#and it made me really happy to throw him through a loop

[gimmethatagustd]

who’s your bias? | kth

Everyone says idols shouldn’t date their fans. Little did you know the crazy sasaengs aren’t the ones who might ruin your relationship. It might just be your boyfriend’s best friends.

Relationship: Taehyung x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Canon Divergence, Idols (i’m just making shit up y'all as usual), Jealousy, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, an attempt at army-specific humor, Insecurity, Soft Dom Taehyung, Finger Sucking, thigh riding, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Overstimulation, a breeding kink is ~hinted at~, Cunnilingus

Word Count: 12,624

A/N: this was entirely self-indulgent 😂 also i wrote 80% of this while i was high and with no beta so if it’s bad, now you know why

“Y/N, stop it right now.” 

Your boyfriend breathes the command faster than you can even open your mouth to greet him. With a roll of your eyes, you put your phone on speaker and sit it on the floor beside you. Rummaging through the cardboard boxes littering your apartment is easier done with both hands. 

“Why hello, Taehyung. What a pleasure to hear from you.”

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” From the whine in his voice you’re positive he’s wearing a deep pout, bottom lip jutting out as far as it can. You love kissing his pouts away. 

But not this time! And not just because you’re on opposite sides of the world. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s so late there and I’m sure you’re very tired from displaying your dick to all of America for three hours.” 

The cardboard box in front of you has “BEDROOM” scribbled in your father’s handwriting on the side in thick, black Sharpie. It’s full of little trinkets and random decor. A Shooky plushie is crammed into the corner in between a cracked Army bomb and a small framed photo of you with your parents. You smile to yourself despite your boyfriend’s huffing over the phone. Your father had given you a strange look as he helped you pack the items as if to ask, Really? Do you really need these? 

Just because you’re dating a member of BTS now doesn’t mean you can’t cherish your old BTS merch! It’s not weird, in your opinion. It would only be weird if you made it weird. And you weren’t making it weird. 

“I did not display my dick!” 

You roll your eyes for probably the fifth time while you ponder where to put Shooky. You’d kept it on your dresser in your old home in the States. Something tells you Taehyung won’t appreciate the lack of a Tata beside it. 

“You were thrusting and throwing it around! And pointing at it while doing it, too!” 

“Y/N!” 

“Don’t Y/N me! I have my TikTok evidence!” 

With your cracked Army bomb in hand, you open the app in question, scrolling through your favorited videos until you get to the one. The one uploaded only a day before. The one you’d texted to Taehyung which prompted his immediate phone call. 

“And what does the caption say?” you ask but then cut Taehyung off before he can answer the question. “It says, and I quote, ‘I will never forget Taehyung doing this. I looped this for hours. Kim Taehyung lives in my head rent-free.’ Hashtag Taehyung. Hashtag HipsDon’tLie. With the woozy face emoji. And do we need to discuss the music choice?” 

“Y/N, can you please-” 

“Slut Me Out,” you deadpan in a monotone voice. “That is the song they chose for you.”

The other end is silent for so long you start to feel bad. Every time your jealousy spikes, you seem to act on impulse rather than thinking through how you might make Taehyung feel. Yes, he sometimes plays his part in the group a little too well, but you also knew that this was his job. It’s his job to make people get excited - excited for the music, the group, and himself as an idol. 

Still, your opinion is the most important to him, and you know that. 

“Jagiya…” Taehyung sniffles and you feel your heart shatter. 

Fuck, you really are a bitch, aren’t you? 

“Tae, I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know, I didn’t really think anything of it. It’s just an act, y’know?” 

You did know. Away from the stage and the cameras, Taehyung is quiet, almost shy. He’s happy to be a silent observer of whatever chaos his members create. He gifts everyone with puffy cheeks and boxy grins, sometimes a boisterous laugh that manages to make your heart soar every time. But the soft-spoken soul you listen to old school R&B with while you smoke strawberry swisher blunts on the balcony late into the night, and convince that yes, the apartment is soundly built and no, the balcony will not randomly fall out beneath you… That person is different from the person you see wearing a resting bitch face in interviews or the person who chews away at imaginary gum during concerts. 

You find all versions of Taehyung endearing, although the fake gum chewing is kind of embarrassing if you wanted to be perfectly honest. 

“I know, Tae. I’m sorry I’m being judgmental for no reason,” you insist and you hope he believes you. Complaints about his idol status typically resulted in red eyes and sniffles, yet sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing his pressure points despite his sensitivity.  

Your apology puts Taehyung in a better mood because his following comment is cheekier than you expect. 

“You get jealous a lot, jagi.” His smug tone is close to bringing back your irritation. 

“I am not jealous of some fans in a stadium, thanks.” 

“Good,” he says more cheerfully. “‘Cause I only have sights for you.” 

That makes you laugh and you feel your earlier heaviness disappear. “You mean, you only have eyes for me?” 

“Isn’t that what I said?” 

You shake your head as if Taehyung can see you. A few photo strips are beneath Shooky in the cardboard box. You silently curse your father (respectfully and endearingly) for casually placing something so fragile in the bottom of a box. The photos are of you and Taehyung in a photo booth at a birthday party for an idol you didn’t know. An actor, you think. You thumb at one of the corners of the photo strip that has curled inward. Taehyung’s hair was straight then, and short, falling just above his ears. You much prefer the thick waves he wears now. 

“You’re so cute.” 

“Only for you.” 

“Oh shut up, now you’re being corny.” 

You’re not sure why, but you try to suppress the smile Taehyung’s light flirting coaxes out of you, even though he can’t see you. Accepting his teasing affection has always been hard for you. All the boys are too caring; it makes you uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. You’re just not used to men acting like that. They’re all very different from the men you’ve been around growing up. There’s a reason Taehyung can’t listen to you talk about your ex-boyfriends without getting pissed. 

“Mmm, maybe. I’m also sleepy,” Taehyung slurs. His voice is so soft you almost can’t hear him, so you lift your phone to your ear rather than use the speaker setting. The smoothness feels like a lullaby gentle enough to carry you to sleep, even though it’s still daylight in Seoul. 

“Goodnight, Kim.” You decide for him, knowing he would stay on the phone if you let him. 

Confirming your thoughts, Taehyung grumbles when he speaks next. “I love you, jagi.” 

“I love you, too.” People always talk about the “honeymoon phase” when the butterflies disappear and couples no longer feel the exciting draw toward each other anymore. It’s been less than a year since you started dating Taehyung, but you’re confident that your heart will always flutter when you hear those three words so confidently spoken. Taehyung had been the first to say it; something about that makes you even more sure of your relationship. 

“Can’t wait to see you soon so I can slut you out.” 

“… please go to bed and never say that ever again.” 

In the distance, you hear someone start yelling. The noise is accompanied by a rather aggressive ruffling sound, as though Taehyung’s phone is being rubbed against fabric. 

“Are you two having phone sex?” The second voice accuses, this time sounding much clearer. 

“Hyung, leave me alone,” Taehyung whines. “Y/N, tell him to go away.” 

You let out a long sigh, but the grin finally cuts through the hardened expression you try to maintain. “Goodnight, Jimin.” 

It sounds like the two boys start physically fighting each other before Taehyung lets out a breathy, “Goodnight, baby,” accompanied by Jimin screeching something you can’t understand before the call ends. 

With a shake of your head, you leave your phone on the floor and get up to position Shooky and your Army bomb on your dresser. You’ll figure out what to do with it later, you decide.

Later ends up being three more days of you giving a half-assed attempt to sort through the boxes. Your bedroom is mostly organized by the end of the week with only one more box remaining, shoved into the corner of the room. It’s a bunch of family keepsakes that will make you cry if you start looking at them. 

Right now you want to make a beeline to the kitchen. 

It’s hard not to trip over all the boxes that litter your apartment, most of them already torn open and half-empty. The kitchen hasn’t been fully unpacked, either, so you opt for instant ramen in the microwave rather than dig for utensils to cook a proper meal. It’s pretty bad. You and Taehyung are a terrible match; you both have no idea how to cook. There’s no point in all the fancy kitchenware your parents bought you. You’ll never master any of it. It’s not because you don’t put in any effort, like Taehyung. You’re genuinely shit at cooking. 

And baking? That’s even worse. 

You stand in the middle of your living room while you shovel ramen in your mouth. It’s too hot, so you inhale loudly through your teeth to cool the food off before it scorches your throat. There’s so much you need to do, and it’s making you nauseous thinking about it. Somewhere in the mix of boxes are your Hangeul textbooks that you should be studying in your free time instead of playing video games and video chatting with your friends. It’s only been a week and a half, but you already feel lonely without the constant presence of your friends and family. The boys have been on tour the entire time. Namjoon decided you moving to Seoul while they’re on tour would make your arrival less suspicious, and everyone would be more focused on the tour than whatever an unknown American music producer is doing. 

In your opinion, Namjoon was overthinking the whole thing as he is wont to do. But you let him be bossy because you know his heart is in the right place. It’s not like the public knows you’re dating Taehyung. There hasn’t been any press or rumors about you at all. You’re genuinely unknown.

You prefer it that way. 

Your fork scrapes the bottom of the bowl and you realize you’ve scarfed down the ramen without much thought. You suppose it’s easier to do that when you aren’t using chopsticks. (You’ve managed to master them, for the most part, but you prefer to fall back on forks when you’re alone at home.) 

You place the bowl on top of the large cardboard box in front of the couch. It has the pieces for your coffee table inside, but you haven’t had the energy to put it together yet. The part of you that allows your feminism to leave your body whenever the boys are around is kind of hoping you can get one of them to build it for you. Maybe Yoongi. He’s into that kind of stuff. 

With a sigh, you flop onto the couch and slip your phone out of your back pocket. A few Whatsapp and KakaoTalk notifications light up the screen. You used to be terrible at responding to texts, but moving halfway across the world has made you a better texter. It’s a way to fill the loneliness. 

[Alex] hey bitch

[Alex] this 15 hour time difference sucks ass

[You] I’m sorry 

[Alex] its fine. i’ll forgive you for chasing money and dick

[You] I’m not chasing dick omg

[Alex] dont lie

[Alex] whats that tiffany pollard meme

[You] Stop

[Alex] i know his dick is big. i know it! i know it’s big!

[You] I hate you

[Alex] you didnt deny it. anywayyy did you see this? 

As much as you adore Alex, she’s an expert at getting under your skin. You remind yourself that it’s all harmless as you click on the link she texts you. 

BTS’ V woos fans with his casual rockstar visuals on his return from world tour

Kim Taehyung, also known professionally as V of BTS, was spotted at John F. Kennedy International Airport on Friday. The singer is reportedly returning early to South Korea ahead of his band members after completing the final performance of their…   

You don’t know why you read the shitty k-pop tabloids. You figure it’s the same reason why people make a hobby out of watching bad movies. There’s a weird itch in the back of your brain that can’t be scratched unless you open the link Alex texts you— teasingly, of course, because she thinks she’s being funny. Your friends don’t understand the nauseous feeling you get when you scroll through the article and accidentally click on a link that takes you to an external website flaunting doctored photos of your boyfriend with Jennie Kim. 

BTS’ V and BLACKPINK’s Jennie Spend Romantic Weekend in Paris 

You know it’s a lie because the weekend in question was the same weekend Taehyung flew you to Seoul to do a final walkthrough of your apartment before you signed off on it. Taehyung spent every second of that weekend by your side. 

The article makes you sick anyway. 

You’re so caught up in trying to craft a text to Alex to explain why she needs to leave you the fuck alone that you don’t hear the sound of your apartment’s front door open over the music you’re listening to. 

“I’m gone for a few months and I come home to you listening to some other band?” 

“Holy shit, Tae, you can’t do that to me,” you yelp when Taehyung leans over the back of the couch to hover over your shoulder. 

“Explain yourself.” His voice is warm honey and milk even when his strong eyebrows point downward in mock disappointment. The expression is almost convincing, his naturally sharp features making conjuring up a dark appearance easier. 

“You can’t tell me Stray Kids’ new album isn’t good.” 

“Jagiya, I just got home,” Taehyung whines. “Kiss me and stop thirsting over Australian boys.” 

He touches your chin to tip your head backward. You lean your head against the back of the couch and look up at him. The position makes you think of the iconic Spiderman kiss, seeing Taehyung’s face upside down above yours. 

“Y’know, I worked on a few of their songs. Before I met you.” 

The confession is meant to tease him for making fun of your music choice. Of course, words’ impact often diverges from intent. It’s in the twist of his face and the way he pulls back slightly just before his lips brush against yours that you know you’ve made him jealous. 

“Oh did you?” His hair hangs around his face as he leans over you.

“Mhm, Bang Chan’s accent is really cu—” 

You shouldn’t be shocked when strong hands squeeze your waist and Taehyung hauls you off the couch to stand in front of him. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you tightly against his chest. 

“You didn’t work with any other groups before us, okay?” 

You purse your lips to hold in the laughter that threatens to explode from your chest. All you can do is nod in agreement. It reminds you of girls getting upset when they remember their boyfriends dated other people before them. 

“Good.” 

Taehyung dips his head down to connect his lips with yours. The closeness of his body forces you to inhale his cologne and feel goosebumps travel down your arms. It’s been months since you’ve so much as held Taehyung’s hand and you feel like you’ve been starved. Your body trembles so severely that you dig your nails into his biceps to hold yourself upright. You moan into his mouth, already open and ready for you because Taehyung is nothing but giving. 

The kiss isn’t bruising, not yet. It’s slow and deep. Taehyung takes his time reminding himself of your taste. You grip the nape of his neck to pull him down as you meet him by standing on your tiptoes. His height has always been one of your favorite aspects of his physical appearance. Dark, watchful eyes that pierce into your soul might be at the top of the list. 

His tongue swirls around yours, only retreating to suck your bottom lip into his mouth. His teeth graze along the plump skin, each nibble making you dizzy in the head. You normally hate wet kisses, but there’s something satisfying about seeing Taehyung’s lips pink and shiny with your spit when he finally pulls away. Pride thrums in your chest; you did that. You made his tan skin flush pink. You made his eyes dark and sharp. You made his breathing ragged and desperate. 

And, fuck, does it feel good. 

You run your fingers along his sharp jawline and watch the muscles flex beneath his taunt skin. “Don’t clench your jaw like that. It’s not good for you,” you muse, allowing your fingers to skim over his Adam’s apple. 

“I’m trying to stay calm.” 

Your eyebrows fly up with concern. “What’s wrong?” 

“Wanna bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk,” Taehyung says with such a gentle tone that the stark difference between what he says and how he says it has your body trembling once again. 

You inhale sharply and let your hand fall from his throat. Instead, you reach for the lapels of his leather jacket and squeeze them. 

“Why don’t you?” 

You can’t look at him when you ask. Even though you’ve been dating for almost a year, Taehyung still intimidates the hell out of you sometimes. The darkness of his eyes when he gets horny sends you reeling. You’re sure if you look up, you’ll see The Look. He stares at you unabashedly with an expression of desire so strong you feel like he might consume you just by looking at you.

“You haven’t eaten yet and I need to take a shower.” 

“How do you know I haven’t eaten yet?” With a pout, you finally dare to look your boyfriend in the face. The way he gapes at you is judgmental and doesn’t make you feel devour-worthy at all. 

“I know you,” he scoffs. “You’re just like Jimin. I bet you haven’t even been awake more than two hours.” 

Barely a year into your relationship and he’s already reading you like an open book. You can’t stay salty about it when his bread cheeks come out and he’s giggling at the frustrated “hmph” you let out. 

“I’ll be fast,” he promises with a smirk that collapses into another fit of giggles. The hearty slap on your ass encourages you toward the kitchen while Taehyung makes his way to the bathroom. 

You did already eat, but today is an outlier. Normally, you are like Jimin, staying up too late and sleeping in longer than everyone else. And sometimes you’re like Yoongi, too. You get so caught up in the songs you’re working on that you forget to stop to eat or pee or look somewhere other than at a computer screen. 

The move to Seoul threw you off your usual work schedule. Everything you need to get done is looming over your head like a dark cloud. If Namjoon comes back before you finish editing the English lyrics of his upcoming single, you might die of embarrassment, no matter how many times Taehyung insists that Namjoon won’t be disappointed. 

Taehyung wasn’t lying about being quick. He’s wearing a white cotton t-shirt and grey sweatpants when he returns, hair damp and swept away from his face. You’re still standing at the fridge, painfully aware of how little food you have. Plenty of grapefruit soju, though. Priorities. 

“Do you want ramen?” You eventually ask. When Taehyung doesn’t respond, you turn to give him a sheepish smile. He probably thinks you’re ridiculous. 

Taehyung is sitting at the kitchen table with your phone in his hands. His eyebrows scrunch together and he turns to you with narrowed eyes. 

“Why were you looking at this?” 

He lifts your phone in your direction. The doctored photos of him and Jennie glare back at you. You feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.  

“Tae, I didn’t—” You snap your mouth shut because, honestly, it looks bad. It looks bad no matter how you explain yourself because Taehyung’s bottom lip is already quivering and you know you’re both replaying the stupid TikTok phone call in your heads right now. 

The two of you stare at each other for only god knows how long. You’re the first to break; not many people can hold their own in a staring contest with Kim Taehyung. Yoongi is probably the only one. Jungkook would give a valiant effort, but he’d ultimately crumble in a fit of nervous giggles. Taehyung is scary when he wants to be. 

Dating Taehyung started as an unbelievably exciting experience. You had your brush with fame before meeting the boys, but Taehyung was the first idol to give you genuine attention beyond whatever job needed to be done. Not that you’d ever sought it out; you had more dignity than that. No, Taehyung pursued you. Who could blame you when you fell head over heels for the sinfully gorgeous man who seemed larger than life? The long legs, big hands, and chiseled features were dangerous enough. Throw in a glowing personality, quirky sense of humor, and a big-hearted desire to care for others and you had a man who was too good to be true. 

And who are you? Some dumb American kid with average looks, a standoff personality as a result of having a bit of social anxiety (and trouble acclimating to a new country), and a penchant for fucking things up. Maybe it was your fault for not seriously considering how hard it was going to be to date an idol.  

“C’mere, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs, beckoning you. 

You expected waterworks— hell, you’re ready to start crying yourself. Instead, Taehyung wears a tired but soft smile. He holds your waist as you climb into his lap, straddling him. He wiggles a little in the chair to adjust you more comfortably on his thighs. 

“Koreaboo, really?” He gathers your face in his hands, thumbs running across your cheeks. His hands are soft and you regret not washing your face when you woke up. Sometimes it’s not fun to date someone as beautiful as Taehyung. 

“It was an accident.” 

You avoid his gaze, but Taehyung coaxes you back to look him in the eyes. It’s hard. There’s so much passion swimming in them. He blinks up at you with an earnestness that makes your heart ache because you’re always the one causing problems. 

“They could have at least used better pictures of me,” he complains with an exaggerated pout. 

“Maybe I’ll send them some from my private collection.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Taehyung grins as he threatens you, so you grin back. 

“Oh, I dare.” 

Quick fingers dig into your sides and you let out an embarrassing squeal. Taehyung doesn’t let up on tickling you until you’ve got tears in your eyes and your threats to elbow him in the face start sounding a bit too real. 

“Please don’t torture yourself with shit like that, okay?” He mumbles the request into your neck because your arms are thrown around his shoulders. 

You slide your fingers into his hair to cradle his head against your chest. When you dig your nails into his scalp he lets out a low groan. Nothing about the position you’re in is sexual, but you’re quickly reminded that this is the most skin-on-skin contact you’ve had with your boyfriend in months. With that fact in mind, you don’t feel bad when you scoot further into his lap and squeeze his thighs with your own. 

“Tae?” 

“Hmm?” When he tilts his head back to look up at you, he’s got that spacey, blissed-out look on his face. 

“Tell me you love me.” You place your finger against the little freckle on the tip of his nose.

The slow, boxy grin is almost better than hearing the words. Your finger migrates to touch the freckle on his lip. 

“I love you with all my heart.” He punctuates the confession with a kiss on the tip of your finger. “Your turn.” 

You roll your eyes, but it’s the reaction he’s looking for. 

“I love you, too. You dork.” 

“So romantic,” he laughs, but the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he watches you with lust darker than what consumed his expression earlier. 

You sit with your breath burning in your lungs as Taehyung slips his hands beneath your baggy t-shirt. His smooth palms slide up your rib cage until he reaches your tits, palming one in each hand. The tilt of his chin tells you he wants another kiss, and who are you to deny him what he wants? You dig your nails in his hair harder while you kiss him, tugging to angle his head in the direction you want. Small moments like this give the appearance that you’re in control. And Taehyung loves domming while you both pretend you’re the one in charge.

He pulls back with a wet smack. If it was anyone else, you’d be ashamed of the whimper that sounds from your throat as Taehyung removes his hands from your shirt. You grip his hair tighter, but Taehyung just chuckles. 

“So needy. What am I going to do with you?” 

You could give him a couple of ideas. There isn’t time, though. Taehyung is already grasping your chin and tilting it down. 

“Open up for me, okay?” 

Your cheeks grow hot as you open your mouth. You already know where this is going, so you stick out your tongue. Still, it’s difficult not to squirm when Taehyung presses his index and middle fingers flat against the wet muscle. 

“Suck.” 

You swallow around his fingers, sucking as best you can as he begins to thrust them into your mouth. It’s vulgar, the wet suctioning sound of his fingers dragging against your tongue. In and out, a steady pace that doesn’t go too fast. Taehyung has such long, gorgeous fingers. You quite enjoy when he wrecks your insides with them until you’re on the brink of tears. Which you’ve come to find is something Taehyung thoroughly enjoys doing. 

“You miss having your pretty mouth stuffed?”

You know any attempt at a spoken response will come out as a garbled mess. You whimper, eyes fluttering closed as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. You push your tongue in between his fingers and curl around them. 

“Gonna suck my cock like this, jagi?” He purrs the question, ending it so breathy it’s almost a moan as he eases over the term of endearment. “Show me how much you miss me, hm?” 

Maybe it’s the deep, sensual way he purrs jagi with heavy eyelids and that crooked smirk on his face. Maybe it’s because he bites his lip when he says it or that he lets his lip go with such slowness that you can see the way his teeth scrape across his plump bottom lip as it falls back into place. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s shoving his fingers just a bit deeper into your mouth. Maybe it’s all of these things that make you shift so that you can press your clothed pussy against Taehyung’s thigh. 

He flexes the muscle as you start rutting against it, rolling your hips to the rhythm of his fingers gliding in and out of your mouth. 

“Look at you.” His lips brush against the curve of your ear, sending a shiver down your back. “So desperate for me that you’re going to get off on only my thighs?” 

You’re not the type to be able to orgasm just from rutting and friction like this, but Taehyung has managed to learn your body faster than you ever expected. He slips his free hand beneath the waistband of your leggings and underwear. It’s the quick circling of his thumb against your throbbing clit combined with the rutting of your hips that sends you over the edge. 

“That’s it, baby, you did so well,” Taehyung whispers praise against the skin his lips have access to on your collarbones as you shudder in his lap. “Love seeing you cum, fuck, doing this shit over KakaoTalk fucking sucked.” 

Taehyung finally removes his fingers from your mouth when you stop moving. Seeing the string of spit that connects his fingers to your lips makes you feel weak, but you’re riding the high of his praise and skillful fingers, so you don’t care. 

He wipes your spit onto his sweatpants and gently holds your chin with his other hand. He gives you a soft smile and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. You can taste yourself when you flick your tongue over the trail his thumb left.  

“I missed you so much,” he admits with a gentle kiss on your lips. “And not just because of this. I missed all of you, everything about you, just being with you.” 

“I missed you, too.”

It’s meant to be a confirmation of your mutual love, but it comes out like a whine. You know Taehyung doesn’t mind from the way his eyes zero in on your tongue running along your bottom lip. You don’t have to say anything more for him to know what you want. He nods once and you’re almost immediately on your knees between his legs.  

“Fuck.” He leans back in the chair and lifts his hips so you can tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Gonna be good for me, baby?” 

You quickly nod your head, though you’re focused on gently taking Taehyung’s cock in your hand. Alex isn’t wrong. Taehyung’s dick is big, but that doesn’t mean you have to go around talking about it. That’s for you to know and for others to wonder about. 

You had to sign an NDA before you were allowed to see it, anyway, but you’d keep your mouth shut even if no legal action would be taken against you for gossiping. 

“Kiss it first.” 

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he watches you. His eyelids droop lower when you plant a puckered, open-mouthed kiss on the head of his cock. You press the tip of your tongue against the slit to lick at the precum already leaking from him. The buck of his hips isn’t unexpected, but you feel like you need to remember how to do all of this after being away from him for so long. Not to mention how tired your jaw is about to be. 

Taehyung seems to sense your hesitation because he allows his body to go slack beneath you. The hand that has reached down to dig into your scalp doesn’t let up, but he doesn’t push your head down like he normally would when you finally slide his cock down your throat. 

He doesn’t buck his hips again, even when you drool so much that the inside of his thighs become just as wet as yours. You squeeze the base of his cock, twisting your wrist to the rhythm you’ve established when you can’t take all of him into your mouth. 

You reach down to gently roll his balls with your free hand. His cock twitches against your flattened tongue and you hum with satisfaction. 

“God, your fucking mouth–” 

You make eye contact with Taehyung as your hand ventures lower. There’s nothing more beautiful than the way his face crumples with pleasure when you massage his perineum. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he whines. 

You ease up slightly but still suckle on the head of his cock for longer than Taehyung wants. Why not have a little fun? All you’ll end up doing is riling him up even more, and that can only be a good thing for you. 

Taehyung digs his fingers into your hair and yanks you up. It stings, but the pain might as well be white-hot pleasure once Taehyung is praising you with a gravelly voice. 

“You’re too fucking good at that.” 

You don’t even like sucking dick, but you’d do it all day, every day if Taehyung asked you to. But since he made you stop, you have other priorities to take care of, like the fact that there are way too many layers of clothes separating you from your boyfriend. While you were on your knees for him, Taehyung removed his shirt. The white cotton is discarded on the floor beside the chair and his half-dry hair is tousled around his head in a messiness only he could successfully pull off. 

After wiggling out of your leggings and underwear, you climb back onto Taehyung’s lap. His broad chest shudders beneath your touch as you run your hands down to meet his soft tummy. His responsiveness strokes the ego you didn’t realize you have. 

“Y’know, you never gave me the chance to ask you how travel went.” 

“Seriously?” He knows you’re teasing, but you like the mock-irritated tone of his voice. It makes his chest rumble. 

You use your grip on him to stabilize yourself as you grind into his lap. You scrape your nails at the nape of his neck and suck on his bottom lip. Taehyung moans into your mouth, low and throaty, when his cock glides through your wet folds as you roll your hips. He lets you pull his hair, head falling back to expose the smooth plane of his throat. Your lips leave his to latch onto his throat instead. The kisses you give him are slippery and biting and hot. 

“No hickeys, Y/N.” 

Taehyung’s scolding is deep and sharp; you both know he’s not fucking around. It’s a command he has had to throw your way more than once. The idea of marking him up is just so appetizing, but you know you can’t. Sure, makeup can make just about anything disappear, but it’s annoying to deal with and Taehyung isn’t particularly a fan of the side looks the makeup artists give each other when they see dark bruises littering his neck and collarbones. 

Maybe you’ll give him just a tiny one and suffer the consequences later. 

You cling onto him tighter when you feel two of his fingers slip inside of you. Spreading your thighs as wide as you can without throwing off your balance on the chair, you roll your hips into Taehyung’s hand to take his fingers deeper. 

“Please,” you moan against his neck. You can smell your shampoo and body wash on him. Something about him smelling like you makes you feel overwhelmingly possessive. He’s yours. Kim Taehyung is yours. 

He turns his head to the side to capture your lips with his own as he snakes his arm around your waist. The position allows him to pull you tightly against his chest. He holds you in place as he starts thrusting his fingers into your pussy just as he had thrust them into your mouth.   

Taehyung grunts as he keeps his legs spread in the chair, which in turn forces your thighs open when you try to squeeze them closed around his hand. 

“Stay still.” 

“Can’t.” You shake your head and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging the strands harder. 

It’s too much; Taehyung lights a fire against every inch of your body each time he touches you. If he was anyone else, you’d be singed, but Taehyung takes such good care of you. You’re not singed. You’re ignited. 

“You have no fucking idea,” Taehyung takes a deep breath, “No fucking idea how badly I’ve been craving you.” He warms you up with each thrust of his fingers, adding a third until you’re clawing at his shoulders. 

“So, ahh fuck, fuck me,” you gasp, your mouth hot against the corner of his jaw. Your teeth scrape against his skin and he merely lets his head fall back to give you more. 

“No please?” 

You bite his cheek in defiance and get a slap to the ass that only makes you want to bite him more. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” you whimper. 

Taehyung’s steady rhythm against your front wall has your orgasm burning so hotly in your core that you feel like you’re going to cum if he even so much as turns his head to look at you one more time. 

Your thighs are already sore by the time Taehyung removes his fingers from your pussy. He uses your sticky arousal as lube to stroke his cock and you don’t want to think about how excited you are about this. 

“Hurry up.” 

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you just as he grips the inside of your thigh with one hand. The other he uses to line his cock with your body. You can feel the head press against your entrance, and you try to push your body down to swallow him whole, but Taehyung holds you up to stop you. 

“Impatient cockslut, aren’t you?” Taehyung chides. 

His previously spacey look is sharpened by the sparkle of mirth in his eyes. Your body tenses when he spits the insult at you, and he knows it’s making your clit throb even harder. 

“Tae.” You bite your lip because you’re close to begging at this point. 

Luckily, you don’t have to. Taehyung presses down your hip and you quickly take the lead, easing yourself onto his cock until you’re fully seated on his firm thighs. 

Your body burns from the stretch it has to make to accommodate him, but you knew it would. Even when you’re fully adjusted to him, there’s always a bit of a stretch. He also knows he has to let you ease into it to avoid slamming himself straight into your cervix. The first time it had happened, Taehyung genuinely thought he’d broken you. You kind of thought so, too, if you were going to be perfectly honest. The struggle of having a big-dicked boyfriend. 

“Okay?” He’s watching you with those lustful, dark eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum because you’re afraid of the way your voice will quiver if you try to say real words. 

You’re so full, it’s a bit overwhelming. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. You missed Taehyung a lot, but holding onto each other in such an intimate position is making you realize just how lonely you were without him. 

“I’m gonna move, okay?” 

He waits until you silently nod your head before he adjusts in the chair, scooting down slightly to spread his legs better. You allow him to adjust your legs, bending them at the knee and hooking them over the arms of the chair. With a tight grip on your ass, Taehyung pulls you down onto his cock at the same time he thrusts up into you. 

The pace Taehyung sets is desperate, but you don’t care. Your second orgasm is approaching at an alarming speed. It feels like it’s taking all of your energy to simply stay grounded with reality as Taehyung squeezes you and your hips crash into each other. You don’t even try to do anything, just let him take over your body as he pounds into you. For the most part, you’re a pillow princess and you both know it. Besides, how can you possibly keep up with someone so athletic? Taehyung’s stamina is ridiculous. Neither of you has an overstimulation kink, but Taehyung’s ability to just go and go and go might as well have given you one. None of this has ever bothered Taehyung, though. He likes giving more than receiving. 

“Oh fuck.” Taehyung nips at the base of your neck when you clench around his cock just to feel him shiver. 

There aren’t any rules about him marking you up. The petty side of him likes when you wear the dark bruises in the open, with no makeup or clothing to hide them. It’s a satisfying game he likes to play. He likes that everyone knows you’re getting dicked down and, therefore, are taken. 

You like the secret satisfaction of knowing it’s Kim Taehyung who gives you those marks, and no one even knows. 

What you don’t like is thinking about all the other people Taehyung may have enjoyed giving marks to. 

It’s hard not to let your mind wander. Taehyung has never talked to you about his previous relationships, and there’s no way for you to know about them if he doesn’t tell you. The media can’t be trusted to accurately report idols’ love lives; today has been a perfect example of that. You’re stuck with only your imagination to make up all kinds of scenarios. Maybe Taehyung has been with other k-pop idols, or models, or actresses - people with more money, who are prettier and more sophisticated than you. Hell, you’ve never even asked him about his sexuality. What if he really has been fucking Jungkook! What if they’re in love and you’re just something temporary? 

“I was made for you, jagi. You know that?” Taehyung’s breath is hot against your skin. His words are gentle, but the power with which he thrusts up into you is bruising. “Made for you.” 

It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he can somehow sense the insecurities threatening to pull you out of the moment. As always, Taehyung manages to bring you back to the present. 

Fuck, sometimes you wish he wouldn’t do shit like this to you. You’re already pathetically in love with him. You can’t imagine what more could come next, yet you feel yourself practically bursting from the seams with love.  

Your moans fall in line with the sound of the chair scraping the floor and your skin slapping against Taehyung’s with every thrust. When your mouth falls open, Taehyung presses his thumb against your tongue. With eyes fluttering closed, you suck on his thumb and try to hold on as your body rocks up and down. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh, god, Taehyung.” 

“Yeah, jagi?” Taehyung pulls down on the corner of your mouth until his thumb is dragging spit across your cheek. “Tell me.”

His voice is so soothing it makes you want to cry. It’s unfair. 

“You feel so fucking—“ 

It’s the slick pressure of his thumb massaging your clit that finally has you arching your back with a scream of Taehyung’s name. You’re so loud that you worry your neighbors heard you. There are plenty of people named Taehyung in the world, though, right? He could be any Taehyung. 

If you ask Taehyung later, he’ll probably say he can’t even remember his own name because of how tightly you clench around his cock when you cum. The feeling is so overwhelming that you think you might pass out from holding your breath. You gasp, inhaling more air than you exhale, but Taehyung keeps going. Every subsequent thrust knocks the air out of you until you have the opposite problem and now you can’t keep any air in.

“I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead, baby. Cum inside me.” 

Taehyung whimpers into the crook of your neck as he cums, the suggestiveness of your permission not lost on either of you. You’re on birth control and Taehyung knows a kid would probably ruin his career. So it doesn’t actually mean anything when you tell him he can stay inside; you’re not getting pregnant any time soon. Still, he gets off on coming inside of you, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“I was going to make a joke that I should go on tour more often if that means I’ll cum that hard again, but I think I don’t want to go on tour ever again,” Taehyung admits with a shaky laugh. 

Just the idea of Taehyung leaving you for months on end again makes your stomach twist. He brings so much life to everywhere he goes, and you felt like much of that life left you when he did. Even if it was only temporary. 

Taehyung holds you until his cock is no longer twitching inside of you. Once his arms finally fall to his side, you try to untangle yourself from the chair as his body, but your limbs might as well belong to someone else.

“Help,” you squeak hoarsely. You feel like covering your face when Taehyung laughs. 

Taehyung helps you out of his lap, though you both are so wobbly on your feet that you hold onto the edge of the kitchen table when you stand. Taehyung looks wrecked, and you feel wrecked. You’re not sure your knees will ever work properly again. 

“Why are we still listening to Stray Kids?” Taehyung grumbles when he realizes the speakers are still playing in the background. 

“It’s a good album.”

“We should be fucking to my songs.” Taehyung pauses for a moment, thinking.“‘Christmas Tree’ is a fuckable song, right?” 

“You’re joking.” 

