#wille finds his sweater and there is TEASING.

[jewishrat420]

No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.

And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.

And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."

Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.

Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.

For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.

And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.

And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.

But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.

And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.

But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.

Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.

They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.

Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.

"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."

"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."

Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.

"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."

And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.

This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."

He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.

His next words come out without effort, without intent.

"Don't call me that."

He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.

"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"

Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.

"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.

His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.

"...You know."

Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.

Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.

Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.

"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."

Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.

"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."

Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.

"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"

Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."

Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.

"Yeah?"

Steve hums again.

"What about... sweetheart?"

Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.

"Yeah."

Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.

"Honey?"

Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."

Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"

Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.

"Especially big boy."

Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.

Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.

"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"

Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."

Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.

His response is overwhelming.

Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.

And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.

He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.

Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.

"You know which one's my favorite?"

Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"

"Look at me."

Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.

It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.

Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.

The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.

"Baby."

Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.

"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.

"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."

This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.

"Think that can be arranged, baby."

[luveline]

could i request spencer x bombshell!reader where maybe spencer and the team meet reader’s ex boyfriend / a guy she used to be interested in and he’s sooo different from spencer so he assumes her flirting is a joke but really she never had a type until she met spencer n now she’s only into nerdy, sweater-vest wearing sweethearts <3

love ur work sm i only read spencer fics but i read all your characters bc the writing is so intoxicating !!

thank you for your request angel! <3 1k, fem

Spencer looks adorable today. You’re not sure if he knows, but that can be easily rectified. 

“Spencer Reid,” you say sternly. 

He’s immediately wide-eyed and sorry. “What?” he asks, pouting. 

“You have some explaining to do.” You glare, taking your compact from your pocket. You open it, check your appearance, fighting a huge smile as you flick the mirror on him accusingly. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?” 

“I don’t get it.” His eyes jump between the mirror and you. “Sorry?” 

“You should be sorry. Do you see how nice you look today?” He rolls his eyes. “Hey, don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.”

You and Spencer have known each other for years now, and you love him. You’d die for him easily in the field, and out of it too, but you’re not together and he’s bad at accepting compliments, so he shrugs you off like you’re only teasing him. 

“My handsome partner,” you say. Even if he isn’t your boyfriend, that’s your loophole. You and Spencer get paired for everything these days, because you’re best friends and Hotch has given up on separating you (though professionally there’s no need). “I could eat you.” 

“Still mildly threatening, then,” a voice says. 

You spin in your chair, shocked and a little horrified to find the last person you wanted to see here in Connecticut. “Cory!” you say, knowing he’ll believe you’re enthusiasm if nobody else. 

“Hi, beautiful. You weren’t gonna call me?” 

Your lips pop as you reply, “I was definitely going to, just as soon as we weren’t on the clock. How are you?” you ask, standing to receive the hug you know he’s going to give. 

Cory is… well, he’s gorgeous, though that hadn’t been why you had fun with him when you were here last. He’d seemed nice enough and plainly interested in you at the time, and you’d been sort of lonely, so really he was a necessity of the soul rather than a want. Plus, he was very rich. 

Gorgeous he may be, but Spencer Reid he is not. You don’t deny it to yourself —the genius behind you has completely changed your type, the kind of man you vy after, and if you’re honest, he’s the one for you. So hugging Cory and pretending you’re going to call him for drinks after the case is over isn’t easy. You lie rather than reject him.

“He seemed nice,” Spencer says in the awkward silence Cory leaves behind. 

“Sure!” you say, blowing out a hot breath. “Was I embarrassing myself? I didn’t expect to see him.” 

“You were the same as usual.” 

You tilt your head back as the door opens again, worried it’ll be Cory back for a last word. Emily smiles at you knowingly, a bag of takeout in hand. “God, did you see that?” she asks, eyebrows rising. “He was perfect.” 

“If you like the Greek god motif,” you joke. 

Spencer’s frowning at his files when you turn back to him. “Spence, what’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Mm? Nothing.”

“You sure?” you ask. 

He maintains that he’s okay as the rest of the team flood in for lunch. You pretend to believe him, not sure what you’ve done to upset him but willing to figure it out. You unwrap his food for him and place his plastic cutlery on a napkin as you know he prefers, sorting through the cup drinks to find his diet lemonade. “Here, handsome,” you say, touching his shoulder gently as you sit down next to him. 

He bristles. 

“Spencer?” you ask. 

He looks around the table. Hotch and Rossi are talking about something with shared smiles, while JJ and Morgan debate the case. Emily’s on her phone with a straw between her lips. They aren’t listening, and so he says, “It’s not a fitting nickname.” 

“What, handsome? That’s not a nickname, it’s a pet name, and it’s true. You’re one of the most handsome guys I’ve ever seen,” —you laugh and grab his elbow when he shakes his head— “are you kidding? Spencer, you could be a model. I’ve told you this a hundred times. You have amazing cheekbones, just dreamy, and your lips–”

“Oh, god, please don’t start,” he says, covering his face with both hands. He sounds like he’s smiling. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Hotch shoots you a don’t tease look. You send him a vehement I’m not back, waiting for him to look away before you prod Spencer again. “You’re so cute, Spencer, you don’t get it.” 

“I don’t wanna be cute, cute isn’t your type–”

Your eyes flare. “What would you know about my type, Spencer? Is this– is this about Cory?” 

“Of course it is,” he says, face pink as he drops his hands. 

“Spencer, he is not my type.” 

“But you dated.”

“One date. And that was before I realised I liked dorks in sweater vests,” you say. You’re both acting like this is half a joke, a skit, in case you’re overheard, but you’re also both well aware that it’s serious and vulnerable and flustering to confess certain things right here and now. Too bad it has to be done. “I miss your glasses, babe, they really added to your charm.” 

Spencer shakes his head, picking up his styrofoam boxed lunch to ignore you. 

You sidle close to him, your pinky finger rubbing the slightest hint of his bare wrist. “Wanna get drinks with me tonight? I need a cover story in case Grecian Cory tracks me down. And, you know you get that really cute blush when you drink. What do you say?” 

“No,” he says with a smile, which means yes in this instance.

You kiss his cheek, giggling at the lipgloss left behind. “You’re my type, handsome.”

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, kids, penetrative sex, breeding

"she’s really good with kids," roy smiles widely to his best friend, a smile that turns into a smirk when he looks over to the raven haired man. cheeks dusted pink while a stupid, love-struck grin covers his lips.

that is, until it’s not and is quickly wiped off when he feels the gaze on him and a bump to his shoulder. "don’t ya want some of your own?" the red-haired man asks, and jason rolls his eyes. "can’t stand kids, basically have some of my own with all the other shits," jason says annoyedly thinking about his one-too-many siblings that he had grown up raising alongside dick. raising kids as siblings and vigilantes has a tendency to make the average man not want children

but, he can’t help but to feel a pang in his chest when he watches you pick up roy’s baby daughter, lian, from your place in the park a little bit aways from the two men. your arms wrapping around her tiny frame as you hold her close to your chest, pointing to jason and roy while encouraging her to wave at the two men. something of a wave, more of a grabbing fist is executed as she matches the smile that you’re wearing, and jason has never thought about getting you pregnant until this very moment.

like a flick of a switch changes in him. he imagines it’s what animals feel when it's mating season; something primal and deep within him that says he needs to be the reason for a bump on your belly and he needs it to happen immediately.

"c’mon, if you get her pregnant now, lian and yours can grow up together," roy pushes more, waving to his sweet baby while doing so; contrastly speaking to jason about impregnating you like it was as normal as he made it sound. "y’know you want it, big man. plus your babies would be so fuckin’ cute," he fonds, "well, her traits would make your babies cute, i don’t know about yours," roy teases with a laugh, hitting jason’s back.

bidding a farewell to your best friend in law and his daughter, you made your way back into your home with jason following behind, locking the door and making his own way in.

"how many kids do you want?" your boyfriend asks, and it’s hard not to take you by surprise. usually these conversations stemmed from previous important conversations, or something that brought overwhelming intimacy. To say the least, this wasn’t the average conversation that’s spoken as soon as you walk in the door.

this wasn’t the type of conversation to follow spending time with your best friend.

"why’re you asking?" you question, turning on your heel with a pointed look and jason shrugs with a roll of his eyes. his keys rustle against the counter as he walks towards you, his cold hand finding yours and leading you quietly to your bedroom.

“i think you’d look good with my baby,” he says, helping you take your sweater and then shirt underneath off. gently, and without rush, like he has all the time in the world if you’re willing. raising your arms to assist the man with his task at hand, you smile teasingly, “somebody’s got baby fever ‘cause of lian, huh?” and jason scoffs with a small laugh, “something like that. also wanna continue our family if you'd like to help,” he insists with a tease while your hands now find his top, doing the same as he did to you. 

his movements are slow tonight, matching the one of two ways you find him in bed. either fucking or making love, and when the latter occurs, you find yourself relishing in every touch that feels louder than they’ve ever been. touches that are soft but with force to be intentional, kisses that are meaningful, especially the one jason presses with soft lips to the spot right under your belly button. his movements that are languid, slow, and rhythmed with every moan and word that he whispers in your ear, say in your neck after he’s kissed the skin there.

months later when he sees your swollen belly, he feels like he’s won the lottery. he feels like you're a prize he’s won and just needs to show off; realistically, he’s keeping you home as much as possible and going out with you in times of needing outside air. your lower back hurts? he’s watched youtube tutorials on massage techniques that help during pregnancy. you have a strange craving? jason’s running out at midnight to get precisely what you’re crazing. oh, your tits are sore after you’ve finally delivered your baby? there’s nothing to worry about when jason asks a quick, “you want my hands or my mouth?”

[dearlenore]

THE WAY THINGS GO • S.REID

SUMMARY: after a video of you and Spencer on a date—one he had taken—gets sent to the BAU along with a threatening message about taking your life, Spencer knows he must make a heart-wrenching decision: break up with you to keep you safe.

PAIRING: gf!surgeon!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a pediatric surgeon (I’m obsessed w peds!reader x Spencer rn) canon cm violence, blood, mentions of surgery, mentions of death, mentions of child death, mentions of stalking. Pure angst

a/n: i don’t usually write angst so I guarantee this is booty butt :3

w/c: 2.4K

vote for surgeon reader here

Spencer Reid walked into the BAU bullpen, a stack of files tucked under his arm, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He barely had time to set them down before JJ approached, her expression tight with urgency.

“You need to see this,” she said, motioning for him to follow.

A familiar dread settled in his stomach. He had seen that look before—too many times. Something was wrong.

The rest of the team was already gathered in the conference room, the tension thick in the air. Garcia stood by the screen, her fingers anxiously tapping against the keyboard. Hotch, arms crossed, gave Spencer a measured look. “Take a seat.”

Spencer lowered himself into the chair, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios.

Then Garcia hit play.

The screen flickered to life, and Spencer’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

You sat across from him in a dimly lit restaurant, the candlelight flickering between you. You were laughing, your eyes crinkling in that way he adored, your fingers idly playing with the sleeve of your sweater as you leaned in closer.

“I think you just like showing off,” you teased, your voice warm, affectionate as you pointed your fork at him.

Spencer chuckled on the screen, shaking his head. “It’s not showing off if you ask me to explain it.”

“Mm, debatable,” you said with a playful smirk.

Then the screen went black, replaced by bold white text:

“She doesn’t belong to you, Doctor Reid. Say goodbye before she disappears for good.”

Silence choked the room.

Spencer swallowed hard, his pulse roaring in his ears.

“Reid,” Emily’s voice was gentle but firm, pulling him back. “We need you to explain.”

He took a breath, pushing past the knot in his throat. “Her name is Y/N,” he began. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months.” His voice wavered slightly, but he forced himself to continue. “That video—it was from our third date. I took it myself.” He shook his head, his stomach twisting at the implication. “Whoever this is, they got into my phone.”

Rossi exhaled, his expression grave. “And now they’re threatening her.”

Spencer clenched his fists beneath the table. He had seen this play out before—victims used as leverage, people torn apart before they even realized they were in danger.

He would not let that happen to you.

Hotch met his eyes. “We’ll do everything we can to protect her.”

Spencer nodded, but his gut told him what he had to do.

Because if this person was willing to go this far…

Keeping you in his life might be the very thing that got you killed.

The conference room buzzed with heated discussions, the team already brainstorming ways to keep you safe. The air was thick with urgency, but beneath it all, Spencer felt the crushing weight of helplessness. No matter how many plans they came up with, how many precautions they suggested, there was only one truth that gnawed at him: he couldn’t protect you from scratch.

