#Angst and Fluff (Minor?)

[mild-lust]

"He's an idiot." Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

❥ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6k

❥ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sweet!Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

❥ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After being stood up by Eddie Munson, you run into Steve Harrington on the walk home from the trailer park. He lends you listening ear and a ride—and instead of taking you home, he takes you to his.

❥ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: MDNI! 18+ content! Explicit language. Smut with undertones of fluff, and a little angst (if you squint). Unprotected penetrative sex, f!receiving oral sex, past casual relationship with Eddie.

❥ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: My first post, nerve wracking as hell !! I think I got a bit carried away !

You stare at the phone blankly after hanging it up. It was a call that you had been all but unfamiliar with receiving, but it conflicted you all the same each time. And always went the same way. He would make fake niceties, ask you shallow questions about your day and try to keep up some small talk before, inevitably, asking the same damn question. 

“Do you wanna come over tonight?”

You huffed in annoyance each time, making a half-hearted attempt to resist and trying to conjure up some lame excuse not to, but each time you would end the call with a reluctant ‘Fine, Eddie, I’ll be there.’ You hated yourself for being persuaded so easily. It was basically routine at this point, and it was stupid of you to even pick up the phone in the first place. As soon as you heard his voice on the other line, you should’ve hung up on him. You always think these things are so easy to do until you have to do them, until you hear his sultry voice pleading on the other end of the phone for just one more time. You let yourself think, in that moment, that maybe it’ll be different for once. It’s a stupid, short-lived belief.

Even so, you find yourself sat in front of your vanity again, brushing your hair and curling your eyelashes in hopes of impressing him. Maybe if your cheeks are a little more rosy, your eyelids a little more colourful, he might change how he feels about you. He might come to the revelation that he wants more than just sex this time. You know your efforts are futile, as long as your clothes are easy to take off he couldn’t care less about anything else, but it makes you feel better for a few moments to let yourself believe otherwise is true. You reluctantly slip on a matching set of underwear, lacy and baby pink. Very intentional. You know you look good, and you know that Eddie will appreciate it. You realize that this is the reason he expects the same thing every time—because you deliver it. You curse yourself for it. Shaking the thought from your head, you step into a short pink dress, throwing a cable-knit cardigan on top. 

You try not to think as you walk down the stairs, out of your house, and down the street to his. You consider turning back about a million times, but you end up at his trailer before you can actually muster the courage to do it. You knock on the door a couple times, waiting patiently, stupidly, for a response. Then again when you don’t receive an answer, the action proving ultimately as useless as the first one. You raise onto your tiptoes to try peek through the window, and you find that the trailer is completely empty inside. Your face grows warm as you look around the trailer park, realizing no one is around or waiting for you. 

Tears threaten your eyes, and you forcefully blink them away before they get the chance to well. You shake your head, promising yourself that you won’t be brought down by the behaviour of Eddie Munson. Not again. You turn and make your way back down the street, your shoulders slumping. The street is desolate and lifeless, the late hour clearing the pedestrians from wandering and leaving you alone on the road. That is, until headlights shine from behind you, casting your shadow on the concrete front of you. 

A familiar burgundy BMW slows as it approaches, stopping beside you. The tinted window rolls down, and you’re met with the face of Steve Harrington. You brush a stray hair from your face, then attempt to clean the smudged mascara from beneath your eyes with the knuckle of your thumb.

“Hey, L/N,” he drapes his arm over the door, “what are you doing out here?” he asks, his eyebrow cocked as he looks up and down the dark street. You’re slightly surprised to hear the concern in his voice. Although, you suppose, you’ve seen him around and you hang around a lot of the same people. Besides, it’s kind of impossible to roam the halls of Hawkins High School and never hear the name King Steve. You’ve had quite a bit of interaction with this boy, but the significance of your friendship only really occurs to you the moment that he stops his drive to talk to you. 

You shrug your shoulders, and you feel your cheeks grow rosy as you realize you have to find a way to avoid telling him the truth for the sake of your own dignity. He raises an eyebrow at you, “It’s late, you know,” he says, pointing out the obvious. You feign a small, agreeing smile, nodding your head as you avert your gaze to the ground. You open your mouth to speak, hesitating when you try to figure out what to say, “I know. I, um,” you shake your head, “I was just on the way home.”

He’s clearly dissatisfied with your response, concern still evident on his face when he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “That’s awfully vague,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “Here, you want a ride?” he asks, gripping the stick shift and switching back into drive, his gaze unwavering. 

You blink at him, slightly surprised by the invitation, “No, that's okay, Steve.”

You purse your lips into a polite smile, and he gives you a disapproving frown along with a quick, dismissive shake of his head. He opens the door opposite to him, a gesture for you to get in. His tone is persistent but gentle, “Come on.” He cocks his head toward the empty seat beside him, “Let me at least get you off the street. You can chill at my place, just to… you know, not be alone.”

You carefully consider his offer, pulling your lower lip between your teeth in thought, a subconscious attempt to suppress the smile that tries to pull your cheeks. You dip your chin, soon decidedly trotting your way around the front of his car and slipping through the passenger door. His arm crosses your body as he shuts it beside you with a soft thud, before he returns his grip back to the steering wheel. You lay your hands in your lap, watching yourself fiddle with your fingers. It’s hard not to think about the fact that you’ve never been alone with this boy. The car is quiet for a beat, the low hum of the engine bringing ambience to the space. You realize that you feel a bit less lonesome now, being in this car with him. A wave of gratitude washes over you, and you wonder if he knows that he’s saved you from a harrowing, pitiful night at home alone. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, needlessly ashamed to say it. 

He shakes his head, “Don’t mention it,” he says as he turns to look at you, his expression curious once again. “Where were you coming from?” 

You scrunch your nose and bring your gaze back down to your nervous, fidgeting fingers. “Nowhere,” you lie, the familiarity of embarrassment crawling up your neck. 

He gives you a comforting half-smile, his eyes shifting back to the road now that he has you talking, the engine turning and thrusting the vehicle forward. “No, come on.”

You hide your face with your hands, an action you realize is meaningless as he’s not even looking at you anymore, “God, it’s embarrassing.”

He smiles amusedly when he senses your unease. He remains wordless, the quiet itself urging you to continue. “I went to… um, Eddie’s place.” The words leave your mouth reluctantly, humiliating and heavy on your tongue. 

You see his eyes widen a bit as he processes what you’ve said. “No kidding,” He says with a scoff, disbelief heavy in his voice. “Munson?”

Your chest tightens, and you’re unsure if you’re more ashamed by your actions or Steve’s reaction. “Yes, Munson,” you huff, “but nothing happened.” 

He seems to lose some amusement from your clarification, potentially hoping for a juicier outcome. To your surprise, he doesn’t press any further. You were glad to see him bring his focus back to the road, going back to quietly navigating the stark streets for the remainder of the drive. You watch the unlit houses go by through the window, cruising by streets you only faintly recognize. Before you know it, Steve is pulling into his driveway and leading you up the small steps to his front door. He coolly unlocks it and opens it for you, welcoming you into the darkness of his living room. Light creeps in from a small light in the kitchen, allowing you to just barely make out the outline of his furniture.

You squint your eyes, lingering in his foyer once you’ve hung up your sweater. He sets down his keys and heads towards his staircase. “Are your parents home?” you ask tentatively.

“Nope,” he replies, “they’re in Chicago for the weekend.”

He throws the words away, moving into his house without a second thought, apparently used to being alone. It’s only when he disappears into the kitchen that you think to catch up to him, finding him with a crisp can of Coke already opened. He leans against the open door of his refrigerator, his head tipping back as he takes a swig. You stand in the doorway, your eyes trailing up his exposed neck, moles sparsely trickling along his flesh and adams apple as it bobs with deep gulps. Your eyes snap back to his face when he speaks again, “Want something to drink?” 

You shake your head and murmur a sheepish ‘That’s okay, thank you’. He nods and moves past you, travelling across the long distance between his kitchen and his living room. You follow behind him, your head turning every which way to take in his house. It’s spacious, tasteful, but you can’t help but notice its overbearing hollowness. The halls are empty and dark, any sign of liveliness or family apparently absent. You wonder how often his parents must be gone for the house to be this pristine, practically untouched. You clear your throat, taking a seat next to him on the couch, sure to keep a safe distance between the two of you. 

“What were you doing at Eddie’s house?” Steve questions you again, breaking the silence and setting his elbows on his knees. You recognize an edge that suggests more than just innocent curiosity; an insistence that makes you wonder if he’s truly interested in your answer rather than simply enticed by the gossip. 

“Um,” you wet your lips, “he wasn’t even there, actually.” Your mouth dries up as you say it, the reminder digging a pit in your stomach. He tilts his head to the side, clearly not understanding.

“Hm? Why not?” 

You raise your shoulders, letting out a soft, defeated sigh. “He was supposed to be.”

Uncertainty flickers on his face, and his expression softens when he realizes the implication. “Oh,” he utters, his voice quieter now, “I see.” He leans back against the couch, looking down at his lap. 

“It’s not a big deal,” the words tumble out, quick to reassure him. “We’re not, like, together or anything. Just… kinda sucks.” His eyes find yours as you speak, actively searching for any sign of doubt on your face. You press your lips together, “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” he nods slowly, not entirely convinced of your apathy. “Well, he’s a dick, you hope you know.” 

Your lips curl, eased by his attempt to sympathize with your being stood up. You wave him off. “Oh, whatever.” 

“Seriously,” he persists, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip of his Coke.

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s Eddie.”

“I guess. Still a dick move,” his voice softens. “I mean, no dude should get to stand anyone up.” He pauses for a moment, seemingly careful to choose the right words. “You don't deserve that. You’re… a really nice girl.”

“Nice?”

Steve keeps your gaze when he continues, “Yeah. He’s a moron.” He tsks. “If I had someone like you coming over…” He trails off, unsure of whether or not he should continue. 

“What?” you ask curiously.

“I mean—look at you. I’d be waiting at the door."

“Really?” you say. As if you need to hear it again to fully understand what he means. 

He swallows dryly, setting his can onto the coffee table and, in turn, settling closer to you. “Come on, you’re gorgeous.” He says simply. 

His leg brushes yours, and he doesn’t pull away. You nod, mostly to yourself, and try not to smile too obviously as you look down at your lap. “Thank you,” you mutter quietly enough that you’re not sure if he hears it. There’s no indication even once you look back at him, but you realize that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You feel your cheeks burn up, and you hope he doesn’t notice the pinkish-red that tends to slither up your neck when you get nervous. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times, though.”

You purse your lips, somehow embarrassed not to have been told something when you have no control over whether or not you’re told. You try to shrug it off, “Not really.”

Steve is visibly puzzled by this. “No?” He asks inquisitively. 

“You know,” you say, trying to feign indifference. “Eddie’s not really… a talker.”

“‘Not really a talker’? What does that mean?” he replies, as if there’s no way he could be interpreting this correctly. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, instinctually starting to feel defensive over Eddie, despite yourself.

“You know,” you say again, hoping he’ll understand before you have to say it. “Neither of us really talked. Not much opportunity for compliments.”

He scoffs, “That’s bullshit.”

You frown and swat him half-heartedly, “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not,” he raises his eyebrows and holds his hands up in a mock-surrender, “Just saying. Must’ve been real good for you to put up with all that.”

You laugh humourlessly, glancing away from him. “Yeah, you’d think so.”

His eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of your crypticity. It only takes him a second, and his eyes flit back to yours. He cocks his head. “He wasn’t?” he asks lightly, trying to sound casual though the interest in his eyes isn’t exactly subtle.

You don’t want to offer anything more, admittedly embarrassed to elaborate. You figure he can read between the lines, but his gaze is unwavering, still curious. You hesitate before you continue, “I don’t know.” Part of you wants to protect Eddie’s intimate life for the sake of his privacy, while the other doesn’t really care after what he pulled tonight. Decidedly, you go with the better part. “It was never really about me.”

“What, you mean, he never, like… you never—” he breaks, his eyebrows raising as it dawns on him, “Oh.”

You’re grateful that he’s not judgmental about it, just surprised. Possibly even for your sake. Silence hangs between the two of you for a moment, not particularly uncomfortably, before he breaks it again. “Wow, that sucks.” All you do is tighten your lips and nod agreeingly. “You deserve, um,” he stops to weigh his words, “You should be with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means. He’s searching your face, as if he’s still trying to decide something, and his eyes dip to your mouth almost imperceptibly. He sets his hand onto your knee, gingerly, giving you the opportunity to pull away from him. You don’t. 

You let out a nervous exhale as he leans closer to you, the distance between you closing further and further. Once his mouth meets yours, it’s drastically different from the hungry, lustful make-outs you’d shared with Eddie. He presses softly, his lips moving cautiously, still proposing a question. He breaks the kiss, just for a moment, only leaving an inch or two between you. Another opportunity to let you pull away if you wanted to. Once he sees that you don’t, his hand moves to cup the side of your face, and he kisses you again with more fervour. Though his lips are still moving with care, gentleness, there is more intent behind it. He’s eager. 

You shift closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you rest your hand on his leg. His tongue brushes along your bottom lip, a silent request meant to coax it open. You answer it, slipping your tongue alongside his. You still yourself, suddenly unsure, and wonder if you’re moving too quickly. You’re not sure of how far he’s meaning to take it, or whether or not the kiss was supposed to mean anything at all. Your answer comes soon after when his hand trails carefully up your thigh, deliberate and certain. You lean into his touch, and he gently pulls you into his lap. Your knees settle on either side of his hips, and he places both hands on the small of your back. You sigh softly against his mouth, moving your hands to both sides of his neck and drawing him impossibly closer. 

The skirt of your dress gathers around your thighs when your front presses flush to his, your legs spread across his lap. His hands travel to your bare thighs before he stops himself at the hem of your dress. He lets out a careful exhale, pulling his lips from yours and searching your eyes. Your noses still touch, his breath fans hotly against your face, and you bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you whisper reassuringly, answering the question he hasn’t yet asked aloud. 

“No, I…” he trails off, his eyes flicking to the ceiling. He swallows once, then utters quietly, “Upstairs?” 

The single word earns a fervent nod from you, and you lift yourself from his lap, offering your hand to him. He hastily takes it, moving in front of you to lead you out of the living room and up his staircase. Once you’ve made it to his room, he shuts the door behind him with a quiet ‘click’. He crosses the room with only a couple strides, his hands again holding your face and bringing you into another kiss before you can even make it to the bed. He walks you backwards and only breaks away from your lips once the back of your legs bump against it, then he lowers you gently on top of his rumpled bedspread. As he crawls over you, his lips attach to your neck and kisses tenderly along your jaw. 

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours to take a second to catch his breath. His hand rubs the fat of your thigh, hesitating when it traces the hem of your dress. You place your hand on his and guide it higher up your leg. 

Steve sits back for a brief moment to swiftly pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside and causing it to pile in a heap on the floor. He leans back down for another kiss too quickly for you to properly see him, so you resort to instead moving your hands to run delicately along his stomach and up to his chest. He grasps your thigh and hikes it up to his hip, opening your body against him. His hips rut gently against yours just once, and you can tell that he’s making an effort to restrain himself. The growing tent in his jeans rubs roughly against you even after he stops moving. His hand wanders further up your thigh, skimming the bottom of your dress and pausing, almost waiting for you to stop him. Yet again, you don’t. Instead, you raise your arms to allow him to peel it over your head and discard it to the floor, just as his shirt was. 

Your face grows hot when you’re left bare underneath him. As he leans back onto his knees, you see his breath hitch in his throat when the lingerie that you initially put on for Eddie is revealed. His hands instinctively move to your hips, tracing his fingers along the lacy material that clings to your curves, his eyes still fixated on your body.

The longer he stares, the more self-conscious you feel, even if it only lasts for a second. “What?” you ask sheepishly, pulling your knees together in a half-hearted attempt to close yourself off. 

“Nothing,” he responds quickly, his eyes darting back to yours, “It’s just… Eddie’s an idiot.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips, your hands reaching out to pull him back in for a kiss—partly to stop him from staring much longer. Obviously, that’d been the reaction you’d hoped for, but you’d gotten so used to being stripped so hurriedly that it was surprising to be given more than a few seconds before rushing to the ‘good part’.

 His hands continue to admire your body when his eyes can’t, moving along your waist and eventually cupping your breast. His thumb brushes over the hardened peak of your nipple through the thin material, the sensation causing a shudder to run down your spine. Your back arches into him responsively, along with a quiet moan that’s muffled by his mouth. 

His lips travel down to your neck and press hotly below your ear, tenderly making their way down to your chest. His erection rubs evidently against your inner thigh. Despite himself, he doesn’t grind or urge against you. He still takes his time to plant gentle, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, lower, lower, lower…

Faint pants escape from your lips, your chest rising and falling heavily. His lips press between your breasts, trailing down to your belly button, to the soft plush of your inner thigh. You gasp softly, a chill running through your body when he presses a feathery kiss to your clothed clit. He continues to pepper light kisses on your thighs as one hand roams along the side of your body, stopping when it reaches the lace of your panties. His eyes flicker to yours, and you answer the question he means to ask with a keen nod of your head. 

A finger hooks the material, sliding them down your legs smoothly. Once they pass your thighs, knees, and ankles, he balls up your underwear and tosses it aside, then hooks his hands around your legs to pull you closer to him.

Your eyes flutter shut when he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. Your cunt pulses desperately, the almost torturous pace he’s setting already making your head spin. He evasively pulls his tongue back into his mouth, and in its place, he slides his middle finger to glide along your folds. He slips it in tentatively, his eyes wide as he looks up at you for even a semblance of hesitance or doubt. All he’s met with is the soft gasp that’s drawn from your lips, a clear green light for him to continue. Pushing deeper into your soaking entrance, his finger curls and his lips attach to your clit, suckling. This earns another gasp, the pretty noises coming from your mouth growing more consistent once his finger starts to slip in and out of you. 

His tongue swirls around your sensitive clit, and he slides his index finger alongside his middle, his thick digits already starting to stretch you out as they move with mesmerizing care. You have to make an effort not to tug too hard on his hair when your fingers thread through it, your knees draping over his shoulders. With his tongue lapping and sucking on your puffy clit, fingers curling expertly to brush against your sweet spot with every pump, you realize how badly you’d been lying to yourself about ‘not minding’ the lack thereof with Eddie. Because, Jesus, does this feel fucking phenomenal.

His free hand moves to grasp your thigh, encouraging your legs to stay open once they try to close around his head. You start to burn up from the inside, being pushed closer to the edge despite his pace that refuses to quicken to match your rapid breaths. It’s a bit embarrassing to near your orgasm so quickly before he’s even fully undressed, but it’s excruciatingly hard to focus on anything except the waves of pleasure that wade through your body. 

“Steve,” you breathe, trying to grab his attention. You tighten your fingers in his hair, a weak attempt to break him away from you, but he persists. Your skin tingles with the sensation of his tongue working against you, and the lust that blooms in your lower tummy begs you to take this further. You squirm slightly underneath him as you mewl his name once again, “Steve...” 

All he does is him in mindless acknowledgement, the sound being muffled by your cunt. Once you get him to finally pull away and look at you, he is a visionary. His lips are pink and wet, parted slightly as he gazes up to look at you. His dark hair is tousled by your eager grasp and a strand falls loosely onto his forehead. You brush it from his eyes. You truly don’t know how much longer you can wait to have him, and you find yourself driven by this burning impatience. 

You urge him to move from between your thighs, pulling him to sit up. Tucking your lower lip between your teeth, you lay him down beside you and climb on top of him, settling your knees on either side of his hips. You reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, pulling it off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. This warrants a groan to erupt from deep in his throat, his eyes taking in your bare chest as if he’s immediately committed to memorizing it for future notice. 

“So pretty…” he whispers, and it’s unclear whether or not he meant for you to hear him. 