Taehyung shakes his head and reaches for your phone. His face is programmed to unlock your phone, just like your face unlocks his phone. You don’t understand how he can stand butt naked in the kitchen, cum all over his thighs, and search for the jazz playlist he made on your Spotify account. 

(“Jazz Hands, Y/N. It’s a vibe.”) 

Once his playlist has replaced Stray Kids, Taehyung wraps you up in a giant bear hug that lifts you off your feet. The hug nearly knocks the air out of you. 

“Can’t believe you made me dirty after I just showered.” You can’t see his pout, but you can hear it. 

“You’re the one who started this.” 

Taehyung scoffs. He starts walking down the hallway, practically dragging you in his arms as he goes. Your toes barely reach the ground, but you’re more content to let your body fall slack and make him do all the work. 

He kicks open the bathroom door and sits you down on the counter. 

“No, you did this. You looked at me with those pretty eyes and said, ‘Tae’.” He tries to mimic your voice by moaning his name. “I’m a weak, weak man. You influenced me. I just wanted you to eat.” 

“Well, I did eat.” 

Taehyung presses his lips together. “Don’t say it.” 

“I’m gonna say it.” You lean forward on the edge of the counter, trying to get in Taehyung’s space, but he’s ignoring you as he prepares the shower.

“Y/N.” 

“I ate…”  

“Stop.” 

“Deez nuts.” 

Taehyung drags his hands down his face, leaving his skin red. His reaction makes you giggle. 

“Technically you only played with deez nuts. Your mouth, sadly, did not ever come near my—” He tries to correct you, but you’re already throwing a scrunchie at his face. 

“You’re ruining the joke!” 

“It’s a bad joke!”

Maybe your sense of humor is way better than his, but as you suffer another Taehyung tickle attack, you can’t help but feel ridiculous for how you’d behaved earlier. How can he look at you with sparkling eyes and a boxy smile that makes him laugh with his teeth, hand coming up to cover his face when you give him your poutiest of pouts— how can you see such genuine kindness and think Taehyung would ever do anything to jeopardize what you have?

“Wassup motherfuckers!” 

You raise your eyebrows at Namjoon and tap the end of your chewed pen against your computer screen. Biting pens isn’t sanitary or cute but you do it anyway. The man’s eyes aren’t on your pen cap, though. He’s staring a hole into the podcast you pulled up because you know he doesn’t want to look at you. 

“Namjoon, why did you start the episode like that? This is not your Automatic Dick era,” you say with a deep sigh. 

“Beoryeo.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The song. It’s called ‘Throw Away’, not… Automatic… Dick…” His correction dies on his tongue when he sees the exasperated look on your face. 

“That is not the point.” You shake your head and exit the website. You’re not in charge of PR. That’s someone else’s problem.

Your attention turns to the newest draft of the song you’ve been stressing out about since you arrived in Seoul. 

“This, though? This is fucking beautiful.” You adjust your laptop on the coffee table so Namjoon can better view the document. The two of you are at the dorm, lounging in the living room. 

There are a lot of highlighted lines and many comments throughout the document. You wish you were like the members who scribbled their lyrics in cute leather journals, but your brain is too much of a disaster and broken by technology. If you don’t have your laptop, you can’t write lyrics for shit. 

“How are you so eloquent in Korean, but in English, you’re so…” You wave your hands around like you’re rifling through the air for the rest of your sentence. 

“Casual?” 

“Yes.” Sure, we’ll go with that, Joonie. 

“Well, that’s why I’ve got you!” 

At least he thinks you’re eloquent. The boys probably think you’re spending all your time in your office easily pulling masterpieces out of your ass when in reality you’re Googling, “what’s the word for when you can’t remember a word?” 

It’s lethologica, by the way.

You love Namjoon, but sometimes you think he has too much faith in you. Writing songs is hard. He of all people would know that. The difference between you and Namjoon is that when Namjoon struggles with writing he gets all emo, buys a bunch of weird furniture, and flies to another country to look at foreign art. When you struggle with writing, you just go home and play video games with Taehyung until you’re ready to try again. 

You’re both practicing avoidance, but Namjoon’s method just looks a little more dramatic than yours. Despite his assumptions, that doesn’t mean you’re better at handling yourself. You just do things differently. 

“We’re so lucky to have Jagi PD!” 

Namjoon groans and covers his head with the hood of his hoodie as Jungkook flies into the living room. 

Strong hands cup your armpits to lift you off of the couch. While Jungkook is crushing every bone in your body as he hugs you, all you can think about is how you were kind of a little bit sweaty, and now Jungkook has his hands all in your armpits. 

“Jungkookie, don’t pick people up without their consent.” 

Hobi enters the room behind the younger man and gives him a stern look which makes Jungkook immediately put you down on your feet. 

“Sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a pout and galaxies in his eyes. You give his shoulder a playful smack. His baggy black t-shirt sticks to his skin, and you’re less worried about being sweaty. Jungkook is soaked. 

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’m tough.” You flex your nonexistent muscles to make the precious maknae laugh his pout away.

“You should come train with us, Jagi.” 

“Jungkook,” Namjoon exclaims from where he still sits on the couch. 

He turns to his friend with wide eyes. “What?”

“Stop calling Y/N ‘jagi’. Taehyung is going to kill you.” This time Jimin pipes up. 

You hadn’t realized he’d entered the room, too. The three newcomers are varying degrees of sweaty with pink cheeks and wearing workout clothes. You suppose they’ve just come back from working out or perhaps a dance practice. They’ve all been back from tour for a few weeks now, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about the Bangtan Boys it’s that they never fucking rest. 

It’s exhausting just to think about it. 

“It’s okay,” you say with a shrug. “I think ‘Jagi PD’ is pretty fucking funny, to be honest.” 

The nickname Jungkook created for you is cute in your opinion. You are a music producer. Jagi PD is better than using your last name. It could be like your stage name. Maybe you can get Namjoon to credit you as Jagi PD under the songs you write. Using your first and last name seems lame when it’s paired with fun names like SUGA, RM, j-hope, and Slow Rabbit.

“Pretty fucking funny,” Jungkook repeats. He gives the other men a triumphant look before launching himself onto the couch with Jimin. 

Hobi chooses to sit on the couch on the opposite side of the room with Namjoon. From the way Namjoon has nestled back into his seat, it’s clear that his song will have to wait. It’s for the best. You’re not thinking about music anymore. 

You can’t blame Jungkook for interrupting your work, but the true source of distraction saunters into the room with his arms full of grocery bags. 

“Hey, jagiya,” Taehyung greets you sweetly with a kiss on your forehead as he walks through the living room to get to the kitchen. The final two men, Jin and Yoongi, trail behind Taehyung with their own bags. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin give Jungkook a pointed look when Taehyung uses the term of endearment. 

“What are you guys making?” Jungkook is curled up against the arm of the couch with his phone in hand. He’s holding it sideways which makes you think he’s probably playing In The Seom. The app is old news by this point, yet Jungkook’s attention is still consumed by it. It’s hilarious. 

You wish you could meet the game developers. Whoever made Taehyung’s character look so fucking feral deserves a raise. 

“You’re gonna cook?” You don’t hide your shock at the idea that Taehyung would be cooking anything, and that makes everyone laugh.

“I’m making dinner,” Yoongi clarifies. “And it’s a surprise, so stop paying attention to me.” He shoos Jin and Taehyung out of the kitchen. 

Jin sits on the couch with Jimin and Jungkook, while Taehyung sits with you. The armchair really only seats one person comfortably, but you wiggle so Taehyung can sit half next to you and half under you. He arranges your legs to drape over his lap. It’s nice, being this close. You can snuggle into his side and let him wrap his arms around you without worrying about who can see or what people think. All the boys are supportive of your relationship with Taehyung. It’s a bit frustrating that there’s no way for you to fully express how appreciative you are. 

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” From the couch in the living room, Jungkook shoots Yoongi a glare as if Yoongi’s request for some alone time while he cooks is a personal attack. 

Yoongi snorts and turns his back on Jungkook to begin unloading the groceries. “I don’t know, talk to each other.” 

“You guys are boring. I only want to talk to Y/N.” You’re not sure how you’ve become Jungkook’s favorite, but it’s exceptionally endearing. 

“You’re not even going to pay attention,” Namjoon points out. “Always on that damn phone.” 

He’s still got his hood up, and he looks like he was half-asleep. No one but you gets the joke, so Namjoon nods his head in your direction before returning to his slumped position. 

“I like watching Jimin-ssi’s character spin around in little circles.” 

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Jin chimes in. “He looks so small.” 

The glares Jimin shoots everyone in the room are terrifying. You think about something you’d heard someone say: the shorter the person, the closer to hell they are. Something dramatic that only a tall person would say. 

“All the characters are the same size,” he exclaims. “And I don’t do that!” 

“Yes, you do. There are fanmade compilation videos of you spinning around, Jimin-ssi! I’ve watched them,” Jungkook confesses with full confidence. 

A small squeal sounds from the opposite side of the room. You turn to see Hobi practically bouncing on the couch. 

“Please, can we watch some? I want to hear the cute sound effects.” 

A pillow flies across the room, and Hobi just barely dodges it. Jimin crosses his arms firmly against his chest and scowls as Jin and Jungkook enthusiastically agree and Hobi snatches the TV remote before anyone else can. 

“At least watch a video that isn’t about me doing something embarrassing,” Jimin breaks down enough to plead (not beg!) with Hobi. He eyes the room and his gaze falls on Taehyung. A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth and you feel Taehyung slowly exhale. “We should watch one about TaeTae.” 

You try to cover your laughter with a cough, but Taehyung applies a light slap to your thigh in retaliation. 

“Why me?” he pouts. 

“Yes! Let me pick!”

“Jungkookie, no. It was my idea.” Hobi scrolls through his phone until his face lights up with glee. “I’ve watched this one before and it’s so cute, Y/N, you’re going to love it.” 

“The suspense is killing me.” You wiggle your eyebrows at Taehyung. The rolled eyes you’re met with feel like a victory. 

“Okay, it’s called, BTS struggling to understand ‘Tae-tae language’,” Hobi prefaces while the video loads on the TV. 

Jin laughs at the loud snort you let out. “TaeTae language is hard to understand.” 

“Maybe you guys aren’t creative enough to understand me,” Taehyung scoffs. 

“Hey! I understand you!” Yoongi protests from the kitchen. 

Taehyung looks like he might say more, but the video interrupts him. It starts with highlights from the comments section of previous videos. One comment mentions Namjoon being their bias. 

“Is that weird? Like, to watch this kind of stuff and hear people talk about their biases?” If you were famous, you were absolutely positive that you’d never Google yourself. You would not want to know what kind of weird shit was out there about you, even something as seemingly innocent as silly compilation videos. 

“I think it’s funny,” Jimin says with a smirk and half-moon eyes. “I’m everyone’s bias, anyway.” 

“That’s not what TikTok says.” Jungkook turns his nose upward at Jimin, though his eyes never leave his phone. It’s a shame In The Seom didn’t allow him to drown Jimin in the ocean, or he totally would have done it by now. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Just check how many videos there are under my hashtag.” 

Jimin snorts with a roll of his eyes, seemingly dismissing Jungkook’s claims. But you see him twist on the couch so the younger man can’t see that Jimin pulls up TikTok on his phone. As if TikTok was the end all, be all. You want to tell them it’s impossible to know who’s the most “popular” or whatever, but you know that conversation is futile. 

“Y/N, you were Army before you started dating Tae!” You can practically see the light bulb going off in Hobi’s brain. Or, rather, the Army bomb. “Who was your bias?” 

Hobi’s question barely leaves his lips when the room grows quiet. Seven pairs of eyes stare at you expectantly, including your boyfriend’s. You keep your eyes on the TV, though you aren’t seeing the compilation video playing anymore. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t have a bias. Y’know, OT7 and all that shit.” 

Suddenly, the room erupts. Screeches of protests and arguments are shouted across the living room, the boys yelling on top of one another and slewing insults at each other. 

“Oh come on, Y/N, tell us!” Hobi whines.

“Yeah, we wanna know! We won’t judge you.” Pulling this precious information out of you is so vital that Jungkook looks away from his phone long enough to give you a pouty face. 

“It’s obviously me. I’m Worldwide Handsome.” 

“Leave her alone, guys.” Taehyung shifts in his seat and adjusts how your legs drape over his lap. His large hands massage soft circles into your calf muscles. “This is so childish.” 

“Right. A bias is just whoever a fan is partial to,” Namjoon says with a shrug. “What matters is that fans support us as seven.” 

“No, a bias is the one the fan wants to fuck the most.” This time Jungkook doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks. 

Jin hums in agreement, winking in your direction and making Taehyung scowl. 

“You’re just scared it’s not you, Tae.” For someone Taehyung calls his soulmate, Jimin seems to jump at every opportunity to fuck with his friend. He turns to you with those haunting siren eyes that lure in even God’s strongest soldiers. “Is he, Y/N? Is your bias Taehyung or someone else?” 

“I thought Hobi’s question was, who was my bias? Not is.” 

His siren eyes narrow at you. “Stop arguing semantics and answer the question.” 

You can’t hold a staring contest with the now-paused Youtube video, and Jimin’s sudden snappiness makes you feel the need to look away. Right into the eyes of your answer, the only person who hasn’t spoken during the entire bias conversation. 

Yoongi’s sharp eyes catch yours when you look away from the TV. Never one to miss a beat, he raises a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at you, the ghost of his classic Yoongi smirk barely lifting the corner of his mouth before the entire room erupts into shouting again. 

“YOONGI?! REALLY?! OUT OF ALL OF US, YOU PICKED HIM?” Jimin jumps up from the couch, knocking pillows all over the floor. 

“Watch it, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi scolds the younger man for his informal language. Jimin only rolls his eyes. 

“Damn, Jimin was right. You aren’t her bias, TaeTae.” Jin shakes his head with a solemn look. He gets up to leave the room, giving your boyfriend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he walks past. “I’m going to my room to play Mario Kart. This is too depressing for me.” 

At the mention of video games, Jungkook perks up. “Wait Jin hyungie, I wanna play, too!” He tosses the last couch pillow in Jimin’s lap and scrambles to catch up with Jin halfway down the hall. 

Yoongi wears a full-blown smirk now. You watch with wide eyes as his tongue slips out to drag across his bottom lip before he’s drawing his lip between his teeth. “Cute.” 

“Fuck off,” Taehyung hisses at the older man, lifting your legs off his lap. 

“Tae…” You reach out to grab his arm to stop him, but he’s already heading to his bedroom. The door slams shut so hard that the photos on the walls shudder. 

You turn back around to glare at the remaining men. “Did you have your fun, hmm? Was it worth it?” 

“I really… I didn’t think…” Hobi fumbles his words, clearly uncomfortable with the outbursts he’d unwittingly caused. 

“If it doesn’t work out with Taehyung, call me, yeah?” Yoongi sends you a wink, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. 

You feel your face heat up and you refuse to look at him. You wait until he goes back to preparing the food before you stand up. Without another word, you follow in Taehyung’s footsteps until you reach his door. It’s locked, but you expected as much. 

“TaeTae,” you call softly. “Please let me in.” 

You wait in silence long enough that you consider going home. If Taehyung doesn’t want to talk to you, you aren’t going to push him. Even if you think the reason for his outburst is stupid and that he’s acting like a child. 

Eventually, the door is opened wide enough for you to slip inside. Taehyung doesn’t look at you when he shuts the door. Instead, he sits on his bed and leans his back against the wall. He keeps his eyes on his hands delicately folded together in his lap. His eyes are already red and slightly puffy. The sight is glass in your veins. 

“Tae, please don’t be upset,” you start slowly. Climbing into his bed, you scoot until you’re lounging next to him. He doesn’t pull away when you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

You let out a small sigh, not because you’re frustrated with him but because you’d known watching fanmade videos would turn out to be a bad idea. 

“If it makes you feel better, you were still in my bias line.” It’s probably not the best way to reassure your boyfriend, but it at least makes him look at you. 

“Who else?” His eyes are narrowed.

“I don’t think I should answer that.” 

Taehyung’s bottom lip droops and you feel your heart seize. 

“Okay, okay!” Maybe holding his hand will make it better. “Jimin, but, no don’t give me that look! Just listen.” 

Taehyung’s pout deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt you. 

“It’s not like when I hang out with Jimin or Yoongi I’m thinking about those things, okay? It’s just a natural thing that happens. Anyone can be drawn to specific people in a group; the same thing happens with friendships. Like you and Jimin. It’s normal.” 

Taehyung doesn’t seem convinced, but he laces his fingers through yours. You interpret the light squeeze he gives you as permission to continue talking. 

“Yoongi is cool because I always saw him as this, like, mental health icon for me. He talks so much about mental health and fans see how he has grown and gotten healthier over the years. It’s inspiring, right? You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“That’s true,” Taehyung sniffles. 

You nod your head. “Exactly, I respect him as a person and an artist. And with Jimin, I’ve always been almost jealous? of him. Because he can so beautifully balance both masculine and feminine qualities and aesthetics. He looks good no matter what and has learned to accept himself instead of forcing whatever weird masculinity shit y’all had when you debuted. That’s inspiring, too.” 

Taehyung is silent for a while. You give him the space to process what you’ve said, and you hope that it’s enough to make him understand that a bias is not just about who you want to fuck. Jungkook is such a flirt; of course, that’s how he would interpret things. 

“Why did you like me?” He finally looks at you. His eyes are a little pink from his tears, but his cheeks appear dry. The innocent curiosity in his expression tugs at your heart. 

You reach up to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, combing out any tangles and gently massaging his scalp. This is probably how Taehyung feels when you worry about fans, paparazzi, and sasaengs. 

“Well, you’re hot,” you say with a grin. You feel a bit lighter when Taehyung’s mouth curves slightly, too. 

“Is that it?” 

“Of course not.” You stick your tongue out. “You were my favorite in the vocal line. I loved how smooth your singing voice is, and how thoughtful you sound when you talk about how important the members and Army are to you. How could someone not love the inventor of I purple you?” 

It feels weird to talk about how you liked Taehyung before you knew who he was. You never made your status as a fan obvious in the beginning. Professionalism is more important than fangirling. Even now, you only casually discuss your interest in the group before meeting them.

“Your sense of fashion made me laugh. You always seemed so happy, even though people like to focus a lot on how mean you can look. And I thought your relationships with Yoongi and Jimin were cute. You’re a great example of how men can and should be soft and loving.” 

They’re all highly-simplified explanations for why Taehyung caught your eye in a group of seven, but they seem to put him at ease. He slides into the bed so he’s lying on his back under the covers. With his eyes locked on yours, he pats his chest. 

“C’mere.” 

You lie down under the covers next to him. It feels nice to rest your head on his chest and throw your leg over his waist. Ever since Taehyung came back from the tour, you’ve wanted to be attached at the hip. It’s not that you can’t handle being alone, but you don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to be with the people who bring you joy— especially when you live in a new country. 

“You know I’m in love with you, not Yoongi or Jimin.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you actually?” You shift your head so you can look up at him. 

Taehyung meets you halfway. You let your eyes close as he slots his lips with yours, allowing your body to melt into his. The desperation the two of you had for each other when Taehyung first returned to Seoul eventually died out. Now, you’re okay with taking things slow. You can savor the feeling of his body on yours, firm and warm beneath you. You can savor the smell of his cologne and his taste as you breathe him in and slip your tongue inside his mouth. 

“I do,” he responds with a heavy exhale once you pull away. “I’m sorry I got upset. I just got so angry when hyung…” Taehyung scrunches his eyebrows and his nose scrunches along with them. 

You massage his forehead and try to forcefully smooth the wrinkles there. “Yoongi is just being an ass. He loves you, too,” you point out. 

Taehyung can’t argue that, so he leans down to kiss you again. You know how important physical contact is to him, especially when he’s upset. With that in mind, you slip your hands beneath his t-shirt. Splaying your hands flat against his chest feels nice. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and he’s here. He’s safe and healthy and yours. 

“We both get pretty jealous, huh?” 

Taehyung gives you a sheepish smile, all cheeks and pretty lips. You love his little lip freckle, but your favorite will always be the one under his eye. 

“Not as bad as Jungkook, though.” 

“Mhm, please don’t break up with me over a perilla leaf or anything.” 

Taehyung giggles and you feel like you’ve got helium inside you. If you don’t hold onto him tightly enough, you might float away with how light and carefree being with him makes you. 

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he says as he nibbles your earlobe. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

His hands find the hem of your t-shirt, and you sit up to allow him to undress you. It’s a delicate process because Taehyung wants to take his time, too. It might seem like the two of you use sex to solve your problems, but you never see it like that. For you, letting Taehyung take his time breaking you down, just to build you back up again, is an act of emotional intimacy, just as it is physical. When Taehyung gets comfortable between your thighs, dark eyes locked with yours as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the hold he has on your wrists grounds you. And when he hovers over you with your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusts into you, you whisper gentle praises against his throat to remind him that you are his and he is yours.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Taehyung’s bed. It feels good to snuggle with him while he talks to you about all the jazz clubs he forced Jimin to go to during the little free time they had on tour. It seems the tension in the house fades because the rest of the boys are loud and energetic; it’s impossible to tune them out when their laughter bleeds into the room despite the door being closed. 

“Do you think Taehyung and Y/N are done having make-up sex?” 

“It’s pretty quiet in there. Maybe they fell asleep.” 

You groan and bury your face in Taehyung’s side. It’s almost as if Jungkook and Jin are purposefully talking outside of his bedroom to make sure you can hear them. Knowing them, it’s not a far-fetched idea. 

“Probably tired themselves out. The screaming was really—” 

“JUNGKOOK!” Taehyung sits up so abruptly that you fall back onto the bed. “SHUT THE FUCK UP.” 

Jin and Jungkook’s laughter eventually fades down the hallway, but Taehyung gets out of bed anyway. 

“Yoongi is probably almost done with dinner,” he grumbles. You watch him zip up his jeans and admire how tall and lanky he is. Sorry to Yoongi and Jimin. 

He manages to get his arms caught in his t-shirt somehow, so you begrudgingly get out of bed to help. You tease him endlessly because obviously fucking you is so good that he doesn’t know how to use his limbs anymore. 

Your teasing is nothing compared to the way the other boys drag you the moment you step out of Taehyung’s bedroom. 

“You okay, Y/N? Sounded like you might be dying,” Jimin grins as he prepares the kitchen table for dinner. 

Jin snickers, throwing out his own commentary. “Taehyung, you got it pretty good even though you aren’t her bias, huh.” 

Before Taehyung has a chance to bite anyone’s head off, you chime in. 

“Yeah, yeah, Yoongi was my bias when I was a fan,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You can practically see Jungkook registering that you said “was a fan”, and that makes him pout. As if you aren’t still a fan. What a baby, just like Taehyung. 

Yoongi snorts as he retrieves a dish from the oven. “I cannot fathom why.” 

“Me either,” Jimin agrees with a giggle. He’s completely unfazed by the dark look Yoongi shoots him. 

You join in on Jimin’s laughter, and you’re pleased to see that Taehyung is smiling too. The whole thing is so ridiculous. Maybe you’re feeling a bit too comfortable because you start oversharing. 

“And I was a Yoonmin shipper, I’m not gonna lie.” You’re laughing so hard that you don’t realize neither Jimin nor Taehyung are laughing anymore. After a few seconds pass, though, your smile slowly falls. Jimin’s face has turned bright pink and Yoongi has his back to the table. 

“It was one time, okay?” Jimin’s eyes burn holes into Yoongi’s shoulder blades from across the room. “Okay, two times.” 

The older man doesn’t comment. 

You nudge Taehyung’s leg with your foot under the kitchen table. He presses his lips together as hard as he can, but the smile just gets pushed into his cheeks. A rush of air explodes from his lips in a loud raspberry, and that’s what triggers your laughter again. 

“Oh my god, I really wish I was surprised but I’m not,” you confess with a wheeze. 

You’ve clearly touched on a sensitive topic. Jimin blabbers away about how it’s not that big of a deal, all while Yoongi silently finishes arranging the dishes on the table. It would feel uncomfortable, but Jimin’s flushed face and the tiniest of smiles curving Yoongi’s lips make you think it meant a lot more than what Jimin wishes to admit. 

And that’s really fucking cute. 

As the rest of the boys come piling into the kitchen, Taehyung scoots his chair until yours are touching. You bump shoulders and tilt your face up so he can press a kiss against your jaw. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “With all my heart.“ 

“I love you, too.” You lace your fingers with his and let your hands rest against his thigh. “You dork.” 

The kitchen is chaos, but all you can focus on is the boxy smile Taehyung gifts you.

[bearforcecaptions]

It started with a dumb wish. Not even a real wish — more like an irritated thought muttered into a cup of late-night ramen while I stood barefoot in the kitchen, trying to ignore my roommate’s latest rant about being single.

Kyle had been in a mood all week. Something about all his friends being coupled up, his Grindr dates flaking, and how “love just isn’t built for guys like me.” And I, being the caring, patient friend that I am, had finally snapped with, “God, I hope you find someone already. Maybe then you’ll shut up for five minutes.”

Yeah. That’s what I said. And I meant it with all the sincerity of someone yelling at a toaster.

Apparently, that was enough.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of a deep laugh in the kitchen. Not Kyle’s — Jonah’s. My brother. My straight brother. Or so I thought.

I walked out, groggy, rubbing my eyes, and there they were. Kyle and Jonah. Shirtless. Cooking breakfast together. Jonah standing behind him, arms wrapped around Kyle’s thick middle, whispering something that made Kyle blush, and for some reason they were both barefoot and there were two coffee mugs with little cartoon bears on them on the counter.

I think I just blinked and walked back to my room.

Took me two whole weeks to realize this wasn’t a fling. They weren’t new. They’d been together for years. Years. I didn’t figure that out because anyone told me — oh no. It was little things. Their shared Spotify playlists labeled “Our Hikes <3.” The matching bear paw tattoos I spotted when they were horsing around in the living room. The blanket with their faces photoshopped onto two grinning cartoon lumberjacks that I found in the dryer.

The kicker? A Facebook post from four years ago that read: “Happy 1-year anniversary to the best damn man I’ve ever met. Here’s to many more, cub.” From Kyle. To Jonah. Liked by 176 people. Commented on by my mom with a heart emoji.

That was the moment I realized I was well and truly in a different reality.

And they are so in love. Loudly, shamelessly, constantly in love. It’s like living in a Hallmark movie directed by a bear bar owner. I’m not even sure they realize I’m in the room half the time. Or maybe they just don’t care.

I mean, look at them right now — no, really, look at them. They’re sprawled across our couch in the den, deep into one of their marathon make-out sessions. Kyle’s got his hand halfway under Jonah’s gut, and Jonah’s purring like some kind of fuzzy furnace. The TV’s on, but neither of them’s watching it. I am, though. Or trying to. Can’t exactly focus on Planet Earth with the grizzly bears mating next to me.

That’s my brother. That’s my roommate. I’m just the guy trapped between their chests, metaphorically speaking, screaming into a throw pillow.

They don’t just stop at cuddling on the couch, either. Oh no. They’re domestically obscene. I’ve walked in on bubble baths, shirtless apron cooking, a full-on bear massage chain on the back porch, and one time — one time — I came home to find them napping belly-to-belly on the living room rug with “Whale Sounds for Deep Lovers” playing on loop. There was incense. There were candles.

Every time I so much as sigh in their direction, they glance over like I’m the one being weird. Sorry, am I interrupting the pre-hibernation cuddle ritual? Should I come back in spring?

But here's the messed-up part: I can’t even leave. The rent’s too good. The house is big — three bedrooms, a finished basement, fenced yard, walking distance to everything. We split the bills three ways. Kyle and I had a great deal before the universe decided to rearrange my personal life like a Sims cheat code, and Jonah moved in after “their anniversary trip to Portland” (ugh), and now it’s just… this.

Also, he’s my brother. Jonah may be a hairy, handsy, loud-as-hell bear of a boyfriend now, but he’s still family. He still makes killer chili. Still beats me at Mario Kart and talks me down when I spiral. We’ve been through a lot. I can’t just walk away from that. Even if he now insists on calling Kyle “Cubby” in the mornings and I have to hear that term of endearment while brushing my teeth.

So I sit. I stew. I eat my microwaved mac and cheese while my brother and his boyfriend — my former roommate — turn the living room into a PG-13 nature documentary. I go to bed with headphones on. I’ve stopped using the shared laundry machine during the weekends because I kept pulling out towels that smelled like sandalwood and testosterone.

Sometimes I catch myself wishing it could go back to the way it was. Simple. Predictable. Quiet.

But then I look over and see them sharing a blanket, giggling over some dumb in-joke, Kyle planting a kiss on Jonah’s cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I see the way Jonah glows when Kyle pulls him in for a hug. The way Kyle watches Jonah like he hung the stars.

They’re loud. They’re weird. They’re half-naked 80% of the time. But… they’re happy.

At least they’re happy.

[roscgcld]

HEADCANONS + GOJO SATORU || first born child

request: The gojo hcs of announcing the pregnancy is so cute! Can we get a part 2 when the pregnancy hormones are starting to kick in and they have mood swings? Oohh or maybe when the wife goes into labor? Ty❣❣

note: i like this idea a lot - it kinda made me feel all warm and happy inside c: like honestly, i love it so much haha. 

pronouns: she/her

original headcanon | gojo satoru masterlist | buy me a coffee?

announcing a pregnancy is always fun, especially when you are looking forward to starting your own family with someone you love 

you and gojo were no different - you two were excited to start this new chapter in your lives together, and to the day you get to hold your baby in your arms

but every journey starts with a simple step; and you two, unknowingly, are in for one hell of a ride 

the first thing you developed was morning sickness. thankfully you didn’t wake up every morning throwing your guts out - but you do suffer from severe nausea just smelling certain things

this has cause quite a bit of stress, since on some days you would gag at the smell of rain hitting the ground or the smell of your favourite tea; but other days you’re fine and you instead get sick because of something else

it causes gojo huge amounts of stress, constantly worrying about what smells may trigger your nausea, or worried that you may just vomit on him randomly

thankfully that didn’t last for your entire pregnancy - but what was once nausea from the smell of tea led to you developing a more emotional response to everything around you 

something as simple as dropping your phone on the floor, or you realising that you no longer fit in your favourite shoes would bring tears to yours eyes as you try to hold back the sniffles from your doting husband 

and that was the worse for gojo; he was naturally a very dramatic person. so he is used to him being the more emotional one while you handle whatever temper tantrum he throws with a fond smile on your face

however now it is different. now he finds himself having to rush over to your side to comfort you; reassuring you that everything was alright and that he was there for you if you want to rant 

and sometimes he was the reason for your tears - it wouldn’t be the first time where you would turn your tearful death glare at your husband and throw him through a loop of why you were angry with him all of a sudden 

this also throws him for a loop whenever you have certain cravings - and for some reason, one of your biggest cravings whilst pregnant was curry 

not just any curry - the specific chicken curry that is made by the old man down the street that only opens in the mornings and always have people lining up for a serving of his food

this is the one thing that gojo did excel in though - due to his terrible sleeping schedule, he would be the first one to show up at the store; greeting the elderly man with a smile and even helping him move the heavier tins of curry onto his stall

on the outside looking in, it seemed that gojo was just that good of a husband, wanting to make sure that his wife would get her cravings whenever she wants to. this good faith extended to the owner; who happily served him a much bigger portion than usual and even through him some fried veggie tempura for free

gojo had no heart to tell him that he really does do it just so he can rush back to you with the curry as soon as possible; but he does leave the older man with an extra tip, and bring him the odd gift of gensing powders and herbal teas on your request

and weirdly enough you crave nanami’s chocolate chip cookies - and while nanami would have baked them for you regardless since you begged him once over the phone, he loves the fact that the gojo satoru is begging him every week to bake cookies for you

it makes nanami feel that extra sense of smugness that he rarely gets. plus, the thought that the strongest sorcerer in the world being so tightly wrapped around your finger is a nice change 

gojo have almost burnt down the college when he found out that the higher ups were close to sending you on a mission - he all but forced their hands to make sure you were given teaching jobs and nothing more

even then, if you have a terrible bout of morning sickness or even just slightly tired, you were not allowed to leave your bed at all - let ypur beloved husband cover for you

he hires the best of the best for your nursery as well - not only does he have handmade bassinets and other accessories passed down between your families adorning the room, he commissioned personalised murals on the walls, a room decorator to personally decorate the room with both of your ideas in mind, and has already filled the entire closet with toys and plushies for your unborn child 

gojo does not really care for the gender. whatever you two have, he will be elated. but i think deep down he wants a little girl that he can spoil rotten

already has a bank account and college fund for your child - no child or children of his are not going to be spoilt

you went into labour in the middle of the night. you were chilling after you woke up realising your water broke - turning over to satoru who was on his phone in the middle of the night with a groggy “honey, i think my water just broke..”

poor man with out of bed in seconds, zooming around to pack your diaper bag as you awkwardly got up and waddled to the bathroom so you didn’t continue leaking down your thigh

after changing and drying up, you continued to waddle around to get ready; ignoring gojo trying to get you to sit down as he tries to not break into a panic attack 

“relax babe, i don’t have contractions yet. the hospital would make us go home and wait anyways.”

“with all due respect honey, i will believe that when the doctor tells me that.”

almost scares the driver from how desperate his phone call was; the man giving you a stressed but understanding smile when you apologised for scaring him awake at this hour 

you checked into the hospital, and it took 2 nurses and a doctor to reassure him you were fine - which you were, laying on the bed wincing randomly as you texted your parents about the potential arrival of their grandbaby 

was so frantic that your doctor was debating on giving him the sedative so he doesn’t work himself into a heart attack. but you waved the woman’s concern away with a tired sigh as you sat on the yoga ball, bouncing on it mindlessly with a nurse by your side

“leave him, he’s like a kid. he’ll tire himself eventually.”

when your contractions started to become more frequent and your team was preparing for the birth, gojo was beside himself in fear; but seeing you in so much pain had him focusing all his energy on you

wiping your sweat away, letting you squeeze his hand tightly as he reassures you that you were doing so well

when your doctor informed you to start pushing, gojo felt his heart hurt at how much pain you were in; reassuring you the best he can, letting you scream at him for putting you through this with nothing more but a scared smile frozen on his face

after a few hours of active pushing and screaming, your little girl was welcomed into the world. gojo was in tears when he cut the umbilical cord, and was full on sobbing when your crying daughter was placed on your panting chest 

was immediately smitten the moment she opened her eyes at you guys; fluttering her lashes as she squints up at the lights around her 

he had managed to stop his tears when she was taken away to be cleaned up, cupping your face and kissing all over your cheeks as he whispers sweet nothings and thanks for bringing your daughter into the world 

started crying all over again when the nurses asked if he wanted to do some skin-to-skin time with her; his hands shaking as he follows the instructions of the nurse to hold her correctly 

you just smiled at them from your bed, watching how gojo seems to just fall in love with your little girl as she stares up at her father curiously

“she’s probably confused why her dad has white hair.”

“...i mean, i am a dilf now.”

you almost tossed him out of your hospital room then and there for his joke, but you just gave him a half assed nasty look as you closed your eyes to rest again

you’ll let him get away with this one this one time

wanna read more?  >   gojo satoru masterlist  |  buy me a coffee?

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform.