Every instinct in him screamed to find a way to reassure you, to tell you that everything would be fine, that he could keep you safe. But deep down, Spencer knew better. He had seen too many situations where disobedience from scratch meant death. The threat was real. He couldn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment.

Reid rubbed his eyes, his fingertips pressing against the bridge of his nose as if that could block out the suffocating sense of dread closing in around him. His gaze drifted to the table, the outlines of his teammates’ faces blurry in his peripheral vision. They were all talking over each other now, their voices blending together, but the words didn’t register. Not really. He couldn’t focus on anything but the horrible, sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Reid… kid, we’re gonna protect her,” Morgan’s voice broke through, soft but firm, trying to offer reassurance. But Spencer knew it wasn’t that simple.

“Not from scratch,” Spencer whispered, barely audible, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes flickered toward the door as if he could run out and fix everything in that moment. “I can’t just— I can’t just let it happen.”

A heavy silence followed, only broken by the harsh sound of Spencer’s breath. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I have— I have to warn her,” he choked out, his hands shaking at his sides. His mind raced, his fear for you escalating by the second. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to protect you, to get to you before the threat could take root.

Hotch’s voice was quiet but laced with a cold warning. He stepped toward Spencer, his expression unreadable. “Do that, and he kills her.” His eyes bore into Spencer’s, unwavering and intense. “Think about her well-being. Think about what’s at stake here.”

Spencer’s stomach turned at the thought, but his chest tightened in protest. He wanted to argue, wanted to fight against the inevitable. “I can’t just sit here, Hotch,” he whispered, the words feeling like nails in his throat. “What if he targets her at work? What if he’s already there, watching her? What if—”

Hotch shook his head slowly, his voice heavy with regret. “I know the urge to act is overwhelming, but you have to stay rational, Reid. We can protect her with a plan, but going rogue… that’ll make her a target.”

Spencer’s mind was a whirl of thoughts, none of them making sense. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white, his gaze flicking to each of them in turn, trying to understand why they weren’t as desperate as he was. “She works with kids, Hotch! She’s a surgeon . She has a baby at home. What if they go after her when she’s with them?” His voice cracked with the force of his emotions, and he could hear the panic rising. “You don’t understand… she’s everything. I can’t lose her.” His voice cracked.

Hotch’s face softened, but his tone remained firm. “You’re not thinking clearly, Spencer. We’re all in this together, and we’ll do everything we can to protect her. But right now, you need to step back. Go home, take a moment. We’ll have a plan in place by tonight.”

Rossi stepped forward, his face marked by concern. “Kid, we’ll protect her, but you can’t act on your own. We need you here, not running off half-cocked. Think about it—if you go to her now, you’re only putting her in more danger.”

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest, his body frozen in a battle between doing what was rational and doing what his heart screamed at him to do. He felt a burning sensation in his eyes, a mix of fear, anger, and helplessness that boiled inside him. The thought of you—vulnerable, unaware of the imminent threat—was unbearable. His mind screamed for him to act, but the reality of the situation pressed down on him like a suffocating weight.

But the truth hit him like a punch in the gut. He had to let you go. He had to push you out of harm’s way, and if that meant stepping back from the only real happiness he had known, then that was what he had to do.

“No,” Spencer whispered to himself. He took a shaky breath, his voice barely audible as he turned away from the team. “I have to do something. I can’t just sit here while she’s in danger.”

Hotch’s voice was a firm command. “Reid, I’m ordering you to go home. Rest. We’ll handle this.”

But Spencer didn’t hear him. Without another word, he bolted out the door, his mind consumed with the image of you—your laughter, your warmth, your smile. All of it threatened to slip away if he didn’t act fast. He didn’t care if he was being irrational. All he knew was that he couldn’t lose you.

The team’s voices echoed behind him, but Spencer didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The fear that gripped him was too great, and the only way to quiet it was to get to you. To warn you. To make sure you were safe. Even if it meant losing everything he had fought for.

SPENDER STOOD UNDER the harsh glow of the hospital’s exterior lights, his pulse thrumming in his ears. The bouquet in his hands felt heavier than it should have, the small bag of gifts weighing him down like an anchor. The items were meant to celebrate another year with you, a future he had once believed was certain. Now, they felt like artifacts of a life he could no longer have.

His heart clenched as he spotted you walking out of the hospital, the familiar sight of you sending a fresh wave of pain through his chest. Your hair was still loosely tied in low pigtails, the way the children on your floor adored. But as soon as you stepped outside, you reached up and pulled them free, letting out a soft sigh as you transitioned from Dr. Y/N L/N to simply Y/N. His Y/N.

Your eyes brightened the moment you saw him.

“Spence?”

Your voice, so full of warmth, nearly shattered him.

You jogged up to him, your smile radiant despite your exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” You took his hands in yours without hesitation, squeezing them like you always did when you were excited. He wanted to squeeze back, to reassure you, to hold on just a little longer.

But he couldn’t move.

He could only stare at you, frozen, as the reality of what he was about to do bore down on him like an unstoppable force.

Your happiness. Your love. The home you shared. The way Hugo would be waiting for you, probably curled up with one of his favorite toys (aka anything a baby wasn’t meant to play with), blissfully unaware that everything was about to fall apart.

His vision blurred.

Before you could say anything else, he kissed you.

It was desperate, hard and filled with a longing that terrified him. His hands cradled your face as if you might slip through his fingers if he let go too soon. You kissed him back, but it wasn’t with the same urgency. It was softer, slower, searching—like you could already sense something was wrong.

When he pulled away, you blinked up at him, concern now taking the place of your smile.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your brows knitting together. Your hands, still wrapped around his, squeezed just a little tighter.

Spencer swallowed hard.

He wanted to tell you it was fine. He wanted to lie, to delay this moment, to pretend he could keep you safe while still keeping you his.

But he couldn’t.

This was the last time he’d get to see you like this—happy, untouched by the terror that had now wrapped its claws around both of you. He had already made his decision. And as much as it killed him, he couldn’t turn back now.

“Uh… it’s not,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He forced himself to lift the bouquet, the bag of gifts. “But I wanted you to have these.”

You hesitated before taking them, your laugh soft but uncertain. “Spencer, what’s going on?”

He couldn’t meet your eyes.

His breath came out uneven as he forced the words up his throat.

“Y/N…” He clenched his jaw, swallowing back the sob clawing its way up. “You know I love you. And I—” His voice broke. “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your grip on the gifts faltered, but you caught them quickly. The hesitation, the fear creeping into your expression, shattered something inside him.

Wanted.

Your brows furrowed. “Wanted?”

The word hung between you, suffocating.

Spencer couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down his cheek. He turned his head slightly, ashamed, as if looking at you for too long would make him change his mind.

You stepped closer, your free hand reaching for his, but he took a small step back.

“Spence, you’re scaring me,” you whispered. “What’s wrong? Whatever it is, we can—”

He shook his head, cutting you off. “No,” he choked out. “We can’t.”

Your lips parted slightly, confusion and hurt flashing across your face. “What do you mean?”

Spencer forced himself to look at you, really look at you—because this would be the last time. The last time he’d get to see the love in your eyes before he crushed it. The last time he’d hear his name spoken with such warmth.

He took a shaky breath.

“I have to let you go.”

The world seemed to stand still.

Your eyes widened, the color draining from your face. “What?”

He blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears burning his eyes. “It’s not safe. I’m not safe. And if you stay with me… neither are you.”

A shaky breath escaped you, your grip tightening around the bouquet like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Spencer, what are you talking about? I don’t—”

“I can’t explain,” he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I need you to trust me.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “No. No, I do trust you, but this isn’t—this doesn’t make sense.” Your voice cracked, your own tears starting to well in your eyes. “If something’s wrong, we face it together. That’s what we do.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and tell you that. That you were right. That you were in this together.

But that wasn’t the truth.

If he stayed, Scratch would find you. Would hurt you. Would take you away in a way far worse than this.

And Spencer couldn’t let that happen.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, shaking his head. His voice was raw now, each word slicing through him. “If I stay, you die. And I—” He let out a broken breath. “I won’t survive that.”

Your face crumpled, tears slipping freely down your cheeks now. “Spence, please,” you begged, reaching for him again. “Please don’t do this.”

He caught your hand for just a moment, his fingers curling around yours like muscle memory. And then, with everything in him screaming not to, he let go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Then, before he could take it back—before he could fall apart right in front of you—he turned and walked away.

He didn’t look back.

Because if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave at all.

[charliemwrites]

Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️? Unhinged obsessive Johnny Thoughts™️.

Johnny didn’t mean to. He swears he didn’t mean to, please understand.

You’re his favorite server at his favorite bar. He finds every excuse he can to drag one or all of his team there. Yes he likes their company, of course. Likes spending time with them, laughing and joking and building bonds outside of life or death situations. But you are the highlight of those nights.

You smile so sweetly, a little cheeky twist whenever he gets all of the 141 there together. You know all their names - or their callsigns at least. Call Price “captain” with a giggle whenever he groans at you to stop calling him that.

Johnny adores you. Sometimes when he’s alone at the table - the others off smoking or playing pool - you’ll stop by. You don’t have to, but you do, chatting until one of the other servers teases to stop flirting and help bus.

You always blush when they shout that, but never deny it. Leave him with one last warm smile and a promise to top up his drink for listening to you ramble. As if he couldn’t live with your voice in his ears all the time.

You tell him about your masters program. Complain about shitty customers. Admit you broke up with your last boyfriend for calling your hobbies a “silly waste of time.” The movies you’ve seen or watch for nostalgia. He knows when your playlist is on at the bar because you spend your entire shift bouncing and mouthing along whenever you’re not handling a customer.

It’s a slow infection. A creeping, insidious thing that seeps into his blood and corrupts him from the inside out. This awful, twisting devotion for you.

He knows to be careful, loathe to be one of those men you avoid like the plague, trading with other servers to handle. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He’s happy with the flirting and the little kindnesses, happy that you always light up when you see him. That you breathe a quiet “thank you” and squeeze his arm the one time he steps in one a handshake customer on your behalf.

It’s enough. He reminds himself that it’s enough. He doesn’t deserve more than you’re willing to give. He can’t give you the life you deserve yet.

But then one day things go wrong. So, so wrong.

There’s been a rowdy group of men that have been harassing the younger servers all night. You stepped in, older and more experienced, practiced at not giving them the reactions they want. It’s another of the things Johnny loves about you. You don’t need a mask like Ghost to hide your face.

One them especially tries antagonize you, even manages to earn a sharp word when he says something crass. Johnny tenses when the guy (buddies following suit) starts getting loud, aggressive. Towering over you when he knocks over his barstool, trying to intimidate.

Johnny shoves the guy away from you before it can get much farther. Relief washes over you as the owner, a big burly man, finally makes an appearance and kicks the lot of them out.

“A whiskey on the house for Soap,” you ask the bartender, hand pressed to your chest. “My knight in a cotton sweater.”

He smiles for your sake, mind buzzing to see you so shaken up.

“Alright, lass?”

“Yeah, just spooked me is all,” you sigh, a hand to your cheek now. “Think I’m gonna step out for some air. Thank you again, John.”

He lets you go, even though every molecule in his body urges him to bundle you up under his arm, safe and sound. Take you somewhere quiet to smooth your feathers.

Something doesn’t feel right.

He manages to wait exactly one minute and seventeen seconds before he tells a blasted Gaz that he’s going to the bathroom. When he steps out the back door, you’re being cornered by the man, two of his friends hanging back telling him to “leave it alone” but not actually doing a fucking thing to stop him.

So Johnny does. Honestly, he blacks out for a second. The next thing he knows, he’s cradling you in his arms, his knuckles stinging and bloody. The men are nowhere to be found but there’s a pool of blood in the alleyway. You’re unconscious, fainted sometime in the scuffle - or maybe hit your head.

Johnny isn’t himself. He’s not thinking. He’s used to keeping his cool with guns pressed to his head, but this is different. This is you.

He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t but it’s the best he can come up with when he just got a firsthand look at how dangerous the world is for you when he’s not around.

Please understand. He has to keep you safe.

