjiku? No, no no no—you’re not,” you’ve grown agitated at the mention of the name of the gang, and Mitsuya suddenly finds himself unable to calm you down as he normally can.

“Hey, it’s okay we’ve got this, we always do—“

“You always do?!” You repeat, before pointing at his state. “Look at you! You’re barely coming back in one piece, think you can fight Tenjiku?”

“Well excuse you, Toman is also very strong.” Takashi also gets up from the couch, your words having too much of an effect on the usually calm and collected man. As he watches you pace around the living room of your apartment, his hands find themselves in front of his body, reaching towards you in a futile attempt of getting you to calm or sit down. But to no avail. It seems as though the mention of such dangerously reputable biker gang sets you off, and the possibility of what might happen to the man if not careful enough sends you spiraling down faster with each short inhale you take.

“That’s—what? A thousand men against a hundred? Don’t be ridiculous Takashi.”

“How am I being ridiculous? You know Toman,” his eyebrows are furrowed and his body stops moving, indicating that your words were starting to get to him personally. “We are strong, we got this.”

“You always come back beaten up and bloody!” you half yell out exasperated. “You don’t got this if most of your body is black and blue by the time a fight is over!”

The tension in the room has grown so thick. It’s unusual given your somewhat stable friendship with the man. Slight disagreements happened here and there over things that you could easily brush off and say ‘yes, I was wrong and you were right,’ or simply ignore it and pretend it never happened. But as your voice gets louder, and you show more and more evidence of how upset you are, it’s clear as day that ‘slight’ wouldn’t describe the situation accurately. You were having a full blown argument with Mitsuya, and it still hasn’t sunk in yet.

Mitsuya can hear his heart beat in his chest, he feels his ears heating up with the amount of negative feelings he was experiencing towards this—towards you being so against Toman winning. Did you really not believe in him? Were you faking being supportive this entire time?

“You know I’m still going to go and fight alongside them, right?” The tone Takashi uses with you is so unusual that you feel your eyes brimming with tears straight away. Cold and indifferent, two things you never thought you could associate with how the man felt for you.

“Well don’t come to my place for me to clean you up. Find someone else.”

“I will.” He doesn’t wait for you to open the door for him, doesn’t say goodnight as he usually does. He doesn’t even slam the door as he leaves. He is cold and distant as he walks further and further away from you, from the argument. Reality sets in and the heavy weight of your words and reactions to his announcement come flashing back like a short movie made to embarrass you, make you feel guilty.

“Fuck.”

--

“Mitsuya! You’re distracted!” Another punch lands on the lavender hair’s jaw, sending him flying into the ground with a loud thud. Although his injuries aren’t as bad as half of Toman’s, his disorganized state is sending most of his division members into a panicked state. He was never like this.

“Ugh--!” Before he can stand up, he is being kicked repeatedly in the guts until blood spills out of his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to roll over and away from whoever’s attacking him to avoid another harsh blow to his body. He gets on one knee with an arm around his middle, protecting his injuries and he coughs out blood before letting his wobbly legs help him stand up straight.

“Shit—sorry,” his hand wipes at the blood on his lips. He gets into a fighting stance and immediately, the look in his eyes changes into something fiercer, more passionate. He hates that the argument with you is the only thing on his mind. Your words, your tone, even the way you haven’t reached out to him in a couple of days. He hates fighting with you, despises the fact that maybe you were right, and that Tenjiku are beating them up. But one glance at his division members—at Toman, it reminds him that the roars of victory when the fight ends, the tears of joy. The pain in his body could never compare to the happiness and satisfaction of being in this gang, his second family. However, he cannot wait for everything to be over, and for you two to make up.

--

The universe has a strange way of showing that two people are meant to be. As Mitsuya makes his way back to his apartment, several groans escape his lips as he drags his bloodied and beaten up body up the stairs. He preferred going to yours because there were less stairs but…It looks like it wasn’t an option now. As his hand twists the knob of his door, he is fully prepared to see a mortified baby sitter asking him what exactly had happened—but instead, he sees something else. Or rather someone.

Earlier that night, things were a bit messy for you. Feeling as though you have been punched repeatedly in the guts wasn’t an enjoyable feeling—the nausea amplified by your shallow breathing, your nostrils hurting from the harsh cold air and your throat dry as a desert as your body refuses to swallow, instead sending you into an anxious state as it forgets to let the oxygen into your lungs. You choke as you get away from the window and run to the kitchen to grab some water, you open the tap and let the cold liquid hit your wrists, calm your nerves. You lean against the sink with your elbows propped against the surface and your lips pathetically wobble as tears threaten to spill. You couldn’t handle this anymore.

You were glad that Luna and Mana had gone down to sleep easily, a short story about a princess that wandered around the forest, slipping down a mystery hole into a magical world which she ended up ruling had the girls’ eyes sparkle, yet the tiredness was visible as their under eyes darkened, eyelids heavy and before you knew it—tiny snores resonated through their shared room. You checked on them a couple of times throughout the night, and although the sight of them sleeping so soundly had you place a hand on your chest as muscle memory, your body wanting to show its relief—your brain was running a thousand miles per hour. Takashi—how was he? Would he even make it back? You feel as though you were a bit harsh with him when telling him that you wouldn’t treat his wounds—but his stubbornness, you couldn’t handle it anymore.

There is a crackling noise coming from the fireplace, and you know that the coldness of your body calls for warming up but—but not now, not when Mitsuya wasn’t back home yet, and it was already approaching three in the morning.

As strange as it may seem, the invisible thread connecting the two of you was tugging from both sides and you find yourself staring at the door knob before it starts twisting. When the door swings open and a bloody Mitsuya comes in sight, the first thing that leaves your lips is a defeated “oh” before your feet rush you to the first aid kit you had brought with you from your place.

“What…are you doing here?” Takashi is the first to break the silence as he limps towards the couch. You don’t answer, you gently place him on the cushions before cradling his face in your hands. He doesn’t like the look on your face, how your eyes are brimming with tears and your bottom lip wobbles before you look away to hide the fact that you were very close to bursting into tears.

“I was never going to come.” You admit, but it was obviously a lie. Not with the way you carefully unbutton his uniform top and hand him a bottle of water to keep him hydrated.

“I know,” his voice had gone low, almost ashamed to be in such position.

“Did you at least win?” You whisper as you open the kit and pull out cotton and some disinfectant for his wounds, a bandage for his for his arms and legs. His uniform was ripped, destroyed from being tossed to the ground repeatedly, but the proud smile on his face eases your worries a bit. You miss seeing his lips curl up like that.

“Toman never loses.”

The next few minutes go by in complete silence, with the occasional hiss and groans from the man being treated and your soft apologies. The living room is filled with something so intense, ready to snap at any given moment. When Takashi groans as you press at a certain spot between his ribs, you freeze and look up at him.

“You broke a bone?”

“I figured with how hard I was getting beaten,” he holds his side with a slight wince.

“Takashi…” said man looks down at you, and his eyes soften when he sees that the tears you once held in were finally spilling out. “You’re so reckless, I—you stress me out,” you try to wipe your tears away, but it seems useless. The more tears fall down, the less control you have over your sobs. You are on the verge of a full breakdown and the man sitting before you on the couch can’t help but reach his hands towards you to smooth your hair, push it out of your wet face.

“Hey…hey I’m fine, I’m sorry that I caused you this much stress I just—“

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you cut him off abruptly, moving your hands away from your face and letting him fully cradle your face. “I can’t imagine living without you, Taka,” before your lip could start wobbling again, Takashi’s thumb gently brushes over it and pulls it down.

“You won’t lose me,” he whispers, leaning down to your level. “Ever. I know I get beaten up very often, but I always come back in one piece, don’t I?”

“But what if something happens?” you’re finally letting your worries float to the surface openly. Rather than telling him not to fight like last time, you are now fully admitting that you were anxious about his absence, how much he means to you and how his well being affects your life. “What if—what if you lose, you die and I don’t have you in my life?”

“That wouldn’t be so horrible, hm? I do cause you a lot of stress apparently,” he tries to joke, lift up your mood but you shake your head almost harshly, hands grabbing his wrists.

“I need you with me, in my life. I need you next to me, I wanna be selfish and keep you all to myself, Taka,”

“All to yourself?” His thumb then brushes your cheek, up to your eyebrows before pushing your sweaty strands out of your face. “Sounds like you got something else to say, don’t you?”

His voice isn’t playful, but rather encouraging. His lavender eyes are filled with something so comforting yet so intense. For the first time ever, you feel nervous in his presence.

“That I love you. I’m in love with you, you don’t even know how horrible it feels when I have to treat your cuts and wounds and have to watch you be so careless about something that is so precious to me,” your hands let go of his wrists to cradle his face, mirroring his actions. He melts under your touch, nuzzling into the palm of your hands like a feline craving heat during winter.

“Lucky you, I’d love to have you all to myself too,”

“You do?”

“I do,” he nods and tilts your head up to stare at him. “I have wanted you all to myself for so long, it’s kind of ridiculous. That warm smile,” his other hand traces your lips. “Those gorgeous eyes,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your eyelids. “This pure soul,” his lips then press against your forehead, between your eyebrows. “I’ve wanted you to be all mine for so long, watched myself fall in love with you harder with every moment we spent together. My heart, my soul—they yearned for yours. For your eyes to only stare at me, for those lips to only smile at me—I love you.”

You feel your cheeks heating up with every word, every honeyed sentence leaving his lips like a sweet melody. You can’t bring yourself to say anything in return, not when looking at him seems so difficult, your eyes, chest and whole body feeling hot at the realization that he feels the same.

Takashi was in love with you.

“You made my confession seem so lame,” you break the silence with a sniffle, and your face heats up even more when he starts laughing at your embarrassed state.

“It wasn’t lame at all, my love, my heart is about to burst at your words,”

“Don’t—you’re so comfortable already!” You try to pull away from him when he uses such sweet pet names on you.

“I am the luckiest to be with my best friend, my baby,” he presses his lips against your cheeks with a grin, going in for another kiss when he feels your hot cheeks. “Of course I’d be comfortable.”

Falling for your best friend seemed like the worst possible outcome when you realized you were developing feelings for him, but when he was holding you with so much care and staring at you with such warm eyes—all those worries melted away against the palm of his hand, accepting the love he had for you with open arms and an open heart.

2024: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[hitomisuzuya]

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Aftercare. Fluff. Not smut but tagged as such for a few sentences here and there. Soft Scara

@notyashiro128 requested some Scaramouche aftercare from me via my inbox awhile ago. Bear with me, everyone. I am running on about 3 hours of sleep while I write this. I think quite a few of you guys wanted me to write something like this.

Scaramouche is quite unforgiving in bed. He really lays into you. He is a very aggressively passionate man. And the results would very often show themselves on your body.

However, don't think there weren't those nights where sex with him was soft. You always got such a unique balance between rough sex and soft sex with him.

His aftercare is surprisingly quite tender. This man will go to the moon and back taking care of you.

He will offer to run you a warm bath with salts, soothing oils, and scented bubbles. He was a fan of lavender. Plus, the scent would help you sleep. It why he primarily liked to use it. (Shhh, sometimes it helps him sleep to.)

He would get in the tub with you, put his arms around you from behind and hold you against his chest. He would rub the soothing compounds in the essential oils the heat of the bath water released into your sore muscles.

His kisses would be soft, and doting, his tongue soothing against any inflamed skin from his bite marks. More often than not, it would led to soft, equally as passionate sex. You would be trembling almost breathless in his lap.

Scaramouche is something of a king of massages. I mean, look at his beautiful, gorgeous hands and those drool worthy fingers. You would be on your stomach, pillows propped around you carefully positioned by him. His fingers would knead into your sore muscles. You would melt like butter, sighing in relief as he tended to your sore muscles. Let's just say you would be drooling, practically asleep when he was finished. He was very thorough with his massages.

If you wanted something to eat or drink, he got it for you. It didn't matter what it was, even if he had to go out to get it. And he always came back with some kind of treat, like chocolate. He always grumbled about that, though.

One of his favorite things to do while he waited for you to fall asleep (he always made sure you fell asleep first<3) was to run his fingers tenderly over the bruises and bite marks he'd made. You are a beautiful canvas to be decorated by paints of passion by him.