[thoughtssvt]

nanami kento had one condition when it came to fucking you.

he was to always see your face.

cw : gn!reader (no detailed depictions or implications to readers genitalia), mix of dynamics (soft and gentle to rough), cum eating, oral sex (reader receiving), squirting

missionary was always good. he liked touching as much of your body as he could with his. he loved keeping you close, putting almost all his weight on you as if to say i'm here. he'd cup your cheek, keep you from pressing the back of your head too far into the mattress that he wouldn't be able to watch your blissed out face. always swallowing your moans because, god, he had to taste you. his tongue always yearning for both sets of lips.

having you on top awakened something primal in his chest. the way you'd struggle to stay upright with the force of his strokes like it was actually his goal to throw you off. the only down side to this position were the moments you would throw your head back. he loved the idea that he was fucking you into a blissful arch, he wouldn't trade it for the world. "play with those pretty nipples, darling." he'd command through gruff pants, jaw slack as he examined the way your brows would knit tight. your body naturally curling forward as your hips began moving with his until you were forced to plant your hands on his chest.

on rare occasions your schedules refused to line up he was happy to take advantage of the sliver of time you actually had together under a weak veil of efficiency. the mornings when you were half naked in front of the sink, dutifully brushing your teeth as he stepped out of the shower. he couldn't help the way his arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you close, taking in your scent. he'd ignore your incredulous expression as he began kissing your neck, rough fingers running under the waistband of your underwear. "just keep doing what you're doing. don't mind me." you never really knew how you'd get from one point to the next on mornings like these. toothpaste suddenly running down your chin as he pumped into you from behind. a firm arm keeping you upright, your chin fitted between his thumb and forefinger as he compelled you to watch. watch how good he made you feel. how good you look while he does. it's one of his favorite sights if not number one. his voice drawing your focus no matter how much you wanted to roll your eyes back as he lifted your leg up onto the sink's expanse, hammering into you impossibly deeper.

with the same intention, it was the only reason you had a full body mirror in your shared bedroom. his hand tugging the hair at the nape of your neck just enough to keep your head up, providing a delicious sting. when he's feeling rougher he especially liked you on his lap, your legs draped over his thick ones as he sat on the edge of the bed. spreading you wide so he could see all of you. his arms looping around your shoulders until he could intertwine his hands behind your neck. the only way to keep your head from drooping as he bullied your sweet spot. relishing the sight of your spasming body as you splashed against the glass. his eyes would darken, guiding your jellied body to your reflection to clean up your mess. chest rumbling with a reminder to keep your eyes open.

the only time he allowed your head to dangle uselessly was when he was pinned beneath you, his mouth working dutifully between your legs. nothing mattered when you were riding his face. not his lack of breath, not the way his cock twitched painfully in his slacks, not even the way his eyes burned and threatened to close. he'd keep his eyes on you. the view so divine that he could cum untouched to which he has, unashamedly, done in the past.

he'd keep pictures and videos of your fucked out face on his phone if it wasn't so risky, so please don't blame him for all the positions he put you in at the end of the night.

A/N : the creation of this piece was a possession, i fear.

nanami x reader masterlist

mdni banner + heart chain divider by @/adornedwithlight

[whitecompri]

This is another request of sorts but can we get the Triple S boys and scourge that have sons rather than daughters with the reader? a more interesting dynamic if they had sons, Playfighting and stuff

Like Father Like Son

Pairing: Sonic x Reader; Shadow x Reader; Silver x Reader; Scourge x Reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Rating: G (General Audience)

Warnings: None

A/N: Thank you for the request! It was really fun to imagine them with sons instead of daughters. I can't even express how much I simply love writing scenarios like this, it always warms my heart. I hope you like it!

Sonic

It was still quite early, and the sound of mischievous laughter filled the backyard. The little hedgehog walked by carrying a box that looked much bigger than him, placing it on the green lawn of the garden.

“Check this out, Dad, I found more stuff we can use.” The little one’s green eyes looked up, spotting Sonic, who just chuckled and reached out to ruffle the spikes on the boy’s head.

“Nice one, kid, we’re gonna build the best racetrack right here.”

“Then I’ll beat you!” the little one smiled, showing the gap from a recently lost baby tooth.

“You’ll have to be faster than me!” Sonic winked at him, crouching by the box, grabbing some cloths, and in the blink of an eye, vanishing from his son's sight, leaving behind only a trail of blue blur.

Grunting, the little hedgehog grabbed more items from the box and dashed after his father, leaving a small blur in his path.

He stopped right next to Sonic, his eyes widening at what he had made.

“Dad... is that a loop made of slides?!” The young one’s jaw dropped, staring at the improvised and probably not-so-safe construction of three kids’ slides glued together with wood, nails, and tape, forming a small loop.

“Well, I tried at least. A bit of adrenaline is always welcome.” Sonic crossed his arms, his green eyes scanning his son for a minute before a mischievous smile crept up his lips. “Son... race to the starting line!”

Without giving the little one time to reply, Sonic had already vanished again, leaving only the blur behind.

“Hey! That’s cheating, Dad!” he yelled, but quickly ran too, determined to make it on time, stopping beside his father. “I’m gonna tell Mom you’re cheating.” He said with a pout.

“The backyard’s neutral territory, kiddo. Your mom can’t hit me here... and it wasn’t cheating... just a little dad advantage.” Sonic laughed, placing a hand on his waist.

“We’ll see then. I’m gonna win this time...” The little one turned to face the improvised track they had built. It was a track mainly made of wood, with various objects found hidden in the attic and around the house, forming the perfect race path—though not exactly the safest.

“Whoever loses has to take the trash out for a week...” Sonic muttered, stretching to get ready.

“I’m in... I’ll even throw twice as much trash just to give you more work...” The little one teased his dad, quickly stretching, hopping in place, then getting into starting position.

“Alright, kid...” Sonic mirrored the stance. “On three... One...” The countdown had barely begun, and Sonic felt the familiar breeze of something supersonic breaking the sound barrier, seeing only the small blue streak left behind as his son had already started. “Clever, trying to beat your old man with dirty tricks, huh?” Sonic laughed, dashing off after him, catching up to the little one quickly.

“If you can do it... I can too...” He jumped over an obstacle, landing hard on one of the planks, causing part of the track to collapse behind him. Sonic barely managed to jump over the broken wood, gasping, curling into a ball, and chasing his son with a Spin Dash.

The little one looked back, eyes wide, then grunted seeing Sonic right behind him.

“Give up, Dad!” he shouted, speeding through the loop made of slides. Then, he stepped on a plank and launched himself upward. Sonic exited the Spin Dash, running normally again, a proud smile spreading across his face as he saw his son, happy and full of challenge.

However, his eyes widened when he heard the wood of the track cracking, looking ahead—the exact spot where the boy would land was completely shattered after all the chaos of the race.

With a determined look, he boosted forward, using a chair to launch himself upward, catching the little hedgehog who let out a small yelp of surprise as he was grabbed.

Landing safely on the lawn with his son in his arms, the two fell on their backs and stayed there.

Then, Sonic started laughing, a content smile on his muzzle.

“What are you laughing at?...” the little one asked, panting.

“Nothing, nothing, kid...” Sonic propped himself on his elbow, looking to the side at the little one. “You did great, but you’ve still got a long way to beat your old man.”

The little one just sighed.

“I would’ve won... But... Thanks for saving me, Dad... I think I would’ve had more splinters than quills if it weren’t for you...” He gave a small smile.

Sonic nudged him with his elbow, and the two sat up.

“But when I grow up... I’ll be faster than you!” the little one said with a determined look, clenching his fists.

“Ha! You bet...” Sonic affectionately ran a hand over his son’s head. “And when you do, I’ll be your number one fan...”

The two stayed there for several moments, just laughing and enjoying that father-son moment. That’s when, in front of them, a loud crash made both look up, startled, as the racetrack they’d built in the huge backyard began to collapse—wood cracking, metal clanking, and within seconds, only a cloud of dust and debris remained.

“...Can we ask Uncle Tails to build the track next time...?” the little one asked quietly.

“Definitely...” Sonic said, scratching his neck.

The back door creaked open, and you peeked out curiously, narrowing your eyes. You’d been hearing suspicious noises for a while, but after that huge crash, you had no choice but to come see what the two were up to—only to find a war zone with two very similar blue hedgehogs sitting in the middle of it all.

Their ears, almost in sync, turned back at the sound of the door opening and your approaching footsteps. Slowly, their frightened faces turned, two pairs of green eyes staring at you in fear.

“...What were you two doing out here?” you said threateningly.

They stood there frozen, sweating cold, not knowing what to say to justify the mess.

“It was Dad’s idea!” the little one pointed at Sonic, then vanished in the blink of an eye, dashing into the fields.

Your eyes followed the blue streak, then slowly turned back to Sonic, seeing his dumbfounded face and wide eyes, staring at where his son had just been.

“So? Wanna start explaining?” Sonic scratched his neck, gave a nervous laugh, then quickly ran up to you, pressing his muzzle to your face and stealing a quick kiss.

“I promise I’ll clean it all up and make it up to you later!” Then he vanished as well, the wind from his sprint ruffling your clothes.

Crossing your arms, you sighed exasperatedly, but couldn’t help the nasal chuckle that escaped. You really didn’t know what you were going to do with those two.

Shadow

The cold breeze gently stirred his black fur, the hedgehog’s ears twitching side to side, catching all kinds of sounds—mostly the constant chirping of crickets.

That’s when he picked up a sound—a small twig snapping, then the rustle of tall grass. Shadow’s closed eyes opened slowly, his red irises scanning the surroundings.

He didn’t see anything, but he knew someone was there.

Then, an electric sound—and a golden, glowing arrow was launched from the bushes. Shadow just tilted his head slightly, the energy arrow cutting through one of his quills in half and disappearing in the air behind him.

The black hedgehog was enveloped in energy and suddenly vanished from where he stood, reappearing right behind the figure hidden in the grass. The small one let out a surprised yelp, falling backward into the soft grass.

“...Still not good enough... You make too much noise.” Shadow crossed his arms.

The small black hedgehog with red streaks stared into his father’s crimson eyes, letting out a low ‘hmph.’

“You hear too much...” The little one crossed his arms, adopting an impassive expression, even while sitting in the grass.

“The goal here is to train your stealth... You can be sure enemies will hear a lot better than I do...” Shadow sighed, sitting down on the grass as well.

The little one’s eyes shifted, focusing on the window of the house.

“...My power’s still unstable... I can’t focus my Chaos Spears...” he whispered.

“Practice... you’ll get it with time...” Shadow’s hand moved to his own head, grabbing one of his quills. He winced slightly as he pulled it out, handing it to his son.

The quill was split in half, slightly burnt by the energy that had caused the damage.

“See? It was close...” The little one held his father’s quill, his eyes widening.

“...I almost hit?” he said softly, jaw dropped.

"...Yeah." Shadow confirmed.

"B-but... Dad, now that I think about it... if I had hit you... Would it have hurt a lot? I still don’t have control over my power..."

Shadow placed his hand gently on the boy’s head in a comforting way.

"I’ve been through worse... We’re here so you can learn."

The little one grunted, looking away, grabbing tightly onto his father’s quill.

"I can dodge, no need to worry about hitting me, just focus on stealth." The black hedgehog smoothed his son’s quills.

"...Okay..." The young one looked at his father, now with a more determined expression.

"Come on, one more time, watch how I do it..." They both stood up, the little one watching intently, eyes fixed on each of the father’s movements.

Shadow picked up some nearby stones from the ground, tossing three into the air. He made a motion with his hands, launching three quick Chaos Spears. The attacks flew with electric sounds, hitting their targets with precision and turning the little stones into dust.

Shadow’s gaze turned to his son, pride filling his heart as he saw the little one so impressed by his powers.

"Did you watch closely? Now it’s your turn..." The hedgehog picked up a slightly larger stone. "Ready?"

The little one clenched his fists, his face showing determination as he nodded firmly.

Then, Shadow threw the stone into the air, waiting for his son’s attack.

The little one stepped back a few paces, trying to calculate the attack’s trajectory. He panted, then made a motion with his hand, launching a single Chaos Spear.

The attack flew quickly in a straight path toward the target.

However, just a few centimeters from hitting the stone, the yellow strike veered off course suddenly, heading straight toward a nearby power transformer on a street pole, causing a small explosion that still shook the ground.

The two hedgehogs, wide-eyed, watched the scene, the explosion’s glow lighting up their faces as all the streetlights and house lights in the neighborhood began to go out one by one.

"...Dad?" the boy said uncertainly.

"That happens... could’ve been worse." Shadow crossed his arms, when suddenly both of their ears turned toward the house door, hearing it creak open.

"...Did you hear that?" the hedgehog whispered to his son, closing his eyes.

"Yeah... I think my hearing is good too..." The little one took hesitant steps, hiding behind his father.

Shadow turned to him, revealing a yellow Chaos Emerald, placing it in the boy’s hands. Around them, in the once-quiet neighborhood, they could already hear the sounds of curious Mobians and approaching sirens.

"...I have a new challenge for you, son..." Opening his eyes, he looked at the boy now holding the Chaos Emerald. "Get inside the house without your mom seeing you and lie in bed to sleep." He said quietly.

"...Alright." The little one nodded, holding the yellow gem tightly in his hands. Then, he took a deep breath. "...Chaos Control!..." he whispered as softly as he could, being enveloped in a flash of energy, disappearing from beside Shadow.

You fully opened the door, wrapped in your pajamas, looking around the spacious yard. Seeing the glow, your eyes widened upon spotting the street pole with the transformer on fire.

Taking a few more steps through the dimly lit yard, your eyes focused on the figure of Shadow, standing with arms crossed, also watching the flames.

"I was looking for you... I was going to ask why we lost power, but I think I figured it out."

Shadow just let out a hum of acknowledgment, indicating he heard you.

You stopped beside him, looking at his expression—impassive but soft—he uncrossed his arms, wrapping one around your waist, pulling you closer.

"By the way... What are you doing out here at one in the morning?" You asked, giving him a suspicious look.

"...Just training."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"And our son...?" You asked, discreetly looking around to see if the little one was nearby.

"Sleeping in his room like he should be..."

"Right... And what happened here?" You pointed at the transformer, seeing him quickly look away, the pieces starting to fall into place.

"A Chaos Spear went wrong..."

"I see... I suppose it wasn’t you who launched such a misfired Chaos Spear, huh?" You asked, chuckling, already well aware of your son’s lack of aim when using his abilities.

Shadow simply remained silent.

"Relax, love, you two aren’t in trouble... At least not as long as you keep it a secret that you destroyed the street transformer..." You nudged him with your elbow, making him raise an eyebrow this time. "Just... just try not to keep him up too late, and be careful not to hurt him when you’re training..." Your voice softened this time. Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed his cheek.

Then, you stepped away from him, walking back into the house while yawning, content that Shadow was so dedicated to training your son.

The hedgehog watched your figure disappear into the house. Then, he sighed, a discreet little smile curling at the corner of his mouth, filled with deep contentment for the family he now had.

Silver

The room was silent, the orange light of the setting sun shining through the half-open windows. In the center of the room, Silver sat cross-legged on the rug, his hands palm-up, eyes closed.

Right in front of him, the little white-furred hedgehog opened one eye slightly, the golden iris watching his father, trying to make sure he looked exactly the same.

"...Now, take a deep breath... Concentrate..." Silver said softly.

The little one nodded, filling his lungs with air, imitating his father, then gently exhaled, trying his hardest to maintain focus.

"Great... channel your energy, calmly." Silver began to be surrounded by a light blue aura.

The little one followed, a slightly weaker aura forming around him. He closed his eyes tightly, forcing his concentration, clenching his teeth and trembling a bit to try to control it.

Suddenly, his eyes flew open, no longer feeling the rug beneath him. He had begun to levitate—but without any control. He flailed his arms, trying to regain balance, but without success, he felt his body turning upside down.

"...Dad...!" he called out, exasperated.

Silver immediately opened his eyes, widening them at the sight of his son floating upside down.

"Look, you did it... Not the way we expected, but it’s a start!" he said cheerfully, levitating over to the little hedgehog, holding him in his arms and righting him in the air.

"Thanks, Dad..." he sighed in relief. "It’s harder than it looks..." His hands clung to Silver’s fur, afraid he’d start floating out of control again.

"You’ll get the hang of it... Come, I’ll help you keep your balance." Silver started guiding his son around, floating through the air. The little one panted softly, trying to keep control of his powers.

"It's making me dizzy..." he said quietly.

"Want to come down?" Silver asked, and the little one nodded.

However, as they began to descend, for a second, the hedgehog let go of the boy, causing him to lose balance a little. But instead of falling, the scare made his powers surge slightly, enveloping him in a stronger aura for a moment.

Silver’s eyes widened, and he moved slightly back as several toys, clothes, and objects began levitating around the boy.

"Whoa, whoa! Easy with those powers." Silver said, dodging the floating items.

The little one was upside down again, but this time, he laughed.

"Dad, that was fun, I could feel the power flowing!" He looked at his hands, clenching his fists, feeling the telekinesis.

"I’m impressed, you managed to lift a lot of stuff at once. You’re not feeling tired?" Silver stopped next to him, helping him upright in the air again.

"Nah, the opposite, actually..." He focused on one object, bringing it closer, making the toy spin around his finger. With a mischievous grin, he aimed and threw the object at Silver.

The hedgehog easily stopped the toy using his own power, smiling playfully in return.

"Trying to catch your father off guard, huh..." The hedgehog chuckled, levitating a pillow, making a hand motion and hurling it at the boy, who couldn’t dodge or stop it in time.

He gasped when the pillow hit him, then laughed right after, a look of joy in his golden eyes.

"...Was that a challenge?"

"Maybe. Let’s test your powers." Silver said, lifting some clothes. "Let’s just avoid injuries, or your mom will kill me..."

"Got it..." The little one smiled, levitating some stuffed animals.

A small battle broke out in the room at that moment, with objects flying and scattering in every direction. The space was filled with cheerful laughter and the sound of things hitting one another.

In no time, the relatively tidy room was completely messy, almost turned upside down, looking like a tornado had passed through.

In the center, the two hedgehogs were still going at it.

"I'm winning by the amount of stuff thrown..." the little one said challengingly, tossing three more plushies, which were easily dodged or stopped by Silver.

"Victory goes to whoever lands the most hits!" he said, throwing the plushies back and hitting his son, who gasped with laughter. "I've had to use my telekinesis to fight things way more dangerous than my own son." Silver laughed.

"I bet... But I'm not gonna lose." He prepared to launch more plushies, but suddenly stopped when he heard your voice calling from downstairs.

"Boys, what are you two up to up there?" Your words came out a little muffled, but perfectly understandable.

The two hedgehogs froze in place, finally realizing the chaotic scene the room had become. They exchanged fearful glances, their ears drooping as they heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Speed-cleaning competition?" Silver whispered.

"You bet..." the little one quickly nodded.

The two landed on the floor, placing the floating objects back down as well, beginning to use their powers to gather all the mess and organize it. Putting the clothes in the dirty laundry basket, the plushies back on the shelf, and the pillows back on the bed.

Silver stood beside the bed, running his hand over the sheet, making sure there were no wrinkles or signs that a telekinetic war had just taken place.

When you opened the bedroom door, you narrowed your eyes, scanning the room for any clues that indicated the mess they had made, but you only saw the two hedgehogs sitting on the rug, exactly how they were some time ago.

However, both of them had suspicious expressions, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with the rug’s fabric.

"You were up to something, weren't you?" Crossing your arms, you stared at them.

"No! Not at all." Silver waved his hands, trying to dismiss the question.

"Yeah... We didn’t do anything..." the little one still avoided eye contact, fidgeting his fingers impatiently.

Looking around the room again, you let out a nasal chuckle.

"Well... As long as you can fix the mess before I see it, like you just did, I don’t see a problem... Have fun." You turned around, closing the door behind you.

The two sighed in relief the moment you closed the door.

"That was close..." Silver scratched his neck.

"Yeah..."

"Well, next time, we’ll play somewhere that’s not your room..." Silver placed his hand on his son's head, gently ruffling it.

"I like that idea... there's that tennis court nearby, we could use the tennis balls, right?" the little one suggested, leaning into his father’s touch.

"Good one, kiddo, we’re definitely going there." Silver smiled happily. "Come on... let’s get something to eat, you must be tired." Standing up, he helped the little one up too, both leaving the room cheerfully, eager to spend more time in these friendly competitions.

Scourge

It was early morning, the first rays of sunlight were already coming through the window. Scourge walked slowly down the hallway of the house, entering the kitchen. He yawned loudly, his eyes still half-closed from just waking up.

He wasn't wearing his jacket or his signature sunglasses yet. He scratched his neck, running a hand through his messy quills, trying to fix them.

Stopping in front of the kitchen counter, he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured himself some coffee. He began sipping it slowly, looking for a bit of caffeine to wake himself up.

But he had barely made it halfway through the mug when he grunted, feeling a solid hit to his side just below the ribs.

He recoiled, placing a hand on his side, looking over to scan—and raising an eyebrow when he saw the little green hedgehog, with sky-blue eyes just like his.

"What the hell...?" Scourge asked impassively.

"Time for our daily throwdown, Dad! I'm provin’ I’m the tougher one!" He clenched his fist, growling and going all in for another punch at his father. Scourge easily caught the little fist with his larger hand, holding the boy’s hand firmly.

"Seven in the damn mornin’? Ya kiddin’ me, kid?" The little one tried to dig his tiny claws into his dad’s arm to make him let go. But it didn’t even tickle Scourge.

"I was catchin’ ya off guard, old man!" He bit his dad’s arm, but again, to no effect.

Letting out a nasal laugh, the green hedgehog released his son’s arm, bent down, wrapped his arms around him and lifted him up. The boy’s arms instinctively went around his father's neck, growling softly despite his clearly flushed face.

"Cool it, kid, or I’ll show ya who the real old man is ‘round here." Holding his son in his arms, he picked up the mug with his free hand, taking a sip of coffee. "Want a cookie?" he asked the child, in a softer voice than he intended. He saw the boy nod.

Grabbing the cookie jar and opening it, he brought it close to his son, watching the tiny hand let go of his neck and reach into the jar, grabbing a cookie and putting it in his mouth.

"Heh… ya somethin’ else, y’know that? Kinda adorable." Scourge chuckled.

"…Shuddup…" he muttered, clinging tighter to his father's fur.

Both their ears twitched toward the kitchen door as they heard footsteps approaching, their blue eyes scanning until they saw you enter, rubbing your eyes.

"Good morning, boys..." you murmured, passing by the two and grabbing your own mug.

"Mom!" the little one practically jumped from his father’s arms, running over and hugging your legs. Kneeling, you picked him up too.

"Hm? What’s the problem? Stay in your dad’s arms..." You smiled at the boy, smoothing out his messy green quills.

"…Gotta beat Dad in a fight… no matter what…" Scourge raised an eyebrow, a playful smile spreading across his face.

"Beat me, huh? Kid, ya can’t even reach the damn cookie shelf!" The green hedgehog laughed, heading to the sink to wash his mug.

The little one growled again, now jumping from your arms and charging at Scourge with clenched fists, ready to throw another punch. The hedgehog laughed, easily dodging the first hit and blocking the second.

"Cool it, hothead… damn, ya really are my kid, huh?" Scourge laughed again, dodging yet another punch from the kid. "Yo, those tiny fists’a yours actually sting a bit, ya know?" He turned to you. "Hey, gimme a hand, would ya? Your kid’s tryna knock me out here."

"You’re the one who encouraged him to be like this, now deal with it." You said quietly, watching the little one charge again. Scourge wrapped his arms around him, lifting him up.

"Admit ya lost, Dad!" He squirmed in Scourge’s strong arms.

"Never… But keep swingin’. When ya reach the cookie shelf on your own, then maybe I’ll say ya won…" He laughed again, hugging his son, the little one blushing again and wrapping his arms around his father's neck but refusing to say anything about it.

"Well… at least Mom likes me more…"

"Hold up..." Scourge turned to you. "That true or what?" he asked, indignant.

"I’m not getting into your battle of egos..." Turning around, you went to wash your mug in the sink.

Putting the little one down, Scourge quickly walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"C’mon, ya like me more, don’tcha?" Scourge laughed.

"I’m not picking between you two, you both know I love you equally..." You let out an exasperated sigh, but kept washing the mug.

"Dad! Hands off’a her!" the little one said, grabbing his father’s fur to pull him back.

"Back off, runt, she’s been in love with me way before you even existed!" Scourge said, clinging tighter to you.

"Could you two stop this silly jealousy between yourselves?" You turned your head, watching the scene behind you.

"Never!" they said in unison, continuing to cling to you.

The little hedgehog began headbutting Scourge’s leg.

"Feel my quills!" he said, determined.

"You tryna hurt me or give me a freakin’ massage with those fluffy lil’ things?" he teased.

"I’m wanna beat ya!" He used all his strength to try to push his father, but to no avail.

"Yeah? But ya won’t…" The boy only growled. "Hey, tell you what, call it a tie an’ I’ll hook ya up with somethin’ real tasty later…" Scourge said with a grin, releasing your waist and holding his now no-longer-attacking son.

"What kinda snack we talkin’…?" The little one let himself be picked up again.

"The cheesy kind..." He smoothed his son's quills, fixing them.

"Deal..." He leaned into his father’s touch, gently holding his green fur.

"Aight, champ, time for some action flicks on the TV."

"I want one with big explosions ‘n stuff!" the little hedgehog said excitedly.

"You got it, little man."

Your eyes scanned the two disappearing through the living room door, their laughter continuing in there. Shaking your head, you couldn’t help but chuckle. It was amazing how they not only looked so alike, but also shared exactly the same energy.

And even though you had no idea what to do with the two of them, you knew deep down in your heart that you loved them both way too much.

[lostinlads]

Breathe Me

Synopsis: You wake to the sound of Sylus in your shared house. Seeing his dull ruby eyes, and wanting his touch, you let him feed from you - his teeth sinking into your flesh, claiming you as his love.

Tags: sylus x femme!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, vampire!sylus, half blood!mc, blood, drinking blood, biting, tooth rotting fluff, angst, mc feels inadequate, mentions of body horror (ripping heart out), use of pet names (my love, dove), no use of y/n, domestic life with sylus :(

Words: 2.7k

an: hi! i want to start off by saying the vampires in this fic are based off of the twilight ones! so if youre confused why theres no fangs or by some of the words i used to describe things thats it! same with the half bloods (half vampires) its just taken mostly from twilight. Also i want to say thank you for over 100 followers on this account, i had no idea i would get this much attention so soon? so seriously thank you so much! and lastly this fic kinda became really personal for me? at times i got pretty emotional while writing but im really happy with it, i think it turned out really well and i hope you all love it as much as i do! enjoy!

ao3 | kofi

You wake up on a cloud of silk sheets and the scent of your lover. Eyes fluttering open, you find yourself alone in your shared bedroom, candlelight flickering on the nightstand and the soft patter of rain on the windows. 

Sitting up and stretching, you sigh, content and happy. With your heightened senses, you can hear Sylus shuffling through your home, muted footsteps along the wooden floors. Almost as if not to wake you.

Then you hear it, your favorite sound. His humming, off key but enough to make your cursed heart race. You climb out of bed, cold air nipping at your naked body, pebbling your nipples hard - but you welcome it, growing used to the icy chill. Reminding you of the touch of the man you've fallen head over heels for. His hands roaming your body, leaving goosebumps rising as his skin makes contact with yours.

You pad through the room, grabbing your silk robe and throw it on before leaving. You make your way through the house leisurely, never in need of a rush, knowing you have all the time in the universe. Fingers dragging on the walls as you walk past, savoring your quiet and calm life. 

Sylus's humming pauses for a moment, no doubt hearing you move around, before continuing. You could almost see the soft smile blessing his heavenly features, waiting in anticipation to see your beautiful face again. 

You spot him in the kitchen, back facing towards you as the delicious scent of coffee fills the air, made perfectly just for you. Feet shuffling under you, you walk closer, the longing pull towards him dragging you in. The need for his touch, for his scent buzzing in your veins as you draw close. Arms reaching out as you loop them around him, shoving your face in between his broad shoulders. Fingers dipping under his sweater as they dance over every curve and line of his stomach, a secret map made just for your touch alone. You breathe him in, a sweet honey and vanilla scent fills your nose, leather and the cold mingling perfectly with his overwhelming sweetness. Something so Sylus. It was intoxicating, you never getting enough as you drive yourself drunk on just him.

"Good morning, my love," Deep, rumbling of his voice vibrates his frame, jittering into your bones as you plaster yourself to him. He doesn't turn, letting you get your fill of him for now. One lone hand coming to place itself on top of your smaller one, icy thumb brushing over your silky skin. 

"Morning," You mumble into his back, running your nose along him. He chuckles, so warm and inviting. You want to hear it every day, not living until you get your fix of that beautiful sound. 

You two stay entwined for a beat longer, him finally turning around to face you. Stealing your breath with just one look at his god like face. Plush lips curled into a loving smile, the soft kitchen light dancing off of his hard, granite skin. And those eyes, those ruby gemstone eyes you can't help but fall for every time you look at him. Today dull, dark, in need of feeding. You brush a hand up to his cheek, fingers ghosting just under his eye.

"You're thirsty..." A frown set on your face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. His hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer as his other brushes your hair from your face.

"That can wait," Eyes dancing between your own, an unspoken language in themselves. You could feel the love in them, the way they shone just for you. "Have your coffee and let's go relax." Sylus reaches behind himself and holds a mug out to you, hot steam cascading up towards the ceiling. You take it, warming your palms as he leads you into the living room, letting you sit on the couch. He walks to the large bookcase covering one of your dark walls, selecting a record and putting it on. Quiet music fills the space between as he makes his way to you, long legs in confident strides. Power in every sure step. 

"I love this one," You sigh, happily as you take a sip of the hot liquid. Warming you up from the inside as Sylus's cold body settles against you. The battle of temperatures fuzzing your brain. It felt calming.

"That's why I chose it," You could hear the smile in his words as his icy hand dances along the clothed skin of your arm. Every touch making your irregular heart pound in its cage in your chest. Calling out to him, telling him that it belonged to your lover. 

The two of you sitting in silence as you let the tune play through your home, drinking down the coffee and settling into his large, strong arms. You could live every day of your never-ending life like this and still be content, happy even. Needing nothing in life but Sylus and your quiet home. Every mundane thing the two of you share feeling like the most exciting adventure. 

Finishing your drink, you set it on the wooden table before you, the mug making a muffled knock that echoed on the walls. You turn to Sylus, his eyes closed as he lets the music consume him, thumb brushing on your arm. You drink him in, every single atom of his being as you wish you two can sit like this for eternity. He could, of course, never move from this couch or position and continue to live. But the deep almost jealousy flutters in your chest. If only you were like him, able to stop time.

Being half vampire, you were strong, powerful and demanding like he was. Never needing to worry about any threats. But the human side reminded you just how different you and Sylus were in these moments. Unlike him, you needed to eat, whether blood or human food, needing to breathe, needing to blink. You needed to sleep and use the restroom and do normal human things. You still had your beating heart; you had blood that burned in your veins. You couldn't stop time and just exist like this god of a man beside you. Never being strong enough, never being fast enough, never being just enough.

"What are you thinking about?" He hums, eyes still closed as he pushes you closer, pulling you from your negative thoughts. You sigh, eyes falling from his face to your lap.

"Nothing," You lie, knowing he knew you were. You never shared your insecurities with him, knowing he would try his best to soothe you. But he never lived in this limbo, not being human enough to be human, and not being vampire enough to be vampire. You didn't blame your lover, him being the most patient and understanding soul you've ever known. But your condition was so rare. Only a few ever recorded to your knowledge. 

Sylus pulls you to his lap, eyes fluttering open, stealing your breath once more. Gentle glance in your wide, lovesick eyes, hands coming to secure behind you. You could feel his love in every movement, every touch a declaration. You place your hand on his chest, right over his still heart, willing it to beat just once for you, hoping to feel the same affect he has on you. It doesn't of course, cold stone skin under your warm palm - unchanging no matter how many times you try. He places his hand over yours, a silent way of telling you that if it could, it would beat a million times for you. Sylus reaches up to your chest, placing his own palm over your heart, making it race as he sighs. His confirmation of your love for him. Turning away, heat rises to your cheeks, embarrassed that you were jealous of this small thing. 

Pulling his hands away, he pulls you to his chest, his cheek pressed to your ear as his nose glides along your neck. Inhaling the sickening sweetness of your hybrid blood. Another thing you hated yourself for. Human blood tasting like aged, fine liquor, yours tasting like a sloppy sweet cocktail. Never tasting as good as them. Sylus told you he wouldn't want you to taste any other way, but you knew the truth. Tasting them yourself you knew how humans were, how their blood would send his kind into a frenzy. How if you were mortal, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back.

"You should drink, my love," Your words soft, so quiet as you coaxed him to feed from you. Needing to feel his teeth rip open your flesh and consume. Sylus doesn't reply, just places a ghost of a kiss to your pulse point. Hands pulling down your robe to expose your collarbone, then shoulder, then most of your upper arm. You sigh as you feel him expose your skin, goosebumps rising in the wake of his freezing touch. His razor-sharp teeth slices through your skin like butter, making you gasp at the pain. He knew this hurt; it always did when he fed from you. But you never minded, wanting to be his food, wanting to supply him with your life, your essence to sustain his hunger. You wished he would drain you dry, sucking every drop from your veins so you could fill him completely. Dying with a smile in his arms because he was the one that caused it, knowing he had done it out of nothing but pure love for you. You would rip out your still beating heart from your chest and give it to him if he asked. 

His lips latch onto the wound, sucking, pulling the blood out as his hand rests on your thigh, soothing your pain as best as he could manage. You could feel his icy tongue lapping at your flesh, savoring your taste like he actually enjoyed it. You close your eyes, leaning your head away to grant him more room, slowly welcoming the pain he caused. His lips on your skin were the only thing you ever wanting to feel, whether it being kisses or him draining the life from you, it was all you could ever ask from him. 

Slowly, the pain passed, a dull throb from the wound as he soothed the skin with his. You could almost feel him drinking you in, your souls entwining in this endless dance between you. You imagine the image of your blood flowing down his long throat, hot and fresh. Feather like silver locks of his hair brushing on your throat, kissing your skin.

Once he's had his fill, his lips unlatch, a small red bruise blooming. You feel his tongue flatten, lapping at the few fallen streaks of blood. That was one thing you loved about him, how clean he is when he feeds, not making a show of it. He placed one soft kiss to your skin before pulling back.

Your eyes dance on his breath-taking face, eyes a bright, shining crimson, lips matching from your blood. His skin almost glowed, refreshed and new. You lifted your hand, caressing his stone cheek. Sylus leaned into your touch, a hum vibrating in his throat as you stared into your lover's eyes. Out of any version of him, you preferred this one, on the cusp of being alive again, eyes bright, lips red, and so fucking beautiful. Your thumb swiped along his bottom lip, smudging the blood to the corner of his mouth, a smile curling on your lips. His hand on your thigh gripping your squishy flesh, grounding you. 

It was almost magnetic, your pull to him. Every touch bringing a reaction out of you immediately, like your body was made for him and him alone. The way his eyes swept from yours to your parted lips had you leaning in, no time for him to ask as you crash your lips together. The tangy taste of blood and his saliva swirl through your fuzzy brain, hand snaking around his neck to pull him closer. Slow but passionate, your lips moved together, creating their own dance. It was easy for you to grow addicted to this, not needing breath for a while, just have him touching your body as you consumed each other. You licked your way into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. So sweet, so strong. His cold touch calming the heat soaring through your body, soothing the fireworks that were your nerves.