He attaches his mouth to yours again, wasting no time to slip his tongue past your lips and explore. There’s a newfound sense of urgency now, his movements still deliberate but considerably more driven. You shift backwards to give yourself enough room to start working on his belt buckle, your fingers fumbling as if you’ve never undone a belt in your life. Then he lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down his thighs, and he’s left in nothing but his Calvin Klein briefs, the barrier between the two of you starting to dwindle. You can’t stand being naked where he remains clothed, even if it’s nothing but a pair of briefs, so your fingers move quickly to slide under his waistband. You wet your lips and tug delicately, just enough that his erection is revealed from beneath the fabric. 

You almost salivate when he springs free and weighs heavily against his stomach, a drop of precum gathered at the pink tip. You can’t help but reach to wrap your hand around him, your fingers barely meeting around his girth. His reaction is immediate; his eyebrows creasing, his lips parting with a sharp inhale, and his head tipping back against the headboard with a faint ‘thud’. You swipe the bead of arousal at the head with your thumb, before moving your hand slowly down his length. You’re only granted a stroke or two, base to tip, before he stops you by grabbing your wrist. “Easy,” he breathes, seemingly concentrated on restraining himself from ending the night right then and there. 

It’s unspoken, but there is a mutual understanding between the both of you that he needs to get inside you, like, yesterday. You lean forward, bracing yourself with one hand and arching your back somewhat purposefully, allowing you to hover above his cock. He shifts between your legs, his hand replacing yours at the base. You’re a bit embarrassed by the sheer amount of arousal that already coats his thick cockhead, though he seems to be in utter disagreement with you when he responds with a guttural groan. He aligns himself with your slick, carefully gliding the tip up and down without yet going in. 

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, despite the telling circumstances. 

“Yes, Steve,” you respond firmly, almost exasperated by his unwavering hesitancy. “I want you,” you emphasize, hoping the slight whine in your voice is enough to soothe his uncertainty. 

Luckily, those three words are all he needs to hear. Once he properly positions himself, all he says after that is a small ‘Tell me if you wanna stop’, and his hands move to steady your hips. Your eyebrows knot, and your chest swells with anticipation, even nervousness. His tender demeanor, the way he looks at you, it’s so overly different from how Eddie treated you. You wonder how you ended up here, with Steve, instead of in Eddie’s trailer as you always do. Coincidence, you suppose. If you had ended up there again, you certainly wouldn’t—

Holy fuck.

The thoughts are swept clean from your head once he guides you down onto him, your mind overcome instantly with the tantalizing stretch his cock brings upon entrance. Your nails go to grasp his shoulders, your jaw slackening with an audible gasp. Your eyes flutter open, your senses overwhelmed with the firm grip he holds on you, the grunt that falls from his lips, the air that punches from your throat with the first deep, experimental thrust. 

He holds your soft hips tightly, enough that it seems he’s keeping you from moving any more. “Jesus christ,” Steve mutters, his voice strained. “You’re so—fuck.”

You give yourself a moment to adjust, partly for his sake, especially because it seems if you move at all he’s going to fucking explode. Once you see him relax, you set a controlled pace, rolling your body against his. His eyes fixate on where you’re connected, and you watch his expression change; the light crease between his eyebrows, the lower lip that he sucks between his front teeth, his jaw that tenses visibly. It’s not long before he’s drawing small, breathy moans from you, his cockhead dragging mesmerizingly along your inner walls. 

Soon, you find yourselves in a rhythm, your bodies familiarizing themselves with each other and starting to work in tandem. Your hands slide up to the sides of his neck and you let your head fall back to look at the ceiling, your face starting to twist in pleasure. You can’t help the noises that drawl from your lips, his cock hitting the perfect spots inside you so easily. You don’t notice, but he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Sweat beading on his hairline, low groans coming from his throat as he watches your every move, the way your breasts bounce with every deep stride of your hips. He’s completely enthralled by you, your long nails clawing at his shoulders helplessly. You lean back down, your front pressed to his as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying uselessly to suppress the mewls that escape your mouth. You busy your lips by kissing along the sparse freckles on his sweat-slick skin.

“Oh, Steve,” you moan out. “Steve,” you repeat mindlessly, the word warbled by your breathlessness. There is a visceral reaction to your babbly moaning of his name, a shiver running through his body as he struggles to maintain a steady pace. 

Panting, he threads his fingers through the damp hair on the back of your head and gently pulls you forward to look at him, his eyes darting along your flush face. He brings you in for a kiss, your ability to reciprocate lasting only momentarily before you end up doing nothing more than gasping into his mouth. He curses under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut as his hand falls back down to your hip, helping to guide your unstable pace. 

With a tight grasp on you, he starts to thrust upward to meet your movement, pushing himself deeper inside you. The room fills with the sounds of skin-on-skin, and he starts to do most of the work to make up for your ever decreasing control. His thrusts don’t last long before they become erratic, his hips moving desperately and clearly starting to chase release. You cry out, your hands moving quickly to dig into his shoulders again. 

“Fuck,” he grunts in response, knitting his eyebrows together, “That feel good?” You’re unsure if the question was rhetorical, the moans that rip from your throat more than enough evidence for him, but you answer anyways. 

“Yesyesyes,” you murmur, “S’good.” You’re almost whining, the coil in your tummy starting to tighten rapidly. You turn into a hot, trembling mess on top of him, letting lewd noises wrack through your body. 

“Holy shit,” he says with a strangled groan, heavy breaths causing his chest to rise and fall against yours, his chest hair scraping between your breasts. “You’re driving me crazy,” he pants, his tip brushing deliciously against your sweet spot. 

You plead his name, pleasure blooming under your sensitive skin and spreading to the rest of your body. He surges forward to capture the noise with his mouth, the kiss only lasting a second before he breaks from your lips and presses his forehead to yours. You tense and arch almost completely against him, your thighs aquiver as you start to unravel around him, barely keeping the ability to hold yourself up on your knees.

He watches you fall apart intently, eyes blown-out with admiration. They then shut with concentration after he’s successfully ridden out your high, his face contorting blissfully as his hips stutter, a weak warning leaving his lips. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

He abruptly pulls out, only a few pumps of his hand necessary before he erupts onto his own stomach, painting his cock with shiny, white streaks that run down his length. There's a collective moment where you’re both trying to catch your breaths, struggling to find composure. Licking his lips, Steve brings his hand to brush away the baby hair that sticks to your forehead. Without realizing, he bats his eyelashes as he studies your face; your parted, puffy lips, the rosy tint to your flushed cheeks, the heave of your chest. Truthfully, you look a bit ruined. Not that he’s complaining. 

You turn over to lay flat beside him, your shoulders brushing, and stare blankly at the ceiling. You’re mildly terrified of what’s to come, how he’ll act after this. You wonder if you’ve just broken your whole dynamic by letting this happen. You trace the patterns of the small bumps on his popcorn ceiling with your eyes, and wonder whether or not he’ll treat you with the same sort of respect now that you’ve had sex with him. Going off of past experiences, you have reasonable doubt. 

You feel his eyes on you, and you turn your head to meet them. As if he’s read your mind, his lips curl slightly, reassuringly, and he slides an arm behind your head to wrap around your shoulder. You let him pull you to your side, leaning your head into his chest and resting your hand close by. His thumb draws slow circles on the tingling skin just below your shoulder, goosebumps rising in their wake. 

You catch a glance of the alarm clock across from his bed, the numbers 11:37 stare back at you in bright red. Admittedly, there’s no urgent reason for you to have to get home, but you don’t want to overstay your welcome. You mutter against his skin, not really making an attempt to move, “It’s almost midnight,” you say as more of an observation than an excuse, paying close attention to the reaction it garners.

In any situation with Eddie, this would’ve warranted a dismissive ‘why don’t you head out?’ or, on a good day, an ‘I'll drive you home.’ Amazingly, that’s not what you hear next. 

“You don’t have to go yet, do you?”

This takes you a bit off guard, the softness in his voice. Nonetheless, you answer honestly. “No, I guess not.”

“Good.”

❥ MDNI banner by @cafekitsune

[aventurineswife]

can i request boothill, aventurine, and jing yuan with a jealous gender neutral reader? every time the jealousy tag is added to a fic, it’s always for the character and leaves me wondering what the opposite would be like. feel free to delete if you’ve written something like this before and thank you for your service to the hsr community 🫡

Jealousy, Jealousy

Tags: Boothill x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Jealousy, Emotional Conflict, Fluff with Minor Angst, Romantic Tension, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Protective Partner, Light Humor (?).

Warnings: Mild jealousy and insecurity themes, Brief mentions of violence or conflict(?), Emotional vulnerability, Slight suggestive undertones (Aventurine's part).

A/N: Totally get you because there's not many fics out there where Reader is the ONE who's jealous 🫣, I did the opposite one where the characters were jealous so this my first time writing where the Reader is jealous. Hope you love it!

The smoky haze of the cantina mingled with the scent of leather and gunpowder, a typical night for Boothill. The Galaxy Ranger leaned against the bar, his mechanical fingers tracing the rim of a half-full glass of whiskey. You stood nearby, trying to keep your composure as a stranger—a suave-looking gunslinger—sidled up to Boothill with a sly grin.

“You’ve got quite the reputation,” the stranger drawled, tipping their hat. “A sharpshooter like you must’ve broken a few hearts.”

Boothill chuckled, showing his shark-like teeth. “Nah, hearts ain’t my target. Bullets don’t play favorites.”

The stranger laughed and leaned closer, their words drowned out by the raucous music, but their intentions were crystal clear. Your chest tightened as you watched Boothill’s sharp eyes glint with amusement.

“Hey,” you interrupted, your voice steady but laced with irritation. “Boothill, aren’t you forgetting something?”

He turned to you, eyebrow raised. “What’s that, partner?”

“That I’m the only one who gets to sit that close to you.” you said firmly, crossing your arms.

Boothill’s grin widened as he pushed the stranger back with a mechanical hand. “Well, ain’t that somethin’? Looks like I’m already claimed.” He stood, draping his arm around your shoulders. “Guess you’ll have to find another cowboy to sweet-talk.”

The stranger huffed and walked off, leaving you and Boothill alone. He leaned closer, his voice soft and teasing. “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, sugar.”

You jabbed a finger at his chest. “Maybe if you weren’t so charming, I wouldn’t have to be.”

Boothill laughed, his voice rich and warm. “Don’t you worry. You’re the only one who’s got a claim on this gunslinger.”

The roulette wheel spun, its clinking sound echoing through the luxurious casino. Aventurine stood at the center of attention, effortlessly charming the crowd with his flamboyant gestures and glittering smile. His eyes glinted as he placed another bet, drawing cheers from his admirers.

You stood on the sidelines, your jaw clenched as a particularly bold admirer leaned over, whispering something in his ear. Aventurine’s laughter rang out, smooth and melodious, but it only fueled the fire simmering within you.

You strode forward, catching his wrist just as he reached for another stack of chips. “Having fun?” you asked, your tone sharp enough to slice through his entourage's chatter.

Aventurine blinked, then grinned, clearly amused by your sudden intrusion. “Ah, my lucky charm,” he said, pulling you closer. “Jealous, are we?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be if you weren’t flirting with half the casino.” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression equal parts playful and sincere. “Now, now. You know there’s only one person I’m truly invested in.”

“Then maybe show it more often,” you muttered, glancing at the crowd still watching him with longing gazes.

Aventurine chuckled and leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If it helps, I only play games I know I’ll win. And with you, darling, the jackpot’s already mine.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Aventurine’s charm was infuriatingly effective, and he knew it.

The sun filtered through the branches of the garden, casting dappled shadows on the stone pathway. Jing Yuan reclined on a bench, his eyes half-lidded as he enjoyed the rare moment of peace. You approached quietly, only to pause as you spotted a young soldier eagerly engaging him in conversation.

“You’re so wise, General,” the soldier gushed. “It’s no wonder everyone looks up to you.”

Jing Yuan chuckled, his deep voice smooth as silk. “Wisdom comes with age, and age comes with its own set of burdens.”

The soldier blushed, clearly enamored. Your hands curled into fists as jealousy bubbled up. Jing Yuan noticed your approach, his gaze softening. “Ah, there you are,” he said, waving you over. “Come, join us.”

The soldier glanced at you but didn’t move, still lingering too close for comfort. You stepped forward, meeting Jing Yuan’s gaze with a pointed look. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” he replied, patting the bench beside him. “We were just discussing the importance of patience in leadership.”

“I see,” you said, your voice cool. “Well, I hope the lesson was enlightening.”

The soldier finally took the hint and excused themselves, leaving you and Jing Yuan alone. He tilted his head, studying you with a knowing smile. “You seemed… displeased.”

“Maybe I don’t like sharing.” you admitted, crossing your arms.

Jing Yuan reached out, taking your hand in his. “You have nothing to worry about. My heart belongs to you, and no amount of flattery will change that.”

You sighed, feeling the tension drain away as his thumb brushed against your knuckles. “You’re lucky you’re so convincing.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “And you’re lucky I find your jealousy endearing.”

[manicmanuscription]

Idk how to do this bingo thing, but Azriel x reader confession!!! Jealousy and smut? Yes please

Bull-Headed

Bingo Ask Game! See the original post & rules here

ghost, aphrodisiac and knives taken still need to be written.

I literally loved this request so much I lowkey got INTO it, but the beginning also drove me crazy lollll. it was inspired by bridgerton, Lmk what you think! thank you for the request and for playing!

Prompt: Confession

Pairings: Azriel / f!reader

Word Count: 3.1k +

Tags: Azriel being jealous, reader being jealous, angst, some fluff, fighting, angry love confession, arguments, denial, HEAVY smut, dom!azriel, freaky azriel, cunnilingus, p in v, praise kink, slight size kink, minors DNI

Strong male hands gripped my waist as we spun around and I easily moved in sync with him, feet stepping in replacement of the other as we intricately moved through each motion, the music felt like a living thing throughout my body and for the first time all night I was actually having fun. 

After getting over his momentary shock at my approach. Eris had given into my request to dance after I promised to use my voice in his favor for Rhys during our secret meeting tomorrow. 

I didn’t want to ask him of all people but these annual High Lord balls were dreadful, made even worse by the fact that my mate had been dancing with another female all night, I tried to remind myself I didn’t have a claim on him. After the bond snapped we agreed to not consummate it, to not even acknowledge it.

We were friends.

Yet watching Elain tip her head back and laugh at something my ma- my friend had said had bothered me. When it really shouldn’t have. 

We were very good friends for a very long time. 

That was all. 

Except you constantly wonder what he is doing and what he is thinking about. My brain whispered traitorously and I shoved it down, I shoved it all down, the feelings of hurt and betrayal when he put all his attention to a softer, kinder female than I. The anger when he brushed past me as if I did not exist, as if we hadn’t been friends for three centuries, the awkwardness after the bond had snapped almost sixty years ago and we agreed to stay friends, the sadness that reminded me I did not deserve to be happy when my High Lord had been suffering under the hands of a tyrant, then the war, then koschei- 

I was here to have fun, not sit in a corner and decay like a wilted flower, reminded of all the time that had passed me by. 

Nesta would’ve danced with me but I’m sure she and Cassian were off defiling some poor passerby’s eyes.

 I was also nearly eight drinks in and delightfully tipsy, my thoughts whirring by me and if I wasn;t careful I’d get swept up in the storm so of course I had asked the only other competent dancer here. 

And, quite unfortunately, I did not regret it. 

Eris understood music like it had breathed life into his very bones and although we had bargained for one we were currently on our third. I hadn’t bothered to carry a conversation. We both knew we didn’t like each other and there was no use in pretending, all I could do was feel. 

My complicated feelings for Azriel became second thought. The wine had settled in nicely making my head fuzzy and the sensation of a strong male arm around me after so long had been a surprisingly nice feeling. 

Although the mating bond in my chest screamed in outrage. 

I tamped it down, offering Eris a challenging smile as the music suddenly changed, the violin leading the rest of the orchestra into a high tense rhythm. It was happy, playful and incredibly, incredibly fast,

Eris wasted no time with words he pressed my body closer to his and led me further into the fray and I couldn’t help the laugh that unwillingly fell from my lips as we moved. I knew he was an exceptional dancer but I hadn’t expected us to fit quite so well together. 

Our steps were in sync, our breathing in rhythm. It was a quiet understanding, a brief pause from all the craziness that I hadn’t expected from a male like him and I briefly wondered if there was more to that vicious surface. 

“It seems you are full of surprises, Vanserra.” I remarked, finally breaking the long silence. Eris smirked lazily, reminding me of  a cat playing with its food. “I do try my best, my Lady.” 

“That was meant to be a compliment, usually when a person receives one they reciprocate it, don’t worry you’ll understand how to interact with High Society hopefully soon.” A couple almost came stumbling into us and Eris quickly turned, still saying completely in tune with the fast music. 

“Begging for attention and high praise? I thought you weren’t as shallow as everyone says.” He tsked slightly and something twisted inside of me thrived at the challenge he was setting. The softness of our earlier moment completely dissolving, our touches weaponizing just as much as our words. 

“Shallow? Sweetheart, your social manner’s really need some work, especially if you want to keep a lady as beautiful as I in your arms.” 

He chuckled darkly, his hand settled on my lower back slightly dipping lower as if in warning as he leaned down to whisper something in my ear. “You-” Rough hands immediately pulled him off of me. 

Writhing darkness blocked my vision of Eris yet I still heard the deep angry voice of my mate, I brushed away the shadows in front of my face and they reluctantly settled around my ankles. “-Don’t deserve to lay your filthy hands on her.” Azriel growl reverberated off the expensive marble; the music continued yet a few passerby had stopped and stared at the scene before them. 

“Says the bastard.” Eris drawled, each word dripping venomously and I saw Azriel’s large wings bristle angrily. I was stood behind him, red hair slightly peeking out from broad shoulders. “Azriel.” I warned, rubbing a hand up and down my arm. 

People were looking. 

People were whispering. 

He didn’t hear me and I did something I’ve never done before. I reached down and yanked on that unaccepted mating bond. Hard. The shadowsinger finally turned to look at me, something dark burning along with his shock in those hazel eyes. 

I didn’t even have time to think. I grabbed his arms and winnowed us home. Letting our High Lord and Lady deal with the political aftermath and gossipers. My embarrassment turning into anger. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” I seethed, candles flickering to life in my apartment in our presence. 

“My problem? What is your problem. You were dancing with Eris. Vanserra.” 

“I can dance with whomever I please! You didn’t see me throwing a fit when you were off with Elain the whole damned night! So stay the fuck out of my business like you said you would.” 

“Elain isn’t the problem here. Eris is, you know everything that he has done-”

“You know what? I wasn’t really thinking about that, I wanted to have a good night because I deserved to have a good night after everything and you don’t get to have a say in who that is, you don’t get to make a claim on me especially since you’ve barely spoken thirty words to me ever since Rhys came back from under the mountain and that was eight fucking years ago.”

“You are not worthy of someone like him.” Azriel’s yelling had matched mine, a fire burning in those eyes. 

I took a step back as realization dawned on me. I finally saw the self loathing hidden behind his words, his past actions and mannerisms.  Yet not even that could keep me from screaming. “I won’t put my life on pause because you refuse to wake the up and get over your own insecurities.” 

“That is not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Just..leave me alone Azriel. You have no idea the agony you are putting me-”

“Agony?” His laugh was hollow and I didn’t realize when we had gotten so close in our screaming match until I could feel his breath fan my face. His harsh breathing making his shoulders rise and fall rapidly. “You don’t know what is to be tormented by somebody you simply cannot have. You drive me to absolute madness with your laughter and the annoying way you are always so put together and the way you drink your tea and how you sneak around at night to find a midnight snack yet I always know you are there. I know you are there fucking constantly and it is killing me. Do not speak to me of agony when I have spent two centuries in its presence because of you..” 

The words were so rushed out of his mouth yet they hung heavy in the air. It was like my brain had shut down, he had opened up the darkest parts of himself and the uncertainty became a heavy presence lingering in the small space between us. 

“You love me.” I pointed out, just as breathlessly as he. 

“As if there was any option not to.” 