This man is and always be a cuddler. A clingy little octopus in fact. Prefers to generally be the big spoon. It makes him feel like he is protecting you while you were in a vulnerable state position like sleep. Basically, Fort Knox level protection.

If you wanted to talk, Scaramouche would talk about anything, even if he said he thought the topic was stupid. Please talk to this boy, he loves the sound of your voice. He will indulge you on any topic, even if it was something simple as you seeing a cat today.

He had a feeling he was going to hear the words, "Hunny, can we?" followed by the words cat and keep him soon. And he would relent because you called him Hunny.

Count on Scaramouche stroking your hair if you are resting your head against his chest. It may look like an absentminded gesture while you talked, but it was something enjoyed doing. He loved to hear the soft, content sigh from you as you curled into him more.

Essentially, you are the center of this man's world. He is rude, arrogant, egotistical, self centered, obnoxious. An experience to deal with. And Scaramouche knows this. But damn it, he loves you. And he more than shows it.

His aftercare is further extended into the next morning. If he had to get out of bed before you, and leave your side before you woke up (which he HATED probably more than sweet things), he would leave a little note next to you. Usually, it was a song lyric or maybe a line from a poem that reminded him of you.

You kept every one of them.

Before you fall asleep, you are guaranteed hear him say, "I love you," as he kissed the top of your head.

[xoxochb]

percy jackson master list ۰ ۪۪۫۫ · 🌊

blurbs ✧˖°

. don’t blame me love made me crazy

. I was enchanted to meet you

. you are in love, true love

. but I know I had the best day with you today

. morning loneliness comes around when I’m not dreaming about you

. now he’s thinkin’ ‘bout me every night

. I would fall from grace just to touch your face

. do I love him? do I hate him? I guess it’s up and down

. a band aid and a kiss

. when you aim at the devil make sure you don’t miss!!

. kiss it better? part two

. promises part 2

. pro tip: don’t study with your boyfriend!!

. maroon

. sun kissed

. loverboy and hatergirl

. you drew stars around my scars

. like flowers in your hair

. he was a skater boy, she said ‘see you later, boy’

. she was a girl, he was an idiot

. days blend to one

. the little mermaid

. diet pepsi

. the morning after

. certified music addict

. domesticity

. silver soul

. trick r treat

. little miss clumsy

. I can see you

. hot summer nights, mid july

. ocean lovers

. my good looking boy

. this love is ours

. I walked with you once upon a dream

. infirmary’s favorite patient

. birthday offerings

. that one convo

. sunburnt

. assorted berries

. prettiest eyes (ever seen)

. new york city

. guilty as sin? ꣑ৎ

. wildest dreams ꣑ৎ

. is it a crime to say I still miss you?

. saturdays are for sleeping in (or not) part two

. lavender haze ꣑ৎ

. delicate (isn’t it?) ꣑ৎ

. midnights like this

. inseparable idiot

. polar bears (or are they?)

. short n sweet ꣑ৎ

. types of galaxies

. summer song

. cordiform pizzas just for you!

. hot as hell!

. untitled blurb ꣑ৎ

. horror geek of a girlfriend!

. glitch ꣑ৎ

. ice cube of a girlfriend

. cabin three

. untitled blurb ꣑ৎ

fics ✧˖°

. a moment of warm sun

. looking at you got me thinking nonsense

. all because I liked a boy

. this love left a permanent mark

. to love a soul

. king of my heart

misc (hcs + series) ✧˖°

. sweet tea in the summer

. I’d stop the world and melt with you

. there is thunder in our hearts

. the one (master list) <- authors fav!

. feet on the dashboard, he’s like a poem I wish I wrote!!

. better than the movies (master list)

. random hcs

. untitled untitled 2 untitled 3

. cinnamon girl

. lust for life

. you must like me for me

. that silly tiktok trend

. rainbows, sunshine, and everything nice!

. here comes the sun

. pretty in pink

. wonderland (master list)

[alisonfelixwrites]

masterlist

An overview of my stories. 📚📖

All fanfiction can be found on my wp:

petal (h.s.) 🥀

lucky penny (h.s.) 🍀

red herring (h.s.) 🌶

earned it (h.s.) 🌞

one night stand (h.s. short story) 🧸

invisible string (h.s. short story) ❄️

straight-A (h.s. short story) 📚

Non fanfic on wp:

informed consent (short story + one shots) 🍒

platonic (short story) ⏳️

sweet instigator 🍯

_______________________________________________

muse (h.s. one shots) 🍋

sunlit

-> part 1: in which Eden is freshly graduated and spends her summer visiting her father who lives in Italy, and Harry is the older neighbor she'd told to stay away from

-> part 2: in which Eden returns to Italy after a year and she's not alone, and Harry realises what he's lost

the deal

-> part 1: in which Harry & Claire are both single parents and their little boys are best friends in school, forcing Harry & Claire to be closer than they'd initially like to be - until they strike up a deal

-> part 2: in which Harry & Claire have been together for a year and are navigating being together, being parents, and battling for custody of Atlas

-> part 3: in which the custody battle reaches its peak while Harry & Claire try to move forward in their relationship

something blue

-> link -> in which Harry & Lavender are best man and maid of honor at their best friend's wedding and don't get along whatsoever - which makes planning this wedding very interesting

_______________________________________________

NON FANFIC: informed consent (short story + one shots) 🍒

-> seperate masterlist

[chaos-chloe]

Drunk Pezzy

Summary: A small blurb from Pezzy being drunk...

TW: Drunk people, Drunk actions, alcohol, cursing, established relationship.

“I’m done, no more drinkies for me.” Droid hiccup while sitting on Pezzy’s bed, Puffer and Grizzy chuckled at him.

Puffer and Grizzy were at his desk, Grizzy was sitting in his chair while puffer was standing on his right side with the mouse in his hand.

“Are there speakers on this Pezzy?” Puffer inquired while looking in his settings for something {idr someone lmk}.

Droid got up with the alcohol in his right hand laughing at Pezzy stumbling to lean on the bathroom door/wall to the bathroom. Once he got his bearings somewhat straight, he put his right hand on the door knob and twisted it open. Pezzy didn’t have full control of his body, as he opened the door he fell right with the door. Gravity took control and made him hit the floor, Droid got the door, Grizzy popped up from the chair, as Puffer moved quickly to check on him as if they didn't have a single drink. 

“Oh my god, what the fuck?” Droid stated due to Pezzy falling

“Hey Bella, you might wanna come in here!” Puffer called for his girlfriend 

~

Knock, knock.

“Hey, is the camera on?” I asked timidly while the door cracked open a little bit.

“Yeah, we can block you from it.” Droid suggested.

“Okay I’m coming in, and tell me what happened to his stupid ass i didn't catch it on stream.” I commented walking in wearing my fuzzy lavender shorts and cardigan with my white cropped tank top with my slippers on meeting Droid at the door, so he can body block the camera on his left.

“He fell on his ass, lost his balance while opening the door.” Puffer explained shortly as Droid walked me to the bathroom, shaking my head at him.

I got on my knees, to check on his head and his wrist, no scrapes, no blood, and thankfully no broken bones.

“Hi baby, did you have a little bit too much to drink?” I teasingly asked Pezzy.

“Mmmm maybe babe.” He slurred with a small chuckle while shaking his head yes. 

“Alrighty, well you aren’t bleeding and have no broken bones so you are good, just drunk. I’ll let you get back with the boys, okay?” I smiled  while holding eye contact.

“Okay babe, i'll call ya back when the stream ends.” He replied .

I got back up to my feet, holding my hand out to him to help him out of the bathroom but, Grizzy came in and picked him up so i wouldn't have too. I laughed a little bit too hard seeing him being basically princess carried out of the bathroom. Droid and Puffer body blocked the camera for me to leave the room without my face being shown to camera for long. I went back down the stairs to resume baking all types of sweets that the boys will appreciate, this time I will pay attention to his stream, a little bit more attentively. 

“What, y’all saw my girlfriend? Isn't she the sweetest and prettiest?” He asked the chat I shook my head in a lovingly manner.

“Hi chat :) <3”

[smutinlove]

Masterlist

Dedicated to my dirty whores <3 @jas2010 @carlsdarling @taylormarieee @loveforcarl @hiro--aoki

A cute masterlist showing ALL my dirty smut, fluff, and angst &lt;3

I'm UselessBitch4205 on Wattpad <3

rules for requesting

I write for:

-Carl Grimes

-Dick Grayson

-Jason Todd

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suggestive—Eyes apparently don't lie

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Fluff—Reader writes a love letter/appreciation letter

Fluff-Cabin—Carl Grimes asks to marry you

Fluff—CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

Fluff—NEW YEAR SPECIAL (2024)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Angst—Carl, Rick, and Glenn notice that the reader hasn't been eating/sleeping. They force an intervention.

Angst—Reader cries about Carl's death

Angst—Reader dies. Carl cries. (Lineup)

Angst—Reader hurts herself. Carl comforts her.

Angst —Carl comforts an insecure reader. SH WARNING

Angst leading to fluff—Carl goes on a scavenging trip but gets lost. The reader goes to look for him.

Angst—After Negan kills readers father figure, Glenn Rhee, she and Carl start to fight a lot. One day, after an intense fight, Negan suddenly arrives to Alexandria. He manipulates the reader to Carl.

Angst/fluff—Dad figure Glenn. Carl hangs out with Enid a lot, making the reader jealous. !argument

Angst/fluff—Shy/sensitive reader. Carl and reader fight because she sneaks out and Rick scolds Carl, making him apologize.

Angst/fluff—Dad figure Glenn. Reader runs away because she hates Enid and her father figure adopted her. Carl finds her.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

WORDS BURN HARD: CARL GRIMES X FEM!OC

Chapter One: The Woods

Chapter Two: Undetected

Chapter Three: Solitude

Chapter Four: a secret

Chapter Five: I watch as you're leaving

Chapter Six: Meddlsome

Chapter Seven: The Journal

Chapter Eight: A caged boy

Chapter Nine: Lavenders

Chapter Ten: Little Blue light

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Small Series

You were my light part 1 —The daughter of the now dead Negan Smith is walking in the woods. She thought she was alone. But she wasn't.

You were my light part 2

You were my light part 3

You were my light part 4

You were my light part 5

You were my light ALTERNATIVE ENDING—The daughter of Negan Smith wakes up from what she thought was real but was a dream. She wants to find him. Y/N Smith wants to find Carl Grimes.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Dick Grayson

NSFW Alphabet—for the ladies who noticed the lack of dick grayson content.

King of my heart—You and him cannot be together. You two are from different worlds. !Fem!Knight!reader x !Prince!Dick Grayson.

SFW Alphabet—for the ladies who know dick grayson is just another softie <3

Breeding Kink—Dick sees how good you are with Roy's daughter and wants to put a baby in you.

Dick Grayson: first anniversary headcanons—this is cute. dick grayson is a gentleman. !gender neutral reader

College!Dick Grayson headcanon—he would do it to your fav song. he's snarky, he's THE shit. and he's mine <3

In the shower—Sex in the shower. What's better than that?

Fluff headcanons—sweet fluff

Safeword—Dick and Jason headcanons to you using the safeword.

Wayne Gala with a twist—Dick sees men staring at you but he wants them to know that YOU are HIS. (Basically hot sex in bruce's office)

Missed me?—an injured nightwing comes home... he's in a teasing mood.

Belt loops—Dick is a little handsy sometimes. PDA? That's his thing.

Insecurities —Fem!reader

Mission gone wrong—A simple mission. How'd you two end up married?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Jason Todd

Fluff headcanons—sweet fluff

NSFW Alphabet—you know what this is, love.

Training Room—sweaty jason todd is a NEED.

More size k!!nk headcanons

The Rooftop—You convince Jason to not jump.

size k!!!nk—jason "size kink" todd headcanons. ugh, he's scrumptious.

Notebook—You're a journalist, he's Jason Todd. Do I need to say more? fem!reader

Trinity—Jason and Carl Grimes don't fuck. They fuck you. (Threesome)

Random Headcanons—a bunch of silly little headcanons

Safeword—Dick and Jason headcanons to you using the safeword.

Amusement Park—fluff. You and Jason and a few friends are at an amusement park. Jason spots a haunted house. Things turn interesting.

Wayne Gala Headcanons—Jason taking you to the Wayne Gala.