Sylus pulled away, letting you catch your breath, lips still hovering over your own.

"Heaven," He breathed, full lips grazing over yours as he mouthed the word. Heaven, but only if he knew he was yours. Heaven, hell, and everything in between. The monster in the shadows but oh how wrong that actually was. A man so full of passion and love that the only thing he could do was submit himself to you. Knowing exactly what you needed without having to ever ask, almost as if he scraped open your brain and lived inside, weaving his way into your nerves and could feel every spark through you. How someone could imagine him as this nightmare creature was beyond you, nothing comparing to his beauty or his grace. Not his own kind, not any paintings or murals, nothing could ever match Sylus in any way. And you couldn't help but feel blessed, to have this man in your arms, in your heart, sharing every day with you while others had to live entire lifetimes without even getting a glance.

As you lean back to look at him, the shoulder of your robe slips, pooling around your thighs and leaving your top half bare to him. You watch as his eyes drift down, taking in your body as if it was the first time he's seen you. His cool fingertips barely touching your skin as they run from your neck. Ghosting down your chest and between your breasts, to your stomach just above your navel. He paused there for a beat, letting out a shaky breath before running back up to your shoulder then down your arm. His touch so gentle it brought a deep flush to your cheeks, eyes half lidded as your breath ran ragged. Always touching you like he would snap you in half in a single wrong move. It was true, he is stronger, but you could take it, take every rough touch he could throw at you yet he refused. Always handling you like you were made of the most precious glass. 

"Are you hungry, dove?" Thumb brushing over your wrist, voice so unbelievably warm. You were, but you didn't want to leave, wanting to watch his blood smeared lips speak to you until your body grew weak and desperate. He could see it in your eyes, the corners of his beautiful wide mouth curling. "Let's go make something, then you can have me, my love." 

"Wait," You nearly cry out, hand pushing his chest back onto the sofa. He let you push him, falling back in from your touch. "Just..." You sigh. "Just let me lay here with you." 

Leaning forward you rest your face in the crook of his neck, large arms caging you to him. The music and rain snuffing out the silence between you, beating in time with your imagination of frozen heart and the waves between you. Turning your head, pressing your nose to his neck, you breathe him in. Eyes fluttering shut as you feel him, every fiber of your being screaming out to your mate, swearing to be with him until the universe falls from the sky. Your name etched into his soul and his into yours. Forever becoming one single being. Then you feel it, his chest buzzing as his deep voice hums to the song, singing for you. Emotions well inside you, heart thudding in your chest. His silent confirmation that you were his, that you were more than enough. Fingers tangling in your hair as he squeezes you tighter to his chest. You swear the world stops in his arms, everything fading away as you lay entangled together here on this sofa in your house under the rain and moonlight.

"I love you, dove," He sighs, nose pressing to your hair. Your heart responds for you, beating so loud you swear it speaks.

[christopherisfoive]

hellooo! for the prompt list, i was wondering if you could do bang chan x idol reader with prompts:

7. "you can't flirt your way out of this one." and

9. secret relationship reveal

can be fluffy, crack or a bit angsty (happy ending tho lol). thank you so much!!🙆🖤

Request complete 💌 Thank you so much for trusting me with this one. I had such a lovely time writing it—hope it brings a little something special to your day 🤍 Feel free to send more anytime!

૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა

There were a lot of unspoken rules in the industry.

Smile. Be polite. Say thank you. Stay out of scandals.

And definitely—definitely—don’t get caught dating another idol.

Which made what just happened on stage a complete disaster.

The moment you stepped off the award show stage, your hands were still trembling. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was panic. Or maybe it was because Bang Chan, the leader of Stray Kids and the man you’d been secretly dating for nearly a year, had just placed a hand on your waist—on live camera.

You’d both tried to play it cool. Smile. Bow. Wave. But even you couldn’t ignore the shift in energy backstage as you re-entered the holding area. The staff had gone quiet. A monitor replayed the clip in an endless loop. And in the footage? Chan, clearly grinning, clearly touching you. And you? Clearly leaning into it.

Your group’s youngest member, Yuna, was frozen in place near the monitor, blinking at the screen like it was glitching. Then she slowly turned to look at you, jaw dropping.

“Y/N… they know.”

You whipped around, dread forming in the pit of your stomach—only to see Chan striding toward you, cool as ever in his tailored black suit, like he hadn’t just blown your carefully constructed secret sky-high.

He looked… unfairly good. Confident. Dangerous. Like he had no regrets.

“Chan,” you warned under your breath the moment he reached you. "Congrats, baby girl. Always so gorgeous on the stage monitors." “You can’t flirt your way out of this one.”

He leaned in, voice low, eyes sparkling. “Did I flirt? I thought I was just congratulating my girlfriend on her win.”

“Christopher,” you hissed.

He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly soft. “Relax. We didn’t kiss on stage or anything.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to will your heart rate into submission.

He nudged your arm gently. “Hey,” he said, softer now. “You okay?”

You looked up at him, and for just a second, the frustration faltered. Underneath all the chaos, all the tension, there was still that stupid warmth he always gave you—like no matter what the world threw at you, he’d be there.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

Chan exhaled, long and slow. Then, without another word, he reached for your hand and laced his fingers through yours.

The gesture was quiet. Intentional.

Comforting.

And that’s when it happened.

“Y/N AND BANG CHAN?!” your leader screamed from the other end of the hallway, practically throwing herself out of the dressing room. “I knew it!”

You closed your eyes. “We’re dead.”

Chan grinned, squeezing your hand. “Nah. We’re just getting started.”

It didn’t take long.

By the time you were back in your dressing room, the clip had gone viral. Twitter was flooded with theories, fancams, and unedited screenshots. Dispatch was probably sharpening their lenses. Your manager was hyperventilating in the corner.

And you? You were sitting on the makeup counter, still holding Chan’s jacket like it could shield you from the world.

Your members kept stealing glances. Some looked amused. Others looked like they were trying to figure out how to kill him without leaving evidence.

“You have to talk to him,” your leader said finally, arms crossed. “Like… really talk. This can’t just blow over.”

You nodded, already slipping off the counter. “Yeah. I know.”

Chan was waiting near the staff hallway, bouncing slightly on his heels like he wasn’t the reason half the fandom had gone into cardiac arrest.

The moment he saw you, he straightened. “Come with me.”

You didn’t argue.

He led you to one of the quieter stairwells, tucked between two storage areas. It was empty, dimly lit, and blessedly silent.

He stopped, turned to face you, and the light teasing expression on his face faded into something raw.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“I should’ve been more careful,” he continued. “You didn’t sign up for this kind of reveal. I got caught up in the moment, and I didn’t think about what it might cost you.”

Your breath hitched. Because… he meant it. All of it.

You stepped closer. “I’m scared,” you admitted. “Not because I don’t care. But because I do. So much it makes me stupid.”

Chan smiled faintly. “We’re already stupid. May as well be in love too.”

You let out a choked laugh and finally—finally—wrapped your arms around his neck. He held you tight, no cameras this time. No pretense.

Just you and him.

It took less than a week for the internet to go wild.

#YNNIECHAN trended. Memes were made. Your agency made a statement, carefully vague but not denying anything.

And through it all, Chan didn’t let go of your hand.

Not in the car. Not in the practice rooms. Not even when fans screamed both your names during the encore stage.

When one reporter finally got brave enough to ask during an interview, Chan just grinned.

“She's someone I care about a lot,” he said simply. “And I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”

Your group teased you relentlessly afterward, but it didn’t matter. You’d spent so long hiding, guarding your heart like it was breakable glass.

Now it felt steady.

Held.

Loved.

And when Chan kissed your temple backstage that night, whispering, “Still not flirting, by the way,” you rolled your eyes and kissed him back.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the fancams.”

[megalony]

Check In With Me

This is a new Dark! Dad! Evan Buckley imagine, I was very happy with this one and I hope you will all like it.

Please let me know what you think.

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Dark! Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) knows how protective Evan is around her and their daughter and she knows he worries. But when their daughter isn't well, Evan isn't too happy to learn they've gone to the hospital. Without him.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No! I w- I want daddy."

(Y/n) sighed and let her head drop down while her hands clamped down on her hips.

Of course she did.

Of course Tilly wanted Evan; she always did when she wasn't well. If she was sick she clung to Evan like he was her lifeline, her saviour. And right now, the toddler really wasn't well. She had been throwing up throughout the night and now she had a cough to rival all coughs. She couldn't speak without croaking and gasping and her nose and cheeks had turned a very dark shade of red.

(Y/n) tried one last time to reach out for her daughter, but she pursed her lips when Tilly shook her head. She curled up in the middle of her parent's bed, pulling on the fresh pile of clothes on the end of the bed that Evan had got ready for when he came out the shower.

The toddler pulled on the button up shirt until it was draped around her like a blanket and she nuzzled into the material. Something that she had gotten from (Y/n) who loved to wear Evan's clothes, especially when they kept his scent and aftershave. She hoped Tilly wouldn't cough or sneeze on the shirt or it would have to go back in the wash.

"Did someone call me?" Evan's voice rung through the air and (Y/n) twisted to look over her shoulder.

She watched him walk into their room, a towel tied around his waist and one hand knotted in his damp curls. The way he squinted one eye with a lopsided smile made (Y/n)'s heart jump.

She pointed to the bundle hidden beneath his shirt, watching the way Evan's expression softened when he tried to spot their daughter.

He hummed quietly and reached out for his boxers from the bed and started to get changed. His eyes stayed focused on Tilly, waiting to see if she would move and uncover herself because she knew he was in the room. But she stayed bundled up as Evan buttoned up his trousers and looped his belt tight.

"I think that's mine, princess." He pressed his knees into the edge of the bed and planted one hand down near Tilly's head.

He leaned his weight on his left hand while his right hand reached out for his shirt. And he lifted it up to reveal his little girl, huddled up in a ball in the middle of the bed. She tried to keep hold of his shirt but when he tugged it free from her, a loud shriek left her lips, followed by a croaky wail.

"She wants you," (Y/n) murmured and squeezed Evan's arm as she moved to walk past him. She pressed her lips to his shoulder before she tried to walk out the room. She could start breakfast if Evan could sort Tilly for now; they both knew she would only do as he told her when she was in this mood.

(Y/n) felt Evan's hand weave around to squeeze her hip and he ducked his head down to attach his lips to her neck. He pressed a searing kiss to her neck and squeezed her hip again before he let go and watched her head out the room.

Once she was gone, Evan slid his shirt onto his shoulders but he didn't button it up yet.

He held his arms out in her direction and tilted his head to one side, waiting while Tilly looked at him as if she didn't know what he was doing.

"I thought you wanted me?" That was all it took for Tilly to shuffle over and wrap her arms around his neck. She burrowed her face into his bare chest and jumped until Evan got the hint and scooped her up.

He settled her in the middle of his chest and glided one hand up and down her back while he leaned his cheek on top of her head.

With his lips pressed to the top of Tilly's head, Evan turned around and slowly made his way out of the room. It was going to be hard for Evan to go to work today when Tilly was clinging to him like this. He didn't like leaving her when she wasn't well.

Once he headed downstairs, Evan made his way into the kitchen with his lips pressing continuous kisses against Tilly's head. It seemed to be doing the trick in calming her down but it was also making Evan regret having to go to work. His little girl wasn't well, she needed him.

He smiled into the top of her head when he looked over at (Y/n) and watched her mill about the kitchen like she didn't know they were standing behind her.

Before the girls, Evan's whole life had been centred around the station and his work. Work had been his main driving force, the thing that gave him purpose and the station gave him a family. Meeting (Y/n) had changed those dynamics. Evan had an extended family; a family that was his and that depended on him. A family he came home to after work and didn't have to go into dire situations to be around them.

Evan stopped being desperate to go to work or to prove himself and put himself at risk. He became desperate to come home and be with his girls.

He hadn't noticed what (Y/n) had been wearing when he came out the shower, but as he walked over to her, he took in (Y/n)'s attire. She was wearing leggings and a button up top with the top buttons undone, giving him a great view.

Sometimes it was strange to look at (Y/n) and not see her wearing his clothes. When she was pregnant, Evan had been so used to seeing her wander around in his stuff and it drove him wild. Technically just looking at (Y/n) when she was pregnant made Evan insane.

God knows he loved Tilly and that she and (Y/n) were his world, but he was already aching to have another kid.

"Okay?" He curved his free arm around her waist and kissed the back of her head while (Y/n) stopped making them all a drink so she could lean her head back on his shoulder.

"Course." (Y/n) leaned up so she could kiss the junction at the top of his neck just beneath his jaw. She knew by the shiver she felt coursing through his skin that Evan was going to have a hard time getting to work today.

Her hand moved to pat his chest while she turned around so she was facing him. She kissed his neck again and darted her eyes down to Tilly who was snuffling, but at least she was breathing a bit better. And (Y/n) smiled into his neck when she felt Evan pressing down into her and his hand left her hip so he could reach up into the cupboard above them.

He grabbed the Calpol and the thermometer, smothering a grin when he felt (Y/n) kissing his neck and nipping at his skin.

She looked down at Tilly again before she turned around to finish making them each a drink.

It was endearing to see how attached Tilly was to Evan. It had been that way since (Y/n) found out she was pregnant. Evan had been glued to (Y/n)'s hip and had been there every step of the way, and when Tilly was born, that was it. She was the apple of his eye.

Whenever she cried, Evan was there cuddling her and calming her down. When she was sick, like now, Evan would give her medicine and hold her as she cried, he would let her sleep on his chest all night if it would make her feel better. He had all the time and the patience in the world for both his girls and it made Tilly attached to his hip. There was no way (Y/n) could feel jealous or pushed out when Evan was just the same with her.

She always knew if Tilly wasn't well she would run to Evan, that was the way it always was and (Y/n) was fine with that. Because when Evan was at work, (Y/n) was the parent. He worked random shifts, sometimes nights and quite a lot of days, so (Y/n) had Tilly to herself during those times. It was only natural and fair that when Evan was home, Tilly was attached to him.

When she was finished making their drinks, (Y/n) looked back at Tilly who was still snuffling and breathing heavy, but at least she was calm. (Y/n) leaned across to kiss her daughter's temple and she leaned against Evan's arm as if he were propping her up so she could cosy up into them both and smile at their poorly girl.

But her heart jumped in her throat when Evan's free hand reached out to hold her chin and he tilted her head up in his direction. It made him look seven foot tall with the way he nudged her head back and how he stared down at her with those dark blue eyes.

"Don't I get one?" The possessive tone in his voice made (Y/n)'s knees practically give way and she held her breath when Evan's thumb brushed across her lower lip.

She waited patiently for him to swoop down and steal a kiss he so clearly wanted from her. His lips were surprisingly warm but the force behind them was blinding and (Y/n) felt her head wobble when Evan eventually let go of her chin and released her bruised lips from his touch.

She rolled her eyes and bit back a smile when she felt Evan's hand against her bum as she grabbed the drinks and walked over to the table.

"Okay princess, let's take a look at you, hm?" Evan looked down at Tilly who was strangely quiet and it made him wonder if his little girl had finally started to nod back off to sleep. But when he looked down at her, he saw her eyes were barely open and she was biting her thumb.

He followed after (Y/n) and sat down at the kitchen table beside the window. He leaned back, adjusting Tilly on his lap so she was sat down rather than huddled up like a baby hedgehog against his chest.

With everything beside him on the table, Evan kept one arm around Tilly's waist and moved his other hand to feel her back and then her chest. She was warm, but she wasn't hot to the touch. Although her cheeks were flushed and she was lethargic.

Tilly was only going to nursery three days a week, but at this rate she wouldn't be going in tomorrow or the day after.

"Let's check your temperature." He grabbed the thermometer and gently pressed it into Tilly's ear.

Evan could see (Y/n) looking at him out the corner of her eye as she sat opposite him and Tilly at the table and munched on some toast. He could tell what was running through her mind. She was worried if their girl had a temperature; and she was slightly annoyed that Tilly wasn't making a fuss.

The little girl would throw a fit if (Y/n) checked her temperature or gave her medicine, but when it was Evan, she was as sweet as butter. (Y/n) guessed it was because although Evan was as sweet as ever with his girl, he could also be stern and his word was final. Tilly would never argue with Evan.

"Thirty-nine point four, she's got a fever."

Evan kissed the top of Tilly's head while the little girl nuzzled her face into his sternum and held one hand up so she could bite down on her thumb.

He gently batted her hand out the way so he could give her some medicine, watching with a smirk as his little girl took the medicine without grumbling. Although she did cough afterwards. But when she didn't raspberry it back at him, Evan took it as a win while (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

"Will you eat something before I go to work?" He murmured against Tilly's head and dragged the plate of toast across that (Y/n) had made for them. He took a piece and had a few bites while Tilly tilted her head back to look up at him.

"You stay… stay with me?" Tilly croaked and gave him her best puppy dog eyes, but when he said no, a gutural whine left her lips and she started to fidget in his arms.

"Princess, I have to go to work."

Evan could feel his heart breaking in his chest as he snuggled her closer to his chest and pecked her temple. He only had another ten minutes before he would have to kiss them goodbye and head off to be on time for work. He didn't like leaving either of them when they were ill. The first week going back to work after Tilly was born had been the hardest week of his life.

From the moment Evan looked at his girl, he never wanted to leave her sight again. He wanted to hold her and be with her every moment of the day, especially when she wasn't well. It was the same feeling he had whenever he had to go to work and leave (Y/n). He hated it. He hated not having them by his side.

"Daddy," The little whining tone in her voice continued to break his heart, but not his resolve. He couldn't call in sick at such short notice, he knew (Y/n) would persuade him otherwise. She was going to be here, there was no point Evan calling in sick and staying home too when (Y/n) was already here.

"It's not for long, baby girl. I'll be home for bath time, okay?" Today was one of the days where Evan was glad not to be doing a full twelve hour shift.

He would be home in time to give Tilly a bath and have tea before settling her down for bed. And he had a feeling that if she still felt this unwell, she would be staying in his and (Y/n)'s bed.

Tilly let out a little whine, but she didn't argue and when Evan handed her a piece of toast, she tried to munch on it to make him happy.

Evan reached out for the cup of coffee (Y/n) pushed his way and downed half of it in one go to try and wake himself up a bit more. He looked over at (Y/n) and nudged his foot against her thigh to catch her gaze.

"Call me later, so I know you're both okay."

(Y/n) nodded and smiled around the rim of her cup. She knew the drill, it had been the same when she had been pregnant and if she wasn't feeling well. She would ring Evan once, sometimes twice while he was on shift so he knew she felt okay and everything was alright. She had to; he was unnerving when he was panicking.

During the first few months when Evan went to work and (Y/n) was home with Tilly, she used to text him and send him pictures because she knew that again, Evan worried about leaving them. His line of work made him see strange, bad and frightening things and it increased his worry that while he was away, something bad like that might happen to his girls back home.

It was a good job (Y/n) still worked from home.

She switched to working from home when she became pregnant. The plan had always been to go back to the office once her maternity leave was over and get Tilly in daycare. That never seemed to happen.

Why have the stress of putting Tilly in daycare with strangers if she could be home with (Y/n)? Why go out to work if her boss was fine with her working from home and simply going into the office every other week for a catch up or for supervision?

The plan changed again, (Y/n) was supposed to be going back to work at the office once Tilly went into nursery full time, since she was only at nursery three times a week so far.

Although (Y/n) couldn't really see that happening, at least not for long. Not when Evan was broody and they were starting to try for another baby. And with the way he clung to her and worshipped her body when she was pregnant- not to mention the sight of him with a baby in his arms- (Y/n) couldn't object.

"You gonna have a movie day with mummy?" Evan held Tilly's beaker out to her once she finished a small piece of toast. It wasn't much, but it was something and he would rather her keep hydrated than try and eat and then be sick.

He smiled when Tilly hummed and looked over at (Y/n).

Evan leaned his head on his hand while his other hand ran up and down Tilly's chest and held her into him so he could cuddle her for a bit longer. His eyes darted between both his girls while he smiled. At least with (Y/n) working from home, neither of them had to take sick days or swap shifts to be home with Tilly when she wasn't well like this.

Evan liked both girls being at home, he could keep an eye on them that way and he knew they were both safe and fine as long as they were here.

***

A groan tumbled past Evan's lips and he tilted his head forward, straining his neck as he tried to click it back into place. He may have over-exherted himself carrying three separate people out the building and his back was starting to ache.

He shed his jacket and helmet and stuffed them in the compartment of the truck before he climbed up into the truck. He was glad to be the first one in the truck. He picked a seat behind the driver's seat and plonked down with his head tilted back and his back slouched down as his knees parted to the sides.

He only had a few more hours of his shift left. Not long, and he could go home to be with his girls and check on Tilly.

She had been playing on his mind this morning, he could see hear the way she screamed when he had to leave. He could feel her short nails scratching into his arms and see her trembling form in front of him as she cried, begging him not to go to work.

He could see the tears streaming down her face as she sniffled and whimpered, stretching her arms for him when he left. And he could see the tiredness in (Y/n)'s eyes that followed him even after he shut the door.

He wanted to go home.

Rolling his lips into a thin line, Evan felt a light go off in his head and he dug his hand around in his pocket until he found his phone.

He didn't have to worry about the girls and wonder if they were okay, he could just check on them from right here. Evan scrolled through the apps on his phone while he felt the truck rumbling and the sound of metal slamming from the rest of the team putting their equipment and helmets back.

It didn't take long to scroll through and find the camera app on his phone. They had a few security cameras in the house and Evan had them all connected to his phone, they'd had them since they moved into the house when they found out they were expecting Tilly.

Evan briefly lifted his head and nodded at Eddie when he climbed in the truck and sat opposite him, followed swiftly by Chimney and the new probie, Adam. He almost wondered where Hen was until he realised they had come on this call out with the ambulance; she would be driving it back to the station.

Evan flicked onto the upstairs camera while he dragged his belt round and sat up a bit straighter so his knees weren't pushing across into Eddie's space.

When he looked back down at the camera as Bobby revved up the engine, his head tilted to one side. So the girls weren't upstairs. His thumbs scrolled across to the downstairs camera, but he didn't see them in there either. The tv wasn't on. Tilly wasn't laid on the sofa or bundled up under a mountain of covers and pillows. She wasn't playing with her toys in the back room.

It didn't look like they were in the kitchen either. There wasn't a camera set up in the kitchen but the one in the dining room had a small glimpse into the kitchen. It looked empty.

The whole house looked empty; Evan couldn't see any movement in any of the cameras.

His brows furrowed and he looked over the cameras again while the truck turned a sharp corner and had him jostling from left to right.

Where had they gone to?

He clicked off the app, about to send (Y/n) a text when a thought made him switch to the location app he had at the back of the phone. Maybe (Y/n) had taken Tilly for a walk to give her some fresh air. Maybe they had gone down to the shops to get some more medicine; Tilly had a bad chest and throat, ice pops would be a good thing to have right now.

A shiver crawled down Evan's spine and he sat up straighter in his seat when he looked at the location on (Y/n)'s phone. What was going on?

Why was she at the hospital?

Dread dwelled in his stomach and he dropped his phone on the seat beside him while he turned to lean over the seat and look behind him. He patted his hand down on Bobby's shoulder to gain his attention while he glanced around to see whereabouts they were.

"Can you take a detour?"

"Where to?" Bobby glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment, but he didn't like the dark look he was faced with when he looked at Evan.

"Tilly's in the ER." His voice was gritty with a razor sharp edge, but it was his expression that had everyone on edge. His expression was one to be matched with a look of thunder and the way his lips curled into a grimace and his hands deadlocked into fists on his lap made Evan one to be rivalled with.

"Sure."

"Did (Y/n) message you?" The quiet tone in Eddie's voice seemed to take the edge off the atmosphere in the truck and he leaned over to look across at Evan.

He knew what it was like to have a child in the emergency room, he'd had his fair share of taking Chris to the hospital over the years. Or have Shannon or his abuela call him and say something had happened or Chris had gained yet another infection. He knew how stressful and panicking it could be and he could see the anger written across Evan's face.

"Yeah." He muttered, unable to lift his eyes from his hands that were clasped into fists in his lap.

That was the only explanation. (Y/n) had been fine this morning when he went to work and unless she'd had some kind of accident, then it was no big coincidence that (Y/n)'s phone location said she was at the hospital and Tilly wasn't well. Those two dots had to be connected. Something had to be wrong with their girl for (Y/n) to be there and their home to be empty.

Why didn't she call him?

Evan had his phone on him. He told (Y/n) to check in with him throughout the day and that meant telling him if their daughter had gotten worse. Taking her to the hospital classed as getting worse and Evan should have been there when (Y/n) took her. Not working obliviously at work while their girl was unwell.

His hands started to jitter up and down on his lap and his feet ruthlessly tapped and bashed into the metal floor of the truck as they headed towards a new destination.

"Alright Buck, let us know if you need anything." Bobby leaned across the seats to pat Evan's back when he flung his belt off and moved to get out the truck.

But not before he felt Eddie and Chimney reaching out for his arm and tell him to message them as soon as he had any news. Tilly was like a niece to them both and they all would want to know how she was getting on and what the problem was.

He stuffed his phone in his back pocket and jogged across the road towards the emergency room entrance.

How long had his girls been here? Would they be with a doctor by now? Was Evan going to be able to find them? He might have to charm the receptionist to find out where his girls were and which department they had been sent to if they had been here a while. At least he had priority, he was Tilly's dad, they had to tell him where his daughter was, if in fact she was still here.

Evan's eyes darted around when he walked into the emergency room. There were quite a few people in here today, but then again, it was mid-afternoon. The emergency room was packed in the afternoon and later on at night, the mornings and Sundays seemed to be the quietest times.

He avoided the queue at the reception desk and looked around, peering around the right corner to see if either of his girls were sat in there. He didn't spot them.

His fingers twitched at his sides and he could feel a desperation crawling throughout his system like ants scurrying beneath his skin.

It felt like his lungs were starting to shrivel up and take away his ability to breathe. Right until he took a few steps into the waiting area and looked to the far left.

The play area.

There was a small, sectioned off little corner with small plastic chairs and a table in the middle with an abacus for children to play and a few little toys scattered around.

There they were. Both his girls were sat right next to the children's corner, beneath the tv that was playing a kid's channel with a Disney show on in the background. That was why (Y/n) had chosen those seats, so she could be near the tv as a source of distraction for Tilly.

"It's okay," (Y/n) murmured softly and began again to brush her free hand across Tilly's temple that was dripping with sweat and flushed hot to the touch. She tried swaying from left to right while her daughter coughed and mewled in her arms, clearly distraught and upset.

But when she lifted her head, a look of fear flashed across (Y/n)'s face and panic lit up her eyes.

She could feel the unease crawling over her body and sending her head reeling like she had been hit with a blunt object.

He was here. How did Evan know they were here? She hadn't managed to get hold of him yet.

But there he was. Her husband. Aiming towards her with such a manic look on his face that (Y/n) hardly recognised him. He had rabid, dark eyes that were boring into (Y/n) like he was trying to see through her and reach her soul. His upper lip was curled up into a snarling look, he had a raised brow and his cheekbones were prominent as his features turned tense. It made the muscles in front of his ears pop out when he clenched and grated his jaw from left to right.

(Y/n) hated that his look was aimed at her. She hated whenever Evan got annoyed or upset with her, but to see him look at her like that made her want to cry. She knew it was going to take a miracle to calm him down from this.

"Evan…" She could barely find her voice when he stormed over to her and when she stared up at him, (Y/n) couldn't find any words at all. She could barely look up at him without feeling like she was melting into a puddle beneath his stern gaze.

With Evan stood up and being as tall as he was, it made him tower over her in the waiting room chair and the lighting seemed to cast a very ominus halo around him and cast dark shadows across his face. His shoulders were hunched up and the way he ticked his head to the side as he stared at her made (Y/n) wince.

She could see the way his eyes flitted from her to look at their daughter.

Tilly looked drowsy, she seemed half-conscious and that sent ripples of fear rushing through Evan. He didn't like how drowsy and lethargic she seemed, but his heart burst in his chest when Tilly groggily tilted her head back into (Y/n)'s chest and finally noticed who was stood in front of them.

She didn't say anything which broke Evan's heart all over again. It didn't matter whether he had been on a long shift at work or had just popped out to the shops. Whenever he came home, Tilly greeted him as if she hadn't seen him in weeks.

But her small arms stretched out in his direction and she made grabbing fists at him. And the tiny whimper and the way she mewled up at him showed how desperate she was to be back in Evan's arms now he was here.

(Y/n) stayed quiet and dropped her shoulders when Evan leaned over her and scooped their daughter from her arms. She was used to Evan taking Tilly from her, especially when their daughter wasn't well. Their daughter was like Evan's shadow. Whenever Evan came home, he was always reaching out to take her from (Y/n) and have a cuddle, and when she was sick Tilly would cling to him.

"Ooh baby," He cooed quietly when Tilly whimpered into his chest. He bounced her up and down in his arms, much like he had done this morning and he kissed her temple that was hot to the touch.

Evan could feel how bad Tilly's breathing was, she was croaking and gasping like her lungs were stuffed with cotton wool and she was running a higher temperature than she had this morning. She was on the verge of a fever.

But when he felt (Y/n)'s hand timidly gripping his arm and he watched the way she pointed to Tilly's back. His brows furrowed in confusion and he tucked his chin into Tilly's shoulder so he could hook his finger in the back of her shirt and peek at her back to see what (Y/n) was trying to show him.

His blood ran cold when he noticed there was a rash on her back. Little spots and bumps that were hot to the touch and when Evan leaned back and tried to check Tilly's chest, he noticed it was there too.

"Why didn't you call me?" His voice was laced with poison and so low that it didn't sound like him to (Y/n)'s ears.

Her eyes followed him as he sat down in the seat beside her and sat Tilly down on his lap with his arms bound around her chest. (Y/n) sank her teeth into her lower lip and leaned to the left as if she were treading her toes in the water, testing Evan's attitude and anger towards her. She tried her luck with curling her hands around his bicep and leaning close until she could merge her lips with his shoulder as if she were trying to soften him up.

"I called the doctor, a-and he said to come straight here. Then I didn't have a signal… Evan we've been here five minutes, I swear."

Tears welled up in (Y/n)'s eyes as she squeezed his arm and spoke, muffled into his arm. She could feel the way he bristled but the way he looked down at her showed he wasn't getting any angrier which was a good sign. (Y/n) hated him being upset with her. She knew that when she and Tilly were concerned, Evan had a very dark, possessive streak.

Both girls were his world and if they were upset or unwell or in any sense of danger, Evan's heckles were raised and his temper grew short.

(Y/n) didn't have a chance to call Evan.

When Tilly started to croak and her breathing became ragged and desperate, (Y/n) called the doctor straight away. She explained the symptoms, he heard Tilly's gasping voice as she tried to speak and he told them to get straight down to the emergency room. But by the time (Y/n) got here, she realised she hadn't called or checked in with Evan about this.

And the signal was non-existent in here. She couldn't even send him a message, let alone try and ring him and the most she had been waiting was up to ten minutes in the waiting room after she booked in.

"And what, you'd of rung me after she'd been checked onto the children's ward?" His voice was still gruff and he didn't spare her a glance, his lips attached to the top of Tilly's head and his sights remained on the floor.

It wasn't good enough.

Tilly was their daughter. She was their little girl, Evan's baby, and if she wasn't well like this he expected to be told. He'd had his phone on him. (Y/n) could have gotten through to him or left him a message because even if he didn't answer right away, he would at least have gotten a voicemail or a text from her. He would have gotten down here as soon as possible, but (Y/n) didn't even call.

If Evan didn't have the good sense to check his phone and try to check in on them he would have finished his shift and gone home to find neither of his girls there waiting for him.

"Baby please, I'm sorry."

What else could she say? What else could she do to make it up to him and show him she hadn't done this on purpose?

(Y/n) didn't purposely ignore Evan or bring Tilly here with the intention of not calling him and leaving him out of the loop. She wouldn't do that.

She wouldn't dare.

Evan had to know that. He had to know that (Y/n) knew how much he loved her and their daughter and he needed to know that (Y/n) wouldn't not tell him something like this. Tilly had been whimpering for Evan all day and when she realised where they were going this afternoon she had been breathlessly crying out for him. (Y/n) would of called him as soon as possible when she got a signal on her phone.

"I told you to check in with me. I said to let me know how she is, you can't just not tell me." Evan tried to hide the edge to his voice that sounded more reprimanding than angry, but he felt the way (Y/n) shuddered into his arm and clung to him tighter.

"Daddy,"

"I'm here now, I've got you princess." Evan pecked the top of her head again and began swaying her from left to right. But he didn't pull his arm out of (Y/n)'s grip and he didn't say anything when she pecked his shoulder.

He glanced down at her with one raised brow and pursed lips; a look (Y/n) knew well. A look that implied he wouldn't broach the subject any more right now, but they would certainly be talking about this later.

"Tilly Buckley?"

(Y/n) looked her bag on her shoulder and clutched at Evan's arm when he stood up with Tilly curled up against his chest. She had been told that despite the number of people in here today, Tilly would be a priority. She was a toddler with breathing difficulties, they wouldn't have to wait long.

And despite how angry she knew Evan was and how surprising his presence was, (Y/n) was glad he was here. Tilly was always calmer around him and she didn't play up when Evan was with her.

They followed the nurse through a corridor and down into a cubicle in the assessment ward. It had been a while since they had been in here. When Evan came to the emergency room, it was usually the team who brought him in the middle of a shift. The last time he was here for himself was when he'd dislocated his knee.

And the last time they had been here in the emergency room was for (Y/n) when she'd gotten an infection near the end of her pregnancy. She'd been so sick all she could throw up was bile and stomach acid and it started to give her stomach cramps. Evan had to haul her from the car and practically carry her in here.

They'd never had to bring Tilly to the emergency room before.

Once they were in the room, Evan carefully eased Tilly down in the middle of the bed and stood behind the bed so she could slouch back into his abdomen. His hands ran up and down her sides to try and keep her calm and stop her from wriggling away or trying to curl up and go to sleep. She had probably missed her afternoon nap and because she wasn't well she was going to be extremely tired.

"Hi there little lady," The doctor had a calming smile on her face and there was a nurse in the corner of the room, presumably to take notes and possibly bloods if needed.

Tilly looked at the doctor as she wheeled a stool closer to be in front of the bed, but she didn't speak. She tilted her head back into Evan's chest and stared up at him with those big doe eyes that were watering already.

"Is it just breathing problems that brought you here today?" The doctor looked between the couple as (Y/n) started to knot her hands together in front of her and one foot jittered against the floor.

"She was sick all night, and had a temperature this morning. But she couldn't breathe properly this afternoon, she's really struggling."

"And now she's got a rash." Evan leaned down and pecked the top of Tilly's head when she squirmed back into him like she was trying to wriggle away.

"Okay, let's take a look."

Tilly looked like she was about to protest and scuttle away until Evan's hands held her waist and his arms pressed into her sides to keep her in place. He let her lean back into his abdomen and held tight which seemed to both calm her down and stop her from moaning in protest.

The little girl snapped her eyes closed when the stethoscope pressed to her chest, and she croaked when it moved to press against her back to listen to her lungs. "Deep breath please sweetie."