[sugarandspiceevol]

When You're Hurt: How Each LI Reacts to Seeing MC Injured 🌙

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

🌙✨ "MC gets badly injured on a mission and they blame themselves" – Exploring each LI’s guilt, protectiveness, and how they handle seeing MC hurt. 💖

𓆩♡𓆪 Reactions 𓆩♡𓆪 SFW

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

「 ✦ Xavier ✦ 」

There have been a lot of times that you’ve ridden the train with Xavier, and every single time, he dozes off, head on your shoulder, his fingers intertwined with yours. It’s always your responsibility to make sure you get off at the appropriate station — though if you're about to miss it, he miraculously wakes up and stops the train on time.

Tonight, however, he’s awake and a live wire. Xavier’s frown is distinct on his face, his eyes hard and sharp and focused. His hands, instead of being wrapped around your own, are pressed firmly on the wound on your leg. His sweater is the best thing he had to staunch the blood, and he’s holding it so tight to you that you wonder if it’ll bruise.

“Xav…” you try weakly, your voice soft around the edges from the loss of blood. He looks at you, eyes scanning your face. You realize that it’s not just worry and concern in those pretty eyes of his — it’s anger.

He shakes his head. “My performance got you injured.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Your performance is what saved my life and leg from getting cut off by that wanderer.”

“I should have — could have done better.”

“Baby…”

You don’t remember much after that as you’d lost consciousness. But later, when you awake again, you find yourself in the hospital. Xavier’s form is asleep, leaning against the bed, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“You’re awake,” the doctor says with a smile at Xavier’s sleeping form. “He stayed by your side the whole night. You’ll heal fine. He saved your life with that sweater, you know.”

And as you watch his sleeping form, you vow to make sure he knows just that.

「 ✦ Rafayel ✦ 」

There are several personalities of Rafayel — the sweet one, the sassy one, even the combat mode one. But this version of your husband before you was one you rarely saw.

You were holding a med pack to your lower abdomen, willing the bleeding to stop. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you. Rafayel’s blades dance in the light, his eyes and scales aglow with a frightening anger and power. Wind picks up on the shore and the tides look suddenly dangerous.

You can tell that Rafayel is saying something, but you can’t hear it. The cultists dressed in all black seem to hear him and turn to run.

It’s quick — Rafayel’s wrath — he moves fast, cutting down the cultist that injured you with frightening speed and agility. When their bodies drop to the floor, he turns back to you, jogging over, his beautiful eyes flashing in concern as he checks over your wound.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, my heart,” he says, his voice pitchy with worry. “I didn’t protect you well enough.”

“My heart?” you say through rough breaths, teasing him even now. “What happened to cutie or honey?” It’s what he normally calls you.

As he pulls you up into his arms bridal style, he looks seriously down at you.

“I call you my heart because you have it.” He says, his seriousness throwing you off for once.

“Come on, Miss Bodyguard. Let’s get you fixed up.”

「 ✦ Sylus ✦ 」

“Fuck.”

It was strange to hear a curse slip from Sylus’ lips. But you heard it clear as day as he leans over you, his large hands twisting your thigh to get a good look at the bullet hole that ripped through your flesh.

Sylus had invited you to what was meant to be an easy mission. He’d bought you a fancy red dress and heels, and your only mission had been to sneak away halfway through the prestigious party of a politician and steal some aether core.

Well, it had all gone wrong when security had finally figured out you had not been on the guest list. Gunfire began shortly after Sylus had stalled for time so you could steal the core. You’d gotten the core — but not without taking a slug into your leg.

“Fuck!” He curses again, his voice hard but still soft as he runs his hands through his hair. His look, normally brooding and annoyingly charming, is taut. His jaw is working overtime.

“Sylus…”

“I shouldn’t have involved you in such a half-baked plan to begin with,” he whispers urgently as he rips off a piece of his shirt to staunch the blood.

“Sylus…”

“I should have brought Luke and Keiran for reinforcements,” he says as he ties a tight, almost painful knot to stop the blood. “I should have known better—”

“Sylus!” you call louder, using your hand to cup his face. He stops speaking, his lips parting as he looks at you.

“There’s no one on the planet able to predict the future or change the past,” you say, using his own words against him. His eyes soften at your reference to his own advice. “Besides,” you smile, “I’ve been hit much harder than this and I always get back up.”

Sylus leans into your hand, kissing the palm softly and turning his eyes back to you.

“I know you‘ll survive this,” his voice is low and back to being steady.

“But I’ll be here with you every step of the way. Okay?”

“Okay.”

「 ✦ Caleb ✦ 」

“CALEB!” you cry, hoping the sharp panic in your voice will return your husband’s focus back on you and not the man he was slamming his fist into — again and again.

The sound of metal hitting flesh and bone is unpleasant to say the least, and you can hear the gears in Caleb’s arm as he slams his mechanical knuckles into the fool who had attempted and almost succeeded in splitting you open with a knife.

Caleb drops the man’s limp body that groans in pain. Anger is clear in the set of his jaw. He comes over, examining the wound, his voice soft.

“Look what he did to you.” He shakes his head, moving quickly to staunch the bleeding.

“It’s alright—”

He looks up at you, that anger, that fury in his eyes. “It’s not alright. I should have… “ he scoffs and turns back to focusing on the task.

“I should have protected you.”

Caleb takes a deep breath and then puts on a small smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Next time I won’t let it happen again, okay?” He ruffles your hair slightly before scooping you into his arms.

“Let’s get you some help.”

「 ✦ Zayne ✦ 」

The thing about Evols is that they can sometimes be unpredictable. The science is relatively new despite how many scientists are studying it. Anything could happen at any time for any reason, and there may yet to be an explanation for it.

Which is what you were telling yourself as Zayne races down the Lincoln streets in his sleek black car toward Akso Hospital. There’s a large icicle piercing your calf that, thankfully, wasn’t bleeding all that much, but the pain was terrible.

You had been on your way to date night — a water show in the lower city — when a wanderer had appeared in the middle of a busy street intersection. Of course, you had hopped out of the car without thinking, charging headfirst to face it down. The thing had a child in its grasp. Zayne had been right behind you, using his Evol to shield the child while you took down the wanderer. The monster was tough, and you could see the strain on Zayne as ice crept up his arm and neck.

“I’ve got this, honey!” you had called, not wanting him to injure himself further. But you’d been distracted and gotten hit by the tail of the wanderer, sending you flying backward. Zayne had been trying to cushion your fall, trying to help, but his Evol had exploded instead — sending ice shards everywhere, and one through your leg.

The frown on his face seemed permanently etched there as he drove far faster than the speed limit.

“You’re in pain,” he says simply, knowing you all too well — as if there is an invisible string between your hearts.

“S’not so bad,” you manage out through gritted teeth. The cold is worse than anything, but there’s no way you're going to tell him that. “It's okay, Zayne. Really.”

“It’s not.” His voice is soft, but you can tell he’s upset — likely with himself.

“It was a freak accident, Zayne.” You try to reason. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Besides, I’ve got the best doctor in all of Lincoln on the case.”

You reach over, taking one of his hands and intertwining your fingers with his. His grip is tight, and though he keeps his eyes on the road, you can see them soften a little.

‧₊˚✧[end]✧˚₊‧

[bestruction]

A cold winter in the Uchiha's district

Summary: A winter day in the old uchiha main house wasn't a problem for him, but once he sees you shivering and freezing around the corners, it becomes a problem.

Warnings: none

The air inside the Uchiha main house was frigid, the cold that seeped into your bones and lingered. A biting winter wind blew through the gaping hole in the ceiling, rattling the old walls and making the house feel even emptier than it was. Sasuke had been aware of the damage for weeks now, but finding someone willing to repair it had proven almost impossible.

People avoided him—still. Despite his atonement, his deeds from the past had left scars on more than just him. And as if that weren’t enough, the Uchiha main house was steeped in superstition. Many called it cursed, haunted by the ghosts of the clan that once thrived there.

He would’ve ignored the problem entirely, used to enduring far worse conditions on missions, but seeing you huddled in blankets, sneezing and shivering, was a different matter entirely.

“Hey,” he said from across the room as you sat curled up on a futon near the hearth, bundled in layers of fabric. “You should move closer to the fire.”

“I’m already by the fire,” you sniffled, your nose red from the cold. “If I get any closer, I’ll end up in it.”

He sighed, watching as you attempted to tuck your hands deeper into the sleeves of his oversized sweater. Your cheeks were flushed, and you’d been sneezing every five minutes since morning. It irritated him—not you, but the fact that this was happening because of something he could’ve fixed by now.

You caught his expression and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look, Sasuke. I know you’re used to this sort of thing, but I’m not a ninja, okay? I wasn’t trained to endure icy death houses.”

“It’s not that bad,” he replied dryly.

“Not that bad?” You gestured dramatically to your breath, visible in the cold air. “It’s practically snowing inside! I’m freezing my ass off here!”

He sighed again, pushing off the wall where he’d been leaning. It wasn’t in his nature to rely on others, and this situation was no exception. He’d waited long enough for someone to accept the job, but if no one else was going to fix it, then he’d do it himself.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, grabbing a toolbox and some spare materials he’d gathered during his last trip to the village.

“You’re going to fix the ceiling?” You asked, blinking up at him.

He nodded once, already heading toward the hole in question.

“You? Mr. Brooding Ninja Extraordinaire is going to play handyman?” You teased, a weak but playful smile tugging at your lips.

Sasuke shot you a glare, but it lacked any real annoyance. “Stay by the fire,” he said simply. “You’ll just get in the way.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, but he was already climbing up to inspect the damage.

The repairs weren’t easy. The hole was bigger than it looked, and the wind made every movement twice as difficult. Sasuke worked methodically, hammering, patching, and sealing the gaps with the precision of someone who had spent years relying on himself for everything. His fingers grew numb from the cold, but he ignored it, focusing entirely on the task at hand.

From below, you watched him with a mix of admiration and amusement. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him up there, so serious and focused, his dark hair dusted with bits of debris.

“You’re really something, you know that?” You called up to him, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“Be quiet,” He replied, though his tone was far from harsh.

By the time he climbed down, the hole was fully repaired, and the wind had stopped howling through the house. Sasuke dusted off his hands and looked over at you, who was still huddled by the fire.

“Well?” he asked.

You stood, your blanket trailing behind you like a cape, and walked over to inspect his work. The house was already noticeably warmer, and you could feel your fingers for the first time in hours.

“It’s perfect,” you said, smiling up at him. “You’re amazing.”

He shrugged, brushing off the compliment. “It’s just a ceiling. Turns out it wasn't that difficult"

“No, it’s more than that,” You insisted, stepping closer. “You didn’t have to do that, Sasuke. You could’ve just waited for someone else, but you didn’t. You always take care of things yourself.”

He looked down at her, his expression softening as he noticed the color returning to your cheeks. “You were cold,” he said simply, as if that was explanation enough.

Your smile widened, and you reached up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

Sasuke didn’t respond verbally, but the way his hand found yours and squeezed gently spoke volumes.

As the warmth slowly returned to the house, you dragged him back to the fire, insisting he sit down and rest. You layed your head on his chest and covered him with your blanket, rubbing your feet on his softly like the contact still wasn't enough. For the first time in days, the Uchiha main house felt less like a cursed remnant of the past.

[merakiui]

Mera!! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

What’s your take on the octatrio reacting to an omega reader using their clothes or other items in their nest when they’re going into heat? I’m particularly curious what you think of Azul since idk if you’ve ever characterized him as an alpha. But I think all of them could be so cute regardless! Omega/omega and omega/beta have such good potential! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

They could be in a relationship, but I think it’d also be fun if reader just snatches their stuff without asking. Aaaaaaaaa (╥﹏╥) I just miss classic omegaverse tropes sm

:O omg I have so many thoughts about this!!! I love this trope,,, it's so cute and there are so many ways it could go depending on dynamic. I like to write Azul as an alpha because of my own self-indulgent preferences, but also I like to imagine he was an incredibly late bloomer and everyone thought he was an omega for the longest time until he finally has an actual rut and !!!!!! I could ramble on about that forever. <3 but I do agree!! There's so much delicious potential with non-traditional abo pairings!!!!

Being besties with them...... something something they're so attuned to your scent because you're close and so it's fairly easy for them to locate you,,, quite literally sniffing you out!!! I think seeing you cuddled up in your nest with his clothes and any other things that smell like him would make Azul feel so much better about your relationship, whether platonic or romantic. It reaffirms that you like him and are comforted by his presence and scent. That you trust him. Of course there's also the characteristics of your heat that make you much more receptive to him, which he'll use to explain and rationalize everything. T_T but deep down he's pleased and hopes that one day you'll ask him for his clothes. He wants to see you clinging to his shirt or wrapping yourself up in one of his sweaters all the time!!!