CHRISTMAS SPECIALS: 2024

MERRY CHRISTMAS, I MISS YOU—Jason Todd

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Bruce Wayne

Reacting to you using the safeword during sex—You used the safeword.

CHRISTMAS SPECIALS: 2024

MISTLETOE MISCHIEF—Bruce Wayne

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Draco Malfoy

Smut —Sex with the Slytherin prince.

Smut—Your secret boyfriend is Draco Malfoy.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Glenn and Maggie

Fluff—It's some cute fluff. (Glenn and Maggie are badasses in this too)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

WORDS BURN HARD - BY UselessBitch4205 on Wattpad <3

[redheadspark]

Never Let You Go

Summary - It was tradition in your family: to go on a night flight

Warnings - Just some good ol' fluff :)

A/N - Part of my Ocean Eyes Series, this is where Alec is 3 years old!

As soon as Azriel opened the door gently, toeing off his boots to put along the shoe rack that was against the wall, he heard the soft pattering of feet running his way, having him break into a smile so wide.

"Daddy!"

He looked just in time as his legs were locked together by tiny arms, chuckling as a tiny body was against his legs and a pair of bright blue eyes looking right at him in excitement.  He beamed, seeing the tiny Illyrian boy peer up at him as if he hung the moon.  It was the same boy that he would work long hours for, go on treacherous missions with his life on the line, merely to give him a bright and safe future.  

His 3 year old, Alec Rhysand.

"I've missed you, daddy!" He said in his tiny but mighty voice.  Azriel's smile was massive now as he scooped up his son in his arms, tickling his side to hear Alec giggle while he held him close.

"I've missed you more, Alec.  Were you good for your momma?"Azriel asked him as his son nodded.

"Uh-huh!  I got to help her plant some flowers from Aunty Elaine today!" He said in excitement, "They're called sunflowers, they're Aunty Elaine's favorite!"

"That's nice of you!" Azriel said in a hum, placing his son back on the floor, "Where is your momma?"

"She's working on your birthday present!" He said excitedly, but he then slammed his mouth shut and covered his mouth with his fingers "I wasn't supposed to tell you!  It's a surprise!" He said in a muffle behind his fingers.

Azriel kissed the top of his head, "Your secret's safe with me, buddy.  Promise.  You wanna go tell momma I'm home so I don't peak?"

Alec nodded excitedly, rushing off with his little feet down the small hallway to the shared bedroom as Azriel shrugged off his leathers.  There was something about this little life, coming home after being away for hours on end to see his mate and son, having a small little home to hide away in from the chaos around him, he never thought he would ever want this.  Truthfully, he never thought he could have this life, it seemed like a fever dream to him for centuries.  To watch his loved ones have their families, to have their fairytale lives, Azriel coveted them at times.

Not anymore, not with this life he had now.

He inhaled your sweet scent as you walked into the living room, seeing you brought another wave of happiness as you grinned widely at him.  He pulled you in his arms, breathing you in to breathe in the scent of soil and lavender along your skin, along with the coffee you recently had.  You hummed, kissing his cheek as he peered at you lovingly.

"I've missed you today," he hummed.

"As did I," You replied, then pausing as you searched his eyes, "Feyre told me you were doing some recon today?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, trust me" He reassured you, seeing the small hint of concern as he squeezed your hand in his, "Just whispers that Rhysand wanted to confirm were true,"

You knew he would never lie to you when it came to his Spymaster duties and what he had to do, but you also knew that he could only tell you so much before the rest was confidential.  Azriel was more than capable of taking care of himself when it came to spying or going on missions, he's done far too many for you to keep track.  Then again, knowing him for so long and seeing him become the Spymaster of Night Court, you have also seen him get into way too close calls.  Even coming home shaken to his core or a bit bloody from a mission going wrong, you still trusted him.  There was no other being in any court that you trust more than your mate.

"Whispers?" You repeated, Azriel smiling and leaning in to kiss you sweetly.  You hummed against his lips, feeling him pull you in a pinch closer to take your breath away. You had to give him credit, he knew how to distract you, which was a good tactic for a Spymaster to use to get what he wanted.  

He barely pulled away, his lips brushing against your own as he grinned, "Whispers.  I promise you,"

Though you eyed him you finally grinned and playfully pushed him away, hearing him laugh as you placed your hands on your hips, "I have dinner nearly done in the oven, and Nesta wants us to join her and Cassian at the House of Wind for dinner tomorrow night,"

"That should be fine," Azriel hummed as he ruffled his hair and followed you into the kitchen, seeing you poke your head in the oven to check on the chicken that was roasting and shift around the vegetables with a spoon, "Nesta's far along with her pregnancy isn't she?"

"She's due very soon," You explained, "I'm going to get some herbs together for her and cook her some meals too since I know it'll be harder for her to do it herself,"

"My wife, the saint," Azriel joked with you, though he ducked his head just in time as you threw a hand towel in his direction.  He admired you wanting to help Nesta with her pregnancy, the news was a shock in all of the Inner Circle when Nesta made the announcement.  After the shock diminished within a second, it was replaced with pure joy and happiness for her and Cassian, who was beaming with pride and giddiness.   Nesta had plenty of questions and concerns about being a new mother, even with you and Feyre giving her plenty of advice and wisdom to soothe her worries.  In the end, as her belly grew, so did her love for her unborn child.  

She was determined she was having a boy, but Cassian shook his head at that theory, "It's a girl, I just know it,"

After Azriel and Alec washed up and helped set the table, the three of you were sitting around your cramped table and enjoying the dinner you made as the moon was slowly rising over the mountaintop, the stars finally making their appearance while the sun was now set over the bay.  You watched Alec attempt to take a massive bite from the chicken, giving him a stern look as he was about to tear it with his teeth.

"Remember to use your fork, okay?" You reminded him calmly, seeing him nod as he grabbed his utensil.

"Sorry, momma," He replied, you then ruffling his hair as Azriel cleared his throat.

"Alec, Aunt Nesta, and Uncle Cassian invited us to dinner at their house tomorrow night," he informed your son, who perked up at the mention of his Aunt and Uncle, "You think we can bring them some food too?"

"Sure!  I can make them the stew Aunty Nesta likes!" He said with a smile, "Is Aunty Nesta gonna have her baby soon?"

"It's almost time for that, buddy," You explained to him carefully, "But it's getting harder for her to do things now, so we're going to help her out as much as we can before the baby comes,"

"Oh, I can lift things for her since I'm strong!  See?" Alec asked, flexing his tiny muscles in his arms.  You giggled as Azriel smiled widely.

"You're quite strong, Alec. " Azriel hummed, reaching over to touch his arm and looking at his son in shock, "I think you're stronger than your Uncles!"

Alec laughed and hid his smile behind his tiny hands, you watching your mate and son having their interaction together with love in your eyes.  Your meals together were always like this: light and filled with laughter of some sort.  It was on purpose, of course, both you and Azriel loved making your meals with your son joyful.  No matter how crazy your days were and how cramped your schedules were, dinner time was sacred for the three of you.  A time to reconnect and to catch up on each other's days, a time to lean on each other when times were a little together.

But most of all, it was a time to simply fill each other up again.

"Daddy, can we go flying tonight?" Alec asked as he took a smaller bite from his chicken, Azriel eyeing him first before he looked over at you.  You smiled, taking a bit from your plate as your son was waiting for an answer from his father.  You felt it in the bond, the feeling of excitement and joy your mate was feeling with the thought of flying with his son in his arms.  It was one of his new favorite things to do with Alec, almost a tradition of sorts.  Once Alec was big enough to not be in a sling or strapped against you, either you or Azriel would hold him close and fly with him amongst the stars along the countryside.  He was far too small to be taken high in the sky, but you both would take him high enough to see the city below and to look at the sea.  

"Are you sure you wanna go fly?" Azriel asked, almost in a teasing tone since he knew the answer right away while Alec nodded his head rapidly and you hummed fondly.

"Remember what we talked about, Alec.  It's up to your dad and if he wants to fly since he's been working all day today," You reminded your son, who looked at you earnestly and then back at Azriel.  You could see from your spot at the table that Alec's eyes were shining in hope, a small little tactic that he would use on either one of you to get his way.  Although he wasn't a spoiled child, nor was he rude, he was cute and would use that to his advantage from time to time.

"Please, daddy?  Please?"  Alec asked him, his blue eyes shining under the dining room light and the look of pure innocence on his face as Azriel smiled from ear to ear.  If he could, he would give his son the world and then some, simply because he loved his son far too much.  Far more than himself.  To see his son grow every day, to watch him develop and make his path with the guidance of his mother and father, Azriel could not be more proud of Alec.  

"As long as you help clear the table, then we can fly," Azriel said to him with a nod, Alec nearly jumped straight up in the air in glee as he fell out of his chair and rushed to Azriel.  He hugged him close, Azriel chuckled as tiny arms were around him.

"Thank you, Daddy!" He said against Azriel's shirt, then grabbed Azriel's finished plate and walked a bit too briskly to the kitchen sink.  You eyed your mate, seeing him slightly shrug from the stare you were giving him.  

"You can't say no to him, can you?" You asked him in a teasing manner, though Azriel knew you meant well with your words.

"I don't have the heart to," Azriel confessed, you two gazing at each other as if you were young lovers all over again.  However, the moment was short-lived as the sound of clattering dishes in the sink was heard.  

"Sorry, Momma!" You heard.  Both you and Azriel trying to contain your laughter.

"Alright, you got your jacket on?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Remember, what are my rules about flying with me?"

"I can't let go of you, I can't wiggle too much, and….and…". Alec paused, concentrating a bit too hard while he stood right in front of your cottage.  You were shrugging on your jacket as Azriel knelt to tuck in the jacket Alec was wearing a bit more.  He smiled at his son, who was now looking at his father for the last rule.

"Have fun, remember?" Azriel asked him, Alec giggling as he nodded his head, "And remember what I tell you every time we fly?"

"That you won't let me go!" Alec replied with no hesitation.  Azriel felt his heart swell from hearing his son say that, ruffling his hair as he peered into his son's eyes.

"I will never let you go,"  He reassured Alec. 

It was the first thing Azriel ever said to Alec when he took him flying for the first time.  When Alec was a small babe, swaddled in his arms and looked up at his father in wonder as Azriel peered down at his infant child.  He loved holding Alec when he was younger, finding every excuse to keep his child tucked close to him and feel his heartbeat and warmth.  You remembered the very first time, Alec was a few months old and was acting rather fussy for you since you were trying to put him down for the night.  It was his suggestion to hold him while flying, though he saw you were petrified at the thought of your son being so high up.  So he opted to simply hover over the ground, the soft rhythm was making Alec beyond sleepy as he fought to stay awake and watch his father with immense love in his eyes. 

Azriel kissed the top of his infant son's head as Alec fell asleep, whispering against his head, "I'll never let you go,"

Azriel picked up Alec, his hands under his armpits as Alec already shot out his hands in preparation.  Azriel's wings were out and stretched at the ready, Alec already kicking in excitement while you were standing near the small garden that was to the side of the house.  

"You ready?" Azriel asked, Alec giggled and nodded his head.  Azriel then took to the air with one swoop of his wings, Alec laughing as he was now soaring by the tops of the trees and dipping downwards to catch some speed.  Azriel made it look so easy, the way he would glide in the air with swift movements and precise turns, yet at the same time he wasn't going too fast for his son who was laughing and screeching.  

"Go Daddy!" You could hear Alec yelling in delight as Azriel was getting a bit higher now, right over the cottage as he was making massive circles around the clearing and grassland where your home was.  Alec had no sense of fear, not when he was protected by his father and flying with him.  Though you loved flying with your son just as much, you knew deep down Alec would pick his dad over anybody else.  

Perhaps you were taking a bit too long watching them in the air, or you were lost in your train of thought, but Azriel flew back down to hover in front of you, Alec sporting the biggest smile on his face as he gestured at you.

"Come on, momma!  Come fly with me and Daddy!" He said to you, almost in a plead as you stretched out your wings. Azriel held his son a pinch tighter against his chest as you were getting your wings ready.  You finally felt yourself lift off the ground, the crisp air against your skin and within your hair, the shining moon that was now hovering right over Velaris, it all felt perfect as you were now joining your mate and son in the air.