I immediately slammed my lips to his and he melted underneath it. It wasn’t soft or slow no, it was rough and messy. It was the stars turning to dust and remaking themselves. It was centuries of pain and one-sided feelings all rushing to the surface as our lips finally met. I wanted to imprint him into my very soul, sparks flew underneath my skin as the mating bond surged forth, humming with an ancient desire that had me moaning into his mouth. His tongue winning dominance over mine. 

Azriel kissed me as if was dying and only I could save him. I reached up and tugged on the roots of his hair and he moaned loudly. I savored the sound, desperately wanting to pull more from him, my other hand gripping wallpaper from behind me as I tried to steady myself. 

Azriel lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around him, grinding desperately on his hard length as my back hit the wall. Fuck everything about him was perfection, every touch set my body alight. 

I was burning and he was the only cure. 

A scarred hand reached down to the slit in my dress, his fingertips trailing my thighs until he found what he wanted. 

“Fuck sweetheart, your soaked.” 

I whined as he pulled away from me slightly, needing his lips back on mine. Needing him to touch me, to do anything.

Azriel noticed and I swear I saw a dark gleam in those desire filled eyes. His shadows peaking mischievously over his shoulders. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a wall.” He growled. 

My mate, holy shit my mate. Lifted me over his shoulders, only taking a few long strides until we reached my bedroom. He barely set my feet back on the floor before shadows and scarred hands were tugging the silk off my body until I was completely bare before him. 

I could see his pupils dilate even in the dim lighting as he slowly advanced me. His dark gaze betrays the controlled, slow steps he took to reach me. 

He paused, tilting my chin up as he pressed a reverent kiss to my lips, nose, then forehead. The mating bond screaming for more. 

“Azriel.” I whined out and he smirked. “I know baby but it’s our first time and I need to bed you properly. Think you can be patient for me?”

I didn’t get a chance to respond before shadows tugged at me till I was sitting on the edge of my bed, knees spread impossibly wide. Azriel kneeled slowly, those hands running up and down my thighs soothingly.

“Fuck you have no idea how long I’ve waited to taste you.” He murmured, mostly to himself before he bent down and licked a long stripe up my slit reaching my clit and sucking softly. I nearly careened off the bed, my back arching into him a loud moan splitting the still air. 

“Just stay right there love and take it for me.” One of Azriel’s hand came to push my ass back into the mattress, his hand lovingly rubbing circles on my hip before he gripped my knees and settled himself further between my thighs. 

He pressed a soft kiss to lower stomach, trailing until he reached the spot where I needed him most, tugging at my clit with his teeth. I cried out in pain, quickly replaced by pleasure as he pressed another rough kiss there. “Good girl.” 

Azriel ate me out like a man starved, I could feel his urgency with each movement, and fuck it was amazing. I was melting right into his touch and soft whispered praises. My head leaned back letting out a loud scream of his name as I finally came, my orgasm ripping through me. 

His tongue fucked me through it, moving to circle my clit when finally I felt those large hands move to press a finger into my entrance. “Azriel.” I whined out as he slowly pressed inside me.

I needed more, needed him. He smirked against my skin, murmuring something I couldn’t hear but I could hear his mocking tone as I felt another finger slide right into the next one. “Shush love, I know. I know. There you go, doing so good for me, such a good girl.” 

Azriel kept praising me, shadows firmly holding my wrists to the bed as I gripped the sheets, his fingers working fast as he kept worhsipping my clit and soon enough I was cumming again. My orgasm more intense than the last one. 

I barely had time to recover from my high before he pushed me on my back as soon as I came down Azriel pulled out of me gently, licking his hands clean. “You taste heavenly, better than my imagination sweetheart.” 

“I need you to fuck me Azriel…please.” I whimpered adjusting myself as I laid down. He smirked, running a hand from my ankle all the way up to my neck. Fingers tapping the side of my throat lovingly. “I know love, I’ll help you.” 

He pulled away and quickly undressed. I relished in the sight of his toned body. Tattoos stretching across muscles and wings standing powerfully behind him. 

I appreciatively ran my eyes down his form until my gaze snagged on his hard cock, it was bigger than I originally thought and I squirmed in anticipation. “Don’t worry love we’ll go real slow.” 

“Don’t care, just need you now.” I whispered and he smirked crawling up my body until his knees were planted on either side of my hips. “Such an eager little thing. I’ll take care of you.” 

Azriel gripped his cock, sliding it in until it was just the tip and the burn returned tenfold. My entire being aching for him. It wasn’t enough, I don’t think it would ever be enough when it came to him. He slowly eased in, pressing his lips to mine as if trying to soothe the burn.

His mouth trailed down to the juncture of my throat, biting and nibbling at the skin and I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me when he finally bottomed out. “There you go, my good girl taking me so well.” 

 “Need you, Az.” I cried out and he gave me a soft look.  “Don’t wanna hurt you.” He said lovingly, running his other hand through my hair. 

He didn’t move at first, hand wrapped gently around my throat as he kissed me till I was breathless. “Azriel, if you don’t start to fuck me in the next-”

He squeezed the sides of my throat in warning and I devoured the feeling, eyes slightly rolling back. “You’ll what?” He asked dangerously, yet I could tell he was close to unraveling, he’d been unraveling for a long time. We had spent too long pining for each other, desperately trying to ignore the mating bond that was slowly driving us insane. 

“Please.” One word was all it took to break him, until he pulled back and slammed back into me and I couldn’t help but scream at the sensation. It drowned out everything else, I couldn’t think I couldn’t breath, all I could do was- “-take it. Just like that, such a good sweet mate for me.” 

Azriel fucked me hard and fast and I reveled in every second of it, his words encompassing me and making my head go fuzzy just as much as his cock. He had paused earlier, doubted himself and now he was running on pure instinct. I could feel him on the other side of his bond, could feel the threads of fate twining us together completely for eternity. 

Azriel kissed me again, rougher this time. Both hands reaching down to playfully tug at my breasts and I moaned out louder, he pinched and rolled them between his fingers. Scarred hands making the usually good sensation absolute heavenly. “Fuck…Azriel,” I cried out and he smirked against my lips. “So responsive…such a sweet thing.” 

Soon everything rolled into one, the feel of his cock pounding me, his hands roaming everywhere as if he couldn’t get enough of me, his lips never leaving mine. It was too much all at once and not enough. I loved his moans and was slowly becoming addicted to them, I rolled my hips faster against his and he cursed lowly.

Finally we were both cumming together white dancing in my vision as he fucked me through it. 

A few minutes passed, Azriel breathing softly in my ear and I reached up and played with his hair. A realization hit me, I hadn’t told him I’d loved him too. Buts gods I’d loved him so much. 

“I love you.” I whispered hoarsely. 

Azriel turned his head to look at me. “I love you too.” 

Twenty minutes later I found myself curled up on his chest in the bathtub. Candles flickering as his shadows twined themselves around my fingers. It had been the perfect night. He was perfect. 

I’d only wished we had gotten together sooner, that I stopped being so stubborn earlier. 

Azriel kissed my forehead. “Don’t think like that, the past is the past for a reason. your stubbornness is one of the many things I love about you.” 

I blushed slightly, I was going to have to get used to someone able to feel my own emotions just as deeply as I.The freshness of our consummation had the mating bond glowing like it was brand new, it was uncomfortable but it felt right.  I titled my head to look up at him and his gaze followed my movement. “I love your stubbornness too.”

His eyebrows furrowed, frowning slightly. “I am not stubborn.”

I laughed rolling my eyes. “Yes you are.” 

“No.” 

“You’re proving my point right now, fine. Want to talk about what happened tonight with Eri-”

Azriel’s territorial growl could be heard from miles away, his grip on my waist tightening.  “Don’t ever talk about another male in when you're in my arms again.” 

I giggled slightly and that fire only burned brighter in his eyes. I loved that I could read his expression so easily, that he let his mask drop around me. I didn’t get a chance to tell him that because darkness was winnowing us back to my bedroom for round two.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

She’ll be There

Sevika x Female Reader

Headcannons || Angst + Fluff

Cw: Mentions of self-harm (not fully described, I know it can be triggering), self sabotage, and mentions of binge eating disorder. Modern setting. Sevika has both arms (though it doesn’t have anything to do with the plot). Not a lot of in depth details, only because I didn’t want it to be uncomfortable or triggering.

Proofread || Note: It surprised me when I noticed there’s barely any recognition of binge eating disorder. And, so, I decided to write about it. Really sucks that a lot of people don’t even know that it exists. Also, no, I am NOT romanticizing sh and ed, this is just for readers who find comfort in these kinds of fanfics; ones who relate. (Also because I struggle with it.)

Sevika was one of those girlfriends who made you question if you really deserved her. One of those girlfriends that made you so happy that you were sure that all of it was all some sort of dream. She took care of you when you weren’t well. When you needed comfort and support. She was there regardless. You were a priority much greater than anything else, she loved you more than anything else.

But, there was always a sense of guilt that tugged at you whenever she showed affection. It was unfair to her that she had to do so much compared to other couples. It was like being a burden, a broken tool that wouldn’t fix. A tool that had to patched up daily, made sure it didn’t break itself again. You were sure she’d get tired.

But that day never came.

A healthy relationship with food was what you strived for. What you could only try your best for. Not even a few minutes after eating you were hungry again. Well, you weren’t actually hungry. Your stomach was half full and you weren’t needing more. It was just you being bored and eating being a way for you to comfort yourself. It was a coping mechanism that you’d picked up at a young age; and never noticed how horrible it was for you.

Sevika was aware of your problem, of the issues you had with food, and how it was difficult it was for you not to turn to food for distraction.

When you were upset, you’d grab yourself a plate of leftovers. When you were angry, you’d have a bowl of chips in your lap and munch on it. Even when you were happy, you’d make yourself some pasta. And, undoubtedly, your girlfriend was worried with the amount of food you’d eat in such a short amount of time.

Gradually, she decided to do something about it. Convincing you to tag along with her whenever she went out, making plans to go to your favourite bookstore, and even taking you shopping. She tried her hardest to distract you.

Sevika didn’t know much about your eating disorder, but she did her research. Reading books, searching online, and even asking you your struggle.

She’d ask you how you felt about the whole thing. What you thought. How you felt when you didn’t indulge in the urge and it felt after you ate. Your girlfriend had a lot of questions and you did your best at answering them. Some of them were ones you’d never thought of asking yourself, they had you thinking. And you appreciated her efforts in understanding.

Sevika would even cook your favourite food whenever you were genuinely hungry. She’d go on youtube and learn recipes for you, even make desserts so she knew you were full. Most of her attention would be on you, making sure your body was satisfied with your intake.

There was never a time where you felt that your girlfriend was tired of the extra care she gave you. In all honesty, that woman loved all of it. Doing small things for you, like making sure the proportions she prepared for you were perfect, like making sure your plate was full of the essentials; carbs, fibers, fats, all those good things.

And, at first, Sevika thought she’d made progress, made you better. But, on the day she found you in the bathroom with your wrists red was the day she assumed the worse. She thought, maybe, she’d made you feel a sort of way. Thought she’d made it worse. Thought she’d hurt your feelings and had pressured you.

She wrong about all those things.

Your girlfriend blamed herself for everything, as she tended to. You’d reassured her many times that it wasn’t her fault, that it was just the way you were born— also, false.

“Sev, I’m serious. It’s not your fault, it never was. You’re fixing something that can’t be fixed.” You’d say, sat next to her and watching as she only looked away. “Did I make you feel pressured? Or was it just me being obsessed with helping you? Be honest. I can take it.” Obsessed, huh?

“No. The things you’ve done for me are just.. too nice. You’ve helped me, Sevika, not made it worse.” She’d end up furrowing her brows. “So then, why’d you do that? Hurt yourself, I mean.” Her silver eyes would avoid your arms at an attempt to think positively. “I just.. it’s me. I’m a little frustrated at myself, it’s nothing.” Your girlfriend wouldn’t meet your eyes, let alone face you.

“Can you not?” Your tone a little less gentle. “You won’t even look at me.” Only because Sevika didn’t want to stare, make you feel uncomfortable. “All I’m asking is that you don’t look at me any differently. Please?”

It took time and patience for the woman to acknowledge your scars. She thought the subject was too tense, too awkward. But the first time she did, you ended up opening yourself to her. Letting her in on the small details she’d never thought you’d feel.

That was step one. Step two was helping you in other ways. Sevika would give you suggestions, instead of telling you what to do. Give you space and time to think by yourself. Give you advice and even be a source for you to talk about it with. All she wanted was for you to trust her, turn to her, and let her comfort you— instead of you having to look for that in other things.

Over time, Sevika had stopped avoiding confrontation; only when the topic wasn’t sensitive. She’d ask you if you felt any urges, if you’d even tried doing it again. And, slowly, you began saying no. It wasn’t a lie, no, you’d just stopped thinking about it.

And when she noticed that, your girlfriend felt a sense relief she’d never felt before. She was glad she could do something, even if it was just sharing her ideas and being your safe place.

Sevika loved you, she’d made that quite obvious in the way she stuck by your side. Never had she felt frustration, or annoyance towards you for being in the dark place you used to be in. All she felt was the need to keep you out of there, keep you in the light where you were happy and safe.

Your girlfriend would stay with you for hours if you needed her to. If you were crying she’d cry with you. If you needed her attention she’d give it to you at an instant. If you needed her to just hold you she’d do so. She’d open her arms for you, kiss away your pain, and talk away your problems.

All Sevika needed was for you to be alright.

A/N: Pleaseeee please pleaseee! let me know if something I wrote was incorrect or just insensitive, I really don’t want anyone to feel a type of way when they read this; being upset or angry. I tried my hardest to write how I, personally, feel because I know a lot of people might feel the same way— relate. Hopefully I didn’t do anything wrong :(

Please reach out to someone you know and trust if you are feeling stuck and are struggling with an eating disorder or self-harm. I promise you it’ll only get worse without help and support.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

There’s Something You Should Know

Pair: Dad!Joe Burrow x OC , Dad!Joe Burrow x ExFianćee!Reader

Desc: Joe’s new girlfriend is in for a big surprise when she drops by unexpectedly.

TW: Jealousy, Toxic Gf, talks of divorce, childhood trauma

a/n: just a little idea I had and worked on for 2 weeks :)

Main Masterlist

WC: 4.9k

┊┊┊┊ ➶ 𓆉｡˚ ✧

August weekends are some of Joe’s favorites, not because he goes out with friends or showers his girlfriend with the attention she desires. No, he loves days like this. Days where his living room doesn’t stay clean for more than a few hours, mornings filled with cute giggles and sticky-syrupy little fingers, and nights controlled by a little girl with beautiful hazel brown eyes and a head full of dark tight curls, who picks the same bedtime story every night. These are his favorite moments.

Like now as he picks up the pink and purple lego sets off his living room floor while his little girl is off playing with some other toys in her playroom. From down the hall, he can hear all the make-believe scenarios the stuffies are going through. Currently, Who Dey the tiger and Joey the kangaroo were shopping for skirts but there was only one pink sparkly one left, it was a heavy debacle that Joe couldn't help but chuckle at while putting away the rest of the legos. 

Elliana, or Ellie for short, is the no doubt most important person (albeit little person) in his life. From the day she was born, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his little girl. Now at 4 years old, the bubbly and charismatic girl is taking in some of his interests, hence the immense collection of Lego sets that decorate his home. Sure this hobby came back to bite him in the rear when he would fall to victim of said legos by stepping on them, but the time they spent together just playing around was worth all the lego injuries in the world. But they also have house slippers now, to protect both of their feet.

Joe moved to tidy up the kitchen after double checking that all legos were in their rightful spots, not that he was actually going to count every single lego. To prepare for his 4 day weekend with Ellie, he made sure to restock on all her favorite meals and snacks but also ingredients to make the Bengals-themed cookies that she hadn’t stop talking about since she saw them on a commercial for a grocery store they don’t even have in Ohio. Joe wasn’t much of a baker, he only began cooking real meals when Ellie started staying over for multiple nights. Give him a box of Kraft Mac N Cheese and some dino nuggets and he’d turn it gourmet for his daughter, but for now that’s as far as he could go. So he called in reinforcements for this mission.

*ding dong*

His saving grace, Ja’Marr Chase. Joe was forever grateful to have a best friend that loved and cared for his daughter like she was his own. Ja’Marr was a great uncle and Ellie thought so too.

“Daddy, daddy! It’s Uncle Marr, he’s here to make cookies!” He smiles as the squeaky voiced girl comes running down the hall. Before she passes the kitchen, he sneakily pulls her into his arms before she could notice him. “Daddy!”

“What did I say about running in the house? I know you’re excited but you might fall and hurt yourself and that would make daddy really sad.” He lightly scolds bending down to her height.

“I’m sorry daddy. No more running.” Ellie cutely nods and places her small hands on his cheeks to lift his faux frown.  A grin quickly returns to his face and he kisses her forehead. 

“That’s my good girl, how about you go wash your hands so you and Uncle Marr can get started?” Her face beams as she wraps her arms around his neck. He returns the hug almost as tightly to take in the warm sense of comfort that having her in his arms brings. His arms could probably wrap around the young girl twice, but the contentment of having her little ones squeezing onto him so tightly is a feelings he never wants to forget. When she finally lets go, she kisses his cheek then skips down the hall in her fluffy pink slippers.

The door bell ringing again brings Joe back to his full height, but his brows furrow when he doesn’t hear his friend do his usual call out. ‘He’s probably on the phone.’ He thinks walking over to front door. He opens the door wide with a smile to greet one of his best friends, but gets replaced with his eyes widening and mouth dropping in shock.

“Hi babe!” 

Joe blinks then narrows the door’s opening to only fit half his body. “What are you doing here?” He asks the woman he’s been seeing for 6 months.

“I thought we could spend some time together. I know you said you’d be busy this weekend, but you’re busy every weekend. But since you’re actually home, we could watch a movie or something.” She smiles trying to peak inside. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Joe can hear the faucet in the first floor bathroom turn off and another car pull into his driveway. He looks behind him and zeroes in on every detail in his house that screams ‘this is my little princess’ castle’ then turns back to his curious girlfriend. “Um, now’s not a great time Kate.”

The short brunette’s jaw clenches and just as she’s about to respond, Ja’Marr walks up behind her. “Wow- so what, Saturdays are for the boys?” She barks. Actually they’re for the girls, little girls.

“Kate-

Loud giggles erupt from behind him. “UNCLE MARR! Daddy he’s right there I see him!” 

His teammate breaks out in a smile and waves to Ellie. “Hey babygirl.” Ja’Marr excuses himself from behind the woman and Joe lets him in the house.

Kate stands in front of him now dumbfounded. “You have a daughter?”

When Joe met Katelyn, he hadn’t had a long term girlfriend in a while, not since you. So he didn’t have to introduce anyone to his daughter. His team already knew her, his friends were great with her and she had a mom and dad who would do anything for her. Joe didn’t even feel like dating after your engagement ended two years ago. He had some hookups here and there, but getting into a relationship was not on his mind. Funnily that’s how this ‘relationship’ started, she was just someone he could call and was cool about it. Then he took her out to dinner to test the waters and half a year later he’s here.

When you broke up, you and Joe agreed not introduce your daughter to anybody without the other’s consent. You both wanted to make sure that she was your priority and her safety always came first. Then Joe implemented the rule to not introduce Elliana to romantic interests until at least 9 months into the relationship, he said it was him being protective but it was also so he didn’t have to see you without anyone else until it was serious. You also didn’t broadcast your daughter to the world like other parents, so not many knew that he did have a daughter unless they watched his every move. 

So long story short, Katelyn did not know.

“We should talk.” He said as she shoved his body to the side and stomped into his home. “I guess I deserve that.” He shook his head and shut the door.

Thankfully, the kitchen and the living room were a decent distance from each other so when she plopped down on the farthest end of the sofa, he could relax knowing Ellie wouldn’t hear any distinct words the woman might start throwing his way. Kate sat facing the blank tv screen, he took the spot in front of her so he could still see some of the movements in the kitchen through a wall cut out.

“Listen Kate.”