(Y/n) reached out and gently tangled her fingers in Tilly's hair, brushing the curls away from her eyes to try and keep her calm because it was clear she wasn't happy. And her breathing was starting to crackle again. (Y/n) saw the way the doctor pursed her lips and sighed, although she tried to keep a calm smile on her face.

"Can I take your temperature?"

"Daddy…" Pressing her head back into Evan's abdomen, Tilly stretched her arms out and dug her nails into Evan's chest and arms, anywhere she could reach to try and make him help. She wanted to be picked up and cuddled, she wanted to be taken home. This was scary and she didn't want to be here, wherever here was.

Her little eyes screwed shut and her nose crinkled when a violent cough left her lips and had her wheezing. Her shoulders pulled in and she started to gasp to try and take in a deep breath.

"Deep breaths, baby." Evan murmured while he crouched down so his head was level with hers and she could lean back into his chest. Her head fell back on his shoulder and when she started to wave her hands in front of her chest, Evan enveloped his large hands around her small ones. He started to take deep breaths to coach Tilly to do the same until she was able to take croaky breaths instead of strangled gasps.

She kept her head back on Evan's shoulder and stopped squirming when the doctor pressed the thermometer in her ear.

"Let's see that rash."

"Come'ere," Evan murmured against her cheek and pulled her shirt up so the doctor could see the spots and raised bumps along her chest that matched the ones on her back. They definitely hadn't been there this morning. Both parents would have noticed. As soon as (Y/n) saw them when she changed Tilly this afternoon, she knew she had to call the doctors.

"Okay," The doctor smiled softly and hooked the stethoscope back around her neck while she sat back and looked between both parents. "It looks like she has a nasty chest infection, but I think she's starting to develop sepsis."

Evan did his best to hide the groan at the back of his throat and he dragged his hand down his face, unable to stop from scratching his nails into his face. He felt the way (Y/n) leaned over and clamped her hand down on his shoulder and when he noticed she was shaking, he glanced up at her.

This wasn't good. An infection was bad enough, but sepsis was worse. Her body was attacking the healthy tissues while trying to fight the infection, she could go into shock. This could cause respiratory failure. This was serious. Tilly was a toddler, not much more than a baby, having sepsis would put her at very high risk and could potentially kill her.

"What do you do, to treat that?"

(Y/n) darted her eyes between Evan and the doctor while Evan kissed Tilly's cheek and moved back up to standing behind Tilly once again.

"We take bloods to confirm, get her straight onto the children's ward and set her up on antibiotics and fluids. I'm afraid you'll be here for a while."

Neither of them cared how long they were going to be here, as long as Tilly got cared for and looked after then they would stay for hours, days, a week or more. They would stay and make sure their daughter got the treatment she needed.

"No, m-mummy," A grumbling cough vibrated past Tilly's lips and she winced when the nurse wheeled a tray across to the bed so she could take the blood sample. Once they got the blood Tilly would be straight onto the ward and then it would just be a matter of waiting for the results to get the right antibiotics.

She started to wriggle on the bed and managed to stand up until she could coil her arms around (Y/n)'s arm and try to tug her closer, presumably so she could be picked up and cradled. The way she coughed made (Y/n) grimace and she caught Evan wincing out the corner of her eye.

He hated how desperate she was for breath and how she swayed back and forth, showing she was drowsy and had no sense of balance.

He knew when they got her onto the ward she would be on oxygen, maybe even an inhaler to get her lungs opening up properly. She wasn't going to like this.

"It's okay baby, sit down." She brushed her fingers through her hair and rubbed her flushed cheek, but the tears streaming down Tilly's face made her wince.

"Mummy," It was as if Tilly thought one of them would cave and take her home. Her eyes seemed to double in size and the way her lips were trembling as she gasped for breath made (Y/n)'s heart break. She wanted nothing more than to cradle Tilly in her arms and make everything better, but she couldn't do that yet.

"Alright princess, come on. I know you can be a good girl for me."

Tilly didn't make a sound when Evan reached out and took her from (Y/n)'s arms. He lifted her up so he could plonk down on the end of the bed himself and he carefully set his little girl down on his lap. His arms bound around her waist with her hands holding onto his wrists with a surprisingly strong grip.

She slouched back into him and nuzzled her cheek into his bicep in a rather cute way like she was trying to hide in his embrace.

(Y/n) stood beside the bed, curling her hand around Evan's bicep while he pecked the top of Tilly's head and took one of her hands to hold out towards the nurse.

The two year old grumbled and started to whine breathlessly until she dared to glance up. Once she saw the stern look Evan gave her, she burrowed her face back into his arm and closed her eyes. She stayed extremely still apart from the odd croak or cough and she mewled quietly when the needle slid into the crease of her elbow.

"See, such a brave girl."

"One of my best patients." The nurse handed the vile of blood over to the doctor, but the grin on her face made both parents smile.

Of course Tilly would be a model patient once Evan told her to be good or stay still and be brave. She would do anything he asked, she was always good for Evan, she wouldn't step a toe out of line because she would never want Evan to be mad with her.

He was her protector.

"I'll get this sent off and find someone to get you booked onto the ward."

Once both the doctor and the nurse disappeared from the room, (Y/n) perched down on the end of the bed and went back to curling her hands around Evan's tense bicep. She nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder and tucked herself up into his side while she watched their girl burrow into his chest. Tilly was on the verge of falling asleep and it might calm her down a bit if she had a nap now.

"Sorry I didn't call you… I'm glad you got here quick." Her voice stayed quiet and she closed her eyes until she suddenly felt Evan's fingers beneath her chin.

He tilted her head up from his shoulder so they were face to face again and the softening look in his eyes made (Y/n)'s stomach burst with adrenaline.

"I gotta look after my girls, don't I?"

[munsonsmixtapes]

First Time

Find part two here!

virgin!Eddie x experienced!fem!reader

since smut won the poll, heres what I came up with!

summary: you hook up with a very inexperienced Eddie in a club bathroom

cw: MDNI 18+ smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) Eddie receives a handjob

The club was very overcrowded with dancing bodies covering the dance floor. You had a drink in your hand and were dancing the night away without a care in the world. By that time in the night, you usually had someone to take home, but you came up empty handed. Nobody looked good. They were all either drunk off their asses or definitely looked like they’d slip something into your drink when you weren’t looking.

You scanned the place one last time, deciding that if you didn’t find anyone, you’d just go home by yourself, your only company being your fingers and vibrator. They did the job just fine, but sometimes you just didn’t want to fall asleep alone.

You noticed a table that was to the far left. Four men were sitting at it, laughing their asses off about something while sipping from their drinks. Your eyes locked on the one with curly hair, deciding that he was the one. He was so pretty and definitely your type. As you got closer, you could see that he had a beard which made you even more attracted to him.

You could practically imagine his beard scraping your chin and above your top lip as he kissed you roughly, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to pull you closer.

As you approached the table, you noticed the small silver hoop looped through the right side of his nose. You loved men with piercings, finding them to be very attractive. Everyone at the table but him looked your way, all curious as to who you were going to talk to.

“Hey handsome,” you greeted but he still wasn’t making eye contact with you, almost as if he was avoiding it. The Black guy sitting next to him nudged his shoulder and he turned in his direction, only for his friend to point to you.

“Me?” He seemed confused as he pointed at himself, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You are handsome, aren’t you?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow as he got all flustered. God, he was adorable.

“I mean, I guess so,” he shrugged. You loved a modest man. Too many of them had a lot of confidence for being so mediocre.

“What’s your name?” His own name completely faded from his brain. Women didn’t usually talk to him, especially not super hot women such as yourself.

“Eddie,” the guy on the other side of him answered for him. For whatever reason, the name suited him. He looked like an Eddie.

“Well, Eddie, do you want to dance with me?” Dance? Eddie could do that to save his life, but since such a beautiful woman was asking, he had no choice but to say yes.

“He’d love to,” the same guy answered for him and pushed him up from his seat. You weren’t going to dance with him if he didn’t want to. Consent was very important and only wanted to do things with people if they were really enthusiastic about it. And that went for both inside and outside the bedroom.

“Would you?” You asked, wanting to make sure.

“I really would,” he nodded furiously and stood up from his chair, taking the hand that you were offering him.

You pulled Eddie out on the dance floor and he was quick to turn to his friends in panic. He had no idea what he was doing, but they all just gave him a reassuring thumbs up.

He liked the way your hand felt in his, all soft and warm. He let you lead him through all of the drunk, dancing bodies on the floor, just happy to be there. He tried his best to keep up with how fast your legs were moving. There was no way that he was losing you in the crowd. He could barely handle going to clubs with his friends, let alone by himself.

This whole thing was so overstimulating; the lights, the loud music and the people yelling over the loud music. Eddie hated it, but he only went because his friends liked it. While they danced, he sat at the table, throwing back glasses of whiskey like they were going out of style.

But there he was, actually getting his ass out onto the floor because you had asked him. He had denied so many invitations because he was afraid of looking stupid or being made fun of which had just been a product of not being desired in his youth. He was the freak, a loser, a person who just wasn’t worth anyone’s time. So why did he think that he was worth yours?

You stopped in the center of the floor and turned your back to him, taking no time to grind your ass on his dick to the beat of the pop song that was blasting through the speakers. Eddie had no idea what he was doing, but he was loving whatever was going on.

You grabbed his hands that were still by his side and guided him to rest them on your waist. You moved to the music together and Eddie could already feel his dick getting hard at the feelings of your ass grinding against his crotch.

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. You turned around as the song chance and draped your arms around his shoulders. Eddie’s hands ended up on your ass when you moved in his arms and quickly slid his hands up to your back, thinking that it was a safe place for them.

“You’re quite the dancer, Eddie,” you smiled and he was grateful that you couldn’t see his blush in the terrible club lighting. He knew you were lying but he appreciated the compliment. He couldn’t dance to save his life and was sure that you agreed.

“Oh, am I?” He sounded so unsure and you thought it was refreshing that a man as attractive as him had no idea how good he was at anything.

“Definitely,” you nodded then leaned closer, your lips right by your ear. “You know, I can take care of that little problem in your pants if you’d like.” He felt a shiver run down his spine at both your breath and thinking about you “taking care” of his boner.

The thought made him kind of nervous. He didn’t have any sexual experience, hell, he hadn’t even kissed anyone since Josie Geller when he was thirteen and that hadn’t really counted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had offers, he’d had many, but his insecurity always got the best of him. He was just convinced that it was all a prank and was quick to shut it down, not wanting to fall for anything like that again. He had had enough tin high school.

But for some reason, he has fully believed that you were being genuine. He could see the look in your eyes; it was excited and full of lust. You had to be telling the truth. Either that, or you were just a really good actress and he didn’t think that was the case.

“I would love that.” His words came out breathy and rushed and he hoped that you couldn’t see how desperate he was for you to help him with his little problem.

You took him by the hand and the two of you made a beeline for the bathroom. Eddie was almost giggling while you kept it cool. You had had your fair share of bathroom sex while he hadn’t had sex period. It was almost funny how opposite you were.

You pushed the women’s bathroom door open and checked to make sure no one else was in there before pushing him into one of the stalls. Eddie pressed his hands against the walls so he wouldn’t fall into the toilet while you locked the door and turned around to face him, your eyes lighting up as you took him in.

He was so hot even in the dark of the bathroom stall with the way his messy, curly hair that you just wanted to run your hands through, giving it a tug as pounded into you. Your gaze moved to his pretty pink lips and you could see that they were a bit chapped but you hardly minded. You just needed to feel them on yours.

You leaned forward, but Eddie put his hand on your shoulder to stop you. He took a deep breath before licking his lips, preparing himself to tell you the truth. He felt he owed that to you.

“Before we start anything, I should tell you that I’m a virgin.” Your eyes widened, now feeling guilty for pulling him into the stall. You pulled your hands away, backing up to the door, trying your best to give him space in the small area.

“Oh my god, I-I had no idea.” You put your hands up to your face to cover it, but Eddie quickly pulled them away.

“How could you have known?” Eddie wasn’t going to blame you for something you didn’t know. He just wanted you to be aware of the situation before you continued.

“We don’t-we don’t have to-”

“But I want to.” Even though Eddie didn’t know you, he still felt like he could trust you, not getting a single feeling in his gut like he had all the other times women approached him. It just felt right being there with you and he was hoping you felt the same.

“You do?” You wanted to be one hundred percent certain before you continued, wanting him to be absolutely sure that it was what he wanted.

“So badly. I mean,” his snapped to his still very hard dick and your gaze followed. “Still want to take care of it for me?”

“You’re sure you want to lose it to a stranger?” Eddie stepped closer to you so that you were chest to chest. He looked at you, taking in all your features and now that he was looking at you up close, he could confirm that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and couldn’t have been more honored to have you take his virginity.

“I’m sure.” He gave you a nod and you slowly moved your arms to wrap around his neck while his went to your waist. You slowly inched your face towards his, capturing his bottom lip between your two.

He was quick to respond, mimicking your actions, hoping that he was as good at it as you were. He honestly had no idea what he was doing, but he was confident that you’d teach him, showing him exactly what he needed to do so he was fully prepared for next time.

The kiss slowly progressed to hot and heavy as you swiped your tongue along Eddie’s bottom lip. He opened up and let his tangle with yours, a whimper escaping from the back of his throat as he did so. His eyes widened at the noise and he pulled away, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” you told him softly. “Make as much noise as you want. And actually, I found that really hot.” Even though first times could be awkward for some, you wanted Eddie’s to be memorable for him. Something he could look back on positively and not in embarrassment.

“Oh.” His cheeks burned at your compliment and you thought it was adorable how you could make him blush so easily.

“Wanna make it again?” Eddie thought for a moment and decided that he did, especially since you thought it sounded hot.

“I do, actually,” he nodded and your lips were back on his in a second. You licked into his mouth once again and he let out another whimper, not holding it back this time. You felt your cunt getting wet at hearing the noise and you slow moved your hand down his chest, stopping right when it got to his belt buckle.

You pulled away and looked at him for permission. He nodded his head furiously, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and you slowly unbuckled his belt, giving him plenty of time to back out if he wanted to. You pulled down his pants and let them his the tops of his shoes before shimmying his underwear down his legs. You let out a gasp at how big he was, feeling honored that you were the first one that he was going to let touch it.

“Wow,” you said, looking back up at his eyes. “You really are huge, aren’t you? I’m going to consider myself grateful that you’re going to let me take care of it.”

“Wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, to be honest.”

Beads of pre were falling from the head and you looked around for your purse that had fallen to the floor at some point. You pulled out a small bottle of lube and put some in one of your hands before letting it and your purse to fall back to the floor.

You stepped forward and grabbed hold of Eddie’s dick, moving your hand up and down the shaft slowly to test the waters to see if he liked it. His hands moved to hold on to the wall as he threw his head back. A moan fell from his lips and you were convinced that you hadn’t heard anything hotter.

You continued to pump, making your movements harder and faster at his commands, wanting him to be in control and tell you what he wanted. Moan after moan fell from his lips and now you felt like he was ready for more.

“Can I suck you off?” You asked, your hand slowing down, but still moving at a good pace. Eddie still had his head titled backwards, his eyes closed and you felt yourself getting even more wet at seeing him like that, coming undone from your touch.

“God, please,” he groaned and you slowly dropped to your knees.

Your hand wrapped around the base and you took him into your mouth giving his dick a suck while your tongue swirled around the head. Eddie’s hands pressed flat against the stall as he threw his head back even more at the pleasure he was experiencing. God, this was so much better than using his hand.

“Shit,” he moaned, his breath becoming heavy. He closed his eyes, trying hard to prevent his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

You continued to suck, taking all of him into your mouth, ignoring the fact that your eyes were watering, desperate to give him the best head of his life. Your tongue swiped along to tip another time as you sucked the hardest you could, eliciting the prettiest sounds from Eddie.

For the finale, you stood up and gently pulled down on his chin to force him to look at you. His eyes opened and he watched you swallow, feeling his knees buckle as you did so. God, you were so fucking hot.

“Fuck,” he moaned and pulled you into a kiss, his beard scratching roughly at your skin as he took what he wanted from you, you happy to be pliant under his touch. His hands moved down to your pants and you let him unbutton them, pushing them down so they hit your ankles and you kicked them off, leaving them in a small pile next to you.

“Is that all for me?” Eddie asked, his lips parting as he stared down at the wet patch that had dampened your underwear.

“And only for you,” you winked. “You think you’re ready to get inside me?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” he breathed.

You pulled a condom from your purse and opened it before sliding it onto his cock. Once he was all set, you stepped forward, helping him line up with your pussy. He then slowly entered you, the two of you letting out moans as he did so.

He grabbed onto your waist and slowly pumped in and out of you, trying to feel it out for himself. You moaned as he pumped, closing your eyes in pleasure as you grabbed onto his neck.

“Am I doing this right?” He asked, unsure and you just moaned in response.

“Oh, Eddie.”

He began to moved a little faster which elicited more moans from you as you wound your hands into his hair, giving it tug after tug. You both moved together, feeling nothing but pleasure as he began to pound into you.

“Just like that, baby, yeah,” you whined and Eddie continued, feeling super confident about his movements, knowing that you’d let him know if you didn’t like something.

Sex was far better than he thought it was going to be, but he was sure that it was all because of you. You had been nothing but sweet and kind and made him feel like a king. How was he going to have sex with anyone else when his first time was practically perfect.

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna-” he cut himself off as he reached his climax, suddenly feeling embarrassed that it had happened so quick.

“That’s right, honey,” you told him. “Let it out. You’re doing so well.”

“But I finished.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less how quickly he had finished. That just meant that you could have gone for round two that much faster if he was up for it.

“That’s okay,” you assured him as he pulled out. “Do you wanna…take this back to my place? I think it’d be more preferable to being here.”

“I’d love to go back to your place.” He pulled the condom off of his cock and tied it off before disposing of it. He then pulled up his underwear and pants before buckling his belt.

“Do you want to call a cab while I clean myself up here?” You asked and Eddie just nodded silently. You both shuffled around the stall so he could get to the door. You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before he opened the door. He then stepped out and pulled out his phone to call the cab company while you took a piss then cleaned yourself up.

You were confident that you had just had the best sex of your life. Who knew that a virgin knew exactly how to make you cum as opposed to men who slept around all the time? Maybe it was because he was actually interested in pleasing you.

As Eddie ordered the cab, he couldn’t help but let the images of you orgasming flash in his head. It was the hottest thing hearing you moan like that and he was looking forward to hearing it again and again even after the night was over. Maybe if he played his cards right, you’d invite him over again.

You exited the bathroom as Eddie hung up the phone and placed your lips on his, pulling him in for a sweet kiss that has been the exact opposite of the last one you had given him.

“C’mon,” you reached for his hand once you pulled away. “Let get out of here.” He put his hand in yours and you led him out of the bathroom and through the club, confident that you’d make his second time even better than the first.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Maybe, Baby?

Summary: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap, silly gooses), creampie, praise kink, size kink (if u squint), unintentional breeding kink (lmaoooo, it's me, sorry not sorry), birth control/family planning, pregnancy (or maybe not? part 2 maybe? hehe) symptoms, Frankie and reader mention being closer to 30 than 16 (turns out when you're an adult, it's not a teen pregnancy anymore), reader has hair that can be played with, Frankie being the sweetest husband alive (all the gold stars for him), Frankie is so excited to be a dad that I just may pass away

A/N: I know y'all voted for me to finish chapter 20 but i lied (I'm so sorry), but I wrote this in a day and husband Frankie was really speaking to me on this one 😭 This one is brought to you by my raging baby fever and perhaps some real life inspiration WHOOPS, art imitating life on this one ig 💀 Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll!!!

Ever since getting off birth control a few months ago, your body had felt… different. 

While you were glad you had made the change for yourself, you still found yourself shocked every month when a new sort of symptom decided to appear at some point in your cycle that you had never dealt with before- acne in new places, weird cramps, and crazy mood swings that showed up out of nowhere before your period were just a few of the things you were learning to manage as you figured out your body post birth control. 

Another symptom you hadn’t expected was that now, you were insatiably horny. 

All the time. 

While Frankie had been more supportive and caring in helping you deal with all of your not so pleasant symptoms than you could have hoped for, he was also more than happy to help you with your newly found positive one, too. 

The only problem was, after so many years of not having to worry about the consequences of your sex life on birth control, you and Frankie were finding it very hard to adjust to be more… careful. 

As you got hornier and hornier, the box of condoms that Frankie had bought after you stopped taking the pill had been seeing less and less use, and to be honest, hadn’t really seen the light of day from the back of his nightstand drawer in about a month an a half- and if you were being even more honest, on top of that, Frankie’s pull out game was almost nowhere to be found. 

You both knew that you wanted a family in the future- That was a part of your reason for getting off birth control to begin with. The two of you had agreed to hold off at least for a little longer to try and get your life more in order before bringing a baby into it, but with with your new lack of protection when it came to sex, and constant horniness around the clock, you both were beginning to have a feeling that that your agreed upon timeline for having a baby might be harder for you to maintain that you thought. 

Especially when you found yourself morphing into an unspeakably horny monster when you were ovulating. 

So little did you realize, that as you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the two of you were getting ready for bed and you caught a glimpse in the mirror of Frankie, stripping out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers as he searched around in your dresser for pajamas, that was the reason you nearly spit out your entire mouthful of toothpaste to try and get a mouthful of something else. 

You couldn’t help but ogle at your husband's broad body and freckled tan skin, muscles flexing as he shuffled through your drawers, pulling out an old, worn gray t-shirt and tugging it over his head, running his hand through his messy, curly hair before searching for his pajama bottoms.

At this point, you had honestly braced yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter to keep yourself from falling over at how mouth-watering he looked, already feeling the wetness beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear at the thought of wanting to rip his clothes off just as fast as he had put them on. 

Letting out a yawn, Frankie raised his hands above his head so a sliver of his soft belly peaked out between his waistband and shirt hem before making his way into the bathroom, sleepily padding along the tile floor until his body was behind yours, chest flushed against your back and arms wrapped around your waist. Even more prevalent, his bulge pressed against your ass, making the wet spot in your underwear grow damper by the second. 

“You ready for bed, querida?” Frankie cooed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder and smiling at your reflections in the mirror. 

While you were absolutely ready to get into bed, sleeping was not going to be your activity of choice.  

“I think that maybe…” You paused, turning around to face Frankie, his body caging yours against the counter, palms splayed flat on either side of your hips, looking down at you with his sweet, brown eyes, “I think that maybe we should do something else before we go to sleep.” 

“Something else, huh?” Frankie smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as your hands began to run up and down his arms, slightly squeezing the muscles of his biceps as your fingers crept under the fabric of his shirt sleeves. “And what might that something else be, Hermosa?” 

“You know exactly what it is, Fransisco. You expect me to watch you just roam around shirtless in our bedroom and not get all hot and bothered? God, you’re so fucking hot.” You moaned, letting your hands run up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him in for a long, electric kiss. 

“Damn, what’s gotten into you, babe?” Frankie chuckled, trying his best not to blush at your comment, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“I don’t- Fuck, I don’t know, I just know that if you don’t fuck me right this second, I think I’m gonna explode.” 

While your statement may have had a flair for the dramatic, it was just about as close to the God’s honest truth as you could get- You were so worked up, you felt practically feral, the ache in your core so strong that you really did feel like you were on the verge of implosion. 

Before you even gave Frankie time to respond, your lips were crashing into his with a ferocious intensity, your hands grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt as you stumbled back towards your bedroom, bodies bumping and bouncing against the walls and door frames, mouths never parting as the back of Frankie’s knees finally hit the mattress, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed. 

Crawling overtop of him, you were already straddled over his hips, grinding your bottom half on the bulge growing in his pajamas as your hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, running along the tanned, soft skin of his chest, making him let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat. 

Frantically shuffling himself further onto the bed, Frankie’s hands dug into your hips and over your ass as your hands slid down from his chest to his waistband, fingers tugging at the elastic to shuffle his bottoms and boxers down his legs, quickly followed by your own, dropping to a crumpled pile on the floor. 

Feeling your fingers wrap around his cock, already painfully hard, you swirled the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb before dragging your hand up and down his length, leaving Frankie sitting up in surprise while he watched you begin to hover over him, dragging his dick through your folds. 

“Hermosa, are you sure you don’t need me to-” But before Frankie could finish the rest of his protest to make sure you were ready to take him, you were already sinking down onto him, whimpering at the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness, followed by the ragged moan escaping Frankie’s lips. 

“Oh fuck… Nuh uh, Frankie. I need to feel you, baby. Needed to feel you inside me.” You whined, taking Frankie cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure. 

Normally with Frankie’s size, you would have needed to warm you up first, but with how wet and worked up you already were, you were able to take him with ease, desperate to feel him buried deep inside you. 

“Jesus fucking christ, queirda, you’re so fucking wet. Fuck, baby.” Frankie moaned, feeling you begin to slide up and down his length, coating him with your arousal with each swirl of your hips. 

Arching your back, you jutted your hips forward, bracing your hands on Frankie’s strong thighs, circling your bottom half against his, whimpering at his fullness and the hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your clit, selfishly already longing to chase your own high to ease the ache that had been burning in your core. 

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. Feel so fucking full with you in me.” You whimpered, bouncing even harder and faster on Frankie’s cock, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping his and wetness dripping from your heat coating the walls of your bedroom. 

“Yeah? This what you wanted, pretty girl? Wanted me to stretch this pretty little pussy out and fill you up?” Frankie groaned, gritting his teeth as he began to jut his hips up into yours as you rode him, the added depth of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure. 

And for as fucking good as it felt, the horny monster you had morphed into had you greedily craving more- to have Frankie stretch you open in a way that had you seeing stars, so much that you could still feel the next day, long after the two of you were finished. 

“I-I want more, p-please, baby. Fuck- Fuck me harder, Fransisco.” You cried, your sweet voice whimpering his full name turning him almost as feral as you were, letting out a low growl as he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you so that your back hit the mattress and he was caging his broad body over yours. 

Practically ripping the t-shirt still covering your upper half off your body, Frankie dove face first between your breasts, groping one while hungrily sucking at the other, flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue, his free hand reaching down to line his cock back up with your entrance, sliding back in to your aching core with ease. 

Frankie let himself sink all the way back in, filling you to the brim before hooking his arms around your knees, pressing your legs against your stomach, smirking to himself at the ragged moan you let out as the new angle opened you up even further. 

“You want me to fuck you harder, Hermosa?” Frankie mewled, slowly dragging his length out of your heat, looking down to see your shiny slick soaking his cock before looking back at you and the wrecked expression plastered across your face, frantically nodding in desperation. “Tell me how badly you want it, sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, I need you so bad, Fransisco, please.” You begged, damn near close to tears with how deeply you needed to feel Frankie ease the emptiness inside you. “Please, baby, I- oh fuck-”  

Before you could even finish the rest of your plea, your breath was already hitched in the back of your throat as Frankie began to pound into you at a relentless pace, tightening his grip around your thighs while he pressed them closer to your chest, grunting with each rut of his hips into yours. 

“This what you want, querida? Meirda- so fucking wet and tight, baby girl. You feel so fucking good, holy fuck.” 

It didn’t take long for the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine to start spreading through your body like a wildfire as Frankie continued to slam into your g-spot, making you chant his name like a prayer, your brain at a loss for any other words than “Fuck, Fransisco.” 

And as if you already weren’t close enough, when Frankie reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing in relentless circles against your sensitive nub, you knew you were a fucking goner. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. Cum for me, baby. Want that- oh fuck- want that prefect pussy to fucking soak me.” Frankie groaned, feverishly pounding into you, desperate to feel you come undone for him giving him long enough to fight off his own high that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach. 

A few more thrusts were all it took to have the coil snapping in your belly, crying out Frankie’s name as you came, orgasm ripping through your body with a blinding intensity, eyes scrunching shut and jaw hanging open while pleasure and euphoria flowed through every ounce of you. 

Still blissed out and wrecked out of your mind, your eyes shot open as Frankie’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers and moans in a messy dance of tongues and teeth. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Jesus fuck-  fuck, I’m close too, baby. W-where do you want me, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, barley holding on long enough for you to answer, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his hips began to stutter, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow with every ounce of self control he had left. 

Still barley coherent enough to form a sentence, your brain blurted out the only thing you could think of, and the only thing that you really wanted in the moment. 

“Inside, Fransisco. Fuck, cum inside me, baby.” 

That alone was almost enough to send Frankie over the edge, letting out a long, low groan, sloppily rutting into you as his brain went blank alongside yours, starting to babble incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- you want me to fill you up, queirda? Fuck, I’ll fucking fill you up so good you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Oh fuck, shit baby, fuck, oh I’m gonnaahhhhhh-“ 

Just like that, Frankie took one last thrust, spilling deep inside you, coating your walls with his spend as his body slumped into yours, the pair of your chests rising and falling in sync as you both came back down to earth. 

“Jesus Christ… Holy fuck, Frankie.” You giggled quietly to yourself, blissfully filled with post orgasm ecstasy as your husband carefully pulled himself out before rolling over next to you on the bed, pulling you close against his chest. 

“Fuck me, Hermosa, holy shit.” Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, tracing small circles on your back as he held you, heat radiating off of each other's sweat-ridden bodies. “God, I love you. We should probably get you cleaned up. You wanna shower?” He asked, smirking as your face lit up at his nearly rhetorical question. 

“Only if you’re up for round 2, Morales.”   

“My eyes are up here, Fransisco.” 

“Hmmm? What did you say?” 

“Exactly my point. Can you stop looking with your man eyes and look with your normal, helpful people eyes to help me decide on a dress for Benny and Victoria’s wedding?” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you raised an eyebrow at Frankie, his gaze still fixed on your chest. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be helpful.” Frankie huffed, overdramatically rolling his eyes at you, playfully throwing his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the dressing room door, looking you up and down in one of the cute floral dresses you had picked to try on for your friends’ upcoming wedding. “It’s just that… Nevermind.” 

“It’s just that what, Frank?” You asked tilting your head in confusion at your husband as his eyes traveled back to your breasts, furled look in his brow like he was really staring there to prove a point. 

“It’s just that- Baby, I don’t know if it’s just the dress or what, but your boobs look huge. Like, they always look good, believe me, but like… Whew.” Frankie whistled, practically shaking his head in disbelief at how good you looked. 

“Really?” You asked, turning around to face the mirror in the dressing room, gently cupping your breasts, grimacing as you held them in your hands. “Yeah, I guess they do… Honestly, I was gonna complain about how sore they’ve been all day. I wonder if maybe my period is just coming early?” 

“Maybe? You did ride me pretty hard the last couple nights and put on a good show, so maybe they hurt from all that bouncing and-” 

“Frankie! We are in public!” You playfully scolded, giving him a flimsy slap to the chest to cut off the rest of his thought, the two of you quietly giggling to yourselves and trying to “Shhhh” each other from drawing too much attention to your dressing room stall. “The dress, you goofball, yes or no? Sooner we pick, the sooner we can go get food, because your wife is starving.” 

“I vote yes on the dress. You look beautiful in it, querida.” Frankie smiled, stepping behind you to press a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You just like it because it makes my boobs look huge.” 

“What? Can you blame me for wanting to stare at my gorgeous wife’s boobs all night?” 

“God, you are ridiculous, Fransisco. Fine, boob dress wins. Now let’s get out of here and go get some food before you get stuck in a titty trance and I die of hunger.” 

While the rest of your Saturday was spent enjoying the delicious Mexican food that you had picked up on the way home and a much needed night in on the couch with Frankie, there was a tiny part of your brain that couldn’t seem to shake his comment from earlier about how big your boobs looked. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him, because truth be told, they felt huge, too. They had been sore since you had woken up this morning, and while you had chalked it up to what you and Frankie had been up to the past few nights, or bad PMS symptoms, there was still just something about you that felt off. 

Later that night, during your movie marathon, you had paused whatever new action movie Frankie had been begging to watch since it had popped up on Netflix a few days ago for a popcorn refill. 

While Frankie meandered around the kitchen waiting for the next bag of popcorn to finish popping, you stayed curled up with your blanket in your corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, until a sharp twinge began to cramp in your lower stomach. The feeling took you by surprise, digging your fingers into your side to try and ease the dull and achy sensation as your face scrunched in confusion, wondering why in the world you had what felt like period cramps in your belly. 

“Hey, you okay, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, returning with popcorn in hand, his face painted with concern to see the pained look scrunched between your brow as you curled deeper into the couch. 

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just um, I just had a weird cramp I guess. Probably just ate all that popcorn too fast.” You replied, trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince Frankie that you were overthinking whatever mystery symptoms had just flashed through your lower half. 

“Here, lemme just set this popcorn down and then I can rub your back while we finish the movie, okay?” Frankie smiled softly, setting down the bowl on the coffee table before crawling back under the sea of blankets on the couch with you, laying your head against his thigh like a pillow while his hand traced up and down along the small of your back. 

“Thanks, Frankie.” You whispered quietly, taking a few deep breaths as the familiar warmth of your husband’s palm worked up and down the worn fabric of his shirt that you had put on earlier. 

“Of course, baby. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay? Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the popcorn if you have any more there, Killer.” 

The two of you laughed quietly as Frankie leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair laid across his lap before picking up the remote to let the rest of the movie play as your eyelids began to get heavier and heavier as you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

“What’s inside this box?” 

“Open it up and find out! It’s a surprise for you!” 

“Okay? Huh, why is it just a pregnancy test in there?” 

“It’s yours! Congratulations! You’re having a baby!” 

“Ahhhhh!” You shrieked, panting as you woke from a cold sweat, shooting up from the couch. “What the fuck…” You whispered to yourself, coming to and realizing that you were now awake and had only been dreaming moments before this. Running your hands over your face, you blinked a few times to be greeted by the dim light of the TV still flickering in the background, Frankie sprawled out and snoring by your side where the two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. 

“What a weird fucking dream…” You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you quietly pushed yourself off the couch to stumble to the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to check what ungodly hour of the night it had to be since the two of you had crashed on the couch. 

2:07 A.M. 

You let out a low grumble, pushing your sweatpants down to your ankles as you sat down to pee, blinking your eyes open wider to look through the notifications piled on top of each other on your lockscreen. Mindlessly swiping through a few junk emails and text messages from group chats, one notification in particular caught your eye, rousing you from your half awake state. 

“Feeling down? As you begin your Luteal Phase of your cycle, it’s normal to be less cheerful compared to last week when you were Ovulating! Click to track your cycle symptoms for today!” 

Oh shit.  

You could feel your heart beginning to race as you opened up the app, scrolling to the calendar tracker for the month. Swiping through the days, it didn’t take you long to realize that despite all of your weird symptoms you had been chalking up to PMS, you were almost two weeks away from starting your period. Frantically scrolling backwards, you began to try and rack your brain of all of the times in the past week that you had sex with Frankie while you would have been ovulating, and out of that number, how many times he hadn’t finished inside you, let alone even attempt to pull out. 

And that number was a big, fat zero. 

That’s when it hit you like a fucking freight train- You weren’t PMS-ing.

More than likely, you were pregnant. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling and heart pounding as you buried your face in your trembling hands, your mind flooding with a million different thoughts all at once. 