You too loved to fly, not being able to as much since you were tending to your son. But still, flying was second nature to you, a soothing sensation felt all over your body as you would take to the sky and let your wings carry you.  Before Alec came into your life, you loved flying with Azriel side by side amongst the stars and on the darkest nights.  It was a sacred time for you two to share and unwind together after a long hard day or a day filled with grief. 

To share it with your son, was memorable.

As you held a sleeping Alec in your arms, taking him into his bedroom to change him into his pajamas and tuck him into his bed, Azriel was right behind you to watch with love in his hazel eyes.  Seeing his son asleep and content in his mother's hold, being nestled into his blankets and already snoring away as you kissed his raven hair.  Azriel wanted this for the rest of his days, a simple moment of seeing his son safe in his bed and already dreaming of new adventures. Then he pulled you in his arms, and you both walked across the hall to your bedroom to undress each other into your own pajamas and hold each other close in your bed. 

Azriel watched you asleep, head on his shoulder and your lips slightly pursed as your light hair shined from the moonlight.  He counted his lucky stars daily, more than once a day, that you were there with him and loving him through the good and the bad.  There were plenty of times in the past when he thought you would indeed walk away, a bad choice on his part of a too-close call with a mission he was on.  Azriel knew the sacrifice you made, and he wondered from time to time if being with him was the right choice.  

He could only lean over to kiss your head, you humming and wrapping your arms around his waist to pull him in closer as you whispered with your eyes closed, "Sleep, my love.  All is well,"

Azriel fell asleep to those three words, knowing they were true. 

The End

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup

[lullaebies]

Hi! It's been awhile since we last spoke but I hope you're doing well ❤ I noticed your post about writing prompts and I was wondering if you'd be interested in a little helaegon family fluff project? ^_^ I've been making art about the Green siblings flying with their dragons and currently working on Aeggy&Sunny but I'd also love to make a close up for both Helaena and Aegon. So I thought I'd ask if you'd like to write a little fluffy story about then taking the kids on a day trip. Maybe it's Maelor's 1st flight. Bonus cute points if Jae&Jae also have their baby dragons with them. I just need to imagine them being happy, even if it's just for one day. Maybe we could inspire each other? :) ❤

a/n: my bestie <3 yes it has been too long since we last spoke! but absolutely, you know i love family fluff. I decided to go for a Maelor first flight/first interactions with his family's dragons - this would probably count as an au because he would be a little bit older than canon (i'd imagine 5!). It ended up from his pov too, but all riders get a bit of interaction with their dragons, so I hope it works well <3

The wheelhouse rides up Visenya’s hill, bouncing to the gravel of the road. 

Maelor sits in between his siblings, holding their hands. Jaehaera squeezes at his hand every time a harsh jut takes place, while Jaehaerys gives out a yip at each bounce, giggling softly shortly after. The horses outside neigh loudly, and Maelor kicks his feet to their gait.

“When there?” the boy asks their parents, who were sitting in front of him. Maelor’s mother, Helaena, sighs softly, a breezy chuckle to her voice, while his father’s face contorts to a wide, exaggerated smile, with his eyebrows nearly reaching the sky.

“I’d answer, but you hadn’t sufficed with my answer the ten times before, twerp,” Aegon says. “I don’t think you will this time either.” 

Maelor blinks at his father. And at his mother, when she slaps father’s shoulder, asking him to not be all that snarky. Maelor doesn’t care all that much; all he could think of is the dragons he is going to meet. They could fly as as high as papa’s eyebrows!

His mother had made many embroideries with dragons for him to hold. He has one on his blanket, and one on the banner of his wall. He brushed his fingers against the needlework often. He had gotten a glimpse of only one dragon in his life, his uncle’s one. Big, burly Vhagar, who was big enough to see from his window; father calls her a flying mountain.

But then again, Jaehaerys says Shrykos is the size of a dog, and mother says Dreamfyre is the color of lavender flowers. Father says he named Sunfyre for the sun, and Jaehaera says “Morghul is Morghul,” without much explanation given. 

And Maelor? He has his little egg, in that container that warms the underneath of his bed. What would it look like? He wonders. They say it could hatch soon. Mama had told him it is Shrykos’s egg, it would likely look like her. And papa says Shrykos is Sunfyre’s and Dreamfyre’s, and in that case, “he should get to know them all.”

He is jittery in his seat. He turns his gaze from his father and mother to his siblings looking between them for an answer. “When there?”

His parents snicker both, staring at them three.

“Eh…” Jaehaerys tries to estimate with some undecipherable count with his fingers, while Jaehaera’s gaze flicks to the window.

“Now,” his sister says, coming up from her seat even before the wheelhouse stopped fully. She squeezes his hand, tugging at it at the same time for him to rise. Jaehaerys jumps to stand before him, and Maelor rushes to do the same. His feet rattle the wheelhouse with little jumps in his place, waiting for the door to open.

“Maelor, you will trip, sweet,” His mother warns, lighthearted in tone.

“Ser Rickard,” his father raises his voice in a merry timbre and looks out of the window. “Release my dragons before they chew the damn door!”

Ser Rickard does. Maelor’s siblings hum chipperly and jump to the ground without waiting for assistance, holding his hands all the while. His mother squeaks to stand as his legs hit the ground. 

“Haera, Rys, be careful!” Helaena says. “Maelor, all is well?” She worries for a moment, while Maelor looks at the big, big building he sees in front of him. A dome of sorts, with big, walls and doors of dark stone. The rumble underneath it, underneath his feet, feels almost alive. 

It springs Maelor’s feet into life, skipping ahead. “Let’s go mama!!”

His siblings follow, as do his parents, as do his guards, all flying in.

—

Maelor makes rounds around the head dragonkeeper as they wait for the dragons to be let out. He doesn’t quite understand whatever the man is saying, except a few words here and there that he heard his family saying lots. He knows Jaehaera is counting his spins in High Valyrian, he knows numbers, from one to two and ten, to be exact, but the older dragonkeeper’s words are fancy, with rolling sounds that sound draconic.

He tries to copy the rolling ‘r’ to little avail, but that doesn’t stop him from trying right up to the point he hears a familiar name coming from the man’s mouth. Morghul. His sister perks up, coming forward. From the depths of the pit, a first dragon comes forward, charcoal black scales that seem to resent light upon them. Maelor steps back when he notices his dark horns, keeping by his mother’s skirt. 

Up close, a dragon looks unreal to him. Uncle’s flying mountain is big dot in the sky, and mother’s embroideries remind him of her harmless bugs. He hasn’t expected Morghul to be so… scary?

Morghul is Morghul, and his gaze is as piercing as his sister’s when she’s angry. The rest of his family are very calm as his sister's fingers brush against the dragon’s sharp teeth. “The hellspawn grew bigger quickly, huh,” his father notes. Hell? 

His mother hums. “He may be able to be saddled soon,” she says, running her fingers through Maelor’s light curls.

“Dont remind me,” Aegon says, fiddling with his fingers. “She’ll forget I exist then,” he looks down to Maelor, who was watching them both. He reaches to ruffle his hair. “Like you are starting to even without one, little twerp.”

Maelor scrunches his nose and shakes his head, moving to embrace his father’s leg. “Not true!”

His father hums, letting him hang off of his leg. He slowly relaxes as when he smooshes his cheek against his father’s side. 

Until a woosh of green sweeps through the room, and Maelor holds onto his father tight. A loud shriek is heard as the form breaks out with it from the dark of the pit, lunging at his brother. A dragon slightly smaller than Morghul topples Jaehaerys, a long green wingspan twinkling under the light.

A dragonkeeper rushes after and wipes his forehead as he sighs - the head dragonkeeper grunts and then dismisses himself to help the novices to bring the bigger dragons. Maelor looks towards his brother, his heart bouncing more than his feet now. The dragon looks like it is made of his grandmother’s jewels, but those can scratch you, too. 

“Dohaeeeras!” Jaehaerys yells chipperly, rolling around with the dragon that tried to nuzzle his face. His giggles echo around the room. Maelor breathes in, as he understands the dragon is Shrykos. She does not remind of a dog, but of a rampant pony.

“Sunfyre’s hatchling through and through,” his mother comments to his father.

His father snickers. “The derangement is from your dragon.”

“Is it?” his mother asks with a smile, as a big, big dragon the color of lavender flowers is brought in. His mother steps forward and away from him, saying some words he can’t understand. Mama’s dragon? Dreamie, with her silver-glistening scales and pale blue eyes. 

The dragon looks at his mother once, listening with a cocked head, and looks towards his brother and his dragon. Dreamfyre’s steps are loud on the ground, and she cranes her big head and opens her mouth to grab Shrykos by tail, pulling the younger dragon back gently.

Shrykos answers her with shrieks, resistance and threats of the short breaths of fire. Dreamfyre lets Shrykos go when she starts beating its wings, returning the threat of flame with a whistle of her own flame, just barely touching the green dragon. Shrykos seems to shriek towards Morghul for help, the black dragon coming to help the green. Mother chuckles, seeing Dreamfyre swatting the two with her head, and his siblings come beside her, copying their dragons and playing against their mother. 

Maelor hides behind his father. His bones feel wobbly now. 

And then one more dragon enters the room. The last one, father’s, golden like the one on father’s shirts. Aegon ruffles Maelor’s hair again and then moves to greet and pet the dragon. “Hello,” his father tells Sunfyre with a big smile. 

And in the chaos of dragons and riders in the room, Maelor feels very small, very jittery, and even very lonely. Thick tears cloud his lash line. He wipes at his eyes. He needs to be brave. His parents and siblings thought he would be ready to meet their dragons, that he would be prepared to get his dragon.

“There is someone you should kn…” his father starts. He turns back towards Maelor when the boy wipes at his eyes, trying to make them disappear before he notices. “Son?”

The golden dragon looks at Maelor with his equally golden eyes. Maelor stays frozen when the dragon steps forward to him. He lowers his neck, and his big nostrils take a whiff of him. Maelor’s own nose is full of snot, he doesn’t even know what the dragon smells; some tears fall. 

And then, Sunfyre brings his snout, and pokes at it lightly against his forehead, ruffling at Maelor’s curly, silver fringe. The dragon voice is rolling some guttural ‘grrr,’ more familiar to Maelor as similar to the calming purr of the Keep’s cats.

Maelor sniffs away his tears when his father crouches beside him. Patting his back lightly. “Don’t fret, he is used to crying twerps. I daresay he even likes them,” Aegon chuckles, glancing at his dragon. “Will you pat him? I think that will please him plenty.” 

Maelor licks his small lips, and offers a shaky hand. It reaches the dragon’s chin, touching the gold of his scales. It doesn’t feel too different from touching his own egg; coarse and warm. He soon gains the courage to reach over with his other hand too, and Sunfyre nearly chirps.

Maelor giggles, a big smile drawn on his face. That laughter echoes in the room now, and his mother and siblings notice it too. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera played with their mother on the ground no better than their dragons in the air, but with one word from mother his siblings ran towards him.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera rushed from under Sunfyre to reach him. Jaehaerys pats his head and showed him how he pats Sunfyre under his chin, and Jaehaera wipes his glassy eyes and kisses his eyebrows, saying “good” when his face is clean. Mother comes closer, and bends to kiss the top of his head, saying “well done.”

And his father — he looks around the room, seeing his siblings’ dragon batting their wings around Dreamfyre, as if in request — and turns to his mother. “We could take them for a ride, couldn’t we? There is time.”

His siblings perk up looking at their mother with bright pleas.

“I think so. We came all this way already, why not?” Helaena says with a grin, and looks at their children. “Would you like that?” 

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys nod and squeal happily, babbling. Aegon looks at Maelor, almost stealing his snotty nose with his thumb and index. 

“And you? Would you like to ride Sunfyre with me, twerp?” 

And Maelor regains the giddiness in his legs, the glimmer of a gold dragon giving him back the glint in his eyes. He nods; with his family, with their dragons, he is ready to fly out.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 16: I Thought I Was In Love Before

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), IMPLIED SEX, Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Heavy Petting? Making Out, Nudity, Illusions to Sex, A little bit of self-deprecating thought. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Listen While You Read🪴: "I've Been Waiting For You" by ABBA

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A/N: This chapter is really just a whole lot of fluff and a bit of cheeky spice, that I couldn't help but write. I figured the two of them really needed just a chapter where someone wasn't being tortured, someone almost died, someone was hurt, or them fighting lol. ENJOY!