Floyd...... oooohh he thinks you're just the cutest. He'll keep his distance at first. He doesn't want to startle you or stress you out. But since it's him, you're familiar with his scent and it makes him happy when your pheromones are purely sweet and stress-free. <3 waaaa he adores you!!! You'll have to invite Floyd into your nest if you want him to come close and even then he's still hesitant because you're not in the right mind (if you're just friends). He's willing to lend you as much of his clothes as you want for your nest. It's cute seeing Shrimpy get so particular about everything, even more so when he sees you bundled up in his sleep sweatshirt. Floyd has really good restraint, so if you aren't in an established relationship then he'll tread carefully and do as you ask (unless if it's something outlandish,, like you asking him to knot you, to which he'll giggle and playfully dodge the demand with: "Shrimpy doesn't really mean that~") he understands omega hindbrain is usually running on carnal instinct anyway.

Jade is impossible to read most of the time, and when you do try to read him it's like solving a complex equation. >_< he can be so difficult (usually on purpose) sometimes... most of his teasing is there to distract you from his body language, how he's always so relaxed around you, but when you're in heat the last thing you're trying to do is dissect and analyze Jade's behaviors. Beneath that sharp smile of amusement, there's genuine sweetness and it's quite a heartwarming sight to see you hugging a bunch of his laundry close. Jade wouldn't be Jade if he isn't taking photos to later tease you about when you're not so heat-brained. He'll ask you silly and obvious questions like "Do you find my scent that enjoyable?" just to have his suspicions validated. Jade will stay to look after you and ensure all is well if that's what you'd like, but if you want anything specific from him you'll have to use your words and ask~ >:) how is he supposed to know otherwise? Give Jade one chance and he'll spoil you rotten in that nest, tending to your every need.

[starshideurfics]

A Mother’s Love - Part Five

part one, part two, part three, part four

omegaverse, pre-steddie, wayne x benny, steve with powers

Dustin Henderson is a handful. And a chatterbox. Pretty much anything that passes through his mind, Dustin says. Winding stories about what happened at school, explanations of science experiments, and question after question after question.

Steve almost never knows the answers to Dustin’s questions, but he writes them down. The list is two pages long by the third straight weekend of watching him on Friday nights, and Steve decides they need to do something about it. “We’re going to the library,” he says, holding up the list of questions. “Get your bike.”

They spend two hours digging through reference books, Dustin just quiet enough for the library, and find answers for most of the questions on the first page. Steve feels like he’s really getting the hang of this baby-sitting business, and that night, when Claudia gets home Dustin clings to Steve, hugging him tight. “Can Steve stay?” he begs.

Claudia ruffles her son’s curls. “Time for bed, Dusty. Steve needs to go home now. You’ll see him again next week.”

Dustin pouts, grabs Steve’s wrist, and rubs it against his cheek. “Night, Steve,” he says before stomping down to the bathroom.

“I wasn’t sure how Dusty would handle all this, but it looks like you’ve figured him out.”

“He’s got a lot to say, but he just says it. I can handle listening,” Steve says with a shrug, taking his pay and heading back out to his bike. He should go home, but instead he bikes to Benny’s, going in the back. Eddie’s at the sink, washing dishes, and Steve grabs a stool to sit next to him.

“How’s the twerp?”

“Today we learned what makes a berry different from other fruit, and grapes are berries but strawberries aren’t.”

“Strawberries are definitely berries! If you ask me to think of a berry, that’s the one I’m imagining.”

“Science says they aren’t!” Steve pulls the paper from his back pocket, reads his own little note below the main question about berries. “They’re an accessory fruit, whatever that means.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve suspiciously. “Why’d Dustin even want to know that?”

“We were eating raspberry ripple ice cream last week and he asked. I don’t claim to understand how his weird little brain works, I just know he likes me.” Steve flushes and rubs at his wrists. “He wanted me to scentmark him today.”

“Kid moves fast,” Eddie teases, plopping a few dish soap bubbles on Steve’s nose. “Let me know when he asks you to marry him so I can defend your honor.”

“Shut up!” Steve hops on his feet, reaching for a handful of bubbles to smack onto Eddie’s growing curls, but the alpha hops out of his way.

“Hey! This is work time, Munson, not play time,” Benny jibes as he comes in the back, arms laden with more dishes for the sink.

Steve and Eddie immediately stop their burgeoning bubble fight, and Steve runs over to take the tray of cups from his mama, ready to help.

Suitably unburdened, Benny pulls Steve into his arms and kisses the crown of his head. “How’s the twerp?” he asks, rubbing his wrist between Steve’s shoulder blades.

Grinning, Steve starts telling Mama about his afternoon with Dustin, “He’s good. We learned strawberries aren’t berries…”

❤️❤️❤️

Dustin never proposes to Steve—“It’s what pups do! they fall in love with their baby-sitters, Stevie!”—but he does get possessive. Claudia recommended Steve to the Sinclairs, and he watches Lucas and Erica on Wednesdays now, too. Dustin is very adamant that Steve was his first. He and Lucas are friends, so his real nemesis is Erica. She’s 6 and tiny and perfectly willing to use it to her advantage to get extra cuddles.

It comes to a head over winter break, Steve watching the three of them together at the Sinclairs’ house, watching Christmas specials after eating macaroni and cheese. Erica is already right next to Steve, Dustin on his other side, and she slowly climbs into his lap, her fingers gripping his sweater.

Dustin growls.

It’s a tiny puppy growl, not a real threat, but Steve can’t stop the thing inside him that needs to protect the pup in his lap, arms wrapping around Erica. “Dustin!” he chides gently.

Erica sticks her tongue out at Dustin. Lucas looks between them, and rolls his eyes. “It’s not fair!” Dustin whines.

“Suck it up!” Erica returns.

“Erica!” Steve scolds, still holding her.

“Yeah, Erica, knock it off,” Lucas grumbles. Which starts Erica arguing with him. Dustin growls again, tugging on Steve’s arms. It’s too much, too close.

Steve’s barriers fall, head suddenly too full. Dustin’s jealousy and hurt, Erica’s smug gloating, and Lucas’s frustration explode in his head. Tears sting at his eyes, and Steve struggles to get himself in check. But he pushes too hard, nose bleeding as he crushes Erica to his chest. She yelps over being squished, and Dustin and Lucas freak out when they notice the bleeding, not sure what to do.

Eyes watering, Steve manages to pass Erica to Lucas, mumbling, “It’s okay,” through the haze of puppy-fear filling his head and squeezing his heart. He stumbles to the bathroom and grabs a wad of toilet paper to stanch the bleed, reaching out for his mother, for the calm and safety that comes with thinking of Mama. But it doesn’t come.

For a long minute, Steve is a pup again, needing his mana. And Mama isn’t there.

He’s doing the breathing exercises his mom gave him years ago, trying to get back to his baseline, when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“I’m sorry, Steve!” Dustin cries. “We promise not to fight again!”

“Yeah,” Lucas chimes.

“I don’t.”

“Erica!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Erica grumbles, and Steve is pretty sure she bites Lucas before adding, “Please come out, Steve!”

He takes a last deep breath, checks to see that the bleeding has stopped, and opens the door to three contrite faces. “Sorry I scared you,” he says gently.

“It was my fault,” Dustin says. “I just…” He doesn’t have the words.

“It was an accident.” Steve pulls the pup into a hug. “How about I make some popcorn, and we finish watching Rudolph?”

The pups nod, easily returning to the couch. While he’s in the kitchen, Steve calls Benny’s. “Mana, can I stay at your place tonight?—No, I just need to see you.”

❤️❤️❤️

When Steve turns 15, Benny starts teaching him to drive. Marsha and Richard agree that they got all of Steve’s big milestones, Benny can have this one to himself. Every Sunday afternoon, Benny picks Steve up and hands him the keys to his pickup truck. They start in the Hawkins High parking lot, Steve proving he knows what every knob and lever does before he’s allowed to start the engine.

Once Steve has mastered the empty parking lot, Benny has him take them out on quiet country roads, lots of simple trips to get him comfortable behind the wheel. Sometimes they just listen to the radio, singing along with the words they know, making up the ones they don’t. Other times, Steve talks about school and swimming and sitting, Benny asking questions and offering advice.

On a warm day in early April, Steve asks a question he’s been considering for a long time. “Mama, have you ever been in love?” He thinks he knows the answer, but he asks anyway.

“I dunno. Biggest love I’ve ever had in my life is you, baby.”

“What about my father?”

Benny shifts in the passenger seat. “Wasn’t like that…” He swallows hard, squeezes Steve’s hand on the gear shift. “The program only recruited omegas, and we never heard much about the… material used. It was all very clinical—medical. Marsha might know more, but as far as I know, I never met your father.”

“Oh…” Any romantic notions Steve had about a whirlwind romance, about lovers separated by fate, and about Mama not having any other options fly out of his head. He was always a science experiment, no matter how much Mama loved him.

“Where’s this coming from?” Benny shifts again, and Steve’s not sure they should be driving for this conversation. He pulls off on the shoulder and Benny asks, “Is there someone at school? Some alpha I should know about?”

“No! Mama, it’s not that… No one’s giving me butterflies, I just.” Steve unbuckles his seatbelt and turns in his seat. “You know I don’t care, right? That you’re both omegas, I mean. I just want you to be ha-”

Spine straightening, Benny whispers, “Steven, what are you talking about?”

“Wayne.” Steve looks away as his mama stares at him. “He makes you happy.”

Benny’s face softens, and he reaches over to cup Steve’s cheek. “I thought we said no taking your barriers down. It’s easier to maintain than replace.”

Steve leans into his touch. “They don’t work on you. I can’t help it.” He smirks and adds, “You make Wayne happy, too.”

“You shouldn’t be mucking around in Wayne’s feelings. Respect his privacy.”

“Tell that to Eddie. He’s the one who told me.”

❤️❤️❤️

Benny waits another six months before saying anything to Wayne. Steve hasn’t had another issue with keeping his barriers up in that time, and it feels like maybe they’ve found a safe enough space for him to try. Like maybe he’s comfortable enough being Steve’s Mama now, and he’s ready to add to that.

He doesn’t plan it, either, just looks over at Wayne one night when they’re watching football. At least, Wayne is watching football; Benny is mostly looking at Wayne’s lips, focused on the way they curl around his cigarette.

“Wanna ‘nother beer?” Wayne asks at a commercial break, catching him looking.

Benny shakes his head, screws up his courage, and whispers, “I want you.”

Wayne takes his confession in stride, giving in to his own barely-concealed desires, and guiding Benny down for a surprisingly gentle kiss. Looking into Wayne’s eyes, Benny sees exactly what he’s looking for, and gets to his feet. He practically drags Wayne to his nest, the pair of omegas shucking their clothes with clumsy fingers in their haste to see and show. To touch and taste and smell.

To love one another.

Benny hasn’t bothered with sex in years. He’s got toys and a pair of perfectly good hands, so he gets by just fine. But the feeling of Wayne touching him, of his mouth on Benny’s most sensitive areas, is the most exquisite pleasure-pain. It zings through him. Makes him shake, his pussy convulsing around a pair of nicotine-stained fingers and soaking Wayne’s hand with slick.

He can’t remember the last time his body felt this good.

And his heart is full, at peace as he holds Wayne against his breast. He’s happy. Steve will be happy, too: happy he was right, and happy that his mama is happy.

That doesn’t stop him from waiting a week before he brings it up.

But then, Steve already knows.

❤️❤️❤️

Right around the same time, just before Halloween of his sophomore year, alphas start sniffing around Steve at school. He might not go to house parties—the very idea of a high school kegger gives him nightmares—but he’s still sporty, still friendly with the popular crowd because of it. And he is, as Ronnie puts it, “Traditionally hot. Like, pretty eyes and a good ass, ya know?”

Amy Martin’s the first one to say anything, asking in the lunch line if Steve wants to go to the movies sometime since she just got her license. Steve mumbles that he’s not allowed to date yet, but thanks anyway. She’s nice enough about it, and doesn’t ask again.

But then Mike Lewenski asks after cornering Steve outside Mundy’s classroom, and he has to be more forceful since Lewenski isn’t that bright. Which becomes Lewenski saying Steve is a bitch to anyone who will listen.