How could you not remember that you were ovulating? Would Frankie be upset? The two of you weren’t even trying for kids right now. Would you be a good Mom? What were you even going to need to do to prepare? Your house was starting to get small for just you and Frankie, let alone a baby. How were you going to find a new place to live in 9 months? And get a new car? How were you- 

“Baby, you good in there?” Frankie groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, bright light flooding into the hallway and revealing the sobbing mess you had become, still pants down, hunched over the toilet. 

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Baby, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me, Hermosa. Are you okay? What happened?” You could feel Frankie’s demeanor immediately switch as soon as he saw you in the bathroom, instantly dropping to his knees by your side, his hands gently grabbing your face to shift your gaze towards him, carefully swiping his thumb to dry the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. 

“Frankie, I- I- Fuck.” You stuttered, gulping hard as you tried to catch your breath, fighting back your nervous sobs as you locked eyes with Frankie, wondering how in the world you were ever about to brace him for the news you were about to tell him. 

“Hermosa, what is it? Please, tell me baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie pleaded, softly squeezing your face in reassurance as he waited for your response. 

You took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself enough to at least try to get a coherent thought out, swallowing hard as the words left your mouth. 

“Frankie, I-, Frankie, I think- I think I’m pregnant.” 

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to process what you had just told him, wondering if he hadn’t heard you right in his groggy state. 

“W-what?” 

“I think I might be pregnant, Frankie.” 

Before you could even bear the thought of looking at his face again, filled with fear that it would be a look of shock and disappointment, you buried your face in your hands again, fighting with everything in you not to cry and keep your composure. 

Frankie sat quietly for a moment, his hand covering up the gaping hole his jaw had made as it nearly hit the floor, shaking his head in disbelief before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling your hands to look at him. 

“R-really? You- fuck- You really think you’re pregnant?” 

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t believe the look on your husbands face- Not only was Frankie practically grinning from ear to ear, the sweet brown of his puppy dog eyes were welling with happy tears of their own, waiting on your every word as if he still didn’t believe what he was hearing. Silently, you began to slowly nod your head, biting down on your tongue, your heart feeling like it was about to shoot out of your chest. 

“You’re...y-you’re not upset?” You stammered, sitting up a little taller at Frankie’s reaction. 

“Upset? Hermosa, why in the world would I ever be upset?” Frankie laughed quietly, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his other hand cupped your jaw. “Querida… There’s nothing more I want on this earth than to have a family. And-fuck- The fact that it gets to be with you? That you might give me a family? How could I ever be upset about that? 

“Well it’s not like we were really trying for a baby, Frank. We said another year or two. With the house and money -” 

“Hey. We’ll figure it all out, okay? I promise, we’ll be more than okay.” Frankie smiled, his goofy grin still stretched wide between his cheeks, finally easing some of your worry. 

“I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to have a kid. I feel like I need to call up MTV to tell them I’ll be on the next season of 16 and Pregnant.” The two of you snorted, shaking your heads in awestruck disbelief that a stupid joke about a reality TV show could soon become your reality. 

“Well considering we’re married, have a house, and most importantly, are much closer to 30 than we are 16, I think they may have a hard time pitching the show “Married Couple Has a Baby”.” Frankie teased, giving you a playful nudge as the two of you laughed, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before trying to dig into details. “Did- Did you take a test? How long have you known?”

“No, I don’t know for sure yet, Frank. It’s… It’s just a feeling, I guess. But the huge, sore boobs, weird, period-like cramps and the fact that we really haven’t been the most careful are all pretty good clues.” 

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, we’ve tried to be care-” 

Before Frankie could even finish the rest of his thought, you were already giving him the sassiest look you could muster in your overwhelmed and sleepy state, making the two of you laugh again he let out a sigh of defeat. 

“Okay, yeah, we really haven’t been that careful at all. Sweetie, listen, I- I know it’s not what we had planned, but… I mean, if you are pregnant…” Frankie paused, smiling at your stomach as he gently place a hand over your belly, tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, “Baby, I would be so excited. Nervous as hell, but so fucking excited.” 

“Me too.” You sniffed, looking down at Frankie’s palm splayed across your stomach, heart swelling at the thought of Frankie being dad, thinking of how sweet and caring and perfect he’d be as you grew your little family together. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Frankie in close, letting out a shaky sigh, whispering your words through happy tears. 

“I love you so much, Frankie.” 

“I love you so much too, Hermosa. More than anything.” 

For the sake of Frankie’s shoulder, you pulled away to wipe your tears to keep from soaking your husband’s shirt, quietly laughing to yourself at the fact that this whole time you had been talking to Frankie, you had still been pantsless, hunched over the toilet. 

“It probably would have been way more romantic to tell you all of this not at 2:30 in the morning, pantsless and hunched over the toilet like a little gremlin.” You snorted, Frankie following suit as he shook his head, running his hand through the sleepy curls of your hair. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, mi amor. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed.” 

As the two of you sleepily trotted your way upstairs, curling together under the warmth of your comforter with Frankie’s chest pressed against your back, you couldn’t help but smile as his arm draped over your stomach, hand resting on your belly while his thumb traced soft circles on your skin, imagining what it would be like if a few months from now if you really were getting ready to add another member to your family. 

The next morning, as the sunrise began to spill through your curtains, casting bright orange and pink shadows on your bedroom walls, you couldn’t help but stir as the familiar scent and warmth of Frankie’s body was missing from his side of the bed.

 As you sat up in the sea of blankets and comforters, softly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Frankie’s frame quietly sneaking through the bedroom door, fresh mug of coffee and bag of breakfast in hand with a stupid smile plastered across his face as he was greeted with your barely awake grin. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Frankie cooed, setting down the coffee and breakfast down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing a tender kiss into the sleep-ridden ends of your hair before wrapping his arms around you in a long embrace. 

“Good morning, handsome.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a little grunt and laying your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “What’s all this for?” You asked, gesturing towards the coffee and oversized McDonald’s bag, assuming it was the reason for Frankie’s absence when you woke up. 

“I- I don’t know, I uh- I was just really excited when I got up this morning. It was early, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I made a trip to CVS to buy some pregnancy tests for you and figured I’d pick up breakfast on the way home.” Frankie smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, brushing past his untamed morning curls. “I know- I know you can’t really take the tests yet- I spent a lot of time reading the boxes in the store and wasn’t really sure what the best one was to take, so I got like, 4 different ones for when it's time.” 

“God, you’re so sweet. You’re the best, you know that? It’s about to be a long week of waiting before I can take one of those. Do you- fuck, Frankie, do you think it could really be positive?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as you smiled up at your husband, already beaming back at you, picturing the two pink lines showing up on all of the tests he had bought for you. 

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He smirked, gently cupping your face, swiping his thumb across your face. “But if it’s not, then maybe… Maybe we start trying for a positive one on purpose.” 

“R-really?” You grinned, biting down on your lip in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Frankie replied, bringing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, soaking in the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “And maybe…” 

“Maybe, what, Fransisco?” You giggled, bringing your mouth back to his in a sweet and sloppy kiss. 

“Maybe…. We start trying right now, ya know, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want all those pregnancy tests to go to waste.”

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @amyispxnk @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello!!! ^^ I love the work you do for JJBA and really enjoy reading it!! Now for the request. How would the Jofoes react to a child!reader (platonic) they sorta took under their wing having a sorta of imprinting ability (copycat in other words). Like one day they catch the reader practicing outside trying to act cool like them and then all of a sudden a piece of the land is destroyed because they somehow used an ability similar to theirs. After the shock the reader is absolutely jolly and sees them watching them and is just, “Wooooah!! That was so cool!! Hey Dad, did you see that!? Did you see me!? Did you see what I did!?”

hii ^^ i'm so happy you enjoy reading my posts, thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy <333

DIO

He watches from a balcony like a dramatic theater critic sipping wine- until the ground craters in slow motion with a golden glow.

“...ZAWARUDO- ?! Wait, no. Did you just... freeze time for half a second?”

You beam at him, dust all over your clothes, yelling, “DID YOU SEE THAT, DAD?!”

DIO blinks, then gives the most delighted evil chuckle. “Splendid. My heir already shows promise.”

But then he gets possessive. “No one touches the child. This power is mine to nurture. Mine alone.”

Now you have a tutor. And an ego boost. He’s already planning your world domination arc.

Kars

You’re throwing rocks and mimicking his regal stance when one of the rocks suddenly splits mid-air into tiny shards.

Kars stops mid-thought and stares. You just mimicked the Pillar Men's body manipulation, specifically his arm blade.

You spin toward him, eyes sparkling. “DID YOU SEE THAT, DAD?!!”

He crosses his arms, trying to remain composed- but a proud grin slips out. “Yes. You are... adapting faster than expected.”

From then on, he watches your training like a proud bird mom.

Also, he starts getting way more careful around you because what if you go all Ultimate Life Form mode and grow gills at breakfast.

Yoshikage Kira

You’d been copying his quiet mannerisms, playing with your food and clipping your nails more often. Then you giggle, snap your fingers, and a rock explodes.

His soul leaves his body. “Wha- W-WHAT WAS THAT?”

You squeal, “I did the thing! I did the thing, Dad!! I made it go BOOM like you!!”

Kira freezes. 

He awkwardly kneels beside you. “Okay. Okay. First, we don’t use our powers around... pets. Or school. Or hands.”

You: “Okay! :D”

He: internally sweating bullets for the next 7 years.

Diavolo

A patch of reality skips forward, erasing a few seconds like King Crimson.

You: “WAAAAHOOO!!! I MADE TIME GO WHOOSH!! DAD LOOK I DID IT!!”

Diavolo SCREECHES internally. “HOW- HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW ABOUT THAT?!”

He immediately spirals into a paranoia loop. “Have I been around you too long? Is fate conspiring through you?”

But also... “Good. You’re strong. But you will never be allowed near my diary.”

You’re now on an extremely strict training schedule with Doppio acting as your babysitter.

Doppio

You copy his “talking on the phone” habit, but one day you accidentally get a vision of the future.

Doppio stares as you perfectly dodge a bird dropping.

You wave. “Didja see that, Dad! I saw that that bird was gonna poop and dodged it!!!”

He drops the imaginary phone. “Y-Y-You did amazing, sweetheart!!”

Then he sprints to call The Boss about it. “Boss!! Boss!! The kid has powers! What do we do!?”

You’re the only person Doppio ever fully encourages. He helps you practice, cheerleading while you do near-future telling.

Pucci

You’d been copying his calm monologues. One day, you mumble a random Bible verse and... gravity distorts. A tree bends sideways.

Pucci goes stone cold still.

You: “I DID SOMETHING COOL, DAD!! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

He walks slowly to you, kneels, places a hand on your head. “Yes, child. You are touched by heaven.”

Then he goes off to write a 10-page sermon about you. He sees this as fate.

You’re now his little holy prodigy. The church choir starts composing you-themed hymns.

Funny Valentine

You’d been mimicking his posture and patriot speeches. One day, you accidentally swap with your alternate self. You come back with different shoes.

Valentine stops mid-sentence. “...Did you just breach the dimensional veil.”

You: “Yeah!! I jumped and my shoes changed!! COOL, RIGHT DAD?!”

He nods solemnly. “You are the embodiment of American evolution.”

He immediately requests Secret Service supervision for you. You now have a full security detail and your own presidential-themed notebook.

Diego Brando

You copy his confident walk and British insults. Then you snort, stomp your foot- and the ground trembles.

You turn around, grinning. “DAD!! I DID THE DINO THING!!!”

Diego gapes. “How the hell did you do that?! You’re not even... you're not even a dinosaur!!”

But inside he’s SO proud. You get a tiny cowboy hat and he makes you pose next to his raptors.

“You’re my little Velocibaby,” he mutters proudly. Then warns you: “Don’t do that in public or you’ll end up in the newspapers for the wrong reasons.”

Tooru

You’re copying his lazy posture and listening to Elvis. Then you wave at your friend approaching you- and a random boulder flings itself into a ravine near them.

Tooru, sipping juice: “...Was that... Wonder of U?”

You: “I DID A FUNNY THING!! DAD!! I MADE THE UNIVERSE HATE MY FRIEND!!”

He chokes. “What….”

He’s both horrified and deeply impressed.

He now acts like it’s no big deal but is very much watching you all the time.

And if you ever start getting secretive or manipulative- He melts. “…Damn. You really are my kid.”

[thiccpersonality]

5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him)

2: The Gala

Bruce doesn't really like parties, he's not prone to throwing them nor is he likely to go to them, especially with all the loudness, the music and...the people. Which is quite redundant to say as a party is made up of people--anyway, Bruce hates parties, more specifically: useless parties around people he either doesn't know or doesn't like-and for what? Just to watch and wait as the guests flock around him like birds to a lone breadcrumb? Just to wait on them to kiss his ass?

Plus, the omega doesn't need parties when he's got his hands full with a loud one named Jason, and in Bruce's unbiased opinion, his new pup is the best party he's ever witnessed.

An excited yip pulls Bruce from his brooding, the displeased scrunch of his brow smoothing out to look relaxed, his frown turning up to a happy smile at the sight of Jason posing in his new suit. "How do I look, B? Good you say? I know. Thank you." A humored rumble escapes from Bruce's throat, the sight of the pup's messily done tie causing the omega to frown and pull Jason closer to him. "You do look good, very good, great even. Your tie is just-" Bruce raises a brow at small teeth gently digging into his fingers, Jason growling in a way that he thinks is intimidating, but in fact is just adorably soft and squeaky...like a puppy trying to bark for the first time.

"But Alfred said I could tie it on my own. And I thought you said I looked good?"

At Jason's imploring look, Bruce just sighs softly in defeat. "Yes, very good, great even is what I said-"

Jason smiles and interrupts the omega again, nuzzling into the other's chest and looking up at him with satisfied baby blue's. "So...were you lying to me, mom?"

Those two words seem to do the trick for Bruce, the omega melting at the cute display and nuzzling his pup's head and neck. "No...I wasn't lying to you. You look really good, and I mean that. Your tie isn't bad at all-" he pulls away to look at the tie, beating down his instincts to clean the messy loops up in favor of smiling at it-"it just has character."

Jason gives a toothy smile and puffs his chest out proudly while patting the tie.

"His name is Rick Astley." 

Bruce can't help but to chuckle in surprise at the name, "You mean...like the singer, Rick Astley?" At Jason's enthusiastic nod, he decides to give the pup what he wants and ask him why choose that name. "And of all the names you could choose, you chose Rick becaaaause?"

"Because I never gave up on this tie!"

Jason smiles happily at the genuine laugh he pulls from the usually stoic omega-his mom. "I thought you'd like that one! I've been working on that since I asked to tie this thing myself. I'll be here on Thursdays." Bruce covers his mouth with his hand to hide his smile, it's something he always feels embarrassed about, especially as he's used to fake smiling anyway...he never expected to laugh this much when adopting children. "So, you'll only be here on Thursdays? I thought you liked this place enough to stay with me?"

Even though it's just a joke, Jason can't help but to get defensive at the mere thought of leaving Bruce's side, the death of his biological mother still too fresh in his mind and causing him to hug onto the omega's leg tightly. "I love it! I feel safe here and no one can take me away!"

The slightly distressed scent coming from Jason causes Bruce to churr softly, the sound immediately causing the younger to slump in relief, the boy's eyes closing at the feeling of fingers gently gliding through his hair. "Shh~ I know, Jay, I know. No one could ever take you away...I wouldn't allow it, you hear me?" A small knock on his bedroom door causes Bruce to sigh softly, "We'll be right out, Alfred-" he stops to turn to Jason, fixing his pup's hair one last time and holding back a smile at the child's displeased grumble at being doted on-"Are you sure that you're ready? You don't have to go out there if you aren't comfortable yet."

It's been something gone unspoken all evening, but Bruce knows Jason is nervous to go out there to people who are nothing like him. Especially as they are the same people who would turn their noses up at the sight of kids like Jay, thinking they are better than them just cause they have lavish lives and the money to flaunt around whenever, that's something the omega knows his pup has been cautious about ever since he told the boy he's hosting an event.

And it's with humor and corny jokes that the pup has been hiding behind this whole time, all to not let Bruce know just how scared this is making him.

Jason-as per usual-just smiles wide and straightens his suit jacket with small, clammy hands. "What? You just want to keep me all to yourself? I was born ready, B. Let's go!" Bruce watches his pup slip out the door and immediately show Alfred his tie with pride, desiring to desperately answer, 'yes', he wants to keep his baby all to himself because he's selfish and desperate in the presence of Jason's mischievous grins and sincere laughs, that he's greedy for that piece of light in his life. So desperate that he wants to hoard it all to himself like a dragon with its most prized treasure.

Because, if Bruce feels like he doesn't deserve a son like Jason, he knows that none of those suck ups out there deserve to even be anywhere near Jason's innocence.

————°————

Lois looks at her wristwatch impatiently for the thousandth time in a row, causing Clark to sigh exasperatedly at his friend. "Lo, no matter how many times you glance at the time, it won't make it go by any faster."

The female omega clicks her tongue impatiently, "No duh! But maybe if I do, our very special host might appear quicker?" She glances at her watch once more, looking back up expectantly towards the staircase. "Has he arrived yet? Do you see him, Kent? Why is he even taking this long-" Clark opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by Lois answering her own question-"I bet it's a power move, huh? He's doing this to show how we wait for him and not the other way around. Rich kids, am I right?"

Clark pushes up his glasses to distract himself from covering up the woman's mouth, his ears flushing in embarrassment on Lois's behalf at the socialites that look their way for her outburst.

"Shh! Be a little more quiet when...stating your opinion, maybe? And Mr. Wayne is only taking so long because he's introducing his new pup tonight, you know how protective he was about Richard Grayson. Why wouldn't he be about this one?" Lois softens at the mention of Bruce's eldest child, "Oh yeah...I forgot about that. Do you think this kid will be just as cute as the other one? I've heard some speculators say that this new pup looks similar to Bruce and Richard, they are convinced that our gracious omega host is the one actually giving birth to these pups himself and he just doesn't remember who the father is."

"Lois-" Clark grumbles in displeasure at the piece of gossip, doing his best to keep the alpha out of his tone-"Those are just rumors and gossip as far as you know--and, I don't want to hear about how 'I know his reputation'. Someone that dedicated to their kids surely doesn't sleep around that much."

At his friend's prolonged silence, he turns to look at her, blushing red at the raised brow he gets. "I-I mean...not saying that he can't not sleep around. I just-"

Lois snorts and pats Clark on the back, "Stop putting your foot in your mouth. You're up to the heel. And I get what you're saying, okay? I was only stating what I read and heard from different people, and despite how harsh I was with Bruce at first, after seeing him with his family...I don't believe those rumors anymore."

Clark rolls his eyes, "By: 'after seeing him with family,' do you actually mean, 'when I saw how the papers don't do his face justice?' That was when you started to not believe the rumors?"

Lois's impish smile is answer enough for Clark, the beta simply sighing the woman's name in exasperated fondness.

The two turn back to looking in anticipation at the staircase, Clark slowly frowning at realizing how casually Lois referred to Bruce, what is that about? But before he can turn to ask her about it, the crowd of reporters push ahead of them at the sight of Bruce Wayne, their cameras flashing and voices rising as they each try to get the omega's attention, Lois shouting above all of them towards Jimmy. "Push harder, Olsen, harder! Get the good spot!"

"Aaand I lost her." Clark watches as Lois claws her way to Jimmy's side, helping the timid beta make his way to the very front.

That's fine. Clark will patiently wait his turn until things are calmed down enough for him to approach Bruce without the fear of being pushed around...of course he can't be hurt, but the thought of accidentally hurting someone with his super strength stresses him out, so waiting the eager reporters out it is.

Luckily enough, the crowd seems to have learned some sort of lesson from the last incident when they startled the omega in the desperation to catch pictures of his new pup, the photographers standing at a decent enough distance as they snap their pic's, their eyes practically shining at the sight of the small pup holding onto Bruce's hand and curiously lifting his head to sniff out who exactly is in the crowd. Everyone grows quiet at the omega's protective glare being shot to the crowd, a tingle shooting down Clark's spine at the feeling of déjà vu the look gives him. 

Bruce ignores the loud click of the cameras as he bends down to whisper to the pup, his voice a soothing rumble. "Jay, do you want me to introduce you?"

Jason squeezes onto the warm hand in his own cool one's, stepping out from Bruce's side with a wide smile, his hands lifting to rest on his hips as he uses all the confidence he witnesses his mom having to lift up his nose to the sky as if he owns the place, as if he belongs here around everyone else. "Nice to meetcha folks! I'm Jason Peter Todd!" The crowd goes silent before pushing forward slightly to ask Jason questions, the pup posing for the cameras while Bruce looks on in a mix of fondness, pride and worry, he still doesn't trust the media fully after all these years. 

Vicki Vale manages to push herself forward at the same time Lois Lane does, the two glaring at each other before turning to smile at Jason sweetly. 

"A word from you Mr. Todd?"

Lois taps her foot impatiently at Vicki beating her to the request, the boy turning to them and sniffing at them curiously. "They put ya in a suit and suddenly you are known as Mr-" the pup holds his hand up in a 'wait' gesture, tugging on his suit and clearing his throat-"Please, ladies, Mr was my father. Call me Jason...or cute, I wouldn't mind the latter from you beauties."

Vicki and Lois look at each other humored, both remembering their professionalism even though they wish to ask the boy exactly who his father is.

"Well, these beauties definitely wouldn't mind having a word with you-" Lois looks up at Bruce with a relaxed smile-"that is...if your mom wouldn't mind us asking you a couple questions? I'm sure...Ms. Vale and I can share you for a couple minutes? Again, if Mr. Wayne doesn't mind?" Jason looks excited at the thought of talking to them, a questioning call slipping from his throat to easily catch Bruce's attention, the omega responding with his own answering chirp. "Jason? What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

The boy nods quickly, causing his waves to bounce wildly around on his head despite how many times Bruce has tried to smooth it down to something tameable. "They wanna ask me questions, can I go with them?"

Bruce stands next to his son's side, placing his hands gently on the small shoulders as he nods his head in greeting of the two women. "Vicki, Lois, it's nice to see you both here tonight-" his eyes rove over the women distrustfully, even though he knows he can trust these two with his pup, he still can't help the protective instincts that come about whenever anyone is near his kids-"I'm glad you could make it. You...want to ask him questions?"

Lois nods, "If you'll allow us to? I know you gotta make your rounds greeting everyone first, but, we were hoping to get a word from the new guy-" purple eyes search the room briefly before focusing back on Bruce-"Speaking of guys, where's Richard? The media would be eating him up about now, and I'm sure he could watch over Jason while we talk to him." The mention of the eldest Wayne causes Jason to pout, "He has these things called...responsibilities and obligations right now, for some reason? I asked him to come tonight but he's doing school stuff and 'friend' things right now."

Bruce chuckles at Jason quoting 'friends' and murmuring something about stupid older brother's, his hands gently fixing up the boy's hair as he speaks. "Well, Dickybird will be here for plenty future events, and do you really want him here right now? He would enjoy embarrassing you in front of everyone."

Jason blushes and bats Bruce's deft fingers away from his hair, "Yeah...just like you're doin' to me right now?" He grumbles in embarrassment, never knowing how to treat the omega's affections openly in front of other people, especially in this sort of crowd...he doesn't want them to think Bruce chose wrong when taking him off the streets, he just wants to prove how good he is and can be. "So, can I go with them or not? I can bring Alfie with me!" Bruce hesitates, sighing softly at the insistent tugging on his pant leg. "Pretty, pretty, pretty please!? With a Jason on top!"

Bruce raises an amused brow, "Why a Jason on top? You know it's usually cherry, right?"

The pup nods, "Cause you like me better than cherries. That's why." 

Hm...he can't exactly argue with that. Bruce turns to find Alfred, holding back a shout as the alpha materializes from thin air right next to him, smiling softly at his son. "Don't worry, sir. I'll keep a good eye on the young Master for you, shall we head along?" Jason squeaks happily and kisses Bruce's hand in thanks before tugging Vicki and Lois along, loudly asking about how his tie looks as they take their conversation to the dessert table.

As soon as the small group leaves his side, Bruce inhales deeply, preparing himself for the vultures he already knows will flock to him like birds to a worm. Smiling charmingly at the cameras, even going so far as to blow a kiss at another.

"Mr. Wayne, what is your eldest son doing tonight!?"

"Mr. Wayne, how attached do you feel to tonights event!?"

"Mr. Wayne, who exactly are Richard and Jason's fathers? Are they biologically related or only half?"

"Mr. Wayne-"

Their voices start to blend together as the stupid questions start rolling in. Now that Lois and Vicki took the professionalism out the room with them, Bruce curses his fate as he's left with only the gossip hungry leeches, not headstrong people like Lane and Vale who actually care about their work and-

Bruce blinks away the spots in his vision from the bright flashes at the sight of a very tall, very imposing man-reporter, maybe?-that is patiently standing behind the rambunctious media.

Hm...his curiosity has been piqued.

Especially as something in his chest scratches in familiarity at the sight of this random reporter-or who he hopes is a reporter-and his lost puppy kind of look. There's something that is oddly endearing about this man and Bruce wants to find out why.

"Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, but I would like to talk to..." Bruce draws out his words, making a show of his 'indecisiveness' as he looks over the group of reporters, biting his lip in thought as he evaluates them all, slowly reaching further back in the group until his eyes land on his target."You! The man with the-" he squints his eyes at the sight of elbow patches, scrunching his nose in distaste at the sight of elbow patches, who the crap does that anymore?-"elbow patches."

Clark adjusts his glasses on his face nervously, a habit he's taken to over the years that he finds oddly comforting when he feels embarrassed about something.

"Uh...me?"

Bruce smiles, flashing a bit of his omegan fangs as he does so at the nerves radiating from this man, looking more like a predator with its prey rather than the thoughtful host Clark thought he was. "Yes, you. Don't look around for someone to replace you, I want you and only you. What? Do you not want to talk to me?"

Clark flushes red at the words, and from the way Mr. Wayne's eyes seem to pierce into his soul with how...icy they look. Not in a bad way, but the color makes Clark feel like every inhale is like breathing in a breath mint, maybe and Altoid due to the strength of it? Ah! When did the omega get so close to him? Clark does his best not to breath in the shorter man's alluring scent, his face growing redder at the interested sniff the omega directs at him. "Well?"

Right.

Mr. Wayne is deserving of an explanation...I guess?

"O-Of course it'd be delightful to speak to you, Mr. Wayne. Do you have somewhere more-"

Bruce pulls away from him suddenly with a surprised look, shaking his head softly and messing with his shirt cuffs with an amused smirk stretching his lips. "Metropolis...I should've known that's where you'd be from. Though the people there are usually more forward, aren't they?"

Clark's eyebrows furrow at the comment, what's wrong with Metropolis? But before he can answer the question, Bruce cuts him off again.

"Like one Ms. Lois Lane, for example. Though-" icy blue eyes rake up and down the tall figure, his eyes stopping at the press badge clipped to the fashion disaster that is...Clark Kent's suit-"I detect a hint of farm boy in your tone? So, maybe not from Metropolis?" Bruce presses in closer to try and catch a scent from Clark, casting aside his growing disappointment as the man doesn't smell like alpha as he suspected, just mothballs and innocence.

"Smallville."

Bruce looks up at the beta, immediately regretting it as he's met with the deepest blue gaze he thinks he's ever seen on a person, do eyes even get to be that color?

It feels as if Bruce is looking into the night sky...not that he knows what that's like, living in Gotham and all. But, if he could, he could imagine it being like this, the reflection of light in Clark's eyes reminding him of twinkling stars up above.

Bruce looks away suddenly, cursing the heated feeling in his ears and spreading to his cheeks, he hopes it's not visible? Though with how pale he is...he can't imagine hiding the blush.

Well, this is stupid.

Bruce feels like abandoning his self proclaimed mission at his own reaction towards Clark, though...there really is something familiar about the other man, and he can't place his carefully manicured nails on it.

Fine. He supposes he can bring out the bit of professionalism Brucie Wayne shows sometimes, only because he has no desire to tease the poor beta anymore and definitely not because he's feeling shy. "Right...I've...never been to Smallville before. Why don't we talk about it more this way." Clark startles at the hand gently wrapping around his elbow and tugging him over to French doors that lead to a balcony, looking over his shoulder as the omega quickly searches for someone and scents the air before stepping outside.

Clark relaxes himself and allows his senses to spread out, his nose twitching frantically to smell exactly what Bruce did.

Expensive colognes, sweet smelling perfumes, natural scents coming from both alpha, beta and omegas alike-ah, there it is! Something slightly milky with a hint of baby oil and spice, a pup that's trying to develop their own scent but still in the puppy stage.

"Your son-Jason, that is-seems really sweet."

Bruce's scent turns pleased at the compliment, releasing Clark's arm and turning to give him a genuine smile that is all proud mama. "He is! And he's very smart too, he enjoys reading books that not even I read at his age, I'm very honored to be his parent." Clark feels himself softening up at the genuineness on the omega's face, at the love in his tone, that feeling from before growing stronger for some reason at the other's affection towards Jason.

"So, Smallville?"

Clark pushes up his glasses and smiles, "Yup! It's a small town, but it's peaceful and has genuine people in it, s'more than I could ever ask for."

At Bruce's nose scrunching up again-a little trait Clark is quickly noticing about the other that he's finding adorable-he can't help but to question the man. "What? Did I say something funny? I don't think growing up in Smallville is that funny, farms may stink to high Heavens, but they sure are fun and teach you the importance of hard work."

Bruce shakes his head and covers his twitching lips with his hand, "No...your accent slipped and is just...amusing? But in a cute way! You said 's'more', aren't s'mores those little snacks you squish between your fingers?"

Now it's Clark that looks at Bruce like he said the funniest thing. "Are you being serious? You've never heard of a s'more?"

The omega rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, "Obviously I've heard of them. I wouldn't mention it if I've never heard of it, Kent, I was just making sure I had it right-" his brow twitches at the full blown smile the beta gives, coupled with a deep chuckle-"I don't think that's funny. If I can't laugh at your farm life, you can't laugh at me for not having a s'more. After all, it teaches you the importance of eating healthy foods."

The offended gasp escaping Clark's lips causes Bruce to look over his shoulder for what could have brought out that sound, the taller pulling out his recorder and waving it in his face.

"You've never eaten s'mores!? I think that's worse than never hearing of one! You mind if I interview you about this?" Bruce huffs at the defensive tone, his chest being tickled with humor at the other wanting to interview him about a snack he's never had before. "I don't think I mind? But, shouldn't you reporters be asking me about tonights event? Getting the reason for it and why I hosted this specific one? Don't your people usually poke at me about my kids?"

Clark sets down his recorder after switching it on, raising an inquiring brow at the omega. "Is me asking you questions about your family something that interests you? From what I gathered, you hated my people asking you about your pups, almost just as much as you get tired of hearing us ask you are you dating Batman."

At Bruce's irritated grumble, Clark smiles and gently guides the other closer to the tape recorder, not noticing just how much the simple touch effects the smaller man.

"Good evening Mr. Wayne, thank you for inviting me here tonight and accepting this interview. There have been some crazy rumors out there-" Clark has to pause to whisper to the other about not laughing, his heart pounding at the happy scent wafting from Bruce-"that you've never heard of s'mores. Would you care to clear those accusations up?"

Bruce sighs softly, not believing he's playing along with this, but clearing his throat and answering with all the seriousness he can muster into his voice.

"Yes, Mr. Kent, I would like to address those rumors about me...because they just aren't true. I have heard of s'mores before, it's just that I haven't ever eaten them." Clark hums, "Would you care to elaborate on why that is? Some people out there would think you never tasting it as worse than never knowing about it, what do you say to those people who could possibly feel that way?"

"Hm? Are one of those people from the Midwest? Cause if so, I'd tell him that there's worse things in this life than me not eating junk."

Clark's offended, 'hey', causes Bruce to grin. "Well, if there happened to be some lovely gentlemen from the Midwest who felt that way, I think he would politely disagree with you...even though you are technically right-" The word 'technically' causes Bruce to sputter, "What do you mean by that!? You just said you-I mean, this man 'technically' agrees with me by you stating I'm right. He's been around animal sh-poop for too long, it's causing him to spew crap from his mouth." 

"Technically-" Clark smirks teasingly down at the smaller-"I said, technically. That's not out right admitting you are in the right." 

Bruce narrows his eye at the taller man's beautifully smug smirk, "Do you not know what the word technically means? Technically: according to the facts or exact meaning of something; strictly. That's what that word means, so, 'technically' you and this Midwestern-ahem-gentleman are agreeing with me."

Clark freezes at that itching feeling returning to his mind, the scratching feeling of close familiarity this argument brings to him.

There's someone else he knows that takes simple jokes like this and turns them into mini battles, but-"Kent? Hellooo? Did a chicken escape the coop in there?"

Clark frowns at the omega shutting off his recorder, "Why did you turn that off? I was interviewing you." 

Bruce holds the device in his hand, suddenly looking shy and embarrassed, his smile awkward as he fiddles with the metal tool. "Well, you were pausing for five seconds too long for an interview. And-" he glances away-"don't you think this was a bit silly of us? I'm not supposed to answer questions like this...no one even asks these kinds of things anyway, they're too...trivial for my work."

Clark steps closer to the omega, reaching out to grab the recorder from the shorter, finding himself daring enough to stay in the other's personal space while his hand rests in the smaller one. "Why is asking you about things you may enjoy trivial? Have you ever thought no one cares enough about the simple things you do? It makes you seem...more approachable, Mr. Wayne." Bruce feels like his heart is trying to fly out of his chest at how close they are, his cheeks growing a soft pink at the sincerity from the other. "I-I...I'm not usually supposed to be approachable, Mr. Kent. Not unless I want something."

Clark sucks in his gasp at how close Bruce's face is, it would be so easy to bend down and kiss those pink lips...but that wouldn't be professional, would it?

"And...what do you want from me, Mr. Wayne?"

At Bruce's shocked look, Clark gives a small smirk. "You didn't think I noticed you looking through the audience of determined reporters? I saw you already look at me before acting like you were indecisive about who you wanted to interview you. You were going to pick me the whole time."

Bruce purses his lips at being caught, though his inner omega is fascinated by how smart this potential mate random stranger is to notice such small details.

"What would Mr. Wayne say to the Midwestern man who wants to know what tonight's special host wants? Especially from a reporter trying to blend into the crowd."

Bruce can't help the entertained smile as-even though it's not turned on anymore-the recorder is pushed up to his mouth. "I...you were being still-" at the beta's intrigued look, he continues-"Do you know how rare it is to see someone who isn't trying to crawl all over someone else just to get the scoop on Bruce Thomas Wayne? You looked like the calm in the midst of a very bothersome, very loud storm, Mr. Kent. So...what I wanted was to...see who you are."

Clark stares down into icy blue eyes, being drawn further into the crystalline gaze, swallowing down the urge to call out to this wonderful omega with his own alpha and whispering softly instead.

"And did you find anything worth your time?"

Bruce's eyelashes flutter, "I did. You are a great conversationalist, Mr. Kent. If-if people from Smallville are anything like you, maybe it isn't so bad?"

The two seem to lean in closer to the other, their private bubble popping at the sound of boisterous laughter coming from inside. Bruce gasps and pulls away, both him and Clark blushing as the beta apologizes for being unprofessional, the whine being choked down the Wayne heir's throat from the loss of warmth as their hands separate.