There were more flowers in your entire apartment than in New York City on Valentine's Day, and you were sure that come morning there would be more flowers in here than what grew on the East Coast in the middle of spring.

Roses exploded from the bush in the corner splashing pinks and coral petals onto the floor, Lily of the valley dipped from outstretched stalks, honeysuckle, lavender, and lilac smiled from the pots on top of your dresser, and the gardenia on your bedside table filled the room with the sweet-smelling aroma. Even the pothos vines that trailed along your walls were brighter and greener, creeping along to secure your curtains while the Jasmine vines that crept up the wall behind your bed shed the white blooms over where Ben and you were laying.

You were sure that you had Jasmine smashed against your skin and threaded in your hair, but you weren't complaining. There was nothing to complain about, not if every time Ben took you to bed was anything like what had happened over the past four hours.

The number of men you'd slept with was in no way extensive, you could count it on one hand, which meant you weren't drawing from a wide range of experiences, not to mention that it had been probably over a year since you'd slept with someone, but Ben easily blew them out of the water.

Usually after you were with someone, you'd compare them to Newton, only because it was the longest relationship that you'd had and really the only guy you'd ever loved. When you'd finally slept with Newton, you'd thought that because you loved each other the sex was supposed to be good… but each time you were disappointed.

You could remember every awkward fumble of Newton's hands on your chest, every slobbery kiss, every time he said that he was "too tired" to return the favor, and every single time you felt unsatisfied while he turned over happy and drifted off while you tried to think of a way to muster up the courage to tell him that you wanted to try something new or at least tell him that you weren't happy.

Not being happy with Newton seemed to be a recurring theme and you didn’t know why you’d stayed with him as long as you did. Perhaps it was because you thought that it was true love, just as Ben stayed with Countess because he thought that was what love was like.

Turns out the two of you had just been waiting to find each other, and you couldn’t have been happier.

Nothing about the way Ben touched you was awkward or hesitant, it was confident, practiced, and just rough enough to give you a glimpse of how strong he really was. The way he kissed you was all consuming, as if he wanted to drink you in, swallow you whole until there was nothing left of you, as if he couldn't help himself but crash into you.

And Ben refused to let you touch him, until after he'd made you fall apart more times than you could count, whimpering, gasping, and screaming his name into the warm air of your bedroom with your hands tangled in his dark hair.

Not to mention you'd never get tired of the moans and breathy groans of your name on his lips. It made you feel powerful seeing Ben that way and hearing him say your name like that. Knowing that you were able to do that to him, to make him feel good the same way that he made you feel like you'd transcended to another plane of human existence. And you didn't think that you'd be able to stop anytime soon.

It was enough to make you regret making him wait for as long as you did. Maybe a part of you thought Ben was all talk, that there was no way that he was as good as he said he was, but you didn't expect Ben to know exactly what you needed as if he could see inside your head. And even though Ben said he wasn't gentle and didn't think that he could "make love" to you, what he just did for four hours came close.

Because he had unmade you, destroyed you, and then the shattered remains that pieced back together after he took you apart cell by cell was filled with so much love and ecstasy that you didn’t know where it all came from.

You'd never felt this way about anyone else in your entire life. Just as Ben thought he'd loved Countess, you thought that you loved Newton, but the way you felt about Ben was nothing compared to how you felt about your ex.

You weren't sure if you'd ever feel this way about anyone else ever. At the back of your mind the realization that you could potentially live as long as Ben did was hovering there and the truth was that you could see yourself spending all that time with Ben. You could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him. He was the only one you wanted and you hated how long it took you to admit it to yourself.

But there was a little twinge of something deep down that worried you Ben couldn't commit 100%, and then Ben would do something uncharacteristically soft and it would make you believe whole heartedly that he could.

And even if Ben couldn’t say that he loved you the traditional way, you knew he did. You saw it in the way he held you, saw it in the way he brought you coffee, saw it in the way he walked with you to and from work, and you saw it in the way he cared for you.

There weren't any casualties tonight, except the shower curtain and the rod. The shower had been a good idea in theory to cool off and clean up, until you grabbed the shower curtain and ripped the rod from the wall when Ben twisted his hips in a way that made you see stars.

You suppose that you had instigated it, after you laughed at Ben's inability to fit in your shower, and Ben took it as a challenge, but your plants had been spared.

And you were happy that your headboard had survived, it was antique, and you loved it, but there were a set of divots in the drywall behind the bed that made you hope that Mike wasn’t home and had witnessed what had caused them.

Though you had a sneaking suspicion that Ben had done that on purpose. It wasn't a secret to you how possessive and jealous Ben was, especially not after the way you'd seen him act around Jake. It was a trait that you'd never found attractive until you met him.

But there was something about the Ben’s jealousy and his almost primal need to claim you in every way he knew how that made you want him even more.

You hear Ben mutter your name faintly, breaking through your internal monologue.

You weren't up for moving now, your heart was thunderous against your rib cage, your limbs felt like jelly, and there was a layer of sweat coating your skin. You were laying on your back in your bed where the two of you had ended up, staring up at the ceiling in your bedroom trying to catch your breath, with the sheets and blankets tangled and thrown haphazardly off the sides at your feet.

And despite everything you thought about Ben, you never expected him to want to be close after sex, but he was laying on his side beside you, looking at you with a worried expression. His hand probes along your right wrist to catch your attention.

“Hmm?” You breathe because you can't seem to form words at the moment.

"You doing okay there Petals?" Ben looks smug, but you can hear worry slip into his voice.

It made you smile to yourself, because as rough and prickly as Ben's outer exterior was, you knew how much he cared about you even if he was unwilling to admit it aloud.

You take in a deep breath to find your voice and calm your heart. “Are you asking if you broke me with your dick? Or if you killed me with the almost Olympic level sex?”

Ben chuckles, propping himself up so he could stare down at you, his dark hair is falling forward over his forehead, and he's studying you with his green eyes.

He looks handsome. Ben always did, but here in bed with you, he looked normal, happy, and content. After the shower, his hair no longer had all the product that had been in it for the event at Vought, and after how many times you'd run your fingers through it, it was more tousled and scrunched than usual, but you loved it. He looked more like him again, not like the man that Vought had dressed up for the event. He looked like the man you'd fallen in love with.

You wondered if Ben noticed and liked that you looked more like you now, well, you as if you'd run ten miles. You were sure that your hair was a mess tangled and matted against the pillows, your cheeks flushed, and covered in sweat.

How the fuck can he look so good after doing that for four hours? Its unfair. I probably look like I've spent the past four hours trapped in a tornado while Ben looks like he's ready for a photoshoot for Vanity Fair.

"Because I never wanted to go to the Olympics, but I wouldn't mind going with you every once and a while." You cough out a laugh, still trying to catch your breath.

"Only once in a while?" Ben smirks. "Because you sounded like you'd be okay going every night not to mention it sure looks like you wouldn't mind going." He gestures to the blooms strewn around the room, before pulling one of the small, white fragrant flowers from your hair.

"Shut up."

Ben only laughs at you, flicking the flower away . "We can go whenever you want." He trails his fingertips against your cheek, brushing back some of the hair that was stuck to the flushed skin. “But you're okay? Sometimes I lose control-.”

“Some women like that.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He rolls his eyes at you and the hand that pushed your hair away cups your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Ben's voice is soft and serious, his brilliant green eyes searching your face and then trailing down your naked body to look for injuries that you don't have.

Sure, you were a little bit sore, but it was a good sore, something that you wouldn't mind feeling all the time. The kind of sore that was satisfying to wake up to.

“Well when we first met-“ You begin to say, remembering when Ben had you by the throat and was preparing to rip you in half when he changed his mind and threw you across the room the day Homelander went on ice.

It was an odd first meeting and given how much Ben and you argued it seemed fitting that the two of you met how all great loves should, mid-fight.

You’d always wondered why Ben didn’t just kill you when he had the chance. It would have been one less headache for him to face that day. You remember looking into his eyes and seeing the anger and rage within, feeling just a feeling a shiver of fear skate down your spine when you realized it might be the last thing you ever do. It was honestly the only time that you'd ever been afraid of him. Pushing Annie out of the way had been worth it, knowing that you saved your best friend's life made your sacrifice worth it, but Ben hadn't killed you.

Ben swallows your next words, his lips moving fervently against your mouth, rough, with just a tickle of his beard against your cheeks. Honestly, your lips were already swollen and a little bruised, not to mention you had beard burn in a few places, but you weren't complaining and like hell you were going to stop doing something that felt so good.

 “Don’t fucking bring that up again. I hate that I hurt you.” Ben winces when he admits it, but his hand gently traces the gentle curve of your throat, a frown gracing his perfect lips as if he can imagine the bruised handprint you had for weeks later.

You'd caught him looking at the mark sometimes whenever you were on mission in those weeks together, but despite how the two of you had met, you weren't afraid of Ben. Sure, he had tried to kill you, but you'd done the same thing, so you'd figured the two of you were even. Plus, Ben annoyed you more than he scared you, and you didn't believe for one second that Ben would hurt you on purpose.

Ben might have been rough, but you didn't believe that he would ever find pleasure in hurting you or that he would beat you into submission if you pissed him off.

“It’s our history Ben.” You smile raising your hand to push his hair back, brushing your thumb over his cheek in a gesture that makes his lean subconsciously into your touch. “You can’t change it."

He frowns with a sigh, the green of his eyes lightening in the light from your bedside table lamp.

"Why didn't you kill me that day?" You whisper. "You didn't know me-"

Ben's expression turns to something that almost looks like shame for a moment, before it hardens. "You didn't belong there."

"Where?"

"In all that shit. I could see it in your eyes. I-" His jaw tightens. "I'd never seen someone like you before."

"Like me? Is this when you go back to insulting me again?" You snort.

"No. I-" He bites back his next words. "I've met other supes before, the ones that you said act like gods, the ones like my bastard son but you were-.” Ben huffs out a frustrated breath. “I don't fucking know you were just different, and I didn't want to-" Ben looks conflicted as if he can't find what to say.

Although you usually found Ben’s awkwardness in conversations when they got too personal cute, a part of you broke for him. You wondered if he’d been like that his whole life. If Ben had lived in a world, where he couldn’t open to anyone without an internal monologue from an unseen entity telling him that he was being a “pussy.” You remembered what your grandmother said about Ben’s father, and it only made your heart break more for him.

You made a promise to yourself right then and there that even if it took decades you were going to make Ben comfortable telling you what he was really feeling and thinking. You wanted Ben to know that it didn't make him weak to express emotion that way, that you thought it didn't make him less of a man to talk to you.

Your hand slips from his cheek trailing to curve around the back of his head, bringing his face to yours so you can kiss him, pouring as much emotion as you can into it. "It's okay." You murmur against his lips with a small smile. "I understand."

"You do?" He looks surprised.

"Yes.” You nod, trailing your fingertips in his hair. “No one else has ever said that to me or cared to notice. I think I wanted to be a part of that world because of Annie, to be closer to her, but I don’t belong in it. Even after everything that happened with Elijah and Darren-”

“No, you don’t.” Ben doesn’t say it cruelly or with disdain or in a way to belittle you, instead he says it with a sigh, his hand finding your hip, trailing his thumb over the curve of your pelvis. "I want better for you than this."

"This?"

"You working for Butcher, working fifty jobs, coming back to this shitty apartment-"

You lock your arms around the back of his neck with a laugh. "We talked about this, I like our apartment."

Ben's entire body freezes where he's laying next to you, the thumb that was circling your pelvis coming to a halt. "You said our."

"Yes I did." You smile up at him, seeing the way his green eyes have brightened with the word. "The shitty apartment is half yours now."

"What a dream come true." Ben rolls his eyes. "At least at Vought it would have been quieter-"

"I think that Mike's screeching adds to the ambiance." You joke, loving the way his hair falls between your fingers and how Ben seems to lean into your touch before he can stop himself, that he reacts that way to you touching him just as you react to him touching him. But your smile turns sympathetic. "Poor Mike. I'm going to have to get him some noise canceling headphones-"

Ben's eyes darken to an emerald. "Let him listen, maybe he'll learn something. Plus, I did warn him my girl was kinda loud."

"Is that what I am?"