Tommy H. stops Steve on his way to homeroom the next week, loudly asking if there’s something wrong with his pussy, because he knows Mr. Harrington isn’t the kind of hardass to stop Steve from dating. Mrs. O’Donnell overhears and gives Tommy a detention for being crass, and it’s the only thing that stops Steve from decking Tommy.

After that, it seems to become a dare amongst the popular crowd. Get Harrington alone, ask him out, imply he’s either a frigid virgin or a slut with a loose pussy, and laugh when he tells you to fuck off. At least no one else asks him in the cafeteria.

But it’s bad enough that Steve quits the swim team after two weeks of practice.

A week after that, Eddie gets suspended for breaking Dan Shelter’s nose.

part six

[darlingchronicles]

JJ AND THE GOLDEN GIRL HEADCANONS

pairing: jj x fem!goodgirl!reader

word count: 3.2K

based on this and this post that i made. enjoy !!!

✔︎JJ's habits

always watching her. not in a creepy way, but in a curious and somewhat protective way. she's either reading, studying, watching a comfort show or doing something she likes. jj finds her just fascinating not matter what she does. he admires her so much and the fact that he finds her absolutely beautiful is a plus. her mind is always working as well. always thinking. the way she picks her bottom lip or twirls her hair with her finger whenever she's concentrating just drives him wild and sometimes he wish he could read her mind just to find out what's got her attention. however, she also has a tendency to read while she walks or gets distracted by something she's concentrating on and it has lead to his hyper-vigilance. he's caught her after she trips on her own foot almost thirty times since they began dating and pulled her from walking across a busy street more than five times already. he's also had a hand in shielding her from people who seemed suspicious or invasive at keggers. not that he's complaining, he enjoys being her knight in shining armor at times since he usually believes he's the villain.

always willing to lend a hand. no like literally. lend her his hand. she has a tendency to fidget when she's nervous or bored or just in general is always moving in some manner. she was also a chronic nail biter when she was younger and has been trying to kick the habit since. therefore, she's always chewing gum or has a jolly rancher on hand or twirls her rings and bracelets around (if she wears them). one day, she forgot all of the above when she went to hang out at the chateau with jj, john b and pope and was not feeling her best. jj noticed and put his hand in hers and she immediately began to play with his fingers, his rings and bracelet and it calmed her down. now whether she has gum or her accessories, jj always lends his hands whenever he notices her cracking her neck more than twice or shaking her leg. he could be mid-conversation with someone and he'd just hand his hand over and continue talking. she always leaves a thank you by kissing the palm or back of his hand.

always willing to dress up. as they continue dating, she ends up having a preference with how he dresses. she loves his sleeveless shirts, when his hair is messy, his rings, his long gray crewneck sweaters, his red hat and the bandana he wears. she loves all his outfits, really, but these items are just the cherry on top. he notices it (she tends to cling to him more when he wears his sleeveless shirts or stare at him a little longer when he has messy hair) and ends up trying to wear these whenever he has the chance. he likes the little twinkle in her eye whenever she sees him in one of these outfits (or has the accessory). eventually he began to tease her about it and she never admits it but he knows. he just knows.

always ready to hug. growing up, he's never really had physical affection and he's never been in a long-term relationship before so affection is kind of hard for him in the beginning. however once he realizes that she loves to hug him, not just in a romantic way but in a platonic way; it's like she's telling him that's she's there for him and she feels safe around him, he's ready to give her a hug. if she even indicates for a second she wants one, he's already got his arms around her. heck, sometimes she just reaches behind him to grab something and his arms wrap around her waist and pull her in. she appreciates it ever single time. and it also heals a part of jj as he begins to believe that he's not unlovable.

always willing to learn. okay so jj and the golden girls aren't totally similar. in fact, they're pretty much opposites. pope has more in common with her (at least in the beginning). she studies when she has to and as she becomes friends with the group, she does it at the chateau. eventually, one day she asked jj to help her and although he'd rather get day drunk and pay for it the next day, he sucks it up and helps her. he ends up learning a little bit about the history of the King Henry the Eight and his six wives and the way to write an AP Lit. essay and although he can hardly understand any of it, he does it ever single time she asks. eventually he is able to pick up on certain things she's saying and can comment on it. he learns that a way to her heart is through paying attention to her and what she says and he does it without even thinking anymore. he also learns that she's different from the girls he's fooled around with or even somewhat liked, so he learns more about her and her likes, dislikes, hobbies, beliefs, work ethic, love language and more. he wants to learn and for once, he agrees with the saying "learning is fun". in return, she makes an effort to learn more about him.

always willing to teach. golden girl is inexperienced to say the least. it doesn't make her inferior, it just wasn't time and she wasn't comfortable having her firsts with someone who she wasn't in a relationship with. jj notices, in the beginning, that she's hesitant to make the first move when it comes to kissing. she later confesses (through massive coaxing on jj's part) that he was her first kiss and she doesn't know if she was doing it correctly or if she was doing something wrong or if he didn't want her to kiss him as much as she wanted to so she got nervous. jj just chuckled and offered to teach her. it started off slow and then...intense. turns out she's a fast learner and jj's somewhat suspicious on how she caught on so fast, but then again, he is the one to pull her away from where they are in order to have some alone time, so yeah. (although they haven't taken that step yet it's only a matter of time). this ended in multiple makeout sessions in different locations - his room at the chateau, in the living room when no one was there, in the corner of the beach during a kegger, in her room when her parents weren't home, the twinkie (john b doesn't know about this one and they don't want him to know). turns out, he's a pretty good teacher when he wants to be.

✔︎ JJ's quirks

lays on top of her. jj has a tendency to collapse on whatever surface or bed there is when he's tired. he doesn't even look at the bed. just falls and he's out. she's napping in jj's room at the chateau when he comes in, exhausted, from hauling around groceries for heyward. he made money, but he's beat. he took a shower, didn't even bother to put on a shirt and fell onto the bed. right onto her. he doesn't really notice the body underneath him and just wraps his arms around her and knocks out. however, she notices, waking up from the weight off jj on her chest. she tries to push him away and eventually maneuvers her body so she's on top of him and he's beneath her. this doesn't end well as jj always sleeps on his stomach. and this isn't the last time it happens. she swears that he does it on purpose. (maybe sometimes he does).

calls her the most absurb nicknames. her name is reserved for certain and rare moments and everything else has certain timing. he calls her troublemaker as a contrast to her actual behavior, and also when she's coming along on his little adventures. he calls her goody-two-shoes because well...she is. he calls her baby or babe whenever he wants her attention. he calls her princess in those very rare and private moments, but also he also uses it when he's teasing her. he calls her little lady whenever he's trying to be a gentlemen. and then...there's the other ones. he calls her wormy because she's a bookworm and he thought it was funny. he calls her grumpelstiltskin whenever she's extra grumpy or annoyed. he also thought it was funny to call her flounder when he found out she was scared of sharks. it's not all one sided though because she has a book full of nicknames and some are just as ridiculous. they try to one up each other constantly.

loyal to the end. jj finds loyalty to be the thing he wants most in friendships and eventually, his relationship. that's because jj is loyal beyond belief. it could be counted as his fatal flaw. his friends are his family and family is meant to be protected and something to defend no matter what. she becomes a part of that. he can and will fight if he needs to or even if he wants to. she doesn't find some thing willing or worthy of fighting, but she doesn't see it how jj does. he sees it as disrespect on his family, on his girlfriend, if someone made a comment or even looked at her weird. heck even if john b would to get pissed off and start a fight and jj would be cheering for him even if john b was wrong. and with her? someone who chose him? someone who wants to be with him no matter what? his loyalty is undying. she could be wrong, she could be right, she could be wining or losing, whatever it was, he was by her side, supporting.

ఌ Golden Girl's habits

always looking five steps ahead. jj is not in need of babying. she knows this. he's sixteen and knows there are consequences to his actions even if he's not in favor of those consequences. however, she gets to know that he is reckless because he thinks he knows everything will turn out like he plans it out. but, sometimes it doesn't. and when he's cornered, she already had a way out. sometimes she laughs with smile because she loves his adventures and how he plans with a childlike imagination. but even then, she likes to plan in her head in case anything goes wrong. she doesn't want jj to end up in jail or in major trouble (or any of the pogues) but even she admits that running from the cops is kind of fun and although she may have had a minor anxiety attack the first time, she was glad she already planned and knew the local back roads instead of the main highway. she tends to always have a food or a first aid kit in her bag in case of anything and if she's not there when the boys get stupid, her phone is always turned on. she knows she can depend on him when she's in trouble and jj knows he can depend on her.

always reassuring. she grew up a pogue so she understood bad and horrible home lives. she didn't have it all that bad, but it wasn't always pretty. jj on the other hand. she's heard and eventually seen the results of him and his father fighting. this resulted in jj having a deep rooted belief that he was unlovable. he believed he had to earn love. she quickly picked on it and tried to show him that he wasn't. she did things for him, never asked questions if he didn't want to answer, gave him space, gave him words and affection with reassurance wrap in it. he once asked if she ever got tired of him and she merely answered with "i could never be tired and i never will be". she said it with such confidence that a part of him began to believe it. little by little they were both healing parts of themselves, but her habit of reassurance always helps him stay ground. and in return, she has his undying devotion and admiration that includes reassurance of his own.

always willing to try something new. she's not that fond of getting into trouble and jj's middle name is trouble (and he calls her troublemaker ironically) but when jj suggests they go and do something kind of illegal like spend the night in one of the "in-progress" kook houses, she sucks up her fear and goes along. she's worried, but is willing to be apart of jj's recklessness because it's a part of him. she can't fight it so she'd join him. little by little, she gets more comfortable as she begins to understand that jj would never endanger her and if he had to, he'd take the blame for everything if it meant she'd stay out of trouble. and little by little, she enjoys getting into trouble with him and him only. after their little adventures are done and they're resting for the night, she only smiles and wonders what the next one is.

always leans towards him. the golden girl is use to the dangerousness of the southside as she lives there, but sometimes, even she gets scared or worried. it's just the world we live in. whenever they go out, she began a habit of leaning towards jj or moving near him. she knows that he would always protect her and would die trying to do so. of course she has a mean can of pepper spray and a punch that could send a grown man to the floor, but having jj next to her has her more relaxed. even if she wasn't afraid or in danger, she tend to grab his hand or lean her head on his shoulder without even thinking. having the physical contact with him makes her so happy because he's allowing her into his space and she's touch starved so much that it just makes her so giddy. and jj always puts his arm around her, holds her hand, kisses her cheek or pushes her hair out of her face. he leans towards her as well.

always smiles at him. her smile is something jj sees constantly. and she doesn't fake it at all. she happy to see him, hear his voice, watch him try some stupid thing with pope and john b. and jj is also funny guy and although he says the most absurd things, she can't' help, but smile. it's just an impulse. the joke could be the worst thing or could be a repeated one from the week before, but she always smiles. she learned that jj tells jokes to those he deems worthy of hearing them and they could be in the worst situation and he'd try to lighten the mood. he hated things being tense and worrisome, so he told jokes. she always smiles to show she appreciates them and she never wanted him to stop. jj has begun to recognize all her smiles - the coy ones, the teasing ones, the genuine one, the sarcastic one.