“No me first.” She cuts him off with a hand in front of his face. He just nods and allows her to speak. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is she actually yours? Where’s her mother? How come no one knows about her? Why didn’t you fucking tell me? I thought I was your girlfriend, do I mean nothing to you? Who keeps this kind of giant fucking secret? Fucking talk!” She huffs.

“I was letting you go off- whatever. Yes, Elliana is mine. She just looks exactly like her mother” He mumbles the last part, combing his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick he’s had since he was little.

“She’s 4 and I have dual custody over her, so I mostly get her during the weekends. I didn’t tell you because her mother and I have an arrangement and I would have to talk to her about it first. Her mom lives here- well not here here, she lives in the city. You know I don’t like the attention the spotlight gives so it was easy for us to decide to leave her out of it as much as possible. I guess was going to tell you at some point.”

“What do you mean, you guess? I’m your girlfriend! Don’t you think I have the right to know that the guy I’m seeing has a kid?” She crosses her arms red faced.

“Calm down, we haven’t been seeing each other that long. We were never that serious.” 

“Of course not, every time I want to spend time with you there’s a new excuse. Oh you have a game, or practice that evidently takes all fucking day. Maybe you’re hiding me because there’s someone else.”

“I promise the only other girl in my life right now is my daughter. And everything you just said is a valid excuse, I have a job and child that require all my attention.”

“Why can’t she just stay with her mother? Do you have this stupid arrangement so she can come by and give you what you’ve been missing? I bet you’ve been fucking her this whole time.”

Joe scoffs, her words starting to make his blood boil. “Katelyn, what do you not understand about us co-parenting our daughter? I barely have time to spend with you, so what makes you think I have time to cheat? If you have a problem with me being a father, then you should leave.”

“I don’t have a problem with you being a dad, I have a problem with you not talking about your ex. What, was she so special that it hurts to talk about her? Was she the one, Joe? What exactly is your relationship like with her now?”

“I told you, we co parent. There’s nothing going on with me and her mother, that’s all in the past. Can we stop talking about her now, she’s not going to just pop up out of nowhere?” He rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not convinced, you’d only hide her if there was still something between you.” 

“Yea her name is Elliana, the four year old making cookies in my kitchen right now.”

Before Katelyn can come back with another complaint, the doorbell rings, again. Joe sighs and looks out the window to see another very familiar car. Spoke too soon Joe.

He opens the door to see another one of his close teammates and the very woman he was just talking about. 

“Tee, Y/n what are you doing here?” His eyes lazily flicker between the pair and you send him a sheepish smile.

“Oh you know, we were just in the neighborhood.” Tee nods very nonchalantly. You nudge his side with a chuckle.

“I got a 911 call from Ellie, she said there was an emergency.” 

“Really?” He starts to pat down his pockets and realizes his phone is missing. He turns around and spots a smiling little girl with two long braids neatly done with purple bows in her hair. “Ellie…”

“Yes daddy.”

“Did you call mommy with my phone without telling me?” 

“Yep!”

You stop the laugh from bursting out your mouth when he sends you a pointed look. Taking that as a sign to go ‘confront’ your daughter. “Elliana why did you call me saying there was an emergency?

“There is an emergency momma! Uncle Jay is eating all the cookies!” Ja’Marr turns around shocked at his little partner. 

“Ellie, what did I tell you about snitches?”

“Snitches get stitches.” She relays matter factly. Joe shakes his head in confusion because clearly he wasn’t aware she knew about snitches yet. While you chuckle and run in to snatch up your girl.

“Ellie what did I tell you about taking advice from Uncle J?” You ask placing her on the counter.

“You said to tell you when he teaches me something new. He just did momma, see I told you!”

“Wow, Joe see what your friends have done to my sweet little girl.” She giggles wrapping her arms around your neck.

“They’re your friends too. How is it my fault, I had no idea?”

“There’s your answer.” You smirk. “Now Ms. Ellie Dae Burrow, is there any other emergency I need to know about?”

Freeing herself from your grasp she nods her head. “We don’t know how to ice cookies mommy.” Then takes your face in her hands and turns you towards the powdered sugar mess next to her baking buddy.

“Ellie, did you touch the cookies before touching mommy’s face?”

“Um yes?”

“Did you wash your hands after touching the cookies?” The young girl looks at her flour caked hands curiously. 

“No mommy.”

“Remember what I said about touching your toys with dirty hands?” Ellie nods her head. “Well that goes for people too, cause now I’m covered in flour.”

“Oh, sorry mommy. I’ll go wash my hands now.”

You go off to get washed up then Ellie returns to the kitchen to continue helping with the cookies while you join Joe in the living room.

“I hope you guys didn’t have anything planned, Ellie clearly has a mind of her own.” Joe jokes with the couple.

“Not much, we were just going to pick up some lunch and maybe catch a movie.” Tee shrugs.

“That’s what we were going to do, how funny.” Kate perks up with hidden mischief in her eyes. This is when you realize you have no clue where this woman came from nor who she is. 

“Joe?”

“Oh how rude of me. I’m Katelyn, Joe’s girlfriend and I assume you’re his baby mama.” She fake smiles holding her hand out.

The eyes of the men in the room widen at her bold choice of words. You smirk and shake the woman’s hand. “Yep, that’s me. The mother of his only child, you must know how great of a dad he is right? Whenever he has any time off, he’s always picking her up or coming over to see her. Truly father of the decade and she isn’t even 5 yet.”

Tee sits next the father hiding his face in his hands and chuckles. “I bet this isn’t how you wanted this to go.” He whispers to him. Joe just groans in his hands.

“Well, you should have a seat.” Kate invites.

“Oh I will, thank you for the hospitality in the house that my ex fiance asked me my opinion on over a year ago.” You grin and sit on the other side of Tee.

Katelyn’s kind demeanor shifts with a fake smile wide on her cheeks as she sits next to Joe. “So why’d you break up?”

“We are not starting here!” Joe’s eyes go wide and he straightens up. “Ask anything else please.”

“Joseph, your girlfriend wants to know why we’re not married right now. Why don’t you tell her?” You say forgetting how the whole thing happened for a bit. Thankfully those cherished memories come floating back to your mind and you hoped he decided to change the subject to cover your mishap.

“You just met, aren’t you supposed to be doing the making sure she’s safe for Ellie to be around thing?” You let out a muted sigh before replying.

“Oh please, and you haven’t?”

“No.” He mutters.

Your face hardens as you kiss your teth. “You let this woman around my daughter without screening her first? Joseph what the hell?”

He throws his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t think it was going to last this long, I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Then why is she here?” You question turning your body completely towards him.

“Your guess is as good as mine!”

Katelyn scoffs, “excuse me, I’m sitting right here!”

“Unfortunately we see that too. How long have you been together anyway?” You hope that their explanation has to do with the restrictions you came up with to keep your daughter safe.

“7 mont-

“6 months- They say at the same time.

“Damn, this is awkward. I’m gonna go.” Tee announces. “I’ll text you.” Then he leaves.

“Looks like that didn’t last, maybe that’s why Joe left you. You attract drama everywhere you go.” Joe grimaces at her just wanting her to stop talking.

“Oh no hun, I left him. Not like it’s any of your damn business cause you don’t know me or him that well either. But let me guess, he told you he was busy but you showed up anyway hoping he’d let you in and give you whatever you want. I wouldn’t stress about him not making enough time for you, there’s a lot of worst ways he could be treating you. Just remember that at the end of the day, I’m that little girl’s mom and he’s her dad. I’ll always have a key in the door, when you won’t even get to see the open house.” Then you got up and went to the kitchen. Joe watched in amusement as Katelyn seethed. Then peaked behind him to catch a glimpse of you and your daughter baking together.

“You need to talk to her, she needs to know that I’m your future and she needs to make room.” Joe rolls his eyes.

“She’s right. They’re my past, present and my future. You were just a distraction and now I don’t need you anymore. I’m going to have to ask you need to leave my daughter’s house.” 

She shakes her head. “Joe, we can have our own family. You don’t need them. I can do that for you.”

“Katelyn I want them, not you. It’s time for you to go.” He stands and walks over to the door.

“You’re going to miss me and regret this, but I wont open the door for you. When you want me back I’ll have someone way better than you. Please don’t do this, don’t break up with me.” Rolling his eyes at the quick change in behavior he unlocks the door for her.

“Joey, I thought we were having fun. You don’t want to throw that away do you?” She asks as a final strand of hope glistens in her eyes.

Joe sighs, “it was fun, but I’d rather play with flower shop legos and bake cookies.”

“Fuck you Joe!” She stomps out with expletives shooting from her mouth. 

⍣ ೋ

“Daddy was your friend crying because you hurt her feelings?” Ellie asks with frosting covering her mouth when he arrives in the kitchen. He picks her up and kisses her sugary cheeks.

“No bub, she hurt her own feelings.” 

“Joey hurt my feelings when left to join the circus.” She pouts talking about her stuffie and licking her sticky fingers.

“Are you eating the icing before we can put it on the cookies?” He asks the orange dye covered girl.

“Nyooo.” She chuckles.

“What are we going to do with you?”

“Mommy said we’re all going to the park to feed the ducks.” She smiles. You turn around with wide eyes and an amused smirk, halting your current task of making more orange frosting.

“I did not say that. Ellie Dae why are you telling your father stories?”

“I think she wants to go feed the ducks.” Ja’Marr snorts while eating some of the cookie dough.

“Uncle Marrrr, you can’t eat more cookies! It’s for the ducks.”

“Ellie ducks don’t eat cookies.” Joe chuckles putting her on a part of the counter that’s not covered in sugar.

“Kaia said they do.” Your daughter yawns mentioning your next door neighbor’s teenage daughter that likes to babysit her.

“Well you’re going to have to ask Kaia where she found the cookies made for ducks.” Glancing over at the oven clock you hum realizing its 2pm. Naptime. Looking back over at your ex, you watch him wrap his arms around your daughter as her eyelids struggle to stay open. “Joe.” You whisper. He looks up at you then the time and nods.

“Come on babygirl, let’s go upstairs.” She whines as he lifts her, but still wraps her arms around his neck.

“But daddy, I’m not tired. Cookies.” She yawns laying her head on his chest. He smiles and kisses her head.

“I promise the cookies will be there when you wake up, and maybe we’ll even take some to the ducks.” You can’t help but smile as the pair climb the staircase up to her room. You always knew Joe would be a great father, especially when the you were surprised by the idea of having a baby so young and so early in your relationship. But he only stepped up in ways you couldn't have imagined, watching him become a father felt like one of life’s greatest privileges. It’s one of the things you love loved about him. Joe’s caring nature was unlike any other, in those 4 years together you’d never felt so loved and cherished by anyone like him.

Turning around to go back to your icing duties, you’re faced with a smirking Ja’Marr Chase. “What?”

“You’re ridiculous.” He chuckles setting a timer for the cookies that you now notice are in the oven. 

“I don’t understand.”

“You look at him the same way he looks at you, which is the exact same way when you were engaged. You just need to put the ring back on and plan the damn wedding at this point. I mean he broke up with his fling for you.”

You just shake your head at his nonsense, there was no way you and Joe would ever get back together after how it ended- after how you ended it. “No, I’m with Tee. They just had a mild disagreement, the second Ellie comes home with me he’ll be calling her back over.”

“You’re fucking with me right?” He scoffs. “You and Tee are not together.”

“How would you know?”

“He texted me the minute you got here. The only reason you two were out together was because we’re all still friends. Don’t try and bullshit me. You’ve been trying to make Joe jealous for weeks.”

“I have not, lower your voice. If you think he would ever take me back after the shit I said that night, then you’re delusional. I already fucked up with Joe.”

“But you want him to though.” He tilts his head with a soft smile. “I bet you still have the ring on you.” Your eyes go straight to the floor.

“You didn’t give it back because he wouldn’t take it. You can’t put it away because of who it reminds you of and you won’t sell it because you still care. In fact Ellie said you put it on a necklace and kept it in the smallest pocket of your purse.” When you look up, he’s somehow produced the same ring Joe proposed to you with on that beach date when Ellie was 8 months old.

“She really is a little blabber mouth.” You sniffle taking the chain.

“She’s smart and a thief. She showed it to me after you went to go clean your face. She knows how much it means to you and whether she understands it or not, she wants her mom and dad back together.”

“Oh please, this is the same little girl that wants to feed ducks sugar cookies.”

“All I’m saying is you should think about why you’re still carrying that nice ass ring around and talk to him. Alright I’m gonna head out, you got this right?” You nod and share a friendly hug.

“Remember what I said.” He says as the front door opens then shuts.

You lean over the counter with your hands on your face and let out a groan. There’s no possible way for Joe to ever take you back. You don’t even know why you still carry the ring around, but somehow leaving the house without it makes you feel untethered to reality.

“I doubt the cookies are that bad.” You gasp startled by the man leaning on the entryway to the kitchen.

“Goodness, Joe.” Your right hand covers your eyes while still clutching the gold chain. 

“Wow,” you drop your hand remembering what you were holding. “That’s something I haven’t seen in a while.”

“Yea- um. I was having it cleaned.” You bite the inside of your lip, then replace it with a pout when his face tells you he knows the full story. “Joe-

“Put it on.”

“Listen- wait what?”

You want to believe he’s joking, but the look in his eyes is all seriousness. “I want you to put the ring back on.”

“I can’t, not after the way I ended things. It wouldn’t be right.”

“You can, because I want you to. I need you to put the ring on.”

“Joe there’s something you should know.”

He sighs and takes the chain from you. “I know you and Tee hooked up once, I’m still debating on if I need to sucker punch him for it.” Then unclasps the chain and releases the 7 karat diamond into his hand. “I know that we spent the last 2 years trying to forget everything that went down between us only to remind each other every weekend when Ellie is dropped off.” He begins to fiddle with the ring between his fingers. “I also know that nothing you said that night was true.”

You gulp locking eyes with the man you’ve always wanted to call your husband. “Joe.”

“On April 10th, your mom called you and said ‘never get married’ because she had finalized her divorce with your father after spending 25 years in an unhappy marriage, that without a doubt gave you enough trauma in itself. April 11th, I came home from a night out where I drank way too much and reminded you of a part of your childhood you tried to run away from, which is something I’m extremely sorry for. April 12th, we spent the entire day arguing about the dumbest shit because I couldn’t see the pain you were harboring. Then you said ‘I can’t spend the rest of my life with a man that doesn’t care how he comes home to his family. I won’t let you run me into the mud like he did to her, I want to be happy. I can’t marry you.’ And took your ring off.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face as he recalls the last night you spent together as a couple. A night you’ve regretted since it happened.

“Joey, don’t let me do this to you. You don’t deserve this, you could do so much better better than a damaged bitch with trust issues.” With one hand he wipes your tears and with the other he takes your left hand. “Joe think about this.”

“I think there’s something you should know.” He repeats your words with a more lighthearted tone, then gets down on one knee. 

‘There’s no way, no way. Nope, he’s not doing this.’ You echo to yourself while shaking your head.

“I spent two years thinking about this. Two years driving back and forth so we could have equal time with our little girl. Two years of wondering if I’d ever have you back in my arms the way I dream of at night. Even spent one in this house thinking about how hollow it feels without you living in it. I bought it for you, so we could raise our family here together. I know this probably won’t top the first one and I don’t have a new ring yet.” He winks causing another wave of tears to fall, this time happy tears. 

“I can’t see myself happier with anyone except this damaged woman in front of me with trust issues. Shit I’m not that happy now, cause every time I look in our little girl’s eyes all I see is her beautiful mother. She’s a constant reminder of the woman I miss more than anything. I thought we could do this co-parenting thing and stay friends so Ellie could have a happy childhood, but I spend more time with you than I do without you. I don’t want to wake up with anyone else in my bed that isn’t the woman right in front of me. And I’m thanking Elliana for bringing you here, because I need you. I want you back more than anything in the world.” 

His voice starts to tremble. “I’d step on a million legos for you, bake and burn a thousand dinners for you, miss hundreds of games for you- fucking anything. Anything you want, it’s yours. Just say yes.” 

You can feel the way your heart breaks for him, just proving how much you don’t deserve him. “I can’t.” 

“Why not?”

You can’t look him in the eye and break him again. You try to suck in the sob but there’s no use.

“I’m pregnant with Tee’s baby.”

.

.

.

SIKE

.

.

.

i'm sorry that was childish, don’t hate me lol here’s the real ending

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ

“I can’t,” You giggle when his pout deepens. “You haven’t asked the question yet.”

A bright smile breaks out on his face as he sighs in relief. “You need to stop scaring me. Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes I’ll marry you, Joey. I'll marry you a hundred times if I have to.” You beam as he slips the ring back in its rightful spot then stands and pulls you into the most passionate kiss. 

After two years, you’re back in the arms you love, felt the most comfortable and cherished in. You feel so lucky to have found a man, a fiance so caring, thoughtful, and understanding. Lucky that every time you pushed him away, he just pulled you in harder. And you can’t wait to finally marry him and give him everything he’s ever wanted. Including a bigger family.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

so any critiques, comments, concerns. i'm open to any and everything🫶🏾 oh and don't forget to reblog for more :)

[blissfulflw]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝑇𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Pairing- Huh Yunjin x fem reader

Genre- angst, smut, fluff

Word count- 6487

Warnings- 18+ interactions only, mild angst, eventual smut, college au, switch yunjin, switch reader, slow burn, mutual pining, NSFW

Requested: @lascvitae

A/N: Uhhh yeah this is a mixture of most of the genres but I’d say it’s mostly fluff. Enemies to lovers though and yunjin 😍

You’ve always hated how effortless she made it look.

Huh Yunjin, standing under the dull fluorescent lights of Studio 3B, barefoot on the worn wooden floor, her mouth curled into that annoyingly confident smirk. Her honeyed voice dripped through the room like warm syrup, even during warm-ups. You’d been trying to ignore her since the semester started, but that wasn’t really possible when she was assigned as your duet partner for the senior showcase.

And of course, she loved it.

You adjust your posture, trying not to roll your eyes as she finishes her vocal run and looks over at you, mock-bowing.

“Your turn, Y/N,” she says, her tone maddeningly sweet. “Try not to be too impressive.”

You arch a brow, stepping up to the mark on the floor. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to overshadow you.”

She laughs—low, amused. “Cute.”

You don’t like the way your stomach flips at the sound.

The two of you had been neck-and-neck since freshman year—both scholarship students, both hailed as prodigies by your professors, both just different enough in style that people could argue endlessly about who was better. Yunjin had stage charisma in spades, a magnetic presence that demanded attention. You had precision and control. She flirted with the audience. You dominated them.

And you couldn’t stand each other. Or at least, that’s the story you both kept telling.

Your voice rings out in the practice room, clean and exact, every note pinned in place like a scalpel. You don’t miss the way Yunjin glances over mid-phrase, her eyes narrowing with something unreadable. Not jealousy—no, it’s more curious than that. Like she’s trying to figure you out.

The song ends in silence.

She claps slowly. “God, you’re such a teacher’s pet.”

You scoff. “Better than being all style, no discipline.”

Her gaze sharpens, and for a second, you think she might actually snap back. But then she smirks, stepping closer—too close. You catch a hint of her perfume: warm vanilla and something floral, soft but insistent. It suits her in a way you don’t want to acknowledge.

“We’ll see whose style they remember,” she says, voice low, just for you.

It’s the kind of thing she does often. She lives for these little games. Testing you. Pushing buttons. Sometimes it feels like the two of you speak in a language made entirely of tension—subtle digs, too-long glances, standing a little too close when you both lean over the same music sheet.

It’s been like this for months.

The door to the practice room creaks open, and Professor Choi pokes her head in.

“How’s it going in here?”

“Wonderfully,” Yunjin answers before you can speak. “We’re learning so much from each other.”

You flash a tight smile. “So much.”

Choi nods, clearly buying it. “Good. The duet arrangement looks great on paper. Can’t wait to see how it plays on stage. Keep working on your harmony blend—it still needs tightening.”

“Yes, Professor,” you say.

When the door shuts again, Yunjin turns to you, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips.