"Yes." Ben smirks. "Fucking finally."

You roll your eyes. "The way we started might have been rocky, but I like where we ended up."

“I do too, but I wish we had ended up here sooner.” His smile turns more into a smirk. Ben's hand grips your waist possessively, sliding you further across the bed towards him so he's leaning over you. “Told you it would be good. We could’ve been doing this since the day we met sweetheart.”

“Patience is a virtue.”  

“That I’ve never had.” Ben hesitates, something flashing through his eyes so quickly that you can't place it. “But you’re okay?” It comes out quiet, and you watch his gaze drop again to your body to check for injuries.

“No.” Ben’s eyes widen at your answer, before you smile and bring his face back down to yours, the words a breath upon your lips. “I’m better than okay, I’m with you.”

The look on his face breaks you, it's so honest, so unlike the usual hardened façade he wore that it made it difficult to breathe. It reminds you of the way your father looked at your mother whenever he'd get home from work, or when the two of them would sway back and forth in the kitchen to an ABBA song, and when he looked at her like she was his entire world and nothing else mattered.

You never thought that you'd want to see Ben look at you like that or that he would ever look at you that way, but now his green eyes are bright and happy, meeting yours and it made you feel so warm that you were sure you would just melt off the bed and into a puddle.

It was what you had imagined when you thought about falling in love with someone else, the past four hours had been exactly that too. It was the romance that you wanted, the one that you tried to use to block off Ben’s countless attempts to try and sleep with you.

And you couldn't have been happier.

"Are you okay?" Your smile turns more into a smirk. "No broken hip or anything? Because at your age I'd think that it's a hazard. Didn't think an old man could do any of that without serious injury."

Ben's gaze turns murderous, something dark shining in his eyes that makes your throat tighten. "You're gonna regret that Petals."

"Oh, am I?" You tangle your fingers in his dark locks, your smirk growing. It brought you joy to make him so angry, to annoy him as much as he annoys you.

"Yes." He growls into your mouth pinning you to the bed, his body caging you in against the tangled sheets and blankets. Ben's eyes are glinting darkly in the light and makes you lose all feeling in your legs. "You are."

A little while later, Ben traces your lips softly with his thumb as you try to catch your breath. You were honestly beginning to fade in an out of sleep, and there was a pleasant ache along your limbs that made you smile with every drag of his fingertips against your skin.

“Petals?”

“Yes Gramps?”

"Don't call me that."

"I think it's cute." You sigh. "I like how out of touch you are with everything. It's adorable."

"I'm not adorable." He huffs.

"Yes, you are Gramps."

Ben rolls his eyes, but then laughs under his breath as if he thinks it's ridiculous to try and stop you.

Good, he's learning.

“Will you say it again?” He whispers.

“Gramps?” You joke.

“No.” Ben sighs heavily and jostles your exhausted body to make you stop, but it only makes you laugh at him.

“Say what?”

“What you said before.”

“Ben, I can’t really remember where I am right now so I’m gonna need you to be a little more specific.”

“When we were at Vought.”

You press your lips together in concentration trying to understand what he means. You'd said quite a few things to him tonight, things that you'd moaned while gripping his shoulders so tight that you would have left bruises on anyone else, and you try to think of what specifically he could be talking about.

What does he mean- Oh.

“I love you.”  You say it without hesitation, without looking away from his gaze, and without regret. You didn’t hate yourself for falling in love with him and you didn’t want to deny yourself of him anymore. Not when he was holding you close with a softness that Ben had said he was anything but, not when Ben took the time to care about what you liked, and not when Ben seemed truly happy for the first time since he’d been out of Russia.

Ben leans down to kiss you, but this time it’s not rough, it’s not him in a frenzy taking what he wants, it’s gentle and turns hungry the longer his lips are against yours, his hands roaming places along your body that make you sigh and reach up grip his shoulders as an uncontrollable moan slips from your mouth.

If it was always going to be like this you were sure that you’d become insatiable, but you were never going to admit that to Ben. As if you needed to stroke his monumental ego.

Plus, you had a feeling that Ben already knew that.

“Do you believe me?” You murmur against his lips, shuffling your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, looking up at him with a gentle smile.

“Yes.” Ben whispers. “Because I know you wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“I wouldn’t ever do that to you Ben. I want you to know that. And I wouldn't manipulate you into being something you're not-"

“I know.” He traces the soft angles of your face with his rough fingertips, sending goosebumps over your skin. “You’re nothing like her.”

He didn’t have to say Countess’s name for you to know who he’s talking about. The last thing you wanted was for Ben to believe that you were telling him you loved him to manipulate him to do something or become something he wasn’t.

“I hope not.”

“It’s what I like about you.” Ben continues. “You’re soft."

"Soft?" You raise an eyebrow trying to figure out if it was an insult.

He nods. "All the other supes I meet act like they have something to prove, but you-" Ben sighs. "You're different. You're kinder, even when you shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be?” You ask mildly confused.

“I-“ Ben hesitates as if what he’s about to say is difficult for him. “What you said that night at the fundraiser is true, I’m not this man. I’m not-“ His expression turns dark for a moment and you realize that Ben was about to say Jake’s name. Ben's jaw tightens and you can see how difficult it is for him to say what comes next. "But fuck Petals you make me want to be that man. I don't think anyone else ever has."

You could feel your eyes beginning to water with the emotion that swelled in your chest. You'd never heard Ben admit something like that, never heard him say that he wanted to be better for you.

“Ben, look at me.” You whisper cupping his cheeks to raise his gaze from your chin. “I don’t want Jake. I want you. I know what kind of man you are. I trust you-“

“But you shouldn't-“ Ben presses and it reminds you of the same thing he said to you before he took you to your bedroom.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I’ve done terrible things. I’ve killed people, tortured others,-“

"I've killed people too-"

"Not for the same reasons. You killed them because they were going to hurt you."

You gently push his hair back from his face. “Ben?”

“Yeah?” He's frowning, eyebrows furrowed together, and you kiss away the frown on his perfect lips.

“I know you. I know about the things you’ve done. I’ve seen the darkest parts and I love you anyway. All the little pieces of who you are make you… you. You wouldn’t be the man I love if you didn’t have them."

“But-“

“No buts.” You squish his cheek and Ben gives you an annoyed look that only makes you snort. He was going to need to get used to your antics if he was going to survive living with you. “Everything you’ve done, the choices you made, the things that have happened to you, shaped the man I fell in love with and brought you to me. No one is perfect Ben. Everyone is flawed, it’s what makes us human. But sometimes the flaws are the best part. So please don’t hide who you are from me, because you think you have to. You’re not going to scare me away.”

“How can you say that when I’m so different than you?”

“Because you’re forgetting all the important parts I love about you.”

“Which are?”

“Well now it kinda feels like you’re fishing for compliments Gramps.” You joke and this time the ends of Ben’s mouth quirk up in a half smile. “You protect me, you take care of me, you always listen when I’m talking and you actually remember some of the things I say, you pay attention to what I like, you try to make me laugh with your disgusting sense of humor-“

“You know you like it Petals.” Ben smirks.

“And you annoy me.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Doesn’t seem to be a good thing. Annoying you.”

“It is.” You giggle. “Because no one else annoys me quite like you do.”

“You’re so fucking weird.” Ben says, but it's not hostile, he says it with love, almost as if he can't believe how lucky he is.

“I love you too Ben.” You pull his face down to yours, cupping his cheeks with your hands and feeling the beard scratch and scrape against your palms.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He murmurs, trailing his kisses down to your jaw.

“Pretty much everyone you’ve met is from another century so-“

Ben raises his head to glare at you. “You annoy me too.”

“And you see it as a good thing right?” You tap him on the nose.

“Fuck no.”

The bed shakes with your laughter, Ben is still leaning over you, his right hand pushed into the sheets next to your head, his body resting comfortably beside you. You could feel how warm he was, the weight of his body like a warm blanket, and you knew that you could get used to this. You wanted this life with Ben so badly it burned through your body like wildfire. It made your heart ache, just as it used to when you thought about having a romance like your parents, your grandparents, and Annie and Hughie. When you’d think about finding the person who seemed perfect for you in every way.

Funny, given that Ben seemed to be the opposite of you, but that was why the two of you fit so well together.  

“You never listen to me, you always argue, you always find something I’ve done to complain about-“ Ben continues.

“Are you going back to insulting me? Because it wasn't exactly fun for me earlier when you yelled at me."

“Give me a fucking minute.”

You wait.

His voice shifts to something a little gruffer almost confused. “You don’t ask me for anything.”

It was probably the last thing you thought he was going to say. If anything, you thought he was going to say that you’re always covered in dirt.

"What?"

“Countess she always-“ Ben frowns. “She was always asking me for shit. Jewelry, clothes, a new car. I always got what she asked because I thought that’s what you do for someone you care about, but you always fight me whenever I try to buy something for you. I don't understand you."

"You've said that before-"

"I know, but it's true. I've never fucking understood you." He smiles when he says it.

"That's okay, you have time to figure it out."

Ben hesitates, his hand tracing your arm. "I guess you do too."

The comment is paired with another rare soft smile, the kind of smile that you wanted to make him have every day for the rest of your life, and you understood why he was smiling like that. Because Ben was allowing himself to be comforted by the idea that he wouldn’t have to worry about losing you, that he wouldn't have to be alone and that you would be with him for as long as he was alive.

Something inside ripped open and you felt your eyes begin to water with the weight of his words, because Ben was saying that he wanted to be with you as long as you wanted to be with him.

"Yeah." You breathe. "I guess I do."

You contemplate for a minute what he said about Countess asking him for things. "Honestly, I do like gifts, but I like gifts that mean something." You sit up, gently pushing him off you, so you can gesture to the bookshelf standing proudly on the other side of your bedroom, the one that Ben bought you at IKEA. "Like the bookshelf."

"I bought you a diamond necklace and you liked the bookshelf more?" Ben sighs incredulous.

"Yeah." You laugh. "I've needed a bookshelf for ages, but I never was able to afford one. Do you have any idea how long I've had piles of books? Years. And-" You shrug your shoulders, gently taking Ben's hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over the hardened ridges and rough patches. You couldn't go long without touching him, you were realizing that about yourself and now that you were finally allowing yourself to touch him you weren’t sure when you would be able to stop. "I've also always thought that spending time with someone else is more special than big extravagant gifts."

"Really?"

You nod.

"Why?"

"Because I think there's something wonderful about just existing with someone, of inhabiting the same space and doing nothing at all. Of sinking into someone and just being there." You could feel your cheeks flushing. "When we watch a movie or when we sit and read together or when you walk with me to the plant shop, I like things like that. Spending time together without expectations or a sense of urgency. Taking the time out of your day to be with someone else. And it doesn't have to be sex either-"

"Are you saying that you didn't like the sex?" Ben raises an eyebrow. "Because you certainly sounded like you-"

"No! I-" Your cheeks flush. "I liked the sex."

"Thought so." Ben smirks.

"You're insufferable." You roll your eyes at him, considering what to say next. "I know that it's a little different than the girls you've met in the past, and I know that it might seem a little strange, but you didn't have to take me to Vought to impress me or win my love or something."

Ben looks confused.

"I mean, if you'd shown up on my grandmother's doorstep with a giant box of greasy Chinese food, a cheap bottle of wine, and a small bouquet of flowers I would have been equally happy."

"Really?"

"Mhmm." You continue to trace your fingers over the palm of Ben's hand, loving the way it feels in yours.  "You've got some big hands there mister."

"There isn't anything small about me Sweetheart, you know that. Got to see firsthand" Ben teases sitting up and leaning towards you with a smirk that makes you roll your eyes. He takes your free hand in his left brushing his thumb over the palm. "Yours are kinda small."

"Sorry sasquatch, we can't all have meat hooks."

"I like it." He murmurs.

"That you've got meat hooks for hands?"

"No, I like how small your hands are." He smiles crookedly at you in a way that makes your breath catch.

"Why?"

"Just take the compliment Petals."

"Well, no one has ever complimented my hands before so…"

"I'm sure that I can give a compliment to every part of your sexy body.”

"If you're about to start talking about my ass again, Ben I swear I'm going to lock you in a tree."

“Songs should be written about it. I’m just stating the obvious.”