ఌ Golden Girl's quirks

watches and speaks to jj as he sleeps. it began with a romance book she read while having a sleepover at the chateau. the characters reminded her of the two of them. the boy was wild but sweet and the girl was independent but ambitious. it was a wonderful love story and she felt so grateful that she ended up with someone like jj. she ended up sleeping with jj in his room and she just watched him breath. he slept on his stomach with his arm splayed across her waist. his lips were slightly parted. his hair sticking out everywhere because he moves. he looked so peaceful and calm. it's one of her favorite moments with jj when she can admire him without him noticing. just a small moment where she can speak beautiful things out into the night. how she was grateful for him. how she thought he looked like an angel sleeping. how she couldn't believe he chose her and tries everyday. she tells him how she notices everything about him. she'll whisper to him until she falls asleep, hoping that her words will melt into his dreams. and sometimes it does but he doesn't know it's because she's talking to him as he sleeps. he wakes up with a smile and turns over to look at her sleeping, deciding to just admire her for a little before he wakes her up.

connects him with songs and stories. any love story you can think of, she's thought of jj and her in it. any love song whether it be taylor swift or frank sinatra, she danced in room thinking of her and jj. it's so cute and she hopes that jj never finds out because he would totally tease her. it's without provocation at this point. the other day, she heard "paper rings" on the radio and nodded in agreement as she thought of it with her and jj. she went for ice cream after work and jj was working with john b and she thought of allie and noah for a moment, agreeing with the notion that she'd have a long summer romance with him if she was a touron, but they'd make it in the end, and continued on with her day. some called her lovesick or just a teenager, but she doesn't care. it's her first love and she's also his, so she allowed herself those thoughts and moments. a part of her knew that it would end well. she just knew.

gets him little gifts. she works, but she also likes the little home made gifts. she got really into origami when she was younger and likes to take the gum wrappers after she popped the gum in her mouth and make hearts with them. the first time she did it around jj, she handed it to him and went on studying. jj still has it in his wallet next to polaroid of the two of them sleeping together on the hammock during a sunset (taken by sarah). she's made him a bracelet. she saw a hat she thought he'd like and put it in his room to find. she noticed his shoelaces wearing out so she got new ones and replaced the old ones. she's made him a mixtape of all his favorite songs on a CD so he could listen to it in the Twinkie. she's written him a love letter before, but she refuses to give it to him. yet. she made a little plate during her pottery class in high school and put it in his room so he had a place to put all his rings and bracelets so he didn't loose it. she even made him a few origami cranes, swans and other animals because he kept asking. (he wants to ask her to teach him one of these days). he notices and feels touched, but he doesn't know how to express it because she clearly doesn't want a thank you. she just wants to do it. so he repays her in certain ways. once she grabbed a random rock from beach and ended up drawing on it with sharpie. she left it in his room for him to find with a little note saying she named it "rocky" and he would live with him. (jj ended up making "rockette" and she lives with golden girl in her room. they make jokes about sharing custody all the time).

thedarlinglore: this concept of jj with the golden girl (or good girl) just has my damn heart. like it makes me wanna giggle and write for hours. soooooo a FIC IS COMING SOON! i'm drafting rn and i am not busy this week so hopefully it only takes like 3 days bc i like to write longgggggg fics (my last was 18.8k). you might enjoy that one while i write this one. hope you enjoyed!

➣ my last "jj" work | "oh schroeder"

[itacats]

In His Steady Hands

FT: Soap x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and physical symptoms of dystonia, minor self-doubt

SUM: An unexpected encounter at a lively party sets the stage for a connection you never saw coming. As Soap's lighthearted humor and genuine interest break through your guarded exterior, you find yourself cautiously drawn to his warmth. A simple coffee date challenges your fears and opens the door to something new—something hopeful.

A/N: Ngl, this was written purely for selfish reasons for my dystonia... Since I have yet to come across a fic that has a reader with dystonia, I did it myself. Here it is...

In His Steady Hands Masterlist

Part 1: Unexpected Connections

The lively hum of conversation buzzed around you as you stepped into your friend's apartment, already alive with energy. Music thumped in the background, mingling with bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses. You hesitated at the threshold, clutching a drink you didn’t plan to finish, scanning the room for a quiet corner to retreat to. Crowds weren’t your thing—not anymore.

Your gaze flitted across the gathering until it landed on a mysteriously handsome man, standing near the kitchen island like he belonged there—like he belonged everywhere. His laughter rang out above the noise, a sharp, carefree sound that made heads turn. His easy charm drew people in, like moths to a flame. You watched, half-amused and half-envious, as he regaled a group with a story that left them in stitches.

Still, you lingered at the edges of the room, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater. The familiar weight of anxiety settled over you. Your hands felt like their muscles were slowly being replaced with cotton - light and unfamiliar. What if the tremors started, or your muscles locked up, and the party’s lighthearted atmosphere turned to confusion—or worse—pity?

You turned your attention to the window, deciding to lose yourself in the city lights instead. The coolness of the window as you rested your head lightly on it was grounding. Just as you started to resign yourself to another night as a wallflower, a ripple in the room’s energy pulled you back.

“Hey there,” a voice called, warm and lilting.

You turned, startled, and found yourself face-to-face with the man you saw moments ago by the kitchen. Up close, his presence was even more magnetic, his eyes glinting with curiosity. He wore a casual smile, but there was something sharp in his gaze, like he saw more than you were willing to show.

“Didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Figured I’d better introduce myself before you disappeared altogether. I’m John, but my friends call me Soap.”

You hesitated for a moment before replying, “Nice to meet you. I’m—” You gave your name, the words feeling small compared to his larger-than-life energy.

“Now that’s a proper introduction!” he said with a laugh. Soap leaned against the armrest of the couch, his head cocked slightly as he grinned at you. His presence was magnetic, and though you’d tried to avoid being noticed, it was clear he’d made you his focus.

“That’s quite the case you’ve got there,” he said, pointing to your phone with a teasing glint in his eye. “Looks like it could take a hit from a tank and keep on ticking.”

You glanced down at the rugged, shockproof case engulfing your phone, running your thumb along its chipped edges. “Yeah, it’s durable,” you replied with a light shrug, hoping to brush the moment off. “I drop it a lot.”

“Drop it, or chuck it at people who annoy you?” he quipped, his laugh rich and unreserved.

Your own laugh came softer, more hesitant. “Only when absolutely necessary.” The lie rolled off easily enough, though inside, you cringed. You hated that you couldn’t just explain the truth: the cover wasn’t for clumsiness but for the moments when your grip was unreliable, the moments when your muscles betrayed you.

Soap raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering. “A bit of a secret weapon then, aye? Remind me to stay on your good side.”

He held out his phone suddenly, its screen glowing as it displayed a blank contact entry. “Here, go on then. Add your number. That way, if I ever need tips on indestructible phone cases—or need to dodge one flying at my head—I’ll know who to call.”

You froze for a second, glancing between his phone and his face. There was no pity in his eyes, no trace of judgment. Just easy warmth, like this kind of exchange was the most natural thing in the world.

“I, uh…” You hesitated, the familiar tightening in your chest returning. Your fingers felt stiff against the rugged surface of your own phone, and you weren’t sure if you’d even manage to type steadily. But the way he looked at you—open and unhurried—made you feel like there was no wrong answer.

Taking a deep breath, you reached for his phone. Your hand trembled faintly, the motion slight enough that you hoped he wouldn’t notice. Carefully, you began tapping in your name and number, hyper-aware of every keystroke.

Soap leaned slightly closer, peeking at the screen. “I see you’re a perfectionist,” he teased. “Every number exactly where it should be. Respect.”

You huffed a small laugh, handing his phone back with a quiet, “There. Done.”

“Perfect,” he said, glancing at the new contact before tucking his phone into his pocket. “And just like that, I’ve got the most interesting person in the room on speed dial.”

“Interesting?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Aye,” he said without missing a beat. “I mean, anyone who carries a phone with a case like that must have a story or two. And I intend to hear them.”

Your face warmed under his steady gaze, but you managed a half-smile. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

He grinned, straightening up. “You could never.”

Before you could reply, someone called his name from across the room. He threw you a parting wink before striding away, leaving you standing there with a strange mix of relief and intrigue settling in your chest.

You glanced down at your phone, your reflection on the screen faint but visible. For the first time in a long while, someone hadn’t just looked at you—they’d seen you. And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

The days stretched on, but Soap’s playful grin was impossible to shake from your thoughts. It lingered like the echo of a melody you couldn’t quite place, tugging at the edges of your attention when you least expected it. You told yourself it was just a fleeting impression, that you’d both forget soon enough.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed. The message was simple but direct:

Soap: Coffee tomorrow? Your pick.

For a moment, you stared at the screen, your mind at war with itself. The idea of sitting across from him, one-on-one, was daunting. What if you said the wrong thing? What if your hand or arm twitches a little too aggressively and you spill your drink on yourself? The usual fears unfurled, ready to drag you back into your shell.

You started typing a polite decline, then deleted it. A second later, a hesitant reply formed instead:

You: Sure. 10 AM at Groundswell?

His response was nearly instant.

Soap: Perfect! Can’t wait!

The next morning found you seated at a cozy corner table in the small café, a steaming cup of tea between your hands. You’d arrived early—an old habit to give yourself time to settle—but it didn’t take long for Soap to sweep in, a gust of energy and warmth trailing behind him.

“Morning!” he greeted, his smile as bright as the sunlight streaming through the café windows. He dropped into the chair across from you, sliding his coffee onto the table. “Been here long?”

“Not too long,” you said with a small smile, thankful that your voice came out steady.

The conversation began easily enough, Soap’s knack for storytelling filling the space between sips of coffee and tea. He regaled you with tales of his military life, each one more absurd than the last. There was the time he and his squad accidentally set off a fire alarm while trying to cook, and the ill-fated attempt to prank a superior officer that ended with them scrubbing floors for a week.

“Wait—hold on,” you said, trying to stifle your laughter. “You’re telling me no one stopped you when you tied a bucket of flour to the door?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Stopped us? Nah, everyone wanted to see if it’d actually work. Spoiler: it did. Too well, actually. Poor Captain Price didn’t know what hit him.”

Your laughter bubbled up despite yourself, startlingly genuine. It felt strange, unfamiliar, but in a good way. Soap leaned forward, his grin softening into something more thoughtful.

“See? That’s the laugh I was waiting for,” he said. “Knew you had it in you.”

The words caught you off guard, warmth spreading in your chest and dusting your cheeks. You looked down at your cup, swirling the liquid idly. “You don’t even know me,” you murmured.

“Not yet,” he said easily, his voice low but certain. “But I’d like to.”

The earnestness in his tone disarmed you more than his humor ever could. His curiosity wasn’t prying; it was genuine, like he saw value in knowing you—not just the surface, but everything underneath.

For the first time in years, you felt the tiniest crack in the armor you’d built around yourself. You hadn’t realized how heavy it had become until now.

“So, what about you?” he asked, breaking the moment with a lopsided smile. “What’s your story? Any rogue pranks I should know about?”

You laughed again, though this time it was softer, tinged with nerves. “Nothing nearly as exciting as yours,” you admitted. “School, work, and a lot of quiet nights. That’s me in a nutshell.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Quiet nights aren’t so bad. Sometimes, it’s the best way to think. But something tells me you’ve got more going on than you let on.”

The words felt too close, too accurate. You shifted slightly, gripping your cup tighter. “Maybe,” you said vaguely, not ready to share more.

Soap didn’t push, just nodded as if to say, Fair enough. He took a long sip of his coffee, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm again, the conversation flowing naturally.

By the time you left the café, the sunlight felt warmer on your skin, the air lighter. Soap walked you to your car, his hands shoved casually into his jacket pockets.

“Thanks for coming out,” he said as you reached your car. “I know busy schedules and all that, but I’m glad we had the chance.”

“Me too,” you said, and this time, you meant it.

As you drove away, you caught sight of him in your rearview mirror, still standing there with that boyish grin. You couldn’t help but smile back, even if he couldn’t see it.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe—just maybe—connection wasn’t so terrifying after all.

Want to see what's up next? Click here!

[shiroisotto64]

Fionna & Cake hcs

Fionna

She’s and adrenaline junkie. No questions asked. She loves to bring you with her on adventures! Fighting is already fun, but it’s so much better with company. (Especially if you’re dating)

You’d have to help her keep the apartment in check. It’s a mess when she’s not reminded to tidy it up. Put on some music and she’ll be more willing to get up and clean.

KEEP HER OUT OF THE KITCHEN. This woman CANNOT cook to save her life. That’s why Fionna and cake each sandwiches and take out. She’s tried but Fionna has a track record for burning water so…

Really affectionate and doesn’t mind PDA. She gets flustered but will return you’re affections without question. She’s also always hyping you up. New outfit? She’s the first to comment. Killed a bad guy really quickly? She’s quick to pull you into a strong hug afterwards.

Date nights are anything under the sun honestly. Cuddling in bed? Yeah. Going to a concert? Absolutely!

You could go skating, swimming, anything really but it’s best to do something that can keep her occupied. If she gets bored she’ll kinda space out. She doesn’t mean to though and will apologize later.

Simon

He likes to read to you. In fact he’ll lend you his books to read so you can both talk about it afterwards. He gets really excited to do this and tends to ramble. So you’ll have to excuse him.

Once you say something he’s more conscious and tries not to do it anyone unless your encourage him. He still has his dark days but it’s way easier with you. However Simon hates feeling like a burden.

So he’s not the best with communicating his problems. He tends to lock them away until he snaps. He always feels horrible and leaves for a bit to calm down and clear his head.