“You hate this as much as I do, right?” she asks.

You blink. “The duet?”

“This… pairing.” She waves a hand between the two of you. “Us.”

You should say yes. You do hate it. The extra hours, the constant bickering, the way she looks at you like she’s always one second away from saying something unforgivable—or worse, something true.

But instead, you say, “It’s tolerable.”

She laughs again, really laughs this time, and sits on the edge of the upright piano. Her legs swing idly, the hem of her sweatshirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin where it meets her high-waisted shorts. You force your gaze to stay on her face.

“Tolerable,” she repeats, shaking her head. “Coming from you, that’s practically a love letter.”

You glare. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t need to. I’ve heard the way you sing when I’m watching.”

That silences you.

The air between you shifts—heavier now. Charged.

Yunjin doesn’t look away. “You think I don’t notice? The way you only loosen up when we’re alone? You only get that look in your eye when it’s just me in the room.”

You hate that she’s right. That part of you does sing differently when she’s there. That even when she’s infuriating, even when you want to scream, there’s something magnetic about her. Something that draws your voice—and your attention—toward her like a tide you can’t fight.

“I think you overestimate your importance,” you say, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

“Do I?” she asks, tilting her head.

The silence stretches again.

You clear your throat and take a step back. “Let’s run the bridge again.”

Yunjin doesn’t move.

“Or,” she says slowly, “we could admit what’s actually going on here.”

You cross your arms. “What’s that?”

She hops down from the piano, walking over to you—slowly, deliberately. “This. Us. The weird tension. The way we keep pretending we hate each other when we both know it’s just…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence.

You can’t tell if it’s arrogance or vulnerability in her eyes, but it makes your pulse skip all the same. You could end it right now. You could laugh it off, tell her she’s full of herself, walk out of this practice room and never look back.

Instead, you say, “You really want to go there?”

Yunjin smiles like she’s been waiting for this all semester. “Don’t you?”

You’ve never been great at knowing when to walk away.

Which is probably why you’re still standing here, five feet from Yunjin, heart thudding in your chest like it’s trying to beat its way out.

Her eyes are steady on yours, open in a way they usually aren’t—no teasing, no ego, just something bare. Something that looks a lot like honesty.

And that’s the problem.

You’re not sure what would be easier to ignore: if this was all a game to her, or if it really wasn’t.

“Why now?” you ask finally, voice quieter than before. “Why say something tonight?”

She shrugs, but there’s tension in her shoulders. “Maybe I got tired of pretending. Maybe I wanted to see if you’d stop pretending, too.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. She’s too close. The studio’s too small. The lights overhead hum like they’re daring you to move.

“I wasn’t pretending,” you lie.

Yunjin smiles, slow and devastating. “Liar.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because if you open your mouth, you’re not sure what will come out—anger, desire, a confession you’ve buried under layers of competition and restraint.

She takes a step closer. You don’t move.

“You really don’t feel it?” she asks, her voice a little husky now. “Not even a little?”

You could say no.

You should say no.

But your body answers before your mouth does. The air between you tightens, thick with whatever this thing is that’s been simmering since sophomore year—glances that lingered too long, notes left on music stands, the way your names always came up in the same breath.

She notices your hesitation. You see it in the way her eyes flick down to your lips, then back up. Her voice softens.

“I don’t hate you, Y/N.”

Your stomach twists.

“I know,” you whisper. “That’s what makes it worse.”

Her breath catches. Just barely, but enough.

Neither of you speaks for a long moment. Somewhere down the hall, you hear a laugh echo through the music building—some other late-night rehearsal, some other pair of students who probably aren’t standing three inches apart and trying not to shatter.

You swallow. “We should… we should focus on the showcase.”

Her brow arches. “You mean the thing where we stand on stage and pretend we’re in love?”

Your face heats. “It’s a duet.”

“It’s a confession,” she says. “That’s what that song is. You know it as well as I do.”

She’s not wrong. The piece you’re doing—“Stay With Me”—is all longing and barely-contained emotion, written in spiraling harmonies that fall together like puzzle pieces. Your professor had called it ambitious. You’d called it reckless. Yunjin had called it fun.

And when you rehearsed it alone, you always imagined her voice against yours. Not out of choice. Instinct.

You turn away from her now, pacing to the other side of the room. The silence sits heavy on your shoulders.

“This is a bad idea,” you murmur.

“Why?”

“Because…” You stop. “Because if we start this, it’s not going to be just one kiss in a practice room.”

Yunjin’s voice is behind you now, quiet. “I don’t want it to be.”

You close your eyes.

God.

You shouldn’t want this. She’s your rival, your biggest distraction, the only person on campus who makes you question if you’re good enough. She gets under your skin, into your thoughts, behind your defenses.

But maybe that’s exactly why your hands ache to touch her.

Maybe that’s why when you turn around, you’re already stepping forward again.

You stop just in front of her. Close enough to feel the heat between your bodies. She’s looking up at you, lips parted, eyes darker than usual under the low lights.

“I hate that I want you,” you say.

She exhales, almost like a laugh—but it’s shaky. “Then we’re even.”

You don’t remember who moves first. Maybe it’s both of you.

But suddenly her mouth is on yours.

It’s not soft. It’s not polite.

It’s months of tension breaking all at once—teeth, breath, hands tangled in hair and the sound of something finally giving in. Her fingers dig into your waist as your lips part, and the kiss deepens into something messy, urgent, real. You gasp against her mouth, and she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue over yours, confident and slow.

It’s infuriating.

It’s perfect.

Your back hits the wall with a soft thud. Yunjin presses into you, her thigh slotting between yours, one hand cupping the side of your neck like she’s trying to memorize the shape of your pulse.

You’re dizzy.

You drag your fingers up under the hem of her sweatshirt, finding skin—warm, smooth, hers. She shivers under your touch, and it sparks something hot and reckless in your chest.

When she pulls back, it’s only by an inch, her forehead resting against yours.

“God,” she murmurs. “You drive me crazy.”

You smile, breathless. “Right back at you.”

Her thumb strokes under your jaw, tender in a way that makes your stomach flip.

Then she glances around the room, biting her lip.

“Studio’s locked,” she says. “And no one’s coming in this late.”

Your heart skips. “Yunjin—”

“I’m not rushing you.” Her voice drops to a murmur. “But I need to know… do you want this?”

You look at her—really look at her. Not the rival. Not the performer.

Just Yunjin. Soft mouth, flushed cheeks, eyes wide and open and waiting.

You nod.

And she exhales like you just gave her air.

_____

The studio is quiet except for your breathing—shaky, uneven. You don’t remember the moment you wrapped your arms around her again, only that her mouth is on yours now with a need that’s no longer teasing.

This is real. This is happening.

You taste her sigh when you pull her closer, her fingers slipping under your shirt like she’s been waiting all semester to touch you. Her hands are warm, callused at the tips—guitarist’s fingers—and the way they spread over your waist makes your breath hitch.

“Still okay?” she whispers between kisses, voice rough against your mouth.

You nod quickly. “Yeah. Yes.”

“Tell me if you’re not.”

“I will.”

She kisses you again, slower this time, her tongue grazing yours with a confidence that makes your knees wobble. There’s no spotlight now, no audience—just the two of you in a dim practice room, your bodies pressed close, your nerves singing louder than any aria.

She pulls back just enough to look at you. Her pupils are blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.

“You’re beautiful when you’re pissed off,” she murmurs, thumbing at your lower lip.

“You’re insufferable when you’re turned on,” you shoot back, but your voice is breathless and way too fond.

She grins and takes your hand, leading you toward the piano bench. She sits first, legs spread slightly, and tugs you into her lap like you weigh nothing. You settle there, straddling her thighs, and the moment your hips press down, both of you gasp.

She’s warm beneath you—solid. Her hands grip your hips like she doesn’t know what to touch first.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “You feel…”

You roll your hips, slow and experimental, and her breath catches. Your hands move to her shoulders for balance, but you can’t resist brushing her hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her cheek. She leans into the touch without thinking.

It’s vulnerable. It’s intimate.

It makes your heart ache.

Her hands slide up your shirt again, and this time, she pushes it higher. “Can I—?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

You help her pull it off. The cold air hits your skin, but then her hands are there, warm and careful, and your head tips back as her lips trail down your neck.

Every kiss is slow, deliberate. Like she’s memorizing you. Her fingers find the clasp of your bra, and she pauses.

You nod again. “Go ahead.”

It unhooks easily, and she lets it slide down your arms before tossing it aside. The second her mouth replaces her hands, you moan—quiet and sharp—eyes fluttering closed.

She sucks softly at the swell of your breast before her tongue circles your nipple, teasing and gentle, then firmer when you arch into her. You clutch at her shoulders, trying not to grind against her thigh, but she notices.

“Don’t hold back,” she murmurs, voice low. “Let me feel you.”

You do. You move your hips, slow at first, letting the friction build. Her thigh tenses beneath you, giving just enough pressure that your breath stutters. Her mouth moves between your breasts, worshipping you with lips and tongue and the occasional nip of teeth.

“Yunjin—”

“Yeah?” She looks up at you, eyes hazy with lust.

“I want…” You swallow. “More.”

She grins. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific, baby.”

The nickname sends a pulse straight between your legs.

You lean in, your mouth brushing her ear. “I want you to touch me.”

She swears under her breath and lifts you just enough to guide you onto the bench beside her, then kneels in front of you, hands tugging at the waistband of your leggings. She looks up, eyes searching.

“Still good?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

She slides them down, dragging your underwear with them, and your legs tremble slightly when the cool air hits you. Her hands glide up your thighs, soothing and slow.

“You’re so wet,” she murmurs, voice thick with awe. “Is that all for me?”

You nod, cheeks burning.

Her fingers stroke gently between your folds, spreading your slick, teasing at your entrance before she draws slow, lazy circles over your clit.

Your head falls back against the wall, a gasp escaping your lips. “Fuck—”

She leans in and kisses the inside of your thigh, then again higher, closer. Her mouth hovers, and you feel her breath before anything else.

“Can I taste you?” she asks, voice a whisper like it’s sacred.

Your fingers thread through her hair.

“Yes. Please.”

She moans like it’s her name on your tongue and finally leans in.

The first lick is slow, deliberate, and you feel it in your bones. She groans softly against you, burying her face between your legs, tongue working you open, slow and steady.

You clutch at the edge of the bench with one hand and her hair with the other, hips lifting to meet her mouth. She moans like she lives for this—for your sounds, your taste, the way you shake when her tongue flicks over your clit just right.

“Yunjin—god—don’t stop—”

She doesn’t. She moves faster, more focused, her fingers joining in—one sliding into you with careful pressure that makes your eyes roll back. Then another, curling perfectly, her tongue never breaking rhythm.

You come fast—hard. The pressure snaps and your whole body arches, mouth open in a soundless cry, thighs trembling as she works you through it, licking and kissing and murmuring praise against your skin.

When you finally collapse back, chest heaving, she pulls away, face flushed, lips slick, and absolutely smug.

“You look wrecked,” she says softly.

“Shut up,” you pant, grabbing her hand to pull her up.

But you’re smiling.

You push her back gently, switching positions until she’s seated on the bench. You climb into her lap again, kissing her hard. You can taste yourself on her tongue, and something about that makes you moan into her mouth.

“Your turn,” you whisper.

She laughs against your lips. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You drop to your knees before she can protest again, and her jaw slackens when you tug at her shorts.

“Fuck,” she breathes, head falling back as you kiss up her thighs.

You don’t tease long. She’s soaked already, and when your tongue finally touches her, she lets out the kind of sound that makes you want to ruin her.

You start slow, tracing patterns, finding what makes her hips jerk, what makes her moan your name like it’s a song she’s been rehearsing in secret.

Her hand tangles in your hair, guiding you, grounding herself.

“Oh my god—just like that—”

You glance up to watch her come undone, never stopping, your fingers sliding into her as her thighs tighten around your shoulders.

She comes with a broken whimper, her body shuddering against the keys behind her.

You stay there, pressing soft kisses to her inner thigh while she catches her breath, laughing breathlessly.

“That was…” She can’t finish the sentence.

You grin, wiping your mouth before climbing back into her lap.

“You okay?”

She pulls you in, forehead against yours. “Better than okay.”

You sit like that for a long time, tangled together, the room still humming with the echo of everything you just shared.

There’s no audience. No rivalry.

Just her.

And you.

_____

The silence is thick.

You don’t know how much time has passed since the two of you collapsed onto the bench, your bodies entwined, your breath still mingling in the air between you. Yunjin hasn’t said much, her forehead pressed against yours, her hands slowly tracing the lines of your arm like she’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin.

You stay like that for a while, letting the warmth between you settle, but something hangs in the air—a question neither of you is asking aloud yet.

She’s the first to break the stillness.

“You good?” she murmurs, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You nod. You are good. You feel lighter, your body relaxed in a way it hasn’t been in weeks. There’s a gentle pressure on your chest, but it’s not anxiety. It’s more like a shift, a turning point you didn’t quite expect.

“I’m fine,” you reply, swallowing thickly. “Are you?”

Yunjin doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, she gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, her fingers lingering on your cheek in a soft, almost reverent touch.

Then, she smiles. It’s small, private—a stark contrast to the usual cocky, teasing grin she’s always quick to give.

“I’ve never been better.”

You both chuckle softly, the atmosphere between you a little lighter now. But the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and you notice it. You want to ask if she’s really okay, but it feels like too much—like a question that doesn’t fit the moment.

Instead, you slip your hand into hers, squeezing it lightly.

“I’m glad it was you,” you murmur.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, warmth flickering in them.

“Same.”

There’s something unspoken between you, something deeper than the rivalry, deeper than the desire that had pulled you together in the first place. It’s like an understanding, the kind of unvoiced connection that only comes when two people let down their walls completely.

You help each other gather yourselves—pulling up your clothes, smoothing out your shirts, the intimacy of it almost surreal after everything. There’s no awkwardness, no rushing. Just… the steady rhythm of shared quiet.

Yunjin stands up first, reaching for the sheet music on the piano. Her movements are slow, deliberate. She runs a hand through her hair, looking up at you as if she’s trying to read the air between you both.

“Wanna finish that duet?” she asks, her voice still low, as if testing the waters.

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips. “Yeah. Let’s finish it.”

The next few hours are spent lost in music, the tension between you both simmering under the surface, woven into every note you sing and every chord Yunjin plays. It’s impossible to ignore the way her presence has shifted in your mind. She’s still Yunjin, still the talented, cocky singer with a smile that could break your concentration—but now, there’s something else. Something more vulnerable.

You run through the duet again, the harmonies blending in a way that feels effortless now, like you’ve always known how to fit together.

The sound is rawer this time, something deeper behind the notes. It’s no longer a mere performance for an audience. It feels personal—too personal. Every look you share, every shared breath between lines, has an intensity you can’t shake.

You’re acutely aware of the way her fingers hover just above the piano keys, how her breath catches when you hit a high note just a little too beautifully. And the way she glances at you—almost shyly—when you hold the last note of the bridge a little longer than you should.

“Let’s take it from the top,” you suggest, your voice hoarse, unsure if you’re ready to break the spell you’ve created between you.

Yunjin nods, her lips pressing together tightly. When she starts playing again, there’s a familiar rhythm, but everything feels different. The chemistry you shared in the practice room has bled into your music—sharper, more electric, raw in a way that neither of you anticipated.

You sing your part perfectly, hitting the notes with ease, but there’s something new. Something that makes you focus just a little more on how she moves beside you, how her breath matches yours, how her eyes track yours a little longer than they should.

And then, without thinking, you find yourself leaning into the moment, pulling closer to her as you sing the final line.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, the words almost an invitation, your eyes locked on hers.

She doesn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers still on the piano, and her gaze darkens—just enough for you to notice. You’re dangerously close to crossing a line again, but you don’t care. Neither does she.

She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing in the last note before finally looking at you again.

“You really want to finish this?” she asks, voice thick with something unspoken.

Your heart beats faster. “I think we both know we can’t stop now.”

Yunjin stands abruptly, crossing the room to grab her water bottle. You don’t know if she’s avoiding your gaze or just needing a moment to breathe. You want to say something, but the words get caught in your throat.

When she turns back to you, she seems calmer—more collected, like the rawness from earlier has faded, but only slightly. The fire is still there, just a little buried.

“Good thing we still have time to work on the choreography,” she says, her smile a little too wide, a little too knowing.

You raise an eyebrow. “Choreography?”

“You didn’t think I was just going to let you get away with singing, did you?” she teases, tossing you a mischievous look.

The tension snaps back into place, the rivalry you both used to have returning as if it never left. But there’s something else now. Something that wasn’t there before. A different kind of edge to your exchanges.

“Lead the way,” you say, standing up and grabbing the sheet music.

The two of you start to move through the choreography. It’s awkward at first—more than a little hesitant—but you both find your rhythm eventually, and it’s in those moments, when you’re spinning in sync with her or when she takes your hand to twirl you, that it all feels right. Like you were meant to be here, together, both in music and… in everything else.

She catches your eye once more during a particularly intricate move, and for just a second, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world.

You know the next step is inevitable. You can feel it in the way she looks at you, the way her movements become smoother, more intimate. You can feel it in your own body, in the way you move toward her when the song ends, in the way your heart races in time with the music.

And when you both stop, panting, standing close enough to feel the heat of each other’s breath, you know that things have changed forever.

There’s no going back now.

_____

The showcase is just a week away.

The thought hangs over you both like a cloud, but there’s something different about this week—something you didn’t expect. The normal rhythm of rehearsal, the sharp notes and careful practice, is mixed with something more. The lingering touch after a duet, the stolen glances, the almost-accidental brushes of hands.

You know you should be focused. You both have to be perfect for the showcase. But it’s harder than it ever was before.

It’s Thursday evening, and you’re both sitting on the edge of the practice room, exhausted but unwilling to leave. Your fingers still hum with the vibrations of your performance; the piano keys still echo in your mind. You both sing in harmony so naturally now that it feels like second nature.

But there’s something else now. Something that keeps drawing you together, pulling you closer even when you try to focus on the music, on the sheet you’ve yet to memorize.

Yunjin hasn’t said much since the last practice. She’s quieter than usual, less teasing, as if the silence between you both speaks louder than anything she could say. Her eyes flicker to you occasionally, but she quickly looks away, like she’s afraid to let you catch her staring.

You watch her for a moment. She’s not the type to shy away from eye contact, usually.

“Yunjin,” you start, the sound of your voice breaking the silence like a crack of thunder, “you’ve been acting different. What’s going on?”

She doesn’t immediately answer, but you notice the slight tightness in her jaw. She’s holding something back—something you can’t quite place.

She takes a deep breath and looks at you finally. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

You know better than to leave it at that. “Thinking about what?”

Her lips curl into something of a smirk, but it’s not the playful, cocky grin she normally gives. There’s something guarded in it—almost as if she’s trying to protect herself.

“About the showcase, obviously,” she says. “I want it to go well.”

It’s not just that, you know. She’s hiding something—something that makes the air between you feel charged, like the calm before a storm.

You lean forward, crossing your arms, not letting it go. “You’re not fine. I can tell.”

Her eyes narrow for a moment, a flash of irritation crossing her face before it fades away again. “I’m just… frustrated,” she admits softly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I’ve been thinking about everything lately. About you. About… us.”

Your heart skips a beat. The air suddenly feels heavier, thick with the weight of her words.

“About us?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, almost as if you don’t want to say the words aloud.

She nods, but it’s slow, hesitant. “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore, Y/N. This—” She motions between the two of you, her eyes flicking nervously to the floor before meeting your gaze. “It’s not just music anymore. It’s more. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

The vulnerability in her voice is enough to make your chest tighten. For the first time since you met her, you see her uncertainty, the cracks in her usual confidence. It’s disarming. You didn’t think Yunjin ever doubted herself.