You shake your head at him and continue to stroke your thumb over his palm while Ben does the same thing. He was being surprisingly gentle, holding your hand as if it was a fragile bird that could fly away at any moment.

“Why do you like my hands?”

Ben is quiet for a moment. “I don't know I kind of like how delicate they are, and I like how you always seem to have some dirt on them-“ Ben smooths his thumb over your palm. “I like how small they look in mine.” He mutters more to himself than to you.

“Ben?” You whisper.

He glances up, an ashamed look on his face. “Yeah?”

“I like how they look in yours too.”

“Really?”

You nod before you look back down at his hands with red cheeks. “I like how big yours are because they feel solid, strong, but also just a little bit gentle.” You could feel yourself blushing all over again. “When we first met, I didn’t think you could be, but you are.”

Ben scoffs.

“Stop.” You look up at him. “You don’t have to pretend right now, it’s just you and me.” You whisper, squeezing his hand encouragingly. "I know that you think that you have to be this tough, no feelings, jerk or playboy or toxic masculinity poster boy, but you don’t. Not around me. I love you and you opening up to me more is not going to make me stop or think less of you. You can tell me how you feel without me judging you."

The look in Ben’s eyes softens for a moment.

“I like the way you are when you’re around me.” You continue in a whisper. “You always seem softer and a bit happier.”

Ben doesn’t answer immediately, instead he continues to let you stroke along his hands. “I-um-I” He clears his throat. “I like who I am around you too.”

Your cheeks warm with his confession.

Ben clears his throat still looking down at your hand watching the gentle movement of your thumb against his skin. "Look, I-" He pauses. "I wasn't just trying to impress you."

"When?"

"At Vought."

"Then why-"

"I don't want you to worry about any of this shit anymore."

"What shit?"

"Paying rent, buying groceries that aren't name brand, walking because you can't afford a car-" Ben sighs. "Fuck, the day we went to IKEA, and you looked at the price of that couch, I hated how you looked and-"

"Ben it's okay. I budget things and it works out. I'm used to it-"

"But I'm not. It's not okay." His hand tightens in yours. "And I don't want you to worry about any of it."

"But-"

"No 'buts' Petals. "

"I don't want you to pay for everything all the time!" You shout.

"Why not?"

"Because it's your money-"

"Not anymore. You're my girl and that means you're not going to worry about any of it as long as I'm here."

"Do you think you're going to stay a long time?" You say it hesitantly, the part of you deep down that worried Ben couldn't be in an exclusive relationship rearing its ugly head all over again.

"As long as you want me here." The determination in Ben's eyes makes your heart stutter a beat, but there was just a little bit of something behind his gaze, something that looked like vulnerability, but it vanishes in the heat of his gaze.

"I'm pretty sure that I'm always going to want you here. It's too quiet without you."

“Then I’ll stay.”

Ben pushes you back against the bed, fitting his body over yours like a warm weighted blanket designed especially for you, kissing you with so much enthusiasm you're not sure that you remember how to breathe. You didn't understand how it could be like this, how you could feel this way about him especially after he annoyed you so much.

But just as he reaches down to grab your thighs to pull them up around his hips, your stomach growls loud enough to wake the dead.

Oh, holy fuck that is so embarrassing.

Ben hesitates and looks at you, your cheeks burning a bright red. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Um-" You clear your throat. "I mean I drank some of my latte earlier but-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What?"

"I should have known." Ben sighs and extracts himself from the embrace of your thighs, getting up from the bed, and muttering something under his breath that you can't understand. “You always do this.”

"Wait, where are you going?" You ask him as you sit up.

"I'm going to find my fucking phone and order a pizza." He says, running his hand through his hair almost a little angry.

“It’s okay you don’t have to do that-“

“Yes, I do. I mean, fuck Petals, why don’t you ever remember to eat?” Ben grouses.

“Because I have a lot on my mind! A few things happened today, and I was upset because you weren't in the apartment when I got home and-"

Ben leans across the bed to kiss you, securing his large hand at the back of your head. "I'm sorry that you were upset. I swear that I'm going to make it up to you."

"Ben I’m pretty sure that you’ve spent the last four hours making it up to me-“

"Not long enough." He winks in a way that makes your throat tighten. "But let me find my phone.”

"Okay." You reach for his shirt on the floor prepared to help him find it, but Ben's hand comes down to your wrist to stop you. “Let me help.”

"Don't bother getting dressed Petals. This’ll only take a minute." He says with a wide smirk. "And I'm not done with you yet."

You're not sure how you ended up on the couch naked and eating pizza, but somehow that's exactly what happens. When the pizza guy had been buzzed up, Ben had answered the door only wearing a pair of his boxers, his chest still sweaty and his hair tugged in two different directions, but Ben couldn't have cared less.

Honestly, you'd had to stop him from answering the door naked. The guy had no sense of shame, but you figured that someone who had founded Herogasm and spent at least seventy five percent of his week bed-hopping, had probably lost his sense of shame years ago.

Bean and Rex were now sharing the dog bed in the corner, a surprising turn of events, but you hoped that it meant the two of them had sorted out whatever sibling problems they were having.

Ben's arm was thrown over your shoulders, pulling you further into him while you ate a slice of pizza with your head leaning against his arm.

I could get used to this.

You exhale a happy sigh and cuddle further into him. Ben wasn't a cuddler, but he was allowing you to cuddle against his arm. But he seemed to be enjoying himself, eating his own slice while taking sips of a glass of whiskey that he was sharing with you.

Sharing was a relative turn because the one time he gave you a sip, you'd sputtered it all out and almost coughed up a lung while Ben patted you on the back as hard as he dared, laughing all the while at you.

And predictably when Ben and you were done, he pulled you onto his lap, and the only thing you could think of was how wonderful you felt. Being with Ben made you feel vibrant and alive in the best way. He made you feel beautiful and made you feel as if Ben understood you more than anyone else ever had. That he saw through what everyone else called weird or unusual and loved you anyway. It was all you wanted for so long, a man who saw every part of you that others sneered at and fell head over heels.

Ben deepens the kiss, groaning into your mouth as his hands tighten on your hips hard enough to leave bruises, but you don't care. Everything about him felt right, the scruff of his beard scratching against your flushed cheeks, the smell of his shampoo (really yours) floating through the air with every breath you took of him, the soft pillow of his lips urgent as if he wanted to drink you in breath by breath and never come up for air, the rough trail of his calloused hands over your soft skin, and the hardness of his body molding around yours in the best way as you sat on top of him. You didn't feel self-conscious or uncomfortable, you couldn't, not when each time Ben touched you with a reverence as if wanted to savor you, to run his hands over every inch and discover new places that no one had ever been, and make you feel things that no one ever has or ever will.

You're so absorbed in Ben that you don't hear the jingle of keys in the lock of your front door, but you do hear the startled scream.

"What the fuck!" Annie screams as she enters the living room.

"Holy shit! Annie what the fuck are you doing here!?" You screech, diving off Ben and ripping the crocheted blanket off the back of the couch to cover yourself.

Annie had seen you naked before, what she hadn't seen was Ben naked or Ben and you having sex.

Oh, will the nightmare never end?

"I was just coming to find you! I was worried!" She shouts, her hand covering her eyes, but it was too late. You knew that she'd seen everything. And you mean EVERYTHING.

Well, it can't get any worse.

"Hey Annie did you find her and- OH HOLY FUCK!" Hughie exclaims as he enters the apartment behind Annie and immediately slaps his hand over his eyes so loud you can hear the sharp slap of his hand against his face. "I didn’t see anything!"

"Can someone shut the door before Mike comes in here and 'doesn't see anything either!'" You snap, clutching the crocheted blanket tighter against your chest. It was doing little to cover you, due to the wide spaces in between the granny squares, but it was the only thing big enough to cover all of you.

Because that's exactly what this situation needed, my neighbor coming in and getting everything on his Christmas list when he sees me naked on my couch.

"Why try to hide it baby?" Ben shrugs, leaning back against the couch not bothering to cover himself. "I want everyone to see what they can't have." He winks.

You smack him in the face with one of the couch pillows before shoving it into his lap. "You're not helping Ben." You wave a hand and a vine hanging on the back of your door shuts it with a slam.

"What?" Ben leans towards you with a salacious grin. "My girl is fucking gorgeous, should be the star of every wet dream-"

"Ben, I swear I will tie you up and-"

"But we already did that Petals." He grins. "I wouldn't mind doing it again-"

The wave of heat that travels through your body has nothing to do with embarrassment.

"Please do not finish that sentence." Annie interrupts, her hand still covering her eyes. "I'm already scarred for life."

"Join the club." Hughie mutters.

"You wouldn't have been scarred for life if you had just fucking knocked!" You shout at your friend. "Why are you here?"

"I was worried when you ran to the elevators and Ashley finally let me leave that ridiculous party! I tried to call you and you didn't answer, I went up to Ben's apartment and you weren't there, I called your grandmother and she said that she hadn't heard from you, so I figured you were here!"

"You called Di?" Ben asks.

"I was desperate!" Annie sighs. "I wanted to make sure she was okay-"

"Uh-huh well, you can see that she's fine and we were in the middle of something. Unless the two of you want to get another eyeful of my girl's perfect ass, you should clear out-"

"Ben!" You smack him on the shoulder.

"Absolutely, Annie let's go-" Hughie begins to say stepping backward with his hand over his eyes. He gropes through the air blindly trying to find her, but he comes up empty.

"Wait!" Annie removes her hand from her face, giving Ben a once over and not bothering to hide what she was doing.

"What do you have to wait for?" Hughie asks still reaching out for Annie with his eyes closed.

"Annie for fucks sake-" You groan, but Ben seemed to like all the attention.

She gives you a thumbs up. "I want details tomorrow."

It was more of a high five moment and you both knew it, but you weren't going to give her the satisfaction.

"ANNIE!" You huff face blushing an even brighter red. By now you were sure that you were as red as the strawberries that were hanging on the plant on your kitchen table.

"Bye babe!" Annie says cheerfully, pulling Hughie out the door behind her and slamming it.

"I'm going to kill her." You mutter under your breath, but Ben laughs.

"You're going to talk me up right baby?" Ben purrs wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into him again. His lips fall to your ear, biting your earlobe before he murmurs. "Tell her all about how good I was?"

"Keep talking and I'm going to tell her that I had to fake it for four hours." You threaten.

It was an empty threat, like hell you were ever going to forget what Ben had done to you. And of course, you were going to tell Annie everything tomorrow over coffee or maybe over wine.

Definitely wine. I’m going to need to get a little bit drunk to cope with the thought that Hughie just saw me naked.

"Aww don't be like that Petals. We both know that you didn't fake anything."

“That you know.”

Ben’s gaze turns dark. “Oh really?” His grip on your waist tightens and he starts to pull the crocheted blanket away from your chest.

“Wait.” You say before you get distracted.

“What?” Ben pulls back. "What's wrong?"

"Annie called my grandmother, which means that she may have tried to call me." You look around the room for where your phone could be. It's between the couch cushions behind you and when you look at the screen you see that your grandmother had tried to call you twice, just as you suspected.

"So?"

"She called me. She must be so worried." You push the call button.

Your grandmother answers on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hey Gran, I'm sorry I didn't pick up. I was-"

"You don't have to explain. I know that you must have been preoccupied." The way she says preoccupied makes your entire body flush bright red.

Oh, sweet baby peony, please tell me that my grandmother didn't watch Ben and me having sex.

"Please tell me that you didn't-" You begin to croak.

"I didn't mean to." She breezes, and she doesn't sound ashamed. "But then Annie called, and I was worried about where you were so I looked ahead a bit and-“

"Oh, for the love of lemon cream pie." You groan, curling up into a ball because that seems the right thing to do after you've found out that your grandmother had a front row seat to see what Ben and you over the past four hours.

The couch shakes beneath you, and you realize that Ben is laughing. You raise your head to glare at him.

"Looks like the cats out of the bag Petals." He croons.

"I will kill you." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Sweet Pea, I was alive when Ben went to yearly herogasms, there really isn't anything I haven't seen." You hear your grandmother say.

"That doesn't matter." You groan, pulling the crochet blanket over your head in shame. "This is mortifying."

"Petals it's okay." Ben rubs your back, but it's not helping. "I did some of my best work, and you really did some-“

"Please do not finish that sentence."