He’s an introvert. But if you want him to go with you he’ll try at least. But he will be vocal about it if he feels uncomfortable and wants to go back home. Date nights are pretty chill honestly.

Baking, watching movies / documentaries. Reading or talking about books together. He likes when you talk about you’re interests! He’ll listen and ask questions so he gets it to. He gets real flustered with PDA so keep that in mind to.

Marshall Lee

Real laid back and chill. He plays his guitar while y’all hang out. He has and still will write songs about and or inspired by you and his friends.

He’s really supportive. He encourages you to go after you’re dreams and do whatever makes you happy. Marshall finds it real cute when you wear his shirts or button ups.

Hell he encourages it even. He vents to you about his mom sometimes. He really appreciates you listening and is even more appreciative if you give him advice on how to properly talk to / get through to her.

Has a sweet tooth. You can easily bride him with sweets of any kind. Want him to wash the dishes for you? Whip out a box of his fav cookies from the store. He’s never washed dishes faster in his life.

You’d end up paying for a lot of stuff, sorry. He tries his best to get money singing on the corners and streets of the town yet it only pays so much. He really appreciates it if you’re patient with him.

He’s ok with Pda and will reciprocate you’re affections but doesn’t expect to not be teased in the process.

Gary

He’s like a mother hen. He gets worried if you don’t answer his texts within 10 minutes honestly. It might get annoying and if it does? Gently tell him how you feel and he’ll do his best to be more patient.

He likes cooking and baking for you. And it makes his whole week if you praise his skills and tell him how much you love it. Bonus point if you can bake or if you give him constructive criticism!

He likes it when you play in his hair. He loves it when you pull his head into you’re lap and run you’re fingers through his pink hair. He’ll be out in minutes honestly.

Gary swoons whenever you put on his sweaters. He has bought the both of you matchin ones. And he is also the type to wanna get matching couples outfits. Just putting that out there.

He likes it when you to clean together. He cleans the dishes and you rinse them off. You both finish that much faster and after he goes up behind you to embrace you. He’ll stay like that for as long as you let him.

Gets flustered by PDA but welcomes it anyways. And Gary is super affectionate at night. He doesn’t care if he’s big or little spoon just hold him.

Finn

He’s affectionate and tries to be as honest with you as he can. But Finn isn’t the best with negative feelings. We all saw how he struggled to help Simon and was a bit awkward while doing it.

Another adrenaline junkie. He likes to go camping and adventuring with you. Anything fun and active and he’s in. Finn Is also very considerate of the things you like and will get you something that reminds him of you while he’s out. Or something he knows you’ll like.

Really playfully. He’ll sometimes just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder before walking off to go knows where. He has complete faith in you and is real happy if you feel the same!

Doesn’t get jealous, like at all. Like I said complete trust in you. He doesn’t question you’re actions and just goes with the flow. He’s very comfortable with you’re bond.

He’s chill with Pda. If you hug him he’ll hug back. You want a kiss? You got it. No questions asked. He is protective of you though. Yet is also confident in you’re abilities but if you need help he’s there in the blink of an eye.

Winter King

Loves to sing to you! He’ll declare his love to you in and out of town. He loves to spoil you. Anything you want is yours. He always smiles at you whenever he catches you looking at him.

Will pull you in to dance with him. You both go ice skating all the time and if you don’t know how he’ll teach you. He’s real patient with you, so don’t worry. He tries to impress you. He’s very subtle about it but if you pay attention you can see it.

He’d melt if you sat on his lap while he sat on his throne. He has introduced you to ice Marcy. I think you’d all get along pretty well. Kinda like a little family. Also his two guards love hanging out with you.

Training and skating you name it they’re in. Simon chuckles while he watches them drag you around. He’s really affectionate to. You both are attached at the hip! He has to have a hand on you at all times or he’ll explode.

Winter king can’t help but to flush if you pull him down to press kisses to his face. He also loves when you run you’re fingers through his silky hair. He lets you go in his lab. He answers you’re questions if you have any.

Candy Queen

(I couldn’t find any gifs I’m sorry)

She’s the clingiest. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without her. You can barely get alone time in the bathroom. She’s always writing new songs to sing to you.

She’ll put on a show to win you’re praises and affection. Like i said she really affectionate. She’ll take naps on you throughout the day. She does drool a little but you’ll be ok.

Not much to say I feel like shes really straight forward. She’s not ashamed of the pictures she has of you in her room and openly flirts with you. Dose not mind PDA she heavily encourages it even.

Gets all giddy if you annotate affection. She’d be chill to watch cartoons with you while you both laze around doing nothin in particular.

[fairycheol]

enhypen as boyfriends

이희승

Heeseung is the type of boyfriend who likes to playfully flirt with you in public just to get a reaction out of you. It’s a habit he’s had since before you started dating.

But with his teasing comes his never ending urge to protect and take care of you, doesn’t matter if it’s pulling you to the inside of a sidewalk, tying your shoes for you, and making sure you are eating regularly.

And trust if he finds out you’ve skipped a meal, he’s sitting you down and personally hand feeding you everything.

Arguments between you two rarely occur and when they do happen it’s usually over something small, like forgetting to text him good morning or give him a kiss goodbye.

This man is so dramatic he once ignored you for an entire week because you mistook one of Jake’s hoodies as his (｡-_-｡)

All in all he just wants you to be happy with him, and he’s willing to do pretty much anything to make sure you feel that way.

박종성

Jay I think is more of a silent lover. He’s not screaming “I love you!” in your face 24/7 like some of the other members, but that doesn’t necessarily mean his love for you is any less.

He prefers showing his love for you by putting his black card to use no matter how much it may annoy you. Jay’s rich tho, so he has no problem dropping 1k dollars for you when he wants.

And while the expensive bouquet of flowers and fancy restaurant dates are nice, Jay also knows how to plan a more relaxed dinner date.

He’ll put his cooking skills to use and make a cute little picnic just for you, complete with activities like painting or stargazing.

You also didn’t hear this from me but, Jay is an extreme cuddlier. I’m talking straight up will put you in a chokehold just to keep you from getting up and leaving him in the freezing cold.

Kind of want my own silent lover Jay now ☹️

심재윤

Oh lord where do i even begin with Jake.

I guess i’ll start off by saying that he loves showing you off. I’m talking will go up to random strangers in a 7/11 to say things like,

“this is my girlfriend? isnt she so pretty?” and then he proceeds to get upset if the person agrees or says nothing at all like okay 💀

Then you have to yell at him for drawing to much attention to you when you have on disney pajama pants and the first sweater you could find from off your dirty floor, but he still insists you look great.

Apart from that he’s not afraid of being affectionate in public, he’ll hug you, hold your hand, and kiss you at any given moment. He still knows when to keep a respectable amount of distance between you two, especially if you begin to show signs of discomfort.

This man would be so in love it’s actually sickening, he stares at you like you made the universe. (cue Niki dramatically gagging in the background)

박성훈

The two of you are either polar opposite’s or the exact same in terms of personality but otherwise, star-crossed lovers. That’s exactly what you guys are.

Sunghoon I think is a perfect combination of what Jay and Jake are as boyfriends. He’s quiet but can get really loud with his affection whenever he wants.

Café dates are a must. He enjoys the peacefulness of sitting together drinking coffee and talking about how you’re both feeling.

I get the feeling his favorite form of physical affection is hugging you, getting to feel the warmth from your body and the way you nuzzle into his neck makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He’ll never admit this to you but he loves being woken up with kisses onto the moles that decorate his pale skin. He’s faked being asleep at least 10 times just to get some kisses and bask in the warmth of it all.

김선우

Sunoo is probably the most energetic lover out of all the enhypen members. Nothing and i mean absolutely nothing can stop him from letting it be known just how happy he is to have you in his life.

He loves any and all kinds of dates, baking dates? loves it. stay at home dates? he’s got snacks ready. fancy dates? oh he’s going ALL OUT.

Taking pictures of the two of you is another favorite of his. His camera roll is 90% just you. He tears up a little when he has to make room for camera storage cause he wants to cherish your memories together on his phone.

I think he’s also very big on keeping you well fed. He’s always making trips to the store and buying your favorite snacks so you never run out.

Physical affection is another big thing for him, he wants you to feel his love not just through his words and actions but quite literally through his body too.

He’s a perfect boyfriend.

양정원

Jungwon, Jungwon, Jungwon, our lovely leader is def a shy lover. He’s quiet but his actions speak a lot louder than words.

He basks in the warmth of your love and affection. He’s exactly like a cat, YOU kind of have to do all the work but it’s honestly not as bad as it sounds.

He lives for dates in the park, getting to walk around and find a good place to set up your picnic makes him very happy for some reason.

And trust me when i say he has fallen asleep on your lap a good number of times, but he can’t help it! he just gets all warm and happy around you.

I do think because of his leader instincts he’s very protective of you. One time you scraped your knee at the park and my guy was running around almost in tears ready to fight the pebble you tripped on.

He eventually calmed down enough to get some bandaids from a near by store and fix you up. He insisted on carrying you all the way home and was some how successful on doing so.

西村 力

He’s your concert/trip buddy. You two will go anywhere and everywhere together it kind of annoys the members but hey, young love.

He once spotted you at one of their tour stops in the U.S. and he almost lost his mind. Fans got suspicious as to why he began to pay so much attention to the section you were sitting in.

Niki likes to facetime you at random parts of the day just to annoy you, jkjk he does it cause he wants to talk with you. Being around the hyungs for so long makes him miss you and feel lonely but he’ll never admit that.

He more often then not will sneak you into the practice room to show off his dancing and will ask for your opinion afterwards.

It’s mandatory that you give him a kiss everytime he does something good or else he gets upset 😠

All in all he’s just happy to have someone to call his home away from home.

[lilbunnis]

❛ ♡. header credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲. ❜

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭᛬ michael gavey as your boyfriend.

author’s note᛬ hii ! ♡ first time posting a concept on here--- & first time writing for my boyfriend, michael gavey. [also… i know we haven’t seen michael smoking cigarettes in the film; but it’s my canon that he does!] i hope y’all like it…& please, reblog & give me ur feedback. thank u! 🍒

warnings᛬ mdni! mentions of smut, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, pussy whipped!michael, mentions of oral sex (m + f), demeaning names, [slight] mentions of bullying, pet names, romance, fluff. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 591.

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃.

꒰ ⋆ ♡⃘ michael gavey would be the most perfect, adoring and loving boyfriend--- though he could also be quite cruel sometimes; a bit of an asshole, too… all due to him being a cocky, little smartass. michael gavey is head over heels in love with you. like, obsessive--- ‘will do anything you ask of him’ in love with you. michael gavey can be a complete and utter menace; one moment, he is a total dick to you because you’re not understanding what he has been trying to explain to you [for almost two hours now], from a class you both share--- and the next, he’s apologizing with a bouquet of a dozen red roses and his mouth on your cunt for hours. afterwards, romantic words from your favorite poets would spill from his soft, naturally curved mouth, while he’d casually hand feed you cherries, occasionally lighting up cigarettes for himself. michael gavey is so ridiculously smart, he finds it quite unbelievable how utterly dense you can be whenever he compliments and flirts with you, though you'd think he's just joking around, or being a tease--- honestly, he thinks it’s kind of cute how oblivious you can be to his affections.

michael gavey might not look like it, but he’s the type of man to fuck you nasty style; can be quite possessive over you, too. most days, when your boyfriend michael gavey is studying for an upcoming exam, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his plush lips, while his nimble fingers continued skimming through page after page of his massive textbooks, studying nonstop. sneakily, you’d go into his dormitory and drop down to your knees, before taking him into your mouth and eagerly sucking him off, causing a shout from him when he eventually comes down your raw, sore throat--- “my poor, little baby girl… such a naughty fucking thing,” he’d coo mockingly, clenching both of your blushy cheeks together with his long fingers, before he’d claim your mouth in a dirty, deeply passionate kiss.

michael gavey adores seeing you wearing his clothes, especially his oversized sweaters, because that way he can ruthlessly rut into your weeping cunt while fucking you from behind; with you only wearing his sweater. michael gavey loves the taste of your strawberry flavored lipgloss [nearly as much as he loves the taste of your sweet little pussy]--- he loves kissing your plump, juicy, glossy lips whenever he can; and fuck, having your glossy lips wrapped around his cock? let’s just say, it’s embarrassing how quickly he shoots his load down your willing, suffocating throat.

michael gavey loves the way that you smell--- like red roses, strawberry lipgloss, vanilla perfume, sweet scented candles [courtesy of you lighting them all around his dormitory], and your skin… fuckin’ hell; soft as satin and sweet as honey, always smelling of the lavender body lotion he bought for you one random day that the two of you were out shopping [yes, he was holding all of your bags like a perfect gentleman]. michael gavey might be called on the daily a loser or even a freak, but he knows that regardless of the name calling; you’ll always stand by his side, defending him with your foul [glossy] mouth. michael gavey thinks of you as his soft, delicate little angel with a heart made of glass that he must protect at all costs. michael gavey would do absolutely anything you ask of him, he is just so fucking whipped for you; you’re his first love, and hopefully, you’ll be his last.