“Yunjin…” You move closer to her, your hand resting on the back of the couch, just inches from hers. The proximity feels too much and yet not enough. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

Her laugh is bitter, but it doesn’t carry the usual bite. “I should, though, right? You and I—this duet—it feels like it’s too much sometimes. I don’t want to screw this up. The showcase, or… whatever this is between us.” She gestures vaguely between the two of you again. “I’ve been down this road before, and it doesn’t end well.”

You pause, letting her words sink in, understanding the weight of her fear. She’s afraid of vulnerability. Afraid of making this real and letting it slip through her fingers, just like everything else.

“I don’t want to screw it up either,” you confess softly. “But I don’t regret what we’ve shared. Not for a second.”

You reach for her hand, this time letting your fingers brush hers. She doesn’t pull away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, your voice steady and sincere.

Her eyes soften at that. “I don’t know if I can promise the same,” she says quietly, but she doesn’t pull her hand away either. Instead, she threads her fingers with yours, a subtle, but meaningful gesture.

The moment lingers between you two, both of you unsure of what comes next but unwilling to let go.

The next day, you both return to the studio. You start your practice where you left off, running through the duet once again. This time, though, things are different. There’s no longer just the music—it’s everything. Every note you hit, every pause between lyrics, every look exchanged across the room, feels like a thread in an intricate web you’re both tangled in.

You can’t seem to look away from her. It’s the way she plays the piano, her fingers flying over the keys with effortless grace. It’s the way her voice blends perfectly with yours, a harmony that sounds almost too perfect to be real.

But there’s something else now. You’re more aware of the space between you, the way her gaze lingers on your lips, the way she adjusts her position when you move too close. Every touch, every look, feels charged.

When you finish the duet for the umpteenth time, Yunjin slams her hands down on the piano keys, breaking the tension with a frustrated exhale.

“This is ridiculous,” she mutters, pacing. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” you ask, heart in your throat, unsure of where this is headed.

She turns to face you, her hands on her hips. “This—this chemistry. It’s ruining everything. We can’t keep pretending it’s only about the performance anymore. We both know it’s more.”

You swallow hard. “Then what do we do?”

Her gaze softens, and for a moment, she looks almost lost—a side of her you’ve never seen. “I don’t know, Y/N. I really don’t know.”

There’s a beat of silence. You both stand there, caught in the tension of unspoken feelings, until Yunjin takes a step toward you. Her hands find their way to your shoulders, her thumbs brushing over the skin there, a comforting pressure.

“I’m scared,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t say anything, just reach up to rest your hand over hers. Her skin is warm, and in that moment, everything feels more fragile than it has before.

“Me too,” you murmur. “But I think that’s okay.”

She looks at you for a long moment before leaning down to kiss you—soft, slow, with a tenderness that both confuses and comforts you. The kiss isn’t desperate. It’s more of an unspoken promise, a shared vulnerability.

When she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, and you both breathe the same air.

“Let’s get through this showcase first,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “And then we’ll figure it out.”

You nod, your heart thudding heavily in your chest.

“Together,” you whisper.

Yunjin smiles, that same confident, crooked grin you know all too well. But now, it’s different. It’s softer. And maybe that’s enough.

_____

The night of the showcase arrives faster than either of you anticipated. The tension that’s been building between the two of you feels almost unbearable as you stand backstage, waiting for your turn. You can hear the muffled sounds of applause, the hum of excited chatter from the audience, and the delicate clinking of glasses from the reception outside. The room is full of energy, but you can’t seem to focus on anything other than Yunjin beside you.

Her hands are shaking slightly as she adjusts her outfit, the familiar grin from earlier replaced by something more guarded, more intense. You know she’s nervous—hell, you’re both nervous—but there’s something else in her eyes now. A quiet determination.

“You ready?” she asks, voice steady despite the way her heart is likely pounding.

You nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but she reaches out to grab your hand, squeezing it tightly. The warmth of her touch grounds you, steadying the fluttering in your chest. There’s no turning back now. The performance is a few minutes away, and you’ve both worked so hard to get here.

This is it.

The two of you stand side by side in the wings, waiting for your cue. The spotlight glows, and your heart races. You glance at Yunjin, whose eyes flicker to meet yours. There’s an unspoken promise in that look—no matter what happens, you’re in this together.

The announcer calls your names, and before you know it, you’re walking out onto the stage. The soft murmur of the audience fades, replaced by the deafening thrum of your pulse. You take your place, the spotlight warm against your skin. Yunjin sits at the piano, her fingers brushing the keys lightly in preparation. She’s calm, but her eyes flick to you, searching, as if she’s waiting for your signal.

You give her a small nod, and she begins the introduction.

The music starts—soft, delicate, and slow. It feels almost surreal, like you’re suspended in time. Every note she plays resonates in your chest, sending a ripple of warmth through your entire body. As your voice begins to rise, the world around you disappears. It’s just the two of you now, standing together in this fragile, beautiful moment.

Your harmonies blend effortlessly, your voices entwining in the way they always do. But tonight, it’s different. The intimacy of the performance feels heightened, more personal. Every line you sing to her feels like a promise, every word a confession you’ve never fully said aloud.

You’re not just performing anymore.

You’re feeling. Every note carries with it the weight of your connection, the silent words between you that have been building over the past few weeks. You’re singing not just for the audience, but for each other—for everything you’ve shared, for everything you’re still unsure of.

When the song reaches its peak, you share a look—barely noticeable to anyone else, but to the two of you, it means everything. There’s a moment where your voices seem to melt together, where you don’t need to speak to understand each other. It’s as if the entire world has folded away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect harmony.

You can feel her. Her presence, her breath, the slight tremor in her hands as they glide over the piano keys. You’re drawn to her in a way that feels unstoppable. And for the first time, it doesn’t matter. There’s no rivalry, no tension—just the raw emotion of what you’ve built together.

The final note rings out, long and sustained. It lingers in the air, hanging there like a delicate thread between you. The moment feels suspended in time, both of you frozen in place as the audience erupts into applause.

The sound crashes around you, overwhelming. But it’s different this time. It’s not the applause you care about, but the shared breath between you and Yunjin. She’s looking at you, her eyes wide, her lips parted slightly in a mix of awe and something deeper—something more vulnerable than she’s ever let on.

You don’t know how long you stand there, basking in the sound of the crowd, but eventually, you both bow, and the applause grows louder. The music ends, but the bond between you two is only beginning to deepen.

_____

Backstage, the energy is electric. Your heart is still pounding from the performance, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your face.

“Yunjin,” you breathe, catching her attention as you both slip backstage. “We did it. That was—”

In a rare moment of softness, Yunjin smiles, her expression more open than it’s ever been. “Yeah. We did.”

You both laugh, the nervousness from before slowly evaporating into something lighter, something freer. But as the laughter fades, the air between you shifts again. You both know what’s coming, even if neither of you wants to admit it.

“So,” you start, your voice a little hesitant, “what now?”

Her eyes soften as she steps closer, the playful edge in her demeanor still present but tempered with something else.

“I don’t know. But I think we should see where this goes,” she says, her voice low, genuine.

You don’t know what “this” is, but somehow, you don’t need to. For the first time, you feel like everything is falling into place. Whatever happens next, you’re not going to face it alone.

“I’m with you,” you whisper, your voice steady now, full of certainty.

Yunjin’s gaze holds yours for a long moment, as if she’s trying to measure your sincerity. Finally, she nods, her expression softening.

“I’m glad.”

Before you can respond, she pulls you into a tight hug, and you feel the weight of everything that’s passed between you both settle around you. It’s not a grand gesture, but it’s everything. In her arms, everything feels right.

“I’m proud of us,” she says softly against your ear.

You smile, your heart full. “Me too.”

As she pulls away, she gives you one last look—one filled with the promise of something more. No more pretending, no more running. Just honesty, vulnerability, and whatever comes next.

And when she takes your hand once more, you know that this—whatever it is—will be the start of something real.

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

"Tender Loving Care"

happy Wholesome Wednesday ^~^ 💙💛

AO3 link

As far as Tails could remember, Sonic had never been a touchy-feely guy.

He gave fist bumps and high fives. Tails had tried to give him hugs over the years as they’d grown up together, but Sonic would usually just tolerate it for a few seconds before awkwardly patting Tails’s head and pulling back.

Tails had never taken it personally. Sonic expressed his love in plenty of other ways. It was fine if physical affection wasn’t his cup of tea.

Until the war happened.

After the six worst months of Tails’s life ended, after he finally saw his brother again, after thinking he was dead all that time, dead because he hadn’t been able to figure out Infinite’s power in time to save him.

That day of reunion had seemed too good to be true. When he first saw Sonic again, his brother had seemed perfectly fine. They’d hugged for longer than they ever had before on that day. Tails had cried. And the remainder of the war had felt like a blur, swallowed up in the simple joy that Sonic was alive.

But although that joy remained, he quickly found out that—in a sense—it was too good to be true.

He didn’t know many details of what exactly Sonic had gone through during those six months. He heard he’d been kept in a small cell, alone. He heard something about torture, which had chilled his heart to think about. And in the days following the end of it all, Tails began to see the reality of those effects on his brother.

The sudden frequency of his hugs.

The anxious rubbing at his wrists when he thought no one was looking.

The quiet hyperventilating from the living room he would hear during the night.

The hallucinations that would have him asking Tails question after suspicious question until he’d verified he was real. The migraines that sometimes kept him huddled on the couch instead of getting to go out on his runs. The list went on.

Tails was the only one to see it. Sonic was a little too good at masking for everyone else the second he stepped out of the house.

So although it might be hard, Tails was going to do something about all of it. Sonic had taken care of him for so long. He’d raised him. Given him baths. Got him a brush to keep his fur untangled and fluffy. Read him bedtime stories. Sang him lullabies. Protected him.

It was only fair Tails should get to do the same for him.

One evening, two weeks after the end of the war, was when the opportunity arose. An hour or so had passed since dinner, and it was clear tonight was shaping out to be another bad one. Sonic hadn’t been very talkative that day, and after they finished eating, he’d wandered back to the couch and curled up into a ball in one of its corners.

Once Tails had finished washing the three or four dishes they’d used, he floated his way over to the couch and carefully settled on the cushion beside the hedgehog—gently, so he wouldn’t startle him. “Hey, big bro.”

He didn’t actually call him that very often, but sometimes he liked to do it just to make Sonic feel better. Assuming that he felt the same warmth that Tails did whenever he called him “lil bro.”

The spiky ball shifted a tiny bit, but didn’t make any noise in response.

“Can you hear me?”

“Mmm.”

“Can you come with me to the bathroom?”

Sonic uncurled a little, just enough for his eyes and nose to poke out. “Why?”

“Can you trust me?”

His brother didn’t answer, but he slowly unfurled until he could lower his legs to slide off the edge of the couch. He was squinting a bit, making Tails wonder if it was another migraine bothering him.

Tails took his hand—careful not to touch his wrist—and tugged him to his feet, then gradually guided him down the little hallway to the bathroom. Wary that Sonic seemed particularly averse to bright lights tonight, he made sure to only turn on the dimmer tub light instead of the whiter lightbulbs over the sink.

Sonic stumbled inside, reaching up only briefly to rub his temples, while Tails dug around through the closet for the supplies he was looking for.

“Might wanna take off your gloves and socks,” he said over his shoulder as he pulled out an unopened bottle of lavender-scented shampoo they’d gotten as a gift from Amy months ago but hadn’t yet used. He’d learned from a rare conversation with Shadow that the smell of lavender helped to reduce stress, which was one of his missions tonight.

Sonic obeyed, slowly sinking onto the edge of the tub. “I don’t wan’a bath,” he mumbled.

“I know.” He figured the last thing his brother would want was to be half submerged in water, a sensation he hated with a burning passion. Thankfully, there were other ways that could just as well get the job done. “A shower’s fine, though, right?”

“Mmm. ...Guess.”

Tails padded over and leaned past the hedgehog to twist the faucet to the H, and while he waited for the water to heat up, he switched his own gloves to a more waterproof pair. He was still going to need protection on his hands for this.

He checked the water temperature, adjusted it a few times, then asked, “Is that okay?”

Sonic tentatively reached out a hand to brush a couple fingers underneath the stream of water, and nodded. Tails lifted a few feet off the ground just enough to turn the shower head to a better angle, then dropped back down and pulled the little lever to redirect the water flow to the shower head.

Sonic edged away a couple inches as the warm water started raining down, then glanced at Tails and released a soft sigh. With another hesitation, he climbed into the tub and immediately sat down beneath the water flow, pulling his knees up to his chest and lowering his head, hands cradling his temples again.

Tails sat down on the edge of the tub and gave it a minute to let the water run down over him, watching as Sonic flattened his ears to keep the water from getting into them. Steam rose around them both from the hot water. Then he picked up the bottle of lavender shampoo, poured what he needed into one hand, and ever so gently began to lather it across his brother’s head and through his spines.

It was a meticulous, almost risky task. This was the primary reason Tails was still wearing gloves; combing through Sonic’s quills like this meant needing to be careful not to touch the sharp ends and get pricked, not to rub them the wrong way, and not to in any way spook him to the point of making them stick up and out at him. Nonetheless, Tails did it anyway. It needed to be done, and... well... it was pretty clear Sonic hadn’t much bothered to take care of himself since he’d been rescued.

Not that Tails blamed him, not when he still didn’t quite know what kind of world he’d been rescued from and what had been done to him there.

After a few minutes of tenderly rubbing the soap through the fur and quills on his head, Tails reached over and tapped him lightly on the arm, since his eyes were still closed. “Could you put your head back?”

Wordlessly, without opening his eyes, Sonic did as he asked. The raining water began to rinse out the soap, though the soft scent of the lavender still hung heavily in the air. His brother’s eyes weren’t squeezed quite as tightly as they had been a few minutes ago, and for that small step up, Tails felt himself smile. He held out a hand to better direct the water onto some spots that weren’t directly in the path of the overhead stream, and gently combed his fingers through some quills for another minute to get them all rinsed and cleaned out.

He couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Sonic had become even through this first process. It was encouraging, heartwarming, to see.

Once the water had rinsed out the shampoo, Tails took a half-worn bar of soap from the other side of the tub and started lightly rubbing it over the rest of his brother’s beat-down body, starting at his shoulders.

With the steady downpour of water flattening down the hedgehog’s fur, he could see some things now that hadn’t been visible before.

Scars.

Recent ones. Some that were whitening as they healed, but others that were still harsh and red. Tails already knew to be extra careful around his wrists, but he sucked in a quiet, sharp breath as he noted the marks—almost resembling electrical burns—circling both wrists. Marks that would’ve been partially hidden by the cuffs of his gloves, partially hidden by his fur if he kept it fluffed out enough, during the day.

He paused, taking a moment to study Sonic’s face. He’d tilted his head forward and down again, ears drooping, body almost entirely limp if it weren’t for the fact he was still sitting upright.

Tails couldn’t tell if his brother was just too out of it to realize how vulnerable he was right now, or if this was all an unconscious revelation that Sonic really did trust him enough to see and care for him like this.

Either way, Tails wasn’t going to waste this rare opportunity. He grinned again, took a few seconds to press his forehead against the side of Sonic’s with a soft purr, then leaned back and resumed his gentle work, shaking the water from his bangs.

At some point, shortly before he finished, Sonic reached over and tightly clasped his brother’s free hand without looking at him. Tails squeezed his hand back and continued to hold it as he finished the job.

After he was done, he once more let the water rinse Sonic off, then—lest he sit in it for too long and get even more lethargic—Tails twisted the faucet again to shut it off. The bathroom was still filled with warmth from the steam. Sonic cracked open one eye.

Tails reluctantly tugged his hand away, just so he could stand up and yank his brother’s towel off one of the racks on the wall. “C’mon, big bro,” he said encouragingly, extending his hand back down to pull him back to his feet.

Sonic mumbled a little from having to move, but he got back up and reached blindly for the towel, swaying just a little, as if the hot water had relaxed him so much he’d forgotten how to stand.

Tails wrapped a gentle arm around his back and helped him step over the side of the tub back onto the cooler tile of the floor, sat him down on the closed toilet seat, then wrapped the towel around his shoulders. Sonic fumbled to hold the edges of the thick cloth, one eye still twitching from the lingering headache.

Tails rummaged around under the sink until he found their fur dryer, switched it to the setting better suited to Sonic’s shorter fur, made sure it was on warm air, then turned it on a low pressure and directed it at Sonic.

Even if he didn’t necessarily like being wet and thus having to be dried off, Tails knew that he did like the dryer. The rushing air reminded him a bit of running, when the wind would blast in his face and weave around his frame as he tore gleefully through the world.

Sonic opened his eyes for this part, only narrowing and closing them again while Tails was drying off his face. A lazy grin had inched its way across his face, especially as Tails had a little too much fun taking advantage of being the one holding the dryer and making Sonic’s fur stick up in goofy ways in some areas. As he finished with it, he took the towel and next rubbed him down, even sneaking in his own playful noogie between the hedgehog’s ears for once with the towel.

Sonic snorted, reaching out to poke him in the stomach.

Tails squeaked and jumped away at that, then stuck his tongue out with a grin as he turned to hang the towel back up. There were bits of Sonic’s fur stuck in it, but he would just have to make a note to put it through the wash later. Right now, his top priority was trying to make Sonic feel better.

Make him feel... loved. Cared for.

He was pretty sure Sonic had already known, but Tails always jumped at the opportunity to show him that love in action. In his own experience, whenever Sonic had taken such care of him, it had made him feel so warm and fuzzy inside that it gave him a temporary relief from the anxiety that tended to eat away at him each and every day. For whatever mental turmoil Sonic was dealing with from his imprisonment, Tails wanted to give him a bit of that same relief.

Another thing he’d noticed and wanted to take care of was his chest fur situation. Sonic usually liked to keep it trimmed short and clean, but clearly between his extended imprisonment and exhausted state of the past two weeks, he hadn’t had the energy to cut it the way he preferred.

This was a quicker job. Sonic was more awake now than he’d been during the shower, but still he allowed Tails to indulge in his desires to be the caretaker for once. It further confirmed Tails’s hope that Sonic truly trusted him on this deep, intimate level.

Sonic remained seated on the closed toilet seat, rubbing his head again while Tails found his salon scissors and set to work. This was another slightly tedious job, but moreso because trimming fur in an area that moved up and down just due to breathing could be a bit tricky. Tails had to ask him to hold his breath a couple times, which Sonic made a big show of and made them both laugh at, but the job was still done in less than ten minutes.

While Tails grabbed a broom to sweep up the fur from the floor, Sonic slid gingerly off the toilet seat and left the room, probably heading back to the couch. Tails tapped the dust pan against the little trash can under the sink as he emptied it, paused in a moment of thought, then switched the light off and hovered off to the kitchen.

Sonic was back on the couch. He looked more refreshed, and at least wasn’t all curled up anymore. He still looked tired, and maybe a little restless at the same time, if his bobbing foot was anything to go off of. Apparently sensing Tails watching him, he turned and met his gaze, flashing him another small smile.

“Thanks, lil bro,” he called, voice quiet, but tone full of gratefulness.

“Anytime.” Tails flicked the button down on the kettle. “I’m not done, though.”

“I feel better now, you don’t have to—”

“I can do what I want.” Tails hopped up onto the kitchen island so he could see him better, and stuck his tongue out with a good-natured smile. “As long as it doesn’t have to do with bedtime, sugar, or danger,” he added, quoting what Sonic himself had taught him.

Sonic exhaled, mirroring his grin. “Got me there.”

“Thaaaank you very much.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Sonic leaned his head back down against the couch cushions. “...Thanks.”

While the kettle boiled, Tails grabbed Sonic’s yellow mug from the cabinet and dropped a bag of black tea into it, then jogged back down the hallway to find his brother’s brush, which had bristles especially designed for a hedgehog’s quills. He didn’t use it much, claiming that the wind kept his quills styled just fine, thanks, but there were still days when it was necessary. While Tails didn’t know what it was like to have quills, he figured it wouldn’t be very comfortable if they were all tangled up and twisted.

The kettle popped behind him, and he made quick work of pouring and preparing the cup of tea with a spoonful of honey and a splash of milk. He stirred it, then carefully carried it over to the couch, the mug in one hand and the brush in the other.