"Honey, I didn't see too much." Your grandmother soothes. "But I am happy you called, because I want to speak to Ben for a moment."

You hold up the phone from underneath the crocheted blanket, remaining inside your cocoon of shame.

I'm never going to be able to look her in the eyes every again. Holy fuck why me? Why me!? I’d rather Mike walk in here while Ben and I were fooling around on the couch.

"Di, what's wrong?" You hear Ben say into the phone, but you don’t come out of your cave.

"What's wrong?" Your grandmother asks calmly. "Oh, let me think for a second… You're a complete MOTHER FUCKING IDIOT!" Your grandmother shouts it so loudly that you could hear it vibrating through the room.

You peel back the crocheted blanket on your head to look up at Ben who seems just as surprised at your grandmother's insult.

"Wait a minute, what did I-"

"No! No talking!" She shouts. "I couldn't have been any clearer, could I? Maybe if I'd hit you over the head with a frying pan it would have cleaned out your ears! Or given your brain a good shake."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?! I told you what you needed to do. I told you that you needed to come here and what did you fucking do? You broke my granddaughter's heart and went right back to Stan Fucking Edgar!"

Ben's eyes shift to yours and you swear you can see a flicker of regret spark behind his gaze. It makes you reach out and take his free hand, squeezing it to ground him here with you. You knew that Ben felt bad about leaving you like that, you heard it in his voice when he talked to you back at Vought, had seen the regret in his eyes when he told you that he ‘should have been there.’

"That's not-" Ben says half-heartedly, his gaze still on you.

"No! It's exactly what happened."

"Stop anticipating what I'm going to fucking say!" Ben snaps.

"And you stop interrupting me!" Your grandmother shouts back.

"But-"

"Benjamin, you better not fuck this up, because if you do, I will fuck you up." The threat hangs heavy in the air. "Now put my granddaughter back on the phone."

Ben huffs something under his breath and hands you back the phone, fuming. You give his hand another apologetic squeeze.

It was embarrassing enough that your grandmother had seen Ben and you having sex, but now you were mortified that she had yelled at him. You understood that they were friends, but Ben was still your boyfriend.

"Gran you shouldn't talk to him like that." You say into the phone, leaning into Ben's bare shoulder to show him that you weren’t angry with him. "He's apologized and it's okay-"

"It most certainly is not okay." Your grandmother says. "And somebody's got to talk to him like that, so it might as well be me."

"But Gran-"

"No buts sweet pea." She interrupts. "Now I know the two of you are busy today, but I would like you to come out here next week."

"Next week?"

"Yes. It's the annual town fall festival and I've got about a million things to bake, and I could really use the help." Your grandmother states. "Plus, Annie's mother is driving me up the wall about it and it would be nice to have someone here to make sure that I don't kill her."

"Oh okay." You frown and the thought of leaving Ben. The two of you had just finally worked it all out and now you were going to have to go back to Illinois. But you couldn't leave your grandmother high and dry. She needed you there and you loved your grandmother. "Well, I guess Ben can take care of Bean and Rex-

"I want to go." Ben interrupts you.

"Really?" You look at him surprised. "It's not something that you'd-"

"I want to go." He says firmly and this time it's Ben that squeezes your hand.

It made you smile, because you could see that Ben wanted to spend time with you even at something that he'd probably hate every second of.

Fuck, I love him so much.

"Okay. We'll be there." You reply to your grandmother, but you don't look away from Ben.

He's got that soft smile on his face, the one that you want to make him have every second for the rest of your life. You were sure that the same smile was mirrored on your own.

"Perfect. Now get back to doing whatever it was that you were doing, and don't forget to call me when you figure out what day you're going to start driving over."

"Drive? Wouldn't we fly?"

"Nope. For some reason you convince Ben that a road trip will be fun." She says knowingly and you realize that she's seen the future again. “Something about experiencing America in the 21st century.” You can imagine her waving her hand around as if she can’t quite understand.

"That's going to take some getting used to." You groan and wonder how much she had seen of your life. "Gran?"

"Yes, sweet pea?"

"Thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome." You could hear the smile in your grandmother's voice.

She didn’t need you to explain what you meant, she knew that you were talking about last week when she comforted you and tried her darndest to tell you that Ben and you were meant to be together. She had always been so patient with you, and you knew that she loved you just as you loved her. Going home was never a chore or something you dreaded. It was something that filled you with warmth, something that made you feel like you belonged, and the home was filled with the love your grandmother infused through the air with her thoughtful actions and kind words.

"I love you." You smile.

"I love you too sweetie. I'll see you next week."

You sit there in the silence for a moment, lowering the phone from your ear, before you look up at Ben.

"You okay Petals?" Ben drags the crocheted blanket away from your body, before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Yeah. I am." You smile, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to secure him against you. "Can you promise me something?"

 "Anything." His hands settle comfortably on your hips, but Ben doesn’t look away from your face.

"That you won’t leave like that again." This time you reach down and pull his right hand up to your chest, directly over your heart so he can feel the gentle beat through his skin.

'Like-"

"Go all radio silent and take all your stuff and just vanish into thin air." You clarify. "I didn't like that. It scared me and I-"

Ben's other hand cups your cheek, pulling your face to his before you can finish your sentence. You can feel how sorry he is, how much he wants to make it up to you. You know deep down that Ben didn’t mean to do that to you, that he only did it because he was trying to push you away, but that didn't make it any less okay.

"I promise." He says into your mouth before nipping at your sore bottom lip and easing the pain with a sweep of his tongue against the soft flesh. "I won't leave like that again."

"Good." But instead of kissing him again, this time you press your forehead into his shoulder with a soft sigh, cuddling into him.

"Tired?" Ben's hand begins to circle at the base of your spine.

"Mhmm. You wore me out old man."

"I thought you were faking it."

"I wasn't faking all of it." You press a kiss into the shadow of his jaw, holding on to him. You wondered if Ben was okay with how clingy you were but given his hand placement you didn't think that it bothered him.

"Thought so." Ben chuckles. "Petals?"

"Hmm?" You hum into his skin, tightening your arms around his neck. He was wonderful and warm in the best way, like the perfect heating pad. Not to mention the way his muscles tensed around your body made goosebumps flicker over your arms. You could feel a wave of happiness and contentment crashing over your head, the longer you cuddled into him.

"Will you promise me something?" He mutters into the top of your head.

"Of course."

He’s quiet for a few moments. "That you won't leave either." Ben whispers it so quietly that you're not sure that you heard him correctly.

You pull back just a few inches to look him in the eye. He looks a little ashamed, and you can practically see the internal self-deprecating monologue inside his head, his face scrunching up in disgust. He opens his mouth, probably to take it back-

Your lips meet his, gentle, unyielding, pouring every emotion you have into it, your hands finding the strands of hair at the nape of his neck to hold him closer to you. You wanted Ben to understand that you would never judge him for that, that he could be vulnerable around you without consequence. And you wanted him to believe how much you loved him and how much he meant to you.

Ben moans into your mouth, pulling you tighter against his chest, your body molding against his in the best way, in the way that Ben only could. His hands were everywhere, trailing warmth in their wake, making the tiredness that you had felt minutes ago fade as you began to burn beneath his calloused palms.

He tasted good, he smelled good, and he felt so damn good that it made you feel like you were catching fire one cell at a time, burning until there was nothing left but stardust.

"I promise Ben." You whisper against his mouth before he swallows the words whole. "I promise that I'll never leave as long as you want me here."

He hesitates, hands stilling on your hips. An odd look crosses his face.

"Ben? What's wrong?" You cup his cheeks, worried about him.

"I-" He swallows, but looks frustrated with himself.

"It's okay." You whisper, brushing your lips against his, understanding exactly what it is that he's trying to say. "You don’t have to say it. I know. I love you too.”

And you did know. You knew that it was difficult for him to admit something like that, but you didn’t care. You knew that Ben loved you as much as you loved him, and that was enough for you.

You settle back down against his chest, holding him close to you.

“Come on Petals, let’s go to bed.” He murmurs into the top of your head.

“Can we just sit here for a few minutes?” You whisper into his throat, nuzzling into his warmth.

Ben’s hand gently trails along your back, holding you steadily on top of him. “Yeah. We can do that.”

And you wondered if Ben liked this as much as you did, if there was a piece of Ben that longed for the quiet moments you loved so much, and the quiet moments when it was just the two of you and no one else.

You feel him press a kiss to your hairline, and it’s enough to send you off into the sweet relief of sleep, swallowed and enveloped in Ben’s warm embrace.

A/N: Just a lovely bit of fluff and a little spice 😉. I really needed to just write a soft Ben and a reader enjoying their time together. 😊 There will be one more chapter that is a little bit of a time jump, but I think it will wrap up the series wonderfully! But don't worry, it won't be the last time I write for this reader and Ben. I have a mini-series planned and a few one-shots planned!

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know!

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[sunflowers4life]

Marauders - Florals

another fic! just a sweet and short little fic about James and some apology flowers! enjoy! warnings are mention of Y/N and feminine language, and suggestion of reader being in gryffindor.

pairing : james potter x reader, remus x sirius

Nothing had gone right today. You had woken up late this morning, hence missing breakfast. Then, when you arrived in herbology, your hair looked like someone had attempted to crochet it. Finally, just to put the cherry on top, as you walked into Defence Against the Dark Arts, you were suddenly coated in a green, slimy texture. You could feel it seeping into your shoes. The room was silent, and, without a doubt, you knew who was responsible. Wiping the slime from your eyes, you made eye contact with those brown eyes and curly hair, the circular frames on his face framing his eyes making them just even more punchable. 

James Potter stood there in disbelief. Snape was meant to walk through that door, not you. Lily rushed to grab you by your shoulders, leading you back to the Gryffindor common rooms, but not without turning and giving James a glare that would rival that of McGonagall. Sirius slowly raised from his seat, and gave James a solid pat on the back. “Nice going mate.” 

It was Saturday, and James was on a mission. That mission was what he had named operation apology flowers. James had, in Remus’s opinion, quite annoyingly tugged the 3 other boys in his dorm along with him, deeming that “There is no time like the present'', as he opened all the blinds in the room, and pulled the donna's off all the boys. Peter had rolled his eyes, but got up reluctantly with limited complaints. Remus questioned his life for a little bit, thinking about the events in his life that had led to this moment. And finally, there was Sirius, who could only be described as looking like a real life zombie, his pale skin emphasised further by the bags under his eyes, and the nasty look he had been sending to James since the sun first entered the room.

Hence, that is what led to the current situation, where James held about 20 bouquets in his hands. He was determined to make it up to you, but he wasn’t 100 percent sure what flowers were your favourites. Lilys, sunflowers, roses, peonies, mums, lavenders? Name essentially any flower, and Remus swore he could see it in James’s hands. Peter had taken a couple off of him, being the only one of the 3 to feel sorry for the situation James had found himself in. Sirius was sincerely too tired to care. 

It was at that moment, he caught sight of your hair. “Y/N!” He yelled, turning heads all around Hogsmeade. You turned, and he took note of the slight red to your cheeks. He scurried through the middle of the alley, before poking his head from in between the bouquet of sunflowers that had made its home in the middle of the forest he held. “I got you flowers!” He lightly pushed the bouquets forward, towards your body, and you were at a loss. A lost that 1, you were in fact very happy to receive flowers. You had felt now that winter was on the way, your dorm had been dropping in colour, and needed a pop. However, what were you going to do with all these bouquets? 

“James, how on earth did you get all these?” It was at this point you took notice of his companions, who looked like they would rather be elsewhere. “Uh… the flower shop…? Look, I just wanted to say sorry for the slime. You were not my intended target, I promise, but I saw the door open and got maybe just a little excited...” He watched your eyes roll, a gentle smile spreading across your cheeks, that continued to stay rosy. “That's alright. Help me carry these to my dorm?” Remus could have sworn he developed whiplash from the speed at which James nodded, before shoving a couple of bouquets into Sirius and Remus's hands, taking your own in his, before he began making his way back towards Hogwarts. 

Sirius cheekily turned to Remus and offered him the small bouquet of roses that had made home in his hands. Leaning in, lightly, he pressed a kiss to his cheek, looking to the ground before scurrying to catch up with Peter. Remus stood, abashedly, before shyly shaking his head, and moving to catch up with the group. He guessed the Saturday wasn’t so bad afterall.