[tokiwarcube]

Baby, It's Cold Outside

It's getting cold out, and as luck would have it, you seem to have forgotten your jacket at home. Thankfully, your lover is here to help!

[Just some quick headcanons about the boys lending you their jacket... or their own equivalent. All boys + Charles!]

Charles Foster Offdensen

Bold of you to assume he’d let you forget your jacket at home. It’s cold outside and you’ll be walking at the end of the night; therefore, you should bring a jacket. Yes, he understands that it doesn’t go with your outfit. He’ll hold it for you, if you want.

Unfortunately, he knows he’s fighting a losing battle. And so, when the end of the night comes and you’re trying not to shiver (God forbid you admit he was right), he’ll still give you his jacket. The quiet, sassy part of him wants to say something, but he holds his tongue when he watches you pull your arms through the sleeves out of the corner of his eye. He’d prefer you stay warm, but he can’t lie — he does love the image of you in his jacket.

Nathan Explosion

This man is a spaceheater, but that doesn’t mean he likes the cold. He grew up in Florida, for Christ’s sake — a Winter day under 70 is a nightmare, to him.

Once he gets over his whole complex with wearing jackets, he refuses to part with his own once the weather gets chilly. But… well, you’re an exception. There’s a better solution to this, though! Press yourself against his side so you can share — believe me, he absolutely does not mind this compromise.

Pickles the Drummer

He left home early, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t remember the winter wasteland that was Wisconsin in December. He much prefers the sunny weather of LA, and while he much prefers the life he leads now… he won’t lie, he misses the Winter sunshine.

After he quit S&B and joined Dethklok, he became basically glued to his jacket in the colder months. Half of it isn’t even because he’s terribly cold, persay — it’s half out of habit. He’s always waiting for the weather to turn into a blizzard, like it would back in Wisconsin. This is all to say that while he can tolerate the cold, he’s always prepared. So when you’re out on the town, and things get chilly… he’s surprisingly willing to hand over his coat to keep you warm. He’s not giving it up without payment, though… He deserves a kiss for his forethought, right?

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

You’d think growing up in the Swedish taiga would have prepared him for American Winters… and to be fair, you’re not wrong! He has a pretty good tolerance to the cold… but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like staying warm. You can scarcely find him without a sweater and a jacket when Winter rolls around.

When you’re caught out without a jacket, he’s stuck between teasing you for your forgetfulness and playing the hero. He makes the best of both worlds by giving you exactly three teasing jabs — one when he catches you shivering, one when he pulls you to his side to share his coat, and another when you relax into his hold.

Toki Wartooth

You know, it’s funny — Toki is the most resistant to cold of the bunch (and, subsequently, is always the first to offer his jacket to you when you’re cold) and yet, he’s the one who needs it the most. He genuinely struggles to tell when he’s cold, which would ordinarily be fine, but unfortunately its a bit of a risk due to the whole diabetes thing.

One one hand though, this makes you fantastic at making sure you both keep warm in the Winter months. He’s prone to either forgetting it, (or let's be honest, leaving it entirely due to his massive ego around the subject) and thus, you’re in charge of making sure he brings a coat to your winter outings. And that means that you need to bring one too, because if you forget your coat, he’ll be offering his own, and he refuses to take “no” for an answer. And hey, you can still hold hands in his jacket pocket. Win-win!

William Murderface

He likes the cold, but this is just excessive. He tolerates it pretty well, up until it starts snowing, and that’s when he starts getting sick of the weather. He rarely brings a jacket with him out of sheer ego, but he does like a good sweater. He gets better about bringing a coat over time though, especially when he realizes your propensity to forgo your own.

That is to say, he loves giving you his jacket. He both does, and doesn’t, make a big deal out of it. He doesn’t hold it above your head, but he definitely makes a little noise of importance as he shrugs it off to hand to you. It’s just a good thing he runs so warm, huh? No big deal, all part of the job. (He’s very proud of himself.)

[kai-anderson-whore]

Ghost boy (Tate langdon x fem reader smut) kinktober fic 6

Summary: you and your friends go to the abandoned murder house, where you met Tate

Warnings: smut, sex against a wall, sex with a ghost, teasing, clit stimulation somewhat public sex (since it’s a abandoned house 🤷‍♀️)

Word count: 1,5k

A/n: this was shit and the ending was so rushed, I’m so behind on this so I might not post the full ten fics but if I do they may be some after Halloween

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You heard all the rumours about the infamous murder house, how it's haunted, people who step foot there get killed, how the ghosts that live there aren't really ghosts they're just like humans only cold 'bullshit' you thought. You were always a sceptic about all that paranormal stuff, never believed in it one bit.

So when your friends came up with the idea of visiting the murder house you were more than willing to go and see. You wanted to prove your friends wrong, there was no such thing as ghosts. Now outside the old run down building, wooden barriers barricaded the windows except for one on the side of the house.

"So we going in or what" you spoke up unfazed by the eerie sight of the abandoned house. Your friends on the other hand looked if so they already regretted coming here. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, I mean have you heard the stories y/n, once you go in there's a high chance you never get out to tell the tale" your friend Chelsea's scared tone making you chuckle.

"Yeah and that's what it is a tale, it's just to scare kids from going in here and get drunk, all bullshit" you laughed climbing into the house. "What are you doing, are you crazy!?" Your other friend Oliver hissed. "Oh come on you two wanted to come here in the first place now your chickening out" you scoffed your leather jacket nearly getting caught on an overgrown branch connecting to the brick wall.

"Yeah it's fucking creepy" Oliver admitted you just laughed once again one of your legs on the ledge of the old window, the other inside the house barely touching the ground. "Fine I'm going in, I bet I'll make it out alive" you mocked dismissing them and jumping fully into the old house.

You heard their pleas for you to come back, never did you listen once you got something on your mind you do it. Going further into what you expect to be the dinning room, nothing was really out of place like someone had been living here. Dust was collecting on some parts of the house, no graffiti on the walls or smashed glass like other places you been to 'weird?'.

Nothing really sparked your interests downstairs, deciding to take your attention upstairs. Searching room to room all you found were some old photos of the Harmon family that lived here. Entering another room all dark 'this is probably a boys room' you thought to yourself looking around the room.

Spotting a record collection mostly grunge and rock music nirvana, Alice and the chains, hole and some artists who inspired the grunge scene. "Good taste" you hummed to yourself out loud. "Thanks" a voice chimed making out yelp in fright, clutching your chest.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You snapped turning your head to find a boy with blonde hair with a amused smile and arms folded over his chest. "Didn't mean to scare you" he defended holding his hands up. "Who are you?" You asked not feeling scared anymore. You couldn't help but find this mysterious guy attractive he wore a knitted sweater with baggy jeans and converse.

"I'm Tate, I live here" he shrugged.

"What you live in a abandoned house yeah right" you scoffed not believing it. "I'm a ghost so yeah I live here" he says in a serious tone. "Sure and I'm the pope, did Chelsea and Oliver set you up for this, if they did nice try" you laughed which only made Tate a little bit frustrated.

"No" Tate unfolds his arms taking a step towards you. "Okay Tate prove your a ghost" you challenged standing from your kneeled position. "Why would I need to prove I'm dead" he scoffed rolling his eyes. "Because your not dead, but you are kinda cute" you smirked, Tate couldn't help but blush at your compliment. "Well thanks I guess, not so bad yourself if I may add" he returned his voice somewhat dulcet but a smirk always playing on his lips.

"Thanks Casper" you smiled biting your bottom lip. Standing up from your kneeled position. Leaving the room exploring more parts of the house. "You know shouldn't really be here alone" Tate speaks up you turn your head, raising an eyebrow. "And why's that Casper?".

"Because you never know what's in here" he shrugs. You chuckled dismissively, "oh yeah the boogeyman is going to get me is is". Tate smirked at you he couldn't lie he thought you were beautiful, with your leather jacket, the way your hair would flow as the breeze of the house swished past you. He oddly felt nervous around you but wanted to be close to you.

You notice his nervousness, smirking to yourself. "Do I make you nervous Casper?".

"What no" he blushed.

"I do" you laughed stepping closer to him, you could practically feel how nervous he was, swallowing a lump in his throat. You smiled seductively at Tate standing in front of him, "maybe just a little" Tate chuckled blushing. A new wave of confidence washed over you, you couldn't deny he was extremely attractive even if it was weird that he was randomly in this abandoned house.

"And why do I make you nervous Casper?" You teasingly asked using your newfound nickname. Tate swallowed a lump in his throat "w-well your really pretty that's why" he mumbles. Now face to face with him. "Oh really I'm pretty?" You teased now playing with the hem of his flannel.

"Yeah" he chuckled, you couldn't deny your attraction to the boy. Now with the sudden wave of confidence you kissed him, feverishly. Tate's eyes blown wide at your sudden action, but responded to your lips nonetheless. Your hand cupped his cheek deepening the kiss.

A moan left your lips feeling Tate's hands on your body, he was cold but you assumed that it was because of the cold air in the abandoned house. Tate grew the confidence to pin you to the nearest wall you gasped feeling the cold wall come in contact with you.

A smirk crept on his lips, his hand on your waist now slowly creeping under your skirt, his thumb coming in contact with your clit, you let out another gasp and he rubbed you through your nearly soaked panties. You grew wetter by the second, your hand gripped his shoulder to steady yourself. "Your so wet" Tate chuckled retracing his hand from your underwear.

His lips attacked your neck leaving purple marks along your delicate skin. You sighed your hand cupped his bulged rubbing him through his jeans. Before unbuttoning the button. "Eager are we?" Tate chuckles. "Just fuck me" you sighed. Tate pulled down his jeans and underwear just enough for his cock to string free.

His hands on the backs on your thighs signalling your to jump, which you did. Your underwear moved to one side he lined himself up with your entrance teasingly. "Don't tease me" you whined. Tate chuckled slowly pushing himself into you. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure your grip on his shoulder tightened.

Tate bottomed out inside you before retracting his hips from you, thrusting in you. Moans slowly crept their way out your lips, he stretched you out perfectly. Your head resting on Tate's shoulder, "harder" you panted your body jolting with each thrust, "I don't think you deserve it yet" Tate grinned, you immediately felt frustrated with his disapproval of your request. "Please, please Casper, I need it please" you begged, Tate's thrusts got even more slower.

"You know that's not my name, say my name and I'll maybe consider it" Tate's voice was more deep and dominant, "I'm sorry Tate, please fuck me harder please tate" you pleaded. “Well since you asked so nicely” he smirked.

His hips thrusted into you in a much faster pace, you almost screamed out in pleasure and pain, it felt so good. Tates hips were erratic the pace they went you were sure he would split you in two. Your head resting on the wall behind you. Your legs pulling him closer.

You felt dangerously close to the edge, Tate could tell “you close?” He asked, you nodded your head humming in response. “Use your words” Tate coaxed, smirking wickedly. “I’m so close” you panted out. Feeling that knot form in your stomach.

“Let go baby” he whispered, you let go over his cock with a loud moan. Your nails digging into his flannel, your orgasm triggering his own release. He pulling out of you spilling his seed on your thigh. You panted trying to catch your breath.

Tate set your feet down on the floor, you fixed your underwear and skirt. “That was fun” Tate smirked tucking himself back into his pants . You smiled nodding “yeah I gotta go my friends are outside waiting on me” I giggled. “Oh okay maybe I’ll see you around?” He asked. “Sure I’ll see you around” you smiled Leaving Tate.

You made it outside seeing your friends by the gates of the abandoned house. “What took you so long we were about to send a search party out for you” Oliver says. “Keep your head on, I’m here now I just found some cool stuff that’s all” you smirked blushing a little. “Come on let’s go” Oliver sighed, the three of you walked away from the house you looked at a window seeing Tate. You smiled and waved as you walked away.