Clark stands tall as the omega steps close again, his smile back to suave as he slips the recorder back into the suit pocket, his voice betraying how he actually feels as it's incredibly soft and hopeful. "You can keep this interview for yourself-" his finger taps the device now snug in Clark's front pocket-"And...maybe you can finish this interview at a better time? When I don't have to greet my guests, perhaps? I think I've kept them waiting on me long enough."

Lois's voice echoes in Clark's head about power moves and everything, his lips twitching up in amusement as he nods gently and leads the omega back inside.

————°————

Jason doesn't know how it's happened. One second he was being interviewed by two lovely women-his new friends-and then the next thing he knows he's somehow separated from them and doing his best to greet the guests while waiting for Bruce to return. 

Luckily enough for him, there's been a nice group of high class attendees that waved him over, their sparkling jewelry catching the pups attention. "Looky here, ladies, we have a lovely gentleman in our midst. And isn't he the cutest thing you've ever seen?" Jason stands taller as the group of older women assess him, their lips stretching into fond smiles as they stare down at him. "My name is Margareta Hewley, young man, though I prefer Margaret, Marge or Greta cause my name sounds like the alcoholic drink-oh! I got off topic. I may have forgotten your name already...but what was it, Johnson?"

Jason goes to respond, but a middle-aged woman with sandy blonde hair interrupts him with a frantic hand wave.

"No, no, no. You've got it all wrong, Greta. He said his name was Jensen, isn't that right, honey? My name is Dahlia Nugat, though it sounds a lot like the thing you put in-between chocolate bars."

The group of women burst out into a loud laughter, Jason growing increasingly amused by these women and how silly they are and how they make fun of their names. "Nice to meet you, my name is Jason actually-" the women 'ah' as he kindly corrects them, causing Jason to giggle-"But it's okay! Everyone makes mistakes."

A brunette reaches down to pinch at his cheek, "Well aren't you just so forgiving? It's very nice to see another one of Bruce's pups, he definitely has a type, doesn't he girls?"

Dahlia hums and leans closer to Jason, "What do you mean, Grace? This one has the most lovely shade of baby blue eyes I've ever seen." Grace sips at her champagne, nodding in agreement. "Of course he does! But that's not what I meant. He sure does pick a lot of strays up, doesn't he? Dearie, may I ask where you came from?" Jason swallows nervously as their attention is suddenly drawn to him, their smiles still open and inviting, like aunties scrambling to look at their favorite nephews new child. Though there's something in their gazes now that cause him to feel like he needs to stand a little taller as they question him, "Y-Yes ma'am. Bruce found-" the affronted gasps cause the pup to frown-"What? Did I...did I say something wrong?"

Greta waves a delicate hand. "Oh, of course not! Just...you were found? It makes it seem like you were lost, dear child. Did he not collect you from the adoption agency? He has lots of them due to his mother's bleeding heart-ah, rest her soul of course."

Jason furrows his brow in confusion at the term 'collect'. What is he? A trophy?

"Well, no...he found me on the streets. So, I guess I was kind of lost without him, though I knew my way around them!"

Greta, Dahlia and Grace share a look with each other. The sandy blonde looking him up and down before her eyes land on his tie, her smile returning at the sight of it. "Oh my! Look at this lovely tie, girls, isn't it cute? It has...character to it."

Grace raises a thin brow, "Is this character named Jason? The tie looks about as lost as he does."

It takes a moment for Jason to process the comment, the delivery of it was said so syrupy sweet and complimenting that he chirped happily, his mood souring slightly at the biting remark. "Hey! Bruce and Alfred said I could tie my own tie for tonight and even said it looked great."

Greta clears her throat to get her friends under control, "We only jest with you. This is how we...play around here, you're one of us now, aren't you?" At the boy's quick nodding, her smile returns full force. "There's a good pup! We are only recognizing you as a part of our...pack you could say. And sometimes packs tease each other in good fun, surely you must know this?" Jason looks down ashamed at the memories of his small, very broken pack consisting of just himself, his mom and his dad...there wasn't really any good fun in those times, so he doesn't know how it's supposed to work.

The women practically purr at the downcast look they receive for the specific question, itching forward in excitement as they practically smell the juicy story emanating off the child. "Jason? Why the long stare? Surely it isn't that hard to tell us if you had fun with your biological family."

The pup looks back up at Greta, his throat feeling tight as he tries his best to remain brave, neglecting the urge to look for Bruce.

"I...don't wanna talk about them. Y-You have any other questions?"

Dahlia croons softly at him, "Don't you fret your adorable little head. I'll just state the obvious here: you don't know how a pack works, do you?" She waits for the boy to shake his head, clicking her tongue when he does so. "Well there we have it! You don't know how a pack properly works, and we-as your kind new aunties-just want to make sure you know how it functions. And in packs, you share things about yourself with each other, I mean, you need trust in a family don't you?"

Jason bites his lip. That...is true, isn't it? And he has been working on being more open about his feelings, even the bad ones.

"Y-Yes, you do. But...I don't know h-how."

The three croon to him at the same time, drawing him in closer as they pat his head and back comfortingly.

"There, there, puppy. Being open and honest about these things is healthy and perfectly normal, even if it doesn't seem like it is. Since this question is bothering you so much, why don't we ask where your mommy found you?"

Jason inhales shakily, balling up his pants in his tiny fists as he calms himself. "U-Uhm...B found me in Crime Alley."

Grace looks at him in disgust, "Ew! Who would be in a place like that? And why would our Brucie visit there anyway? That place holds no good memories for him, his parents were murdered there." 

Jason feels ashamed from the intense reaction, the womens faces scrunching and curling up in disgust at the place he was born in. I mean, he can understand the aversion to wanting to be there, but do they have to be so...mean about it? However, he remembers Dahlia saying that being honest is normal, even when it seems scary to be so. But since he can't be truthful about the way he was actually found, he'll share a different kind of truth instead.

So, here goes nothing.

"I was born in Crime Alley. B found me on accident when visiting to help the folks down there...and I may have stolen something of his, but-."

The three women gasp, Dahlia literally clutching at her pearls while the other two jump away from him, a sharpness to their eyes that wasn't there before. "You mean...you are a thief? Are you sure you didn't just slip into Bruce's car and by his kindness he kept you?" Dahlia hisses out at him. Grace sniffles and lifts her head high, as if he's no longer worthy enough to look at. "First it was a circus freak and now a street rat? Where does Bruce find such creatures?"

Greta pulls out a handkerchief and wipes her hands on it, her lips curled up in absolute revulsion towards him. "I can't believe I touched it. And here I held out hope that this one was something...more?"

The women continue to insult Jason, causing the boy's eyes to grow watery as he tries to remember to breathe, maybe even apologize for whatever he did. He doesn't want to get sent away if Bruce sees and realizes he didn't make a good impression, he wants to stay, he wants to have this family so badly that it hurts. Nothing is worse than being alone, he'd take as much pain as possible if it doesn't mean being left alone with nothing but himself, and just the thought alone is panic inducing. "I-I wanna...s-stay."

The women turn their gazes towards the pup, their faces morphing into one of fear as they try to quiet him down, their smiles returning as they try to get him to calm down and breath. Their heads swiveling left and right in search of Bruce.

"I-I don't wanna go!"

Jason cries loudly, a sob ripping its way out of his throat as he attempts to wipe away the tears.

His head lifts instinctively in search of Bruce, his nose sniffing frantically for the omega and a whine cutting through the jovial mood and replacing it with the scent of distressed pup. There's only one person he wants right now and he doesn't see him, the memories of his mom clutching onto a pill bottle even in her death assaulting Jason suddenly, why did she leave him? They were supposed to survive together but she left and now Bruce-

Bruce?

Where's Bruce?

Where's-"M-Mommy!"

————°————

Bruce and Clark smile awkwardly at each other as they walk inside, Lois immediately rushing over to them and complimenting her fellow omega for how beautiful Jason is. "Thank you! He really is beautiful, isn't he? But, you do know I didn't actually give birth to him? I can't take credit for creating his beauty."

Lois rolls her eyes and growls at another reporter trying to interrupt them, straightening her deep purple suit jacket when they rush off.

"Why does it matter? He seems like a very sweet kid...and you took that sweetness in and-as far as I'm concerned-cultivated his kindness into something even more. You're good for him and he's perfect for you. Especially since he grew up in Crime Alley, you wouldn't imagine there'd come any good from that, hm?" Bruce blinks in shock at the other omega, "Jason...he told you that himself? That he grew up there?" The woman nods proudly, "Both me and Vicki...but it was a really nice interview. Especially when Vicki was called elsewhere-" she digs around in her inner suit pocket before pulling out a notepad and tape recorder-"Oh yes! I jotted down some extra notes in here and recorded our interview with Alfred's permission. I know how protective you are and thought that you'd like to take a look and listen over these? Contact me when you know what you want to be shared with the public, if anything at all."

Bruce feels his chest warm at the thoughtfulness, surprising even himself as he hands the notepad and recorder back to Lois.

"I...trust that you'll use good judgement? You don't win a Pulitzer for no reason, Ms. Lane."

Purple eyes shine in victory, an omegan call escaping her as she thanks Bruce and immediately gets distracted at Jimmy passing by them looking at his camera, Lois immediately hounding him to show her the money shots.

"Well, I guess you have to go find your son now?"

Bruce looks up at Clark and nods, sniffing the air quickly and smirking at the smell of his pup being around the whole room. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy tried his hand at talking to everyone in the room by himself, but before he can turn to go find his son, the scent of slightly sour milk stings the omega's nose. An ear piercing cry causing Bruce to instinctively turn towards the sound of scared pup, not just any pup, but his own.

"M-Mommy!"

An aggressive snarl is torn from Bruce's throat as he shoves his way past the guests, ignoring the pained cries of anyone unlucky enough to be in the way as he forces his way to where his pup is, his eyes narrowing angrily at the sight of the three women who constantly give him headaches at these sort of events.

"Jason-" Bruce trills-"it's okay, baby, it's okay. Move!"

The three women bare their necks in apology as they slowly back away from the Wayne's pup, the scent of their fear stinking up the room and causing Jason to react worse than before, his small hands squeezing onto Bruce's shirt as he gasps around his words. "D-Dont...go! I'm sorry!" Bruce wraps his arms securely around Jason, the different scents of alpha, beta and omega overwhelming him. His arms wrap tighter around his child as he snarls at the flashing cameras, the room descending into chaos as the media wants good pictures and certain attendees are  trying to send out their own soothing scents in response to the smell of a scared pup. 

Jason whimpers as someone shouts an inappropriately timed question, that being the last straw for Bruce as his omega takes full control and growls at everyone, even going so far as to start hitting at people in his protective state.

Pretty sure someone's camera broke.

"Get the fuck out of my home!"

The flashes stop suddenly at the sound of a feral and protective omega mother, the crowd has further incentive to keep moving when they see Bruce secure his hold on Jason and squaring his shoulders in preparation to start fighting anyone and everyone still in his nest.

"Mommy, d-don't give me away. I promise t-that I'll be good."

Gentle hands rub at Jason's nape to try and soothe him, his inner omega restless even though there's no one else he senses in his home but Alfred, Bruce whimpering pitifully as he nuzzles the boy's neck. "But you are good, you're so good, Jay. Better than I could have ever asked or hoped for, who told you that you weren't?"

Jason just whimpers and tries to scent Bruce's neck, whining at the equally distressed scent of his mom.

Why can't Bruce calm down? He's failing as a mother. He's just supposed to stay calm long enough to comfort his baby and then he can be furious, but something in him is shaking, snarling and fighting against enemies that aren't even here. His eyes flickering around the room for threats, covering Jason in his scent so no one can find him and take him away-

A strong hand cupping the nape of his neck firmly, but not without kindness, causes Bruce to melt with a whine against his pup.

"D-Dad."

Alfred softly shushes both Bruce and Jason, giving a couple firm rubs to induce the omega's serotonin, gently rumbling to the two and scenting them to soothe not just them, but himself as well. "There you go, Bruce. Will you both be alright while I head into the kitchen to prepare some warm milk?"

Bruce nods and nuzzles Jason, cooing to the pup as he hiccups softly. "It's okay, sweetheart. We'll go to my nest, okay?"

Bruce stands up with a slight stumble, petting Jason's fluffy hair softly as he rushes towards the steps, stopping in surprise at the sight of a frazzled Clark Kent, shocked at the fact he doesn't get too defensive at the other man's presence. "C-Clark? Why are you still here?" The beta looks down at Jason worriedly, sighing in relief at seeing the boy seems to be fine for the most part, though his nose twitches at the lingering scents of distress in the air. "I was helping to clear everyone out the house a-and I couldn't help but to stick behind even though I told myself to leave. I'm sorry, Bruce. I-I know that this is crossing some sort of line, but I just needed to see that you both were okay."

Bruce purrs softly in response to Jason shifting around with a whine, his omega not enjoying the fact his baby is feeling intimidated by the alpha, even if it is an alpha he feels comfortable with himself.

This time it's Clark that interrupts Bruce before he can say anything, "Look. Um...you're taking him upstairs, right? I-I don't want to go into your nest, but...can I...geeze-" he cards a shaky hand through his hair-"If it's allowed, may I escort you both to the room? I promise to stay in front so you can see me at all times." It looks like this situation isn't the only one to shake Bruce up, seems like it's startled the poor beta just as much as them.

Bruce slowly nods and gestures towards the staircase, watching cautiously as the man ascends the steps.

He continues to scent his pup with his now relaxed scent, gently massaging Jason's neck to relax the boy more while purring softly and peppering the sweaty face with kisses. "We're almost there, baby. You are so good, no one is taking you away from me, no one at all. You're mine and I'm your's cause we chose each other, and I would never trade that for anything."

Jason squeaks softly against the omega's neck, inhaling the familiar scent desperately as he slumps in Bruce's arms.

"Thank you Clark for making sure we got here safe. I'll just-"

The beta bends forward slowly to open the door for Bruce, his smile embarrassed for crossing into the omega's space again, his voice a quiet rumble as he speaks. "Your hands are full." Bruce hums in response, too tired to pay attention to the familiarity of this interaction as he quickly settles Jason down onto the bed, heading back to the open door and hesitating before closing it softly, a tired but thankful smile gracing his face as he whispers an extremely grateful, "Thank you."

The door softly clicks shut in Clark's face, his mouth hanging wide open as he realizes that Bruce Wayne is Batman.

————°————

It's late into the night, Bruce purring loudly at his pup's now milky and safe smelling scent. He can't find it in himself to sleep after tonight's events, so lying in bed cuddling with his baby it is.

A small, sleepy squeak escapes Jason, the boy twitching in his sleep, only being soothed by Bruce pressing kisses to his cheek and purring even louder. Why is it now that his mind chooses to think about the familiarity Clark Kent gives him, as if he's met him before? His sleep-addled brain sluggishly replaying every interaction between him in Clark, so much so that he starts to drift off to sleep.

However, the way the beta opened the door for him, stuck around for him and the pup, as well as announce that, 'your hands are full', is strangely uncanny to the way Superman stuck around for Richard and-Oh my gosh! Bruce opens his eyes quickly, any trace of exhaustion gone as he comes to the realization that Clark Kent is Superman.

"Hush, pup, I'm right here, it's okay." Bruce croons to the pup he disturbed in his surprised revelation, rubbing the boys back and cocooning the boy tighter into the blankets as he settles down to sleep.

(Here's the links to Part 1: The Interview, Part 3: The Search and Part 4: The Girls. I hope these stories are able to be enjoyed by someone? Either way, you guys are amazing. So please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛

P.S. The three rich hags views on Jason are not my own personal opinion of those in poverty or otherwise. They were written to be jerks/upsetting, so I hope I achieved my goal? I myself grew up in poverty and it sucks (absolutely would not wish it on my worst enemies), again, I just wrote them in the attempts of what rich people may think sometimes about those with less. Don't be like them guys! Be kind to everyone, okay? Alright, bye bye. 😘💛)

[dodger432101]

A day in - Lux Imperator/Mr Ring-A-Ding x Reader Part 8

[Some cute fluff before I bring in The Pain >:) Enjoy!]

Your sleep is rudely interrupted by the smell of burning. 

…Why can you smell burning? 

Luckily, there seems to be nothing on fire in the projector room as you quickly sit up and scan the area. That's something, at least. It does mean, however, that you now need to get up and go find whatever is producing that smell before the entire picture house is engulfed in flames. Mr Pye would not be happy with you if Palazzo burnt down. With a grumbling sigh you throw the blankets to the side, stumbling your way onto your feet. Wow, your legs ache something awful after yesterday. That little God really did a number on you. He's not here in bed with you, or in the room. Now where could he be? 

On your search for the source of the scent and Lux (you have a horrible feeling he's tied to it), you take quick glances into each theatre. The last thing you needed was one of the films catching fire. As you walk down the hallway the smell gets stronger. It must be coming from the diner. 

Now speed walking/limping, you dash into said room, pushing the door to the kitchen open to reveal the culprit and crime scene. 

Lux is sitting on the counter near the stove, a spatula in his right hand. There's.. something, in a pan. It's hard to even imagine what it could possibly be with how charred it is. To add to the scene in front of you, the little toon is absolutely covered -hat to toe, quite literally- in flour. It's all over the counter he's sitting on, some even finding its way to the floor. He jumps at the sight of you, waving and opening his mouth. Though whatever he was about to say is interrupted as he inhales some flour, making him cough. As he tries inhaling through his nose instead, some of it goes up there and causes him to begin letting out a series of pig-snort sneezes. You watch in silence, astonished by the burnt to charcoal ‘food’ and incredible level of mess that one under 3ft being has been able to make. 

After a good 10 seconds of being stuck in a loop of coughing and sneezing, Lux finally wipes off the flour on his face. He lets out a breathy sigh of relief before giving you another wave. “Ah, hah, sorry about that sunshine. I, um.. tried to make breakfast but…” You both look at the pan. “Maybe I should've left that to you.” Yeah. The unidentifiable black blob sitting in there really amplifies that. 

“It's ok, Lux. Now that I'm up I'll make us something.. edible.” He gives you a nervous grin at that. He'd tried his best, having watched you make just about every meal you'd had while you've been here. Unfortunately visual learning wasn't the only thing required for cooking. As he learnt the hard way. “I'm going to assume from all the flour that you were trying to make pancakes?” 

“Well of course! It's the first food I ever ate, you made it look so easy to make too. But when I opened that bag of flour it just went everywhere! You don't even want to know how long it took for me to figure out how the stove works, all those knobs really threw me through a loop!” He pulls at the collar of his yellow (more white with all the flour on it) T-shirt sheepishly. “I'm sorry about the mess. I just wanted to surprise you today and it.. kinda backfired on me.” The little God frowns, his antennae drooping with his mood. 

You'd cleaned out the pan as he explained the situation, though seeing him down made you go over to him. “Oh, sweetheart, it's ok. We can clean this up, I'll make breakfast. Don't worry about it, ok?” With him on the counter, he was just about eye level with you. So you don't even have to lean down to give him a kiss on the forehead, aiming your lips to a part of it that doesn't have as much flour on it. His mood immediately brightens up, antennae perking up at your affection.“What's the occasion for a surprise, though? I've stayed overnight for a few days before this. Did you just feel like trying cooking this morning?” 

Lux’s cheeks go dark blue at that question. He looks off to the side, tapping his fingers together. “Well.. Mr Reginald Pye mentioned this thing he called, uhh, an anniversary! He said you humans celebrate milestones in your relationships, romantic ones in particular. And you know, we met a week ago today so.. I wanted to do something special.” 

Oh, wow.. it really had been a week since the God of Light had shown himself to you. With all that's happened over the week you hadn't been keeping track of the days. Coming in on the weekend threw you off too. Now it was Monday again, and Lux wanted to celebrate the time you both had been together for. 

Your heart melts at the God's love for you. You give him a couple more kisses for good measure, Lux giggling and trying to return them as best he can. After squishing his little scruffy cheeks you move away to begin making the pancakes. Somehow, there's still some flour left in the bag Lux had opened. Checking the fridge, it seems he'd completely forgotten about the eggs and milk required. Maybe it's a good thing he burned his attempt. “We can do something else for our little anniversary, love. There's plenty of lovey-dovey romance films we could watch, there's some things about America and the rest of the world we could read through together. Heck, I could teach you how to cook if you want!” 

As you make the pancake mixture and pour it into a -unburnt- pan, you look over at Lux. He's staring at you, leaning on the hand closest to you as he smiles fondly. “All of that sounds perfect, sunshine. I actually have an idea for a movie we could watch already!” 

“Oh? Which one?” You grab a plate for your breakfast, taking the spatula off of your God to flip the pancakes over. Lux waves a finger at you as you do so, a cartoon sound effect playing along with it.

“I'm not telling you that! Wouldn't be much of a secret then, would it angel? All I'll say is that we need Mr Pye. That's the only hint you're getting!” Of course he still wanted to surprise you. Rolling your eyes with a smile, you dish out the pancakes that were now ready. Lux instantly swipes one, juggling it in his hands from the overwhelming heat radiating from it. That's what he gets for immediately grabbing it. Greedy little God. You get the last of the fruit in the fridge to add to your meal. 

“I could always take another trip out, grab some more snacks for us.” You barely finish your sentence before Lux speaks up.

“No, no, no, no! You don't need to go out again. There's still plenty of popcorn and stuff in here, we're the only ones who've been here to eat it after all! You can stay in today, can't be out all day on our anniversary!” He looks quite panicked at the idea of you leaving. Huh. Well, you were dragged out of Palazzo just two days ago. Maybe he needed some time to calm down from that. 

“Oookay, nevermind then. Tomorrow, maybe.” Lux still feels unsure about that, but as he sees you're looking at him he just gives you a nod and a forced smile. He could work with that, distract you today so you forget about going out tomorrow. You'd stay in here, where he could keep you safe. 

After that little hiccup, your shared meal goes by in a comfortable silence. Once the plate's in the sink and the kitchen (and Lux) is free of flour, you walk back to your projector room with him to get changed. Even though you'd spent a lot of time with Mr Pye during your shifts, you still didn't want him to see you in just the vest and shorts you'd worn to sleep in. Your little God sits on the desk while you search your bag for something to wear, being very helpful by giving his opinion in the form of facial expressions. He finally nods at a plain yellow dress. You slip some underwear on before putting on the dress, twirling to show off to your lover. A triplet of red hearts float up from behind his head as he watches you. “Prettier than the sun in the sky, angel.” You give him a quick kiss on the cheek before you begin rummaging through the bag for an outfit for him. At the snap of his fingers you look back to Lux. He's back in his usual Mr Ring-A-Ding outfit, the t-shirt he'd been wearing pops into existence back in the bag. “Sorry sunshine, I'll try some more of them on later. Even though ol’ Pye knows about me being a God, I still want to keep up the appearance around him!” That's fine by you, you don't mind being the only one to see him in different clothes. 

Just after, Lux turns his head in the direction of the entrance door to the building. He nods towards it with a grin, hopping off the desk and heading out of the projector room. Guess Mr Pye was back. You follow after him, forgetting about the mass of hickeys on your neck that were on full display. 

Reginald has already made it to his usual theatre by the time you and Lux walk over there. He smiles at the sound of the door, looking up from his desk. Luckily for Lux's plan, his film reel is there. His eyes immediately go to your neck, his eyebrows raising. “Well, good morning you two! I'll take it you've.. made up?” You look between your boss and your God, confused on how he had reached that conclusion. Lux points at his neck with a smug little grin, a sound effect playing as his finger makes contact with his skin. That reminds you of what he's done. You quickly cover your neck with both hands, cheeks burning. Both men begin laughing, Lux leaning on your leg, patting you reassuringly. 

“Oh angel, I think it's a bit late for that!” Their laughter dies down to chuckles. You can't even look at your boss right now. 

“Don't worry about it, my dear. It's none of my business what you two get up to while I'm away. Just don't break anything, alright?” The God of Light snorts at that. 

“Of course, Mr Reginald Pye! Don't you worry, the only thing I'll be ‘banging up’ is her!” You splutter at that implication, your voice going higher and higher as you wordlessly squeak down at the cheeky little toon. He only giggles at your flustered state.

While Mr Pye chuckles away at that, he turns to his desk and picks up his film reel. “Now then. You know what I'm about to ask.” He turns back to Lux. 

“Uhhh..” The God of Light next to you strokes his stubbled chin, acting clueless. “It's not about my relationship with your employee, is it?” He looks up to you with a smirk, eyebrows wiggling. Cheeks still bright red, you only mouth ‘I hate you.’ to him. He just blows you a kiss and mouths back ‘I love you too.’ 

“No, no. I think I know enough about that.” He holds out the reel of film. “You wouldn't mind playing this for me, please?” 

Your embarrassment makes way for confusion to return to your face. Mr Pye knows how to play films, he literally works the projectors! Why would he need Lux for this? “I suppose I'm not too busy right now.” The God of Light hops up onto the gap in the wall where the projector’s light would shine through, watching your boss load in the film. Once it's secure, he goes down into the theatre. Lux beckons you over to him with an expression that says he's about to show off something. With Mr Pye in a bottom row seat, the projector clicks to life and the film begins. 

At first it seems normal. You've watched it with your boss numerous times, on quieter days in the picture house. Mrs Pye is on the screen in front of a house and white fence, waving to the camera with a smile. She really did seem like a sweet woman. You just happen to blink at the right time and suddenly.. she's not on screen anymore. She's on the stage, Mr Pye quickly getting up to join her. Even after seeing Lux bring Mr Ring-A-Ding to this world, it still shocks you to see an image on film be brought to life. No wonder Mr Pye kept having the little God with him when he watched the film. “You.. you brought her back..” You talk quietly, half to not disturb the Pye’s time together and half out of amazement from the sight before you. 

Lux just gives you an equally quiet ‘mhm’ in response, his head resting on his hands as he watches the reunited couple begin their usual dance. Like the other times he'd stood here and observed them, he's imagining it's you and him dancing on that stage together. His antennae curl into the familiar heart shape at the thought, a dreamy little sigh leaving his lips. You just think he's admiring the cute old couple, so you smile and refocus on them. As their dance comes to an end, they draw apart and begin talking. Lux huffs next to you, antennae uncurling to their default positions. Seems this part of their get-togethers wasn't a favourite of his. 

He hops off the wall and lands on the nearby table, swinging his legs off the edge as he looks up at you. “That could be us one day, sunshine. I'd let you out whenever you want, you can still enjoy all the things you like about the world. Then you'll go back into film, where you'll never have to worry about the passage of time. You'll never have to worry about death. It'll be me and you until the end of the universe, my love.” With the way he described it and the scene you'd just witnessed, it wasn't hard to like the idea. Even so, a bud of doubt was opening in your chest. Would it really be that simple? Would you be made of.. whatever he is -just pure light?-, or still have your current body? How would you cope with immortality? Humans weren't built for it, we withered over time. Would that still happen? What if you began forgetting things? What if you forgot.. him? 

Lost in your thoughts, you miss the rest of what Lux rambles on about until he notices your lack of attention. You're finally snapped out of your existential worrying as your God touches your hand gently. “Sunshine..? It's ok if you don't want to try it just yet. We still have time! Don't worry about it for now, yeah?” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, a warm smile on his face. You step closer to him so you can squish his scruffy cheeks, finding the texture of his facial hair grounding. Lux realises from the look on your face that you need this, so he sits there patiently while you play with his cheeks. Though after a bit, he speaks up again to whisper to you. “Sweetie pie. I love you very much, my light, but I have a reputation to uphold with that Mr Pye. Could you let go, please?” 

Ah. You hadn't realised your boss had entered the room. Quickly taking your hands off of Lux, you turn around to face- oh! Both of the Pyes were here. Down in the theatre, Mrs Pye had been the greyscale colours of the film she came from. Up here in the projector room, you could see she now has the usual colours of the world. No one would be able to tell she wasn't.. real. “I thought I might as well bring her up to meet you. This is the employee I've been talking about, pretty birdy.” Reginald gestures towards you, smiling warmly at his wife. 

“Oh, it's so lovely to meet you, dear! My dear Reg has told me all about you.” Her voice is just as you'd expected it to be, as soft and sweet as the smile she was giving you. You take a step towards her as she approaches, wrapping her arms under yours to give you a hug. She's.. almost real. Your brain tries so hard to ignore the way her dress doesn't feel like the fabric it should be made of, her chin on your shoulder, her skin has a somewhat static film grain feeling to it. Though you don't have much time to think about it before she's whispering in your ear. “Thank you for looking after him.” You nod into her shoulder. It was sad to think about, but you were the only employee who really spoke to Mr Pye for things other than your job. You were the one he talked about his wife to, the one who sat with him to watch her film, the one he cried to on those tough days. 

After a few more seconds she moves away, her expression showing her gratefulness. She holds your shoulders as she looks at Lux. “And who's this little cutie?” He gets off the desk to stand next to you, one hand adjusting his bowtie while the other tips his hat to her. That Mr Ring-A-Ding ladies man charm was shining through. Good question from Mrs Pye, actually. Was he going to go with the cartoon disguise or reveal the God underneath it? 

“Name's Lux, miss! I'm the one who's been bringing you over into this world. Mr Reginald Pye has missed you dearly, after all, I had to do something!” Guess there wasn't much point in hiding it, if Mr Pye knew then Mrs Pye might as well know the truth. 

It doesn't even seem to shock her. Her smile is just as bright as she kneels down to get closer to his level. “I thought I spied someone up in here on the days I got to see Reginald. It didn't even occur to me that it could be the one who brought me back to my husband. So thank you, sweetie.” Lux leans forward with his eyes closed, his head turned so she can give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He waves a hand dismissively as she stands back up, the other fidgeting with his bowtie. 

“Ah, it's nothing! No big deal, miss! The light does me good, you get to spend time with your husband, we're both winners!” He leans against your leg as he talks, his head just about reaching your hips. You give the top of his head gentle scratches, making him get up on his tippy toes to lean into the feeling. Mrs Pye coos at the cute display as she goes back to her husband's arms. 

“I'm glad you get something out of it too then, dear. Oh, it's been a pleasure meeting you two but..” She looks out into the theatre. “I suppose I should get back.” You look at the clock in the room. She’s been in this world for nearly 45 minutes. Were there time limits on these things? 

Mr Pye frowns at the idea of his wife leaving, holding onto her tighter. Her once bright smile fades to a sad one as she leans up to give him a peck on the cheek, trying to lift his mood before she moves away. “Until next time, then, dear Helen.” As she walks towards the door to the theatre their hands reach for each other's, holding on before she gets too far away. 

“Until next time, Reginald. I'll wait for you.” 

You, Lux and Mr Pye watch as she makes her way to the stage, standing up against the screen with her usual smile back on. She slowly loses her colour, fading back to grayscale before her entire body fades too. Then she reappears on the screen, the film no longer playing, paused on her happy image waving to the camera. The projector clicks off, and she's gone. Mr Pye takes the reel out of the projector, smiling gratefully to Lux. “Thank you, sir. It's incredible, being able to see her again. I could never thank you enough for this.” 

The God of Light waves another dismissive hand. “Ah, just keep the light comin’! ‘Thank you’s don't give me power after all.” Your boss nods quickly, moving past you to put the film reel back on his desk. Then he turns and squeezes your shoulder. 

“You got to meet my wife after all, my dear.” Oh, holy shit you did! You'd been so astonished by her leaving the screen that the full scenario was lost on you. Even after death, you got to meet Mrs Pye. 

“Seems you were right, too, sir. It appears she did love me.” You give him a smug little grin, making him laugh. 

“I knew she would. You remind me of the both of us, in many ways. You're.. well, you're kind of like the daughter we never had.” He brings you into a hug. “Thank you for caring about this sad old man for all the time you've worked here. I don't say it enough, but I do appreciate it. So very much.” You bury your face in his shoulder, trying in vain not to cry. With your close proximity, though, he hears your breathing hitch and tightens the hug he has you in. “I was so glad when Lux didn't scare you away. I don't know what I would've done without my favourite little cleaner. I sure as hell wouldn't have been looking for things under those damned seats, you have much more luck with them, eh?” 

After a minute or 2, you get your emotions under control and pull away from the hug. “I do. It's a good thing I am here, your brain might've really been scrambled if you knocked your head any more times.” Mr Pye pats your shoulder as you both chuckle. It's then you remember the little God in the room and look down to your side. 

It seems he's just been patiently watching your interaction, though when he sees he has your attention he perks up, his antennae straightening towards you. “Well, sunshine, did you like your surprise film?” Lux holds his arms out like he's finished a magic show, grinning up at you. Even though he'd said he wanted to keep up his Godly reputation around your boss, you scoop him up and cuddle him.

“I loved it, Lux. Thank you for giving me the chance to meet her.” You give him a few kisses on his cheek, your smile only growing at his cute little giggles. “Now.. call me lazy but I wanna go lay down for a bit. We could read in bed, Hun, if you'd like?” At his nod you give him one last kiss before waving to Mr Pye as you leave the room, Lux snuggled up in your arms. Your boss watches you go with a warm smile. You two really did remind him of himself and his wife. He just hoped your relationship wouldn't end up like his. 

Once you're in your own little projector room, you pick up a box next to the desk and set it on the higher surface. Turns out Mr Pye had a collection of books he hid away in random places around the picture house. During your breaks you'd read through some of them, he had a great variety in here. While you sort through the books for something Lux might be interested in, he rearranges your bed. You'd messed up the assortment of blankets during your..activities.. yesterday and threw them off yourself this morning in your rush to get up. They really did need sorting out. You find a book about the history of America in the assortment of the box. Well, it wouldn't be a fun read for you but Lux might like it. He did say he wanted to know more about the world. You put the rest back in their box before you turn to your bed. 

Your God of Light has removed all the clothes on his upper half and is sitting on the newly made bed. The new body hair he's grown really does look good on him. He stretches out his arms with a yawn, his antennae also going rigid as if stretching as well, then he kicks his shoes off. You watch his hands go lower, your eyes becoming laser focused on the light trail of hair leading below the pants line. They're removed last and you see- oh, he's still wearing the red heart boxers. Why did he keep those on? He catches you looking and smirks, leaning back on his hands. “Toots, don't stare at me like that. I thought we were gonna read? Or was that just an excuse to get us away from Mr Reginald Pye?” His smirk turns to a suggestive grin as his eyes fall half lidded. You're..tempted, but your still aching legs pull you back. 

“No no, my handsome little God. I'm still recovering from yesterday. I found this one on the history of America, I thought you might like to know more about it.” 

He sits up a bit more at that. You kneel down on the bed in front of him, putting the book next to the mattress. Lux shuffles back and flops down onto the pillow, making grabby hands at you. Seems he wants you to lie on top of him. “Don't worry about crushing me or anything, pretty lady. I would let you, but I think I'm safe with these cartoon physics.” You roll your eyes with a smile as you crawl over and lay down on your front, your head on his chest. He doesn't have a heartbeat, unsurprisingly, but he is radiating a little bit of heat. The light dusting of hair on his chest feels like the scruff on his cheeks as you rub the side of your face into it. Snuggling into the little God, you hand him the book before wrapping your arms around him and getting properly comfortable. “Gee, sunshine, I would've done this sooner if I knew you'd get yourself this settled in!” Lux holds the book open with one hand, his other reaching down to run his fingers through the hair on the back of your head, massaging your scalp. “Do you not want to read this too, angel? Seems like pretty important stuff in here, you know, seeing as we're in America right now.” 