He couldn’t quite read the look in his brother’s eyes as he came into view. There was the smallest bit of confusion, almost a hint of regret, some awkwardness, but all of it was overshadowed by... warmth.

Tails handed him the mug, which he accepted delicately and cradled both hands around. Then he crawled onto the couch beside him, waiting expectantly for Sonic to turn the other way so he could start brushing through his quills.

Instead, Sonic set his mug on the coffee table, twisted back to face him, and pulled him into a tight hug.

Slowly, like if he moved too fast he might break, Tails lowered the brush and wound his arms around him in return. He swallowed thickly, nuzzling his face into his brother’s arm, feeling the rapid thumps of his heartbeat hammering against his own chest.

He couldn’t tell if he was imagining it, but for a moment it felt like Sonic was quivering a little in their embrace. This hug felt just as tight, if not tighter, than the one they’d shared on the day they’d first reunited a couple weeks ago.

Sonic moved a hand to the top of his back, rubbing up and down for a moment before tugging him even closer. Like he was making sure Tails was really there.

Once the eternity had passed, they gradually pulled back again, and with nothing more than a weak smile tossed his way, Sonic shifted around until he was facing the other direction of the couch, exposing his quills for Tails to brush.

With a lopsided, fragile grin of his own, Tails pushed himself up onto his knees and began carefully brushing through the tangles. A couple times he had to pause and separate a few quills with his free hand, but most of the process was smooth. A few loose ones fell out as he gently groomed the undersides of the bigger clumps, and he tried not to let himself worry about it. Losing quills was a sign of stress for hedgehogs. He already knew Sonic had been dealing with a lot.

Like with the shower, this seemed to be otherwise relaxing for him. Especially as he brushed along the top of his head, between and around his ears, and Sonic tilted his head back with the most subtle of sighs; Tails could’ve sworn he heard him purring.

Untangling the smaller quills on his upper back was a bit tougher, since they were almost hidden underneath the bigger ones on his head. He had to ask his brother to tilt his head down a bit so he could get to them, but once he did, he finished with them fairly quickly.

And that was that.

“Thank you,” Sonic told him again as Tails set the brush back on the coffee table and reclined backwards on the couch beside him.

He butted his head sideways against Sonic’s shoulder. “Anytime. I love you.”

Rather than responding aloud, Sonic took his hand again and sandwiched it between both his own. They snuggled closer together, seeking warmth and comfort simply from one another’s presence. Tails closed his eyes, smiling wide. Sonic was definitely purring now. He could hear it and feel it.

He made his own little rumbles of contentment, nuzzling one last time against him before they both drifted off into a peaceful, nightmare-free sleep together on the couch.

~~~

Hope you enjoyed and hope it was as therapeutic for you to read as it was for me to write 🥰

[luvlucia]

“When she catches an attitude so I need to remind her that her ass lives under my roof and therefore, it belongs to me.” This with any member…

Sunghoon fucked roughly into you as he pushed you down into the mattress. He was thrusting so deep, it felt so good but also nearly hurt. You gripped onto his muscular arms, letting out loud moans and screams.

Once you both had cum, he continued to fuck into you. He wasn't going to stop things so easily. He furrowed his eyebrows, fighting through his own overstimulation as he continued to fuck hard into you until the point you were crying from pleasure.

This was Sunghoon's way of... punishing you, let's just call it that. He had to remind you that you were his, something you knew deep down, and his way of reminding you was by fucking you so hard, all you could think about was him.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[anarcoqueer1994]

It seemed so simple...it was only three words. But they felt so heavy. These three words could destroy everything with Zeb, and Kallus was terrified.

I. Love. You. That's all he had to say to the man standing so close to him that all he had to do was reach out a few inches and his hands would be enveloped by soft purple fur.

Zeb looks at him expectantly, Kallus had said he needed to talk. But what if Zeb doesn't feel the same way? What if Zeb was weirded out and wanted to pull away. Or worse? What if Zeb gives him that empathetic look, gently letting him down. 'Sorry, Alex. I don't feel the same.'

The thought makes the blonde's heart hurt. He doesn't know why he thought he could do this. He was so stupid, of course Zeb can't love him like that. He whimpers subconsciously, as a little tear starts to form.

He turns on his heel, he needs to get away from Zeb, needs to abort the mission. Before he can get away though, he feels Zeb's hand on his shoulder. "Not so fast, Alex. What's up?"

Kallus knows he can pull away, the Lasat isn't trapping him here, but he feels gravitationally bound to Zeb. But he can't turn around. The words that spill from his mouth next surprises him. "Do you love me?" His heart tightens, he wasn't supposed to say that but now it's out there and he feels like the air around him is heavier, too heavy. His lungs aren't working, he feels like he is going to choke.

Zeb's hand falls from his shoulder. Kallus' heart drops. Here it comes. The heart break. The confirmation that what he has been feeling these past few months has not been reciprocal. He was dreaming of something that could never be true.

But suddenly he feels two arms wrap around his waist, Zeb's head coming to rest on his shoulder. "What took you so long to ask?" The Lasat practically purrs into his ear.

It sends a blush up Kallus' neck, covering his face as he lets out a relieved laugh. "Is that a yes?"

"For such a smart guy, you're kind of oblivious, freckles." Zeb smiles, before turning Kallus around in his arms so they were looking at each other again. Kallus, despite everything still gives an unsure look, prompting Zeb to laugh, before saying "Yes, Sasha. I love you...and I hope that question mean you love me?"

Lightness fills his heart, the worry melts away, as he reached his hand up to Zeb's face, gently stroking his cheek. "More than I can tell you, Garazeb."

[fizzyapplecandy]

Ateez as Supernatural Tropes

Other members

The one with the white feather

Angel Hongjoong x detective reader

Genres and warnings: angel Hongjoong, detective reader, crime scenes, blood, guns mentioned, minors dni, angst, mentions of death, somewhat happy ending, strangers to maybe lovers, mature language (if i missed something, feel free to correct me)

Word count: 3.2k

A single white feather changes the course of your life.

"Good morning detective."

"Morning Yeosang, how's it going?"

"As you can see." The forensic inspector gestured around him. "It's been a messy day."

You scanned the area around Yeosang, noting how bloody it was. The person who died in the early morning hours was doomed from the second that the sharp knife touched her throat.

"I see... Do we have any details?"

"I've already spoken to the other detectives, we found her ID in her wallet. There doesn't appear to be anything stolen."

You hummed, nodding along to his story when you noticed something not far away from the woman's body.

A feather. One single white feather was next to her. Immaculate, despite the blood surrounding it.

"And what is that?"

Yeosang followed where you were pointing, shrugging his shoulders.

"It was there when we got here. It doesn't appear to have anything to do with the case. I mean, it's just a feather, I'm not sure what bird it's from, but it was just... There."

"You don't plan on picking it up?" You questioned, and Yeosang almost seemed offended.

"Hey, I thought we were past you doubting my skills. The feather isn't relevant, Y/N, but I'll pick it up. Don't worry."

Maybe he was right. You were known as the strict one in your department, but there was no need to doubt him. He's proven himself many times before, and you'd be devastated if your friendship took a blow because of work.

Just as you were about to respond, a flash of white somewhere behind him made you stop. It was fleeting, almost non-existent, but you saw it. Yeosang noticed your silence, trying to get your attention. You shook your head, gathering yourself again.

"Sorry, what? I don't know what's going on, this is just not my morning."

"Hey, I get it. Come, the others want to give you the details. I've got to finish up here."

.

.

"I swear to God, if this case beats my ass I'm quitting."

"We both know you won't do that."

Namjoon, the head detective of your department commented off handedly, sipping on his lukewarm coffee.

"Yeah, I know I won't, but I'm just saying."

"You've said it many times before, and here we are. We both know you love this job more than anything."

You sighed, finishing the last sentence on your report.

The murder case from two days ago was in full investigation, but you didn't have a single clue about what happened. The crime scene was basically spotless, if you count out the amount of blood.

One thing that kept you awake at night was the singular feather found next to the body. It was unusual, and you pestered Yeosang to test it.

No dna was found, it was from an unfamiliar species, and there was nothing tying it to the woman.

Your fellow detectives, as well as Namjoon, told you it was pointless to dwell on it, but you couldn't stop.

The other thing on your mind was the figure that appeared fleetingly in front of you. Yeosang told you it was your lack of sleep that jumbled your mind, but you knew what you saw.

Well, you didn't exactly, but there was something.

"Okay, I'm done. I need to get out of this office before I fall asleep on my desk. Again."

The head detective chuckled, shooing you away.

"Off you go. I need my best employee to be well rested. Lots of bad guys to catch."

"You're funny, you know? Bye now."

Waving to the other officers still in the office, you made your way outside to your car.

With a heavy sigh, you turned on the engine and made your way home. You lived in a small house in the outskirts of town, and you loved it.

There was no noise, no neighbours, no distractions. It was pure heaven for you, but the road towards your house was a little creepy. You had to get past a wooded area, and sometimes the paranoia from your job got to you.

Tonight was one of those nights, where everything seemed suspicious to you. Fortunately, there was no traffic, and you were almost out of the woods when you noticed him.

There, in the middle of the road, stood a man dressed in white. He wasn't moving, no. He was staring straight at your car.

"Come on now, move along." You whispered, tightening your grip on the steering wheel.

The man gave no sign of moving, staying rooted in his spot.

"Oh for the love of... Hey! Move it!" You yelled out of your window, but to no avail. Your car came to a stop, almost too close to the person.

Now you got a better look at him, and he was surprisingly handsome. His hair was blonde, almost white, and his clothes were pristine.

"Are you deaf? You have to get off the street."

The man's expression changed from stoic to amazed in a second. He opened his mouth, and his voice was as angelic as his face.

"You... You can see me? You can really see me?"

"Of course? You're standing in the middle of the road! Everybody can see you!"

He shook his head, quickly approaching your side. You instinctively reached for the gun in your holster, but he only gripped the glass of the window, his smile never faltering.

"I knew you noticed me back then! Oh wow... You really are special."

"What the hell? Okay, either you move or I get out of the car and make you."

At this point you were bluffing a bit, hoping the stranger would just go his way. The situation was getting too weird, even for a crime investigator like you.

As if he realised he was doing something wrong, the man panicked, mouth going slack.

"Oh no. No, no, no."

Sensing his distress, you tried going at him with a softer approach.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"No, no. I gotta go. It was so lovely meeting you finally, and I'm sorry you won't remember me."

Your confused expression made him even more sad.

"What?"

"Goodbye, Y/N."

"Wait, how do you know my-"

In a flash, the man was gone, and you were in a daze. After shaking your head, it was like everything went back to normal.

Funny, you could have sworn you just talked to somebody.

Oh well, maybe the stress was finally getting to you.

"I need a drink. Or maybe six."

.

.

There was this creepy feeling following you the whole next day. As if you were meant to remember something, but you just couldn't. The case you were working on wasn't making it any easier.

"This is starting to become ridiculous." You muttered, sifting through the papers.

"No leads?" San, a fellow detective, asked while passing you a cup of hot coffee.

"None. It's like someone put her there and just vanished."

San sighed, looking over your shoulder at the documents. There was Yeosang's forensic report, which gave you the cause of death, but other than that, nothing.

"The motherfucker is skilled. Maybe he's done this before?" He asked, making you wonder as well.

Suddenly, as if you were possessed, you reached for a pen and found a piece of paper at the bottom of the pile.

There, you circled one word.

"Brother?" San questioned, his eyebrows scrunching up.

"Yeah?" You replied, almost in a daze.

Then, it came to you.

"Her brother! Of course! Their grandfather died recently, and the family business was inherited by her."

"But wasn't he at a hotel or something? We have the receptionist's statement."

You let out a forced laugh, glancing up at San.

"The man is known for bribing people, you don't think he could have done it to that poor man working minimum wage as well?"

"Good thinking. Want to pay him a visit?"

Standing up and gathering your things, you smiled at San.

"Hell yes."

"Let me go get my things."

Before he walked out, he stopped at the doorway.

"Hey, Y/N? How did you know?"

"What?" You asked, confused.

"Well, you just... Went for it? Was it a feeling?"

You stood there, now realizing what happened in the last few minutes.

"I don't... I don't know, to be honest."

San nodded, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh well... You have killer intuition."

.

.

"I knew you'd get it."

"Did you now?" You chuckled, clinking your glass against Yeosang's.

"Of course! You're the best detective I've ever met! And I'm not biased because you're my friend, I'm just stating the facts."

There were moments in life where you were thankful to have Yeosang as your friend, and this was one of them.

You successfully closed the case after confronting the victim's brother. The receptionist was easy to crack, and everything went smoothly afterwards. There was just one thing bugging you.

"It's a shame we don't know anything about the feather."

"What feather?"

Your hand stopped midway while lifting your drink, and you looked at Yeosang wide-eyed. His expression was the epitome of confusion.

"What do you mean 'what feather'? The one we found, completely unrelated to the case?"

"Y/N, I'm sorry, but there was nothing except for blood. You were there, you know that."

Silence fell over you, and your brain couldn't accept what he was saying. Was he messing with you?

Sensing your unease, he reached over to place your glass back on the table.

"Maybe you've had too much whiskey."

"This is my second glass."

"Yeah, well, maybe you're just too tired. Why don't I take you home now?"

You nodded, seemingly in a daze again. Yeosang led you out the bar and into his car, helping you buckle up. The ride home was quiet, with him trying to take your mind off the last conversation.

"And here we are. Get some sleep, okay? We'll talk tomorrow."

"Yeah... Yeah, I'll do that. Thank you, Sangie."

Without a second thought, you reached over to place a kiss on his cheek, exiting the car afterwards.

The image of the feather flashed in your mind again, and you couldn't stop thinking about it. You didn't even notice yourself unlocking your door and taking off your shoes.

Maybe you'd have been in a daze until you reached your bedroom, if it weren't for the fact that a man was standing in your living room.

"You're home!"

"What the hell?!"

Reaching for your waist, you pulled out your little handgun and pointed it at the stranger. His eyes widened, hands immediately going in the air.

"Hey now, why would you do that? I know you don't remember me, but there's no need to get so violent."

Your hands started shaking. Where have you seen him before? He was so eerily familiar.

That's when you noticed the white feathers scattered around the floor.

The same as the one heavy on your mind.

"Who are you? How did you get inside?" You asked, taking a few steps forward. The man still hasn't moved, but he now put his hands down.

"I'm Hongjoong. You don't know me as well as I know you, but I've been around for some time."

"Okay, Hongjoong. How exactly do you know me?"

He smiled. "Easy, I'm your guardian angel. I mean, I'm an angel, period, but I've come to like you a bit too much."

You gasped. "Are you on drugs? You definitely are, there's no way a sane person would say these things!"

"You don't believe me? Fine, I expected it."

Without another word, Hongjoong turned his back to you and spread out his arms.

That's when a pair of snow white wings sprang from his shoulders, knocking over a lamp on your coffee table.

"See? Don't they look cool?"

There wasn't one single credible explanation for what you were seeing, so you just... Sat down on the floor. Your gun was still clutched tightly in your hands, not yet ready to let your guard down. Hongjoong's eyes widened, a panicked expression taking over.

"Oh heavens! Are you okay? I can help you if you let me."

"N-No, no. Just... Stay where you are."

He surprisingly listened to you, staying rooted in his spot. His wings were still present, the white feathers shining in the dim light of your living room lamp.

"So... Angel?" You asked, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

"Yep. I'm not really your guardian, but I took it upon myself to watch over you."

"Why is that?"

He sighed, sitting down on the floor a few feet from you.

"Well... I was once present to guide an unfortunate person to heaven. I saw you then, and I don't know... We can sense when people are in trouble, and you seem like a magnet for it. Part of the job, I suppose."

"Tell me about it." You huffed.

"After bumping into you again a second time, I decided to linger around. Why do you think you feel so safe when going home? I calm you down."

Your eyebrows scrunched up, wondering what we meant. It came to you then. Sometimes when you drive home, you feel like someone wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. It's fleeting, but it calms your nerves.

"That's you? I thought I was imagining it."

"All me." Hongjoong smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

"But why are you here? Last time... Wait."

You realized then. "I saw you! On the road! It was you!"

"Yes, it was. I had to erase it from your memory, it's forbidden for angels to show themselves around humans."

"What about now? You're still here, I'm looking at you."

He smiled, albeit a bit sad.

"I know that as well. I thought it wouldn't come to this, but... Once you see my feather, your fate has been sealed."

It's when you realize what he meant that it really hit you.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?"

Hongjoong only nodded. Silence overcame you again.

There was an angel in your house, telling you your death was close. This wasn't the evening you wanted to have, not in the slightest.

"So, how's that going to go? Are you here to, I don't know, help me?" You asked finally, looking straight into his eyes.

"I can't tell you that, but I promise I'll be there. I'm not planning on leaving you hanging. Besides, it will be nice to have a friend to teach you the ropes once you get here. Sorry, that might have been a bit insensitive."

"You think? Holy hell, I can't believe this."

You placed the gun back into your holster, standing up and walking into your kitchen. Hongjoong trailed after you, eager to have your attention.

"It's nice where I'm from, you know? I have a lot of friends, you'll get along just fine. And we've already decided what your job will be. Let me tell you, they don't let just anybody rank this high from the start."

"Will you please stop talking about my death like it's nothing?! I'm trying so hard not to have a breakdown right now, but you're not helping!" You yelled finally, your emotions taking over.

Hongjoong nodded, looking sad again. It kind of made you feel bad. He was clearly here to help you, and yeah it sucked to hear those things from him, but at least you won't be alone.

You knew your job came with a lot of risk, and that you'd end up hurt in action. It never occurred to you that you might... Die.

"I'm sorry, Hongjoong. I know you mean well, but it's a lot to take. I'm basically going to live the rest of however long my life is in fear. You really can't tell me when it will happen?"

He shook his head, taking a seat on a stool by the kitchen island.

"No, I'm not allowed. The only thing I can say... And I'm doing this because I really like you, is that you will die doing what you love, all the while protecting important people in your life. It's just who you are."

Well, that kind of made you a bit more relaxed. At least you know it is work related. That kind of made sense.

"And you'll be there?"

"Of course. I won't let you do this alone. You may not know me that well, yet, but I do know you."

You snorted a laugh, busying yourself with making some tea for the both of you. Do angels even drink tea?

"Oh really? What's my favourite colour?"

"Easy, red. You mostly wear black, but the few pieces you wear out are always red. Your nails are red, when you take the time to paint them."

You huffed. "Okay, that wasn't a tough question. Hmm... What's my least favourite movie and why?"

He stayed silent for a moment, and you thought you won, but he surprised you again.

"Twilight. The second one especially. You watch it when you want to laugh, because you always make fun of the acting. And you find it really cringe. However, you watch it when you feel down. It gives you a reason to laugh."

"Hongjoong..."

You handed him a cup, and when he reached over to take it, your fingers brushed. The touch was brief, but it sent a shock through your whole body. It was like a sting, but a pleasant one. He smiled afterwards, nodding like it confirmed something he thought about.

"What was that?" You whispered, too stunned to speak.

"Something... Magical. I know you felt it, you wouldn't be looking like that if you didn't. But that's not something you have to worry about now. Do you have any more questions? I'll try to answer them if I can."

It dawned on you suddenly.

"Oh God! Yeosang! I don't talk to my parents, I didn't even think about them, but him! He'll be devastated."

"He'll be fine. Believe me. He'll be sad, but somebody will be his shoulder to cry on. Maybe you even know it yourself." A knowing smile formed on his face, and you nodded enthusiastically.

"San? Oh my... Does it take me dying for them to finally confess to each other? A bunch of whimps."

Hongjoong chuckled, and you couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"At least something good will come from it."

He stopped, standing up to approach you.

"Y/N... I'm really sorry for barging in on you like this. It wasn't my intention. I just... You were always so close, but so far away at the same time. Don't hold it against me."

You looked at him, noting how sincere he sounded. It was like it pained him to be away from you, but it didn't make it easier that you had to die soon.

"I... I can't really think right now, I'm still in shock, but... It will be nice to have someone next to me. You know, once I pass. Maybe you're just the thing I needed."

His hand was on the island, and you couldn't help but reach for it again. Your fingers touched, the sparks going up your arm. Neither of you moved, and you just let the feeling sink in.

"It's... Strange. How I don't feel as scared as I thought I would."

"I'm here. I'm here to make it all easier. I will be next to you, as long as you let me."

Your eyes met again, and this time you smiled, the unease gone.

"I think I'll keep you for a while."

.

.

[serenity--writes]

'Til death do us part. | Husband!Peter Parker x Reader

Married life with Peter Parker. Little moments with your husband. //2.5k~ words. Unedited. GN! Reader. A/N: small mentions of pregnancy but it's in a 'joking' way and clear that it's either not possible/not a thing. Also, I'm more than willing to write more married Peter & Reader!

You wake up early, and with bleary eyes you glance at the clock on your side table before groaning.

4:27 am, it reads. You sigh. Staying up waiting for Peter to get home was something you rarely skipped doing, even at the cost of your precious sleep, but on mornings like this, it feels like a mistake. 

Too early to be awake, but too late to go back to sleep. Your shift starts in two hours, give or take (it depends on if your boss is hungover or not—he’s pretty ‘giving’ when he’s nursing a killer headache; less paperwork, you figure) and going back to sleep reads disaster in big blocky letters.

Your husband groans beside you, murmuring into your shoulder as he shifts closer to you. Smiling, you reach over to wind a curl behind his ear, away from his nose. Peter Parker, your husband, and your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man all in one—and more importantly, the love of your life. 

You doze for a moment longer, content to enjoy the sensation of Pete’s bare skin against yours, freshly washed after a tumultuous escapade in the sewers—you wouldn’t let him into bed otherwise—nearly falling back asleep if it weren’t for a last second peek at the clock. 

4:49 am. 

… And that’s your cue. You pry yourself out of Peter’s arms, cooing as he pouts and subs you out with your pillow—he’s a cuddler, and an adorable one at that, God—before stumbling into the shower and going about your morning routine. 

You’re making breakfast, some eggs with toast and a yogurt on the side, when Peter stumbles out of your bedroom. “Hey, baby,” you greet him with a smile, relaxing into him as he wraps his arms around your waist. He mumbles vaguely in response, leaning his forehead against the base of your neck. 

You feel like a teenager again with the way he makes your heart skip a beat, then another in quick succession.

“Eggs?”

You nod, grateful he can’t see your dopey smile. He’d tease you for the entirety of breakfast. “And toast.”

Peter practically moans. “Honey, I love you so much.”

“Love me so much you threw your suit into the wash like I told you to?” you ask knowingly. Said suit is sitting on the bathroom floor, blood and sewage filth decorating it like a persistent rash. Safe to say, it’s gross and you did not appreciate having to dodge it while getting in and out of the shower.

“Shit. I totally forgot—”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you pat him on the shoulder. “Go take care of it while I make our plates.”

Peter’s shoulders dip in relief before grabbing his spare mask (which is also filthy) from the couch. “Good idea.” You watch him pause in the hallway before darting back to you, pressing a kiss to your lips and swallowing your startled sigh. “Morning, honey,” he whispers, grinning as heat spreads across your face before bolting.

“Sap!” you yell after his retreating form. 

He laughs. “Only for you, honey!”

.

.

.

“Pete, c’mon,” you whisper urgently, pressing a hand to his side. There’s not a thought in your head, too panicked to do much else. Blood soaks your pants, and your hands slip against his skin because of it. It’s a struggle not to gag at the sight of his bruised and bloody body. He’s like a canvas of black and blue and red.

His head lolls to the side as he grumbles into your neck. He passed out just a minute ago, and you don’t need a medical degree to know that’s not a good thing. 

His healing factor has already kicked in, but you need him awake.

An idea strikes you. “I was going to wait to tell you, but—” You take a breath, pretending to be hyping yourself up. “I’m pregnant.”

His head shoots up. “What?!”

It’s nonsensical for a plethora of reasons, but the blood loss keeps him from calling you out on your blatant lie. You nod seriously, biting your lip as you fumble with the medkit you hastily grabbed. “Yup, so I need you awake to comfort me. You know, since this is a very… ‘eh’ time for me.” You honestly have no idea what's coming out your mouth, you're so anxious.

Peter frowns. “‘Eh’ time?” he mumbles, yelping when he moves; you grip his shoulder to brace him. Shifting upward so he can sit straight as much as he can right now, he looks into your eyes. “Talk later. Sleep for now.”

You raise a brow. That’s not happening on your watch. “No, I want to talk to you now. Besides, babe, you’re definitely concussed and bleeding out. I’m not letting you sleep, not until I can patch you up.”

Speaking of… “You’re going to need stitches.”

He moans, face falling. “Noo… Please?”

Despite the situation, you smile. He hides his face in your neck. “I’ll be quick, okay? It’ll be over before you know it.”

You grab the antiseptic wipes from the kit, pressing Peter onto the floor for easy access to his wound. He goes down with a pathetic sound; you press a kiss to his forehead, shushing him. Stab wound, you think hysterically. He hasn’t gotten stabbed in years. 

You’re as gentle as you can be, but this was never going to be pain-free. Peter knows that better than anyone, and he endures it as gracefully as he can despite his loopyness. An odd calm settles over you as you stitch him shut, hands no longer shaking. As much as you hate this, hate seeing him hurt and in pain, you know he’ll be okay tomorrow. Limping, slightly achey, but the wound will be shut and you’ll have to remove the stitches.

He’ll moan and whine the entire time, batting his eyelashes to butter you up while making sardonic jokes about the guy who managed to get an attack in. 

“Stay with me, baby,” you coo softly. You tie off the suture thread and go about wrapping his torso up. Tight, but not too tight—you know just the right amount of leeway to give now, but didn’t the first time he came to you. He was too embarrassed to correct you, and ended up hurting himself more; you set your foot down that night, you remember, telling him that you’d tell each other everything, no matter how embarrassing. You didn’t like hurting him, unintentionally or otherwise. “Let’s get you out of your suit, and then you can sleep.”

The suit is salvageable, thankfully, but covered in blood and you’ll need to throw it in the wash. “Second time today,” you hum, glancing at Peter from the corner of your eye. 

“Not how I wanted to come home,” he grouses. “Wanted to… make you dinner. Watch Star Wars. Cuddle.” The last word is whiny, and you make the executive decision to hurry up with the spandex-shimmying. The material is hell to get off so once it reaches his ankles, you practically rip the suit off. Finally.

“Let’s get you to bed. We’ll have date night tomorrow, and you can make me your Chicken Curry then.”

Peter nods after a moment, smiling. He looks dopey, but you figure it’s the blood loss. Your heart can’t take this shit anymore, but for him, you’ll endure. “Mmkay.”

.

.

.

“On a scale of one to ten, how are you feeling? One being—”

“I’m fine!” Peter grabs your hands and cradles them in his own. “I promise, I feel better. Practically fully healed.” He lifts up his shirt and proudly displays the bare skin. “No wound, and I took out the stitches. I’m fine.”

You scowl at him. “You looked like shit last night, Peter.”

He winces. You rarely use his first name, not in that tone, and that’s how he knows he’s in the dog house. Not that you know it, but like, he knows you. You worry too much, in Peter’s opinion, but he knows it stems from love and really can’t fault you for it. He’d be a huge hypocrite otherwise.

You soften as he wraps you up in his arms. Peter presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry, honey. But I really am alright, I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

And you know he wouldn’t, not after that night. “No lies,” you repeat your past self softly, letting yourself be held. He hums in agreement and you huff out a sigh. After you tucked him into bed, you washed his suit and kept watch in case something happened, but fell asleep around four in the morning, three hours after he arrived panting and bloody through your shared bedroom window.

You just woke up and it’s 2:30. 

Like he senses your dulling mood, he cards his fingers through your hair, distracting you from your thoughts. “I made wheatcakes,” he says, the words muffled by your skin. 

You gasp. “Really?” It’s a distraction from your worry and guilt and you know it, but you let yourself be led to the kitchen anyway. It’s Peter’s way of apologizing, taking care of you, and it’s sweet. He loves you with so much kindness and care, it’s almost overwhelming, and you know it’s the same for him—he gets so flustered when you press chaste kisses against his skin, when you indulge him and listen to his nerdy spiels about his favorite characters or about String Theory. 

He got so embarrassed that one time you tripped over one of his spider-tracers, a prototype that didn’t last long, unfortunately, that he spent the entire weekend making it up to you. You did end up with a broken ankle, after all. Breakfast in bed, extended time in bed that left you with weak knees and him pleasantly sore. He even watched that one show he swore to never watch with you, though he only lasted three episodes before he switched to House M.D., not that you minded.

You stuff your faces with wheatcakes and play scrabble, with you as the winner—no you didn’t, you cheater! (Peter's a sore loser)—but by the time you’ve packed the game up, Peter’s taken to finishing off the remaining wheatcakes. You pout. “C’mon,” you whine, eyeing the crumbs on his cheek with envy. 

“I’m the one who got stabbed,” he reminds you, patting his stomach with a contented sigh. 

You raise a brow at him. “You really wanna bring that up?”

If you were in a cartoon, a comically large sweat drop would be dripping down his forehead. “Ah… ha… So! Let’s rewatch that episode where House drugs Wilson—”

You wrinkle your nose. “You’re giving me ideas, babe.”

He snorts but pulls up House anyway. “Good luck getting drugs for an elephant. The normal stuff doesn’t work on me, you know that. I’m just so much better, I guess.”

You groan, thwacking him on the nose. You know he could’ve just dodged out of the way, but he didn’t and it makes you soften. You’re so easy when it comes to Peter, it’s ridiculous. Then again, you married him, so it’s to be expected. Right? “Humble, too, aren’t you, babe?”

“It’s my fan’s fault. They keep complimenting my butt and hyping me up. I honestly think they like my assets more than you—”

“I literally started the Spider-Man butt appreciation forum,” you snark without thinking, your hand raised like you were in a classroom.

…

…

Peter’s uncharacteristically quiet and wide-eyed. “What?” you ask self-consciously. 

“You started it?”

Crossing your arms, you lean back on the couch. Your cheeks heat up as your words catch up to you. “I was in high school and thought you had a cute butt,” you admit. Why you’re embarrassed about that when you’ve literally had that butt on your f—yeah, not going there—is a mystery. But you are. God, why did you say that.

Your husband grins, smug. His mischievous eyes make you weak but you keep your composure. He won’t win this, you won’t allow it. “This is the best day of my life.” 

“Very cute,” you say, then you pull out the trump card. “Better than our wedding day?”

Gotcha, you think, giddy as his smug grin devolves into a pout. Your laughter rises and covers up Peter’s long and dramatic groan. 

“You always play that card!” he accuses. 

“For good reason!”

He makes you forget about your worries, your fears. It’s easy when he looks at you with so much love in his eyes. 

.

.

.

“You’re working yourself into a panic attack, honey,” Peter says from your bed. He doesn’t get up to invade your space, he knows better, just keeps his voice even and stays put.

You drop your head in your hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing!” Angry tears cling to your eyelashes. “They keep fucking changing the goddamn procedure, and the instructions are so—so—unclear! Half of my fucking team is confused but the higherups won’t help and—”

Your shoulders hunch and you let out an angry scream that sounds more like a sob. Peter’s by your side in an instant, hauling you out of your chair and into his arms. He whispers assurances in your hair—’I got you’ and ‘you’re okay’—and holds you through your fit, running his hand up and down your back. 

Working from home has its benefits, mainly being able to be in your own space and away from your bitchy coworkers, but sometimes it’s hell because you can’t just get up from your desk and knock on your boss’s door to ask a question. 

You hate being confused, left in the dark, and Peter knows it. He’s the same. He understands. 

Gentle fingers take your chin in hand, and brown, chocolate eyes meet your own. Peter smiles at you, leaning forward to press his nose to yours. “I got you,” he repeats a final time as your breathing stutters, then calms. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed. You avert your eyes. God, you knew that outburst had been building, could feel it in your bones, but didn’t expect it to happen just then. You feel like you’re on fire with how sensitive your senses are. You want to bury yourself in Peter’s arms and never leave. You’d be safe and happy and content there, you know it.

“None of that,” Peter says, stern, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He moves his head to meet your eyes, and you know what he’s doing, but you let it work because you’re so tired of feeling like shit and he makes everything better. “I love you, honey.”

“Love you, too.” Kisses are pressed to your cheeks, your forehead, and you can’t help but laugh, giggles rippling in the air as you two trade kisses for what seems like hours. He ends the moment with a kiss to your lips, cradling your waist as you melt against him. 

You’re in your chair the very next moment, Peter’s smile visible from where he leans over you. “You can do this,” he reassures you. He says it with such confidence that you can’t not believe it. “Do what you can, and come back to the other stuff after they email you back. I’ll bring you some tea. Just relax, honey. You’re doing amazing.”

For a moment, you want to say fuck work and cuddle with Peter for the rest of the day, but this project is important, so you don’t. But the want very much lingers. He can see it on your face, he must, because he winks at you before walking out of your bedroom.

He doesn’t make it past a few steps before he’s sprinting to the kitchen. Snorting, you turn to your computer. Peter has this little game he’s been playing for years now, where he has to make it to the kitchen in twenty seconds or less otherwise ‘monsters are going to spring up and get me, and then it’s game over’. 

Your husband is ridiculous(ly adorable), and you love him to death. 

‘Til death do us part.

[aventurineswife]

Hello ^^ How about i request something about reader being like aven in a way that they have walls too (yes, we're usually sweet to him in the established relationships). But like, i'm curious how it'd be for two people with difficulty admitting their own feelings.

Basically: mutual pining with aven and no one is admitting anything because it'd take a lot to admit it. Not in an enemies way, but just because they both think they don't deserve the other. "i think theyre just being nice to me bc i always hangout with them" kind of oblivious but others would think you're both dating. Until someone like topaz or ratio got fed up with it lol. I'd love to see your take on this.

Thank you! Please do whatever you can with this description, I believe in you ♪

“Don't you want me like I want you, baby? Don't you need me like I need you now?”

Summary: You and Aventurine, despite your deep feelings for one another, have built emotional walls that keep you from confessing. Both of you believe the other is just being nice, too oblivious to realize you're mutually pining. That is, until Topaz and Ratio grow tired of watching the two of you dance around your feelings and step in to smack some sense into you.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Confession in the Rain, Fluff, Emotional Vulnerability, Topaz & Ratio Being Matchmakers, Subtle Romantic Gestures, Light Angst with a Happy Ending.

Warnings: Minor self-doubt and insecurity from both characters

A/N: THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT!! 😭 AND I CAN TOTALLY SEE THIS!! ESPECIALLY BEFORE AVENTURINE AND YOU WOULD GET INTO A RELATIONSHIP, THIS SUITS SO WELL!! THANK YOU FOR THIS PROMPT AND BELIEVING IN ME!!🤭🫶💖 I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! (Ifyk the title yk🤭)

The click of glasses clinking echoed through the room as a sea of gold and velvet flowed around you. The IPC’s high-profile event had you standing at the corner of the lavish hall, drink in hand, stealing glances at Aventurine across the room. He was his usual self, smiling that easy, carefree grin while chatting up the attendees, his sandy-blond hair perfectly styled, magenta and cyan eyes gleaming.

You sighed softly, feeling the familiar tightness in your chest.

It was so obvious to everyone else—the stolen glances, the shared moments of quiet company, the lingering touches that could be dismissed as nothing. To you, though, it was an enigma. You couldn’t fathom that Aventurine, with his charm and confidence, could actually feel something for you. No, he was just being nice, right? He was always kind to those close to him.

But maybe that’s all you were—a close friend. A confidante.

"Of course, he doesn't feel anything more..." you muttered, running a hand through your hair, as if the action would sweep away the doubt.

Unbeknownst to you, Aventurine was having a similar struggle. Even as he entertained the crowd, his mind was on you. He hadn’t been able to shake that tightening in his chest every time your gazes met across the room. He knew you were kind, gentle even, but surely, you were just being nice because of how often you spent time together. And he? He certainly didn’t deserve you. Not with the walls he kept up.

His fingers played with the roulette-detailing on his sleeve as he watched you from the corner of his eye. ‘How could someone so warm even look my way?’ Aventurine thought. The idea of confessing, of breaking the silence, seemed too daunting—too risky, even for someone like him who played with fate itself.

It was a strange dance, this oblivious pining. And everyone around you was done watching it.

“Are you serious?” Topaz’s voice cut through the polite conversation with the sharpness of a blade. She stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in an almost imperious arch as she sized you and Aventurine up.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to play dumb.

Topaz narrowed her eyes. “You and Aventurine. Everyone in the IPC knows. Heck, even Numby knows.”

Ratio, standing beside her, shook his head, clearly exasperated. “It’s painful to watch, honestly. You two are practically dating without even realizing it. How much longer are you both going to keep this up?”

A flush crept up your cheeks, and you felt your heart stumble over itself. “W-what? No. We’re not—”

“Oh, please,” Topaz interjected, rolling her eyes. “Don’t even try that excuse. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s like you’re the only one in the room. And don’t even get me started on how you gaze at him when you think no one’s watching.”

You were stunned into silence, and Ratio sighed, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. Just… talk to him. He’s probably thinking the same things you are.”

As if on cue, you spotted Aventurine making his way to the exit, slipping away unnoticed by the crowd. The sky outside had turned stormy, and you felt something twist in your chest, urging you to follow.

The rain poured down in a steady rhythm as you caught up to Aventurine, his overcoat already soaked, but he didn’t seem to mind. His back was to you as he stood under the awning, staring out into the storm.

“Hey,” you called out, breathless from both the rush and the nerves building inside you. “Aventurine, wait!”

He turned at the sound of your voice, and for a moment, his expression was unreadable. You felt the words stick in your throat, the intensity of the moment hanging heavy between you.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You swallowed hard, heart hammering as you took a step closer. “I… needed to talk to you.”

His eyes flickered with something—hope, maybe? But also a hint of wariness. “What about?”

Taking a deep breath, you searched for the right words, every inch of you trembling with nerves. “Topaz and Ratio—they think we’re dating. And, well, I… I didn’t know what to say.”

Aventurine stiffened slightly, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Oh...” was all he managed, voice unusually quiet.

You hurried to fill the silence. “They said we’ve been acting like we’re… more than friends, but I didn’t think you’d—”

His gaze snapped back to yours, a flash of emotion crossing his face before he schooled it into that familiar smile. “And what do you think?” he asked, but his voice was a little too casual, too light.

“I think…” you hesitated, your walls creeping back up, fighting the vulnerability of the moment. “I think I’ve been lying to myself.”

That caught his attention, and he straightened, the air between you charged with tension. The rain drummed softly around you, a perfect backdrop to the storm of emotions swirling within.

“I’ve been telling myself you were just being kind to me. Because I was around, or because I was useful, I don’t know. I thought I didn’t deserve you.” you admitted, the weight of the confession making your chest tighten.

Aventurine stared at you, stunned into silence. His smile faltered, and in its place, something softer, more raw, slipped through. “You thought you didn’t deserve me?” he murmured, incredulity coloring his tone. “All this time…”

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it—just a deep, aching understanding. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. That you were just being nice because I was there. That maybe I didn’t deserve someone like you.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, the real him peeking through.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face, the rain still falling around you both. “I thought… if I let myself hope for more, I’d lose you.”

You swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the depth of his words. “I’m not going anywhere.” you whispered, voice trembling.

And then, before either of you could second-guess yourselves, you closed the remaining distance, your lips crashing together in a kiss that was both hesitant and fervent. The rain soaked through your clothes, but you didn’t care—the warmth of the kiss, of finally closing that distance, was all that mattered.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, Aventurine’s smile was different—softer, more real. “Guess we’ve both been