You were starting to get sleepy, cuddled up to your warm little God with him rubbing your head. Tiredly you blink up at him. “Nah, we learn about most of it in school. You can tell me about anything interesting. Though I might fall asleep, you're a good pillow.” He gives you a soft smile before he leans his head down to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. 

“That's okay. I'll wake you up in a couple hours if you do, so you can get some more to eat. You've only had breakfast after all!” Another kiss meets your crown. “Sweet dreams, my love.” After you tilt your head up enough for him to leave one more kiss on your lips, you both settle down. One reading, one slowly but surely drifting off to sleep. 

True to his word, you're woken up by gentle prodding to your shoulder. “Wakey wakey, sunshine.” With your sleep unnaturally interrupted you groan tiredly, burying your face in the scruffy surface your head is resting on. “Hey, don't you think about going back to sleep! It's time for you to have another meal. Get up!” The prodding doesn't cease. Lux was quite persistent when it came to your wellbeing. With another groan you blink away the sleep in your eyes, squinting up at your God's face. “There's my pretty lady. Come on, up you get! Mr Pye came in and said he was going to start making some lunch. And I'm stuck here until you get up. Not that I mind being under you, my love, but I wanna find out what he's cooking up for us!” Lux watches you sluggishly lift yourself onto your hands, leaning up to press a few motivating kisses to your face. Once you're on your feet you stretch, a long yawn leaving you. 

While you wake yourself up more, Lux puts the book he'd been reading on the desk and snaps his usual clothes back on. He'd finished reading not long into your nap, spending the rest of it relaxing under you. Even though you didn't emit light, he still enjoyed the warmth of your body. “Did Mr Pye mention what he was going to make?” You fix up your hair as you ask, blinking down at your little God. 

He watches you with lidded eyes before realising you had asked him something. “Uh, I don't think he did. He just said to wake you up so you could have some. Like I wouldn't have done that anyway.” You chuckle at his eye roll, giving one last stretch before you start heading for the kitchen. Your legs don't ache as much now, it seems they needed the extra rest. Lux catches up to you, squishing his cheek up against your thigh as you walk together. “You seem to be moving better now, sweetie pie. Just needed a little more sleep to recover from our play time, eh?” 

As you flick at his antennae closest to you he jumps back, poking the tip of your finger with his. You both playfully fight on the rest of the way to the kitchen. The smell of a tomato based dish wafts its way to you as you walk in. Mr Pye is at the stove, stirring at a pan of an orange sauce, specks of green herbs mixed in. In a deeper pan, water is boiling, with what looks like pasta. Lux hops up onto a clear part of the counter, making your boss jump. “God, Lux, you gotta stop doing that.” The little toon just giggles as Mr Pye shakes his head disapprovingly. Seems the God of Light likes to prank the older man. Again, you give him a flick before you turn to Reginald. He hands you the spoon he'd been stirring the sauce with before checking on the pasta. 

While you take over the stirring, Lux leans over to inspect the sauce, eyes narrowing. “What's this, sunshine?” There's a smaller spoon on the counter next to the God, so you pick it up and scoop some of the orange liquid with it for Lux to try. He hesitates at first, but trusting you, he takes the spoon into his mouth. His antennae instantly perk up, his pupils flashing into stars before returning to their usual black. “Oh, that's really nice! Gimme.” You have to chuckle at his grabby hands. 

“You can have more when the pasta’s ready! Have a little patience, sweetheart.” You get a dramatic pout in response, so you boop his pig nose and head to the fridge. Lux watches you go, eyes flicking between you and the sauce. He gets another spoonful of it before you turn around and head back, though it's not hard to tell he's been up to something by his not so innocent expression. “Lux..” Your hands go to your hips as you eye him accusingly. A glowing halo pops into existence above his head as he grins at you, hands together as he tries to prove the innocence he doesn't have. 

Luckily for him, Mr Pye comes over with the softened pasta, the water having been drained while you were at the fridge. He adds the pasta to the sauce, folding it in so it's all evenly coated. While Lux watches him, you grab a plate each for you and your boss with a little bowl for your God of Light. It was clear by now that he didn't need food, so he'd be ok with a smaller portion. Once the pasta is served up, you get a grater for what you'd gotten out of the fridge - a block of cheese. Mr Pye points to his plate while he puts the pans used in the sink. “You wanna try some of this, Lux?” After you grate a generous amount onto your boss’ serving, you hold it out to the toon to examine. 

He grabs his small bowl of pasta and holds it under the grater. “Sure.. what is it?” You only give him a little bit, just in case he doesn't like it. 

“It's cheese, hun. There's loads of different kinds." Before Lux can start digging through the pasta with his bare hands (the expression on his face says he's about to), you quickly get a fork from a drawer and hand it to him. While he's giving it a perplexed look, you lay another out for Mr Pye and lastly get yourself one. He watches you intently as you stab a piece of pasta with it, putting his bowl into his lap before he copies you and brings the pasta to his mouth. He's.. left handed? 

Gold stars appear in his eyes at the flavour. He hasn't even swallowed the first piece before he's shovelling more into his mouth. Yep, he likes it. You begin eating, at a much slower pace than him, watching him clear the bowl in a record time with a fond but amused expression. Mr Pye has since finished washing the pans and heads over, blinking in surprise at Lux's empty bowl. “Well.. you sure enjoyed that. Hey, don't go for mine!” You chuckle as your boss has to swipe his plate before Lux can get his hands on it. He gets an angry little pout for not letting the God have his serving.

Feeling slightly bad that he only got a little bit, you grate some cheese on a part of your pasta and push it towards Lux. “We can share, hun. It's quite filling, I probably won't be able to eat it all by myself.” Yeah, right, good excuse. You could've had that entire pan of it if you were alone and you know it. Not that Lux would know or care about your little white lie, his pout is instantly gone as he brings his fork to your plate. Now he's using his right hand. He really is a strange little God. From the corner of your eye, you can see Mr Pye giving you a knowing grin. He knows your appetite. But your secret’s safe with him. 

You all finish your meals (yours goes by much quicker with Lux’s help) and wash up, the God of Light making sure to get a bit of water on you and your boss. He's a little shit when he wants to be. After everything's been put back in its place, Mr Pye sighs lightly. “Well. I've seen my wife, I've fed you, I'm heading home. I'll see you two tomorrow.” You wave him off as he leaves the kitchen before you turn to your God. He has the excited grin of a kid that's about to ask for something. 

“You can have one more pancake.” His grin widens and he pulls you to him, littering kisses all over your face. You manage to break away from the barrage of love and go to gather the ingredients you need. With all of them on the counter, you grab a bowl and a whisk. “Right. Take this.” You hand him an egg from the packet, the last one in fact. “Crack it on the side of the bowl, -you don't need to use too much force, they're quite fragile- then pour what's inside into the bowl.” As he does that you add in the flour and milk. Luckily he listens to you and there isn't eggshell and yolk everywhere. Then you give him the whisk as you hold the bowl steady for him. “Just mix it, circular motion, I'll tell you when it's good.” Lux uses his left hand. Did Gods not have a prominent hand they used? 

When the mixture’s ready, you grab a pan and set it on the stove. You show him which marker it should be on before you have him pour the pancake batter onto the pan. Of course, the greedy little God uses it all to make one big pancake for himself. “This is fun, sunshine! We should do this more often.” You grin, happy that he's enjoying cooking with you. 

You grab a spatula and carefully flip the pancake over. “We can, sweetheart! You can help me with dinner later on.” Lux gives you an equally big smile before he turns his attention to his pancake as you plate it up and turn the oven off. “Now remember it just came off the heat so it'll-” He's already grabbed it, wincing and juggling it as the temperature of the freshly made pancake hurts his fingers. You just sigh and put a palm to your cheek as you watch him. To avoid having to juggle it, instead of putting it back on the plate, Lux decides it's a good idea to shove it into his mouth. He instantly regrets that as his face scrunches up in pain, slowly chewing it to try and avoid the piping hot food from touching the walls of his mouth or tongue. You give him a look of disbelief, which he returns with a hurt smile. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘it tastes good’. It's hard to decipher what he said with his mouth full. 

Eventually he swallows it down after you get him a glass of water, which he gratefully takes and chugs. “Thank you, angel. It was lovely! Apart from the burning sensation.” You can only shake your head and laugh. 

He hops off the counter to follow you as you take the pots to wash them, jumping up onto a space next to the sink. You expect him to start flicking water at you again, like earlier, but he keeps still and silent. When you take a glance at him, he's got that oh so familiar loving look in his eyes as he stares at you. An expression you've seen many times during his time here in Palazzo. When everything's clean you dry your hands and move to stand in front of him, cupping his scruffy cheeks as you lean down and kiss him. He gives a surprisingly growly hum as he wraps his arms around your neck, his head tilting so he can deepen the kiss. Most of your kisses with the God of Light have been frantic, desperate, full of passion. This one feels more.. domestic. Like you'd done this a hundred times before. Yet it's still got all the love you two have for each other in it. 

When you break apart, you lean your forehead onto his, keeping your eyes closed. You can't help the smile that forms as you feel his antennae brush against all the skin they can reach. With another kiss being pressed to the top of his head you pull away to scoop him into your arms. He rests his head on your shoulder, rubbing his cheek against your exposed skin. As you walk back to your projector room you finally realise.. his skin feels different. When you'd first touched him it was rubbery, it felt like a cartoon that was meant to stretch into ridiculous shapes. Now it was like human skin. Was he changing because of.. you? It wouldn't explain the chest hair or stubble but the hair on his arms and legs, the new skin texture, maybe he was subconsciously picking it up from you. It was kind of cute in a way, your God's form was changing to be like you. 

You plop him down on the desk near your bed while you stretch and yawn. Your energy levels are pretty low today. You spot the little toon eyeing up the box of books so you drag it closer to him, digging around for any he might like. “Wanna try a fiction genre book, hun? It won't have anything actually about Earth but I think they show off the creativity of us humans.” Lux leans over while you lay out a selection for him to choose from. Though when you put a book within his reach he takes a hold of your hand, interlocking your fingers. 

“It's just us in the picture house, sunshine. We could always..” He smirks at you as he strokes his thumb over your knuckles. “Play a little, before bed? Make sure you're really tired out.” You glance up at the clock. It's not even 2pm yet. His hand starts to travel up your arm, so you lift your hand to lock your fingers with his again. 

Lux glances between your joined hands and your face, a look of surprise pushing down his smirk. “Maybe tomorrow, please, love? My legs have just stopped hurting from yesterday.” He stares at you for a few seconds, causing a pit to begin to grow in your stomach. It's quickly diminished by the warm smile that forms on his face. 

“Of course, angel! I don't think I could be much help if you weren't able to walk tomorrow.” He winks at you and wiggles his eyebrows, making you giggle. You give him a kiss on the cheek before you sort out some clothes to sleep in. Another nap didn't sound too bad. He grabs a random book before shuffling along the desk so he's closer to you. “Anything for me, toots?” He pulls at the top of the bag all of your clothes are in to peek inside, you can only see the top half of his nose from this angle. You have to boop it, watching him go cross eyed to look at your finger. Finding a simple t-shirt and shorts for yourself, you then search for something for Lux to wear. He unhelpfully keeps pointing at your clothes, going so far as to try to grab a bra for himself. In the end you just give him one of your t-shirts. It’s practically on the floor with how short he is but he’s happy, so you get into bed and hug him to you. 

“Thank you for helping Mr Pye, you know, letting him see his wife. He's been in mourning for so long. It's a shame those old film stocks are so flammable, I can't imagine the worry he must go through while trying to keep it safe.” Lux’s antennae bend towards you at that. It was flammable? That could be useful in the future. The God of Light is interrupted from his scheming by a kiss on the head from you. He snuggles further into the space between your neck and shoulder, brushing his nose over the marks he'd left there. No wonder Mr Pye caught on so quickly, Lux had really marked you well. He smiles at the thought. Anyone who saw you now would know you were taken. You were his. His angel, his light, his love. “Did you not pick out a book in the end? Do you Gods need sleep, anyway?” 

Ah. He'd dropped it to cuddle with you. “Well, no, sleep isn't necessary for me. Doesn't stop me from doing it! I quite like it, since it's an excuse to be close to you, sunshine.” Lux moves off of you to get the book from the floor before he flops on his back, next to you on the mattress. You roll over to wrap your arms around him, taking a peek at what he'd picked out to read. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Yeah, you had a feeling he'd go for that. 

With one last kiss placed on the back of his neck, you lay your head down and close your eyes. You can feel Lux holding your hands in one of his, his thumb brushing over the backs of them. He listens to your breathing slow as you fall asleep, hoping you'll forget about the trip outside you were planning this morning. Hopefully you'll just stay in here, with him, where you're safe.

[I don't know why, but it seems to take me longer to write up parts without smut. I guess my brain flows better when I have to write freaky shit. lol.]

[alltimecharlo]

i am begging for a (small) continuation of vet! mack and rookie! will 🥹 like the (full) team learning about them or them being an official couple and living together few years later!!

of course!! here they are moving in together 🥹🩵 fic under the cut <3

Will wakes up first.

Which is weird, because Mack’s usually the one up early, sneaking out of bed to go for his five-mile run like a lunatic. But this morning, it’s just Will, blinking against the soft morning light slanting through the still-bare windows of their new place. He can hear birds outside, the quiet hum of distant traffic, and Mack’s slow, steady breathing right next to him.

They moved in yesterday. It’s not even fully real yet.

There are still boxes stacked against the walls. The couch is half-built in the living room. Mack cursed at the coffee table legs for a full hour before giving up and declaring it a problem for future them. But the bed is made. The sheets are soft and familiar, and Will is curled into Mack’s side, their legs tangled together under the covers.

Mack’s warm. He always runs hot. Will presses his nose to his shoulder and grins to himself, giddy and full of it.

They live together.

He gets to wake up to this every morning.

Mack makes a quiet, sleepy noise and shifts, arm tightening around Will’s waist automatically. “You’re awake?”

Will hums. “Mhm.”

“Too early,” Mack mumbles, dragging him closer.

Will can’t stop smiling. “You’re just saying that because there’s still furniture to build.”

“There’s always furniture to build. I wanna stay in bed.”

Will laughs, pressing a kiss to Mack’s collarbone. “We can’t stay in bed. I promised I’d make waffles this morning. First breakfast in the new place.”

Mack cracks one eye open, looks down at him. He’s got pillow lines across his cheek and his hair’s a total disaster, but Will thinks he looks stupidly good. “You remembered that?”

“Obviously. I planned the whole menu. There’s whipped cream in the fridge. And strawberries.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You like that I’m a nerd.”

Mack grins, eyes crinkling. “Yeah. I really do.”

Will rolls away dramatically, throwing off the covers. “Okay. Time to christen our kitchen.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Mack groans, grabbing for him. But he’s grinning, and he follows Will out of bed like he can’t help himself.

They shuffle barefoot into the kitchen, still in sleep shirts and boxers. Will opens the fridge with a flourish like he’s presenting a Michelin-starred prep station. Mack leans against the counter and watches him pull out ingredients, eyes soft.

“You’re really happy about this,” Mack says, like he’s just now realizing it.

Will looks up from the mixing bowl, beaming. “Of course I am. This is—this is ours, Mack. We’ve lived out of hotel rooms and rental apartments for years. This is home.”

Mack nods slowly, like the word settles deep into his chest. “Yeah. It is.”

“And I get to live with you,” Will says, walking over to him, flour on his cheek and everything. “Which, you know. Perks.”

Mack loops his arms around Will’s waist and pulls him in. “You’re sappy as hell.”

Will shrugs, biting back a grin. “You like that too.”

“I do,” Mack admits. Then he kisses him.

It starts as a gentle thing, soft and easy. But Mack is always a little greedy when it comes to him, and it deepens quickly. When they finally pull apart, Will’s giggling, breathless against his mouth.

“You gonna let me finish the waffles?”

“Eventually,” Mack says, and kisses him again.

Will lets him.

Because there’s no rush. They’ve got all the time in the world now.

♡

[steddieas-shegoes]

falling is easy, catching is hard

rated m | also on ao3 cw: recreational drug use, implied sexual content tags: friends with benefits, secret relationship, shotgunning, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @sidekick-hero!!! Sandy, you deserve the world, but this 3000 word thing will have to do for now 💖

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

December 19, 1985

Steve Harrington needed sleep.

Eddie Munson had the only thing that would put him to sleep.

But Eddie Munson also held a grudge, a reasonable one, but an annoying one.

“You want me to sell you the last of my good shit? For half price?” Eddie snorted. “You’re out of your damn mind, Harrington.”

“Munson, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Steve begged.

“Why would I do you any favors? You never did me any.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, waiting somewhat impatiently for a response from Steve.

Steve didn’t have one.

Eddie was right; He didn’t really deserve a favor from someone who had let his friends make his first senior year absolutely miserable.

But Robin’s voice looped in his head: “Be vulnerable sometimes, Steve. People may surprise you.”

“Listen man, I just really need to sleep, alright? I’ve tried everything else.” Steve sighed. “This is pretty much my last hope.”

Which was a truth and a lie. He’d already tried smoking some weed, knew that it worked.

Eddie’s forehead creased in the middle.

That’s kinda cute, Steve thought to himself before shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by big, brown eyes and shiny lips.

“You been to a doctor?” Eddie asked.

“The sleeping pills make them worse.”

“Make what worse?” Eddie pushed.

“The nightmares.”

Eddie nodded once, understanding flitting across his face as he relaxed his arms by his sides.

“How long you been havin’ them?” Eddie asked as he walked around to the bench at the picnic table, opening his lunchbox.

“I guess…technically years. They’ve been worse since July though.” Steve knew he had to be careful about what he said, couldn’t give away more than what the public knew about what happened at the mall, but Eddie seemed trustworthy enough to handle this part. “Doctors said it’s normal for trauma or whatever.”

Eddie nodded, whispered something under his breath, and shuffled through his box.

“Forgot you worked at the mall over the summer. Kinda crazy what happened,” he said as he pulled a small discolored plastic bag from the box. “I’ll make you a one-time only deal, Stevie.”

Steve ignored the butterflies in his stomach at the nickname, kicked at the dirt under his feet, and gestured for Eddie to continue.

“I’m not giving my product away for half price. I’m a businessman and that’s not a smart financial decision for my business.” Eddie held up a hand when Steve looked like he was going to argue. “But! I will share a joint with you right here, right now, for free.”

“Um. What?”

“I was gonna smoke this one tonight as a celebration for passing all my first semester finals by the skin of my teeth. I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Eddie’s smirk made the butterflies even worse.

Steve was going to regret this.

God, he was so stupid.

“Yeah, okay.”

Smoking with Eddie the first time was nice, but the second, and third, and fourth times were even better.

— — — — — — —

January 16, 1986

“You’re late, Stevie. I was starting to worry you’d gotten frostbite.” Eddie’s smile warmed Steve from the inside out, the shiver wracking his body more to do with the growing fondness he had for the curly-haired man in front of him.

Eddie was bundled up like they were in Antarctica, and to be fair, it was below freezing outside right now.

Steve offered to meet somewhere else, but Eddie insisted they come to his usual spot.

And then Steve saw it: Eddie had built them a fire. It was small, he probably didn’t want to draw any attention from the road, but it was throwing heat that Steve craved.

“Come warm up before we get into it,” Eddie waved him over, his gloved hands looking out of place.

Steve was used to seeing shiny rings on his fingers, blisters on his fingertips from playing too much guitar.

Steve stood next to him in front of the fire, holding his own gloved hands out to try to warm his body as much as possible.

“Any reason I couldn’t just come to your house or something?” Steve asked, not quite getting rid of the attitude in his tone.

“My Uncle has tonight off. He’s a pretty chill guy, but I think actively watching me sell drugs to someone would maybe cause a heart attack.” Eddie sighed. “I told him I had a date tonight so I couldn’t really have you show up after that.”

“A date?” Steve grinned, nudging Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t even bring flowers.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but looked away to cover a blush. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put out until there’s a dozen roses in my hand.”

He meant it as a joke surely, but something in Steve’s chest clenched at the thought of spoiling Eddie like that. Maybe not roses, that didn’t quite seem his style.

“I’ll try to remember them next time,” Steve managed to say, nearly choking on his own words.

What was he even doing? Flirting? Eddie didn’t even consider him a real friend, why would he want him to bring him flowers?

“Got a new strain tonight. It’s supposed to be a little stronger, but fades faster, so you should be good to drive back home in a couple hours.” Eddie pulled the baggie out of his pocket, lunchbox long gone after meeting twice a week for the last month.

Steve wasn’t really a customer anymore, no matter how they tried to keep up appearances that he was.

He still tipped Eddie, or tried to, but usually Eddie ignored it and just said it was a favor to help him sleep.

“How strong?” Steve finally asked as Eddie pulled the lighter from his pocket.

“Might make you a little floatier than usual. Not hallucinogenic, though.” Eddie knew he couldn’t handle that kind of trip. That’s why he stayed away from his other offerings. “I tested it out myself earlier this week.”

Steve wasn’t reading into that.

“Okay.” He fought off a shiver, this time from actually being cold. “Guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll drive you home if it’s too much.” Eddie’s offer was kind, going above and beyond what a dealer would do for a customer, but Steve wasn’t reading into it. “Or you can nap it off in the van for an hour or so before heading home. Whatever.”

Eddie lit the joint, breathing in long and slow, holding the smoke until Steve was sure he would pass out before slowly letting it out.

He handed the roll to Steve, who didn’t think about what Eddie meant by stronger, and took his normal pull, choking halfway through.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he took the joint from him, his hand grabbing onto Steve’s arm as he coughed.

“Jesus Christ, man, you good?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “Sorry. It is a lot stronger.”

Eddie searched his face, relaxing as Steve’s breathing went back to normal. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe take it slower?” Eddie teased. “Or- no never mind.”

“Or what?” Steve asked, already feeling the heaviness that came with smoking.

“Ever shotgunned before?”

Steve’s heart stopped. He’d venture to say he was even stone cold sober again after that question.

“Um. No.” He hadn’t. He’d wanted to with Nancy, figured it would be the only way she would be interested in trying weed, but it never worked out. “Would it be easier?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Usually. We can give it a try if you want.”

Steve nodded before he really processed what he was being offered.

Eddie’s mouth would be very, very close to his. Possibly even on his.

And he’d be sharing breath with him, probably more than one if it worked.

Eddie pulled the picnic table closer to the fire and sat on the bench. He patted the seat next to him.

“Might as well get comfy, then,” Eddie said.

Steve sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth coming from his side, close enough to hear Eddie’s hitched breath when they made contact.

Close enough to want to be closer.

“Alright, so I’ll start with a small one, and you just have to breathe in when I breathe out.”

“Is it-” Steve played with a loose thread on his gloves. “Your lips are gonna touch mine?”

Eddie suddenly looked nervous, like he regretted offering this at all, and Steve couldn’t allow that.

“I don’t mind! I mean, I want you to!” Steve panicked. “Like, it’s fine! I know we have to for the whole thing to work.”

“Yeah. Um, it’s not like, weird or anything. It’s just me helping you get high.”

It wasn’t weird, but it definitely was hot.

Eddie took a drag, leaned into Steve’s space, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head back for easier access.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

But he had to, that was the whole fucking point of doing this.

His lips parted and Eddie’s warmth coated him, covered him better than the fire.

He breathed in as Eddie breathed out, his hand seeking contact with anything solid to keep him on this earth.

He found it in Eddie’s hip, his fingers gripping tight as Eddie lingered beyond the point of the smoke clearing from his mouth to Steve’s.

Their lips brushed lightly, an agonizingly soft touch that Steve tried his best not to chase as it drifted away.

He bit back a whine at the loss, opening his eyes to see Eddie still surprisingly close, pupils huge.

It’s just the weed, Steve thought to himself.

It definitely wasn’t their almost-kiss.

Steve breathed out, swallowing once the smoke was gone from his mouth.

“Good?” Eddie asked.

Steve should answer him, should nod and thank him for doing this, maybe ask him for another hit so he could try to blame his fidgeting on being high.

But Steve wanted to kiss him.

Not shotgun, not barely brush lips, not act like this wasn’t something more than what it started as.

Robin told him he deserved nice things, and he deserved to be happy, and he did.

So Steve let himself try to have a nice thing.

“Again?” Steve asked, leaning in before Eddie had a chance to take a drag.

“Woah, big boy.” Eddie’s hands grabbed his shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him back from making contact that he so desperately wanted. “Think that first hit might have gotten to you already. Let’s take a minute.”

“No, I-”

“Steve. You’re high.”

His tone was final, and something about the way his eyes darted away made Steve think that maybe this wasn’t the first time someone tried to make a move on him because he was giving them something.

He didn’t know Steve was into men, either.

Steve could just tell him, though. Let him know it’s not just the drugs, that he’d already had feelings for him before.

But the high was kicking in and Steve’s tongue felt like an iron weight.

“How about I get you some water?” Eddie asked, pulling away and walking swiftly to his van.

Steve didn’t protest. He did need some water.

Eddie sat on the other side of the table when he came back, handed over a bottle of water with a small smile, and watched as Steve gulped most of it down.

“This is good shit,” Steve admitted, slurring his words a little from the effort of moving his mouth. “Better than usual.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice treat once in a while.”

They sat in silence for another 30 minutes or so, though the time didn’t even feel like it was passing to Steve until Eddie stood up and guided him to the passenger seat of his van.

“Wha-?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at home. You got someone who can help you get your car tomorrow?” Eddie buckled his seatbelt, Steve tried not to be too endeared. “Maybe Buckley? Or Wheeler?”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Nancy had barely talked to him in months, not since she gave him one awkward hug after Starcourt. Robin couldn’t drive, or at least said she couldn’t. That’s why he drove her to school and all of her work shifts.

“Maybe you could?” Steve suggested.

Eddie sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

— — — — — — —

February 14, 1986

Steve got him flowers.

He hadn’t seen him since the night he drove Steve home.

By the time Steve woke up the next morning, his car was parked in the driveway with a note on his keys that said ‘Promise there’s not a dent on her.’

And then Eddie had ignored his calls. He’d conveniently never been at his spot anytime Steve had ever met up with him before.

He couldn’t even pass a message through Dustin because Dustin was too curious for his own good and would probably figure out that Steve wanted to kiss him.

Which is all Steve thought about for the last month while he figured out what to do next.

Robin was no help at all, said he should just corner him after Hellfire one night and make a move if he wanted him so bad.

As if that could ever be an option.

This was his last chance, though.

He’d confirmed with one of his bandmates – Garrett, maybe? – that he didn’t have plans tonight and refused to sell on Valentine’s Day.

Steve stood in front of Eddie’s trailer, a bouquet of white and pink daisies in his hand, feeling particularly stupid.

The van was here, so Eddie was here, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk up the steps and knock on the door. This was maybe the most idiotic thing he’d ever done and he probably should leave before he was seen by someone.

“Steve?” Eddie opened the front door, confusion clear even from a distance. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I said I’d bring you flowers.”

He felt so dumb, standing here holding a bouquet of flowers for a guy who didn’t even want to sell drugs to him anymore. He considered dropping the flowers and making a run for it, but Eddie leaned against the door frame and scrunched his nose up.

Like he was trying not to smile.

Like maybe Steve did something right.

“Better bring them in so they can get water, then,” Eddie said with a hesitant smile.

Steve would take any type of smile, as long as it meant he wasn’t being sent away with his tail between his legs.

He rushed inside, didn’t think about the smell of Irish Spring coming off of Eddie, or the way his arm brushed against his side as he passed him.

Steve stood in Eddie’s trailer, taking in what Eddie called home, holding the flowers in front of him with hope.

Eddie closed the front door and walked over to him, holding his hand out.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers just for me to sell you drugs again, ya know.” Eddie smiled sadly. “I would have let you buy if you really needed it.”

“You won’t return my calls so how would you know if I needed it?” Steve countered.

“Ouch.” Eddie sucked a breath in through his teeth. “You’re right. I, uh, was giving you some space.”

“What made you think I wanted any?” Steve took the flowers back from Eddie’s hand, setting them on the coffee table behind him. “If I wanted space, I wouldn’t have bothered calling at all.”

“That’s what Wayne said, but-”

“Well, maybe you should’ve listened to Wayne.” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked things up by wanting to kiss you. I’m sorry if the flowers are too much. I’m sorry if I’m too much.”

Steve couldn’t look at Eddie after his confession, or his attempt at one. It may have been more of an apology, but he figured his intentions were clear enough.

“Steve. Stevie. Look at me.” Eddie cupped his cheeks, that familiar warmth covering Steve in safety. “You’re not too much. Don’t ever, ever let anyone tell you that you’re too much. You were so high, I didn’t wanna take advantage. I thought if I just left you to think about it long enough, you’d realize what happened was just from the weed.”

Steve shook his head, reaching his hands up to circle Eddie’s wrists. “It wasn’t just the weed. You’d know that if you let me talk to you before now.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, eyes dancing across the freckles that covered Steve’s surprisingly sun-kissed skin. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“You’re forgiven if you listen now,” Steve took a breath, letting his hands run down Eddie’s arms and settle on his hips. “I like you. A lot. Definitely more than a customer should, more than a friend should, maybe more than a regular boyfriend should. It’s okay if that’s too much, but it’s what I have to give.”

“You’re really something, Stevie.” Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I think I’ll take what you’re giving if that’s alright with you.”

“Please,” Steve breathed out as Eddie’s lips crushed against his fully.

Steve always felt so much, always gave so much, hardly ever had anyone who would take what he had to give.

But Eddie was taking it, forcing it from Steve to his own body, his own heart, like it was the only thing he wanted or needed.

“If you wanna buy tonight, you’re gonna be real disappointed,” Eddie gasped out against his lips when they came up for air minutes, maybe hours, later. “I don’t sell on major holidays.”

“Is Valentine’s Day a major holiday?” Steve asked, brows furrowing.

“It is when I get to have you in my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“That sound okay to you, big boy?” Eddie was smooth. Who could have possibly guessed?

Steve barely got out a ‘yes’ before Eddie was pulling him down the short hallway to his bedroom and rattling off things he wanted to do to him.

Steve Harrington probably wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

But Eddie Munson would make it worth his while.

[capseycartwright]

see the lights, and hang the stockings

Eddie finds out that Buck has never ever had a Christmas stocking of his own. He's very determined to change that and share a few Diaz family traditions.

ao3 link

for week three of @winterofbuddie - holiday history.

Eddie knew he was inclined to go a little overboard at Christmastime. It was his favourite holiday, and he’d inadvertently (and very happily, might he add) made it Christopher’s favourite holiday too, their house always filled to the brim with decorations, Christmas music playing on a loop as soon as Thanksgiving was over, and he and Christopher agreed it was socially acceptable to dive right into the Christmas of it all.

Eddie loved Christmas, was the point, and even now, when Christopher was a relatively grumpy teenager, so did his son, Christopher happy to spend one of his precious Saturday evenings decorating the tree with Eddie, and Buck, instead of hanging out with his friends. 

Well, to a point. 

They’d gotten the tree decorated before Christopher had sneaked off to his bedroom, the chatter of his teenager calling his friends comforting background noise as he and Buck carried on the decorating duties. There had been a time where Eddie had worried he’d never have a house filled with the noise of Christopher simply living his life again, and so he was grateful for it - even when he’d hear Christopher up chatting far too late, his bedtime long past. 

Eddie only got to have his kid be a kid for so long, and he’d lived through a dark few months where he hadn’t gotten to have his son around at all - so, he could be forgiven for being a little lenient with him sometimes. 

“Mulled wine,” Buck hummed by way of explanation, pressing a mug into Eddie’s waiting hands. Eddie liked getting to do this, decorate, with Buck. Buck was his best friend in the whole world, and Eddie had done enough work unpicking a lifetime of repression to know that his feelings for Buck went a bit further than solely platonic, but even putting the whole, being in love with him, thing aside, Eddie just loved to spend time with the other man. 

“Thank you,” Eddie hummed, inhaling the comforting smell of spices, the aroma of mulled wine sinking into every inch of Eddie’s house. Christmas baking would join the party soon, he knew, because Buck was determined to make all of their nearest and dearest cookie boxes this year, like he’d seen on TikTok, and Eddie knew that his kitchen would be the stage of choice when Buck committed to executing his twelve-point plan for perfecting cookie gifts. 

“I think it needs more cardamon,” Buck admitted, a tiny frown furrowing the space between his eyebrows. Eddie sort of always wanted to kiss it. 

“It’s perfect,” Eddie disagreed, taking another sip of his drink. “You make the best mulled wine.”

An adorable flush appeared on Buck’s cheeks. Just another thing Eddie wanted to kiss. “You’re an unreliable reviewer,” he shook his head. “You like everything I make. I can never tell what’s really good, and what’s just okay, because you tell me everything is good.”

Eddie grinned, setting his mug on the fireplace. “That’s because I think everything is good,” he shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. Buck was a fantastic cook, and a great baker, and Eddie’s house was ground zero for many delicious experiments - the cheesy, twisty garlic bread Buck had made for their Italian themed family dinner had been a recent highlight. Buck’s sourdough starter even lived in Eddie’s fridge, not his own, for crying out loud. 

Pressing play on his carefully curated Christmas playlist, the sound of Wham! and Last Christmas filling the living room, Eddie passed Buck a snowglobe, his best friend indulging and setting it down on the coffee table, where it always lived. It was a cheap, silly thing that Eddie had bought the first Christmas he’d been out of the army, from the Dollar General, but it held so much sentimental memory now, Eddie didn’t have the heart to throw it out. Buck had bought them a beautiful snowglobe a few years previously, from a small business based on the Northern Californian coast, and that was pride of place on the fireplace, but the cheap one still had a home - different eras of Eddie’s life all coming together here, in LA, in the first place he’d really chosen for himself. 

“I love your decorations,” Buck hummed, careful fingers tracing the lettering on one of the tree decorations - it was an imprint of Christopher’s tiny baby hand, the black writing announcing to the world that it had been his very first Christmas. “They all have so much meaning.”

Eddie hummed. “You know me,” he joked. “I’m a sentimental old fool.” 

“No - it’s good. Great, even,” Buck paused, for a minute. “My parents' Christmas tree had a colour scheme, growing up. There were no sentimental ornaments - only these picture perfect gold and red baubles. I broke one - I think I was seven, or eight - and my mom yelled at me for so long that it made me cry. She said they didn’t make the ornaments anymore, so she’d have to change them all now, because of me. I didn’t think she had meant it, but the next year, she’d thrown out all the red and gold, and we had green and silver.”

Eddie knew that Buck had grown up with emotionally neglectful parents, but sometimes, in moments like this, when Buck made an admission about the reality of his childhood, it really struck him how bad it must have been for Buck, growing up - how lonely, and sad, he must have been. It was amazing, really, how Buck turned out to be so kind, and wonderful, given the house he grew up in. How Buck was still Buck, despite everything he’d been through. “Buck, I…”

“I’m sorry,” Buck shrugged it off, like he always did. Buck never wanted to burden other people, and sometimes it made Eddie want to yell, and scream -  it made him want to beg Buck to burden him with every thought and feeling he had. Eddie wanted to be there for him - he wanted to know what Buck had for breakfast every morning, and what he thought came in the afterlife, and everything in between. “I don’t know why I said that. Tonight’s meant to be happy, and here I am, making it all about me.”

read the rest on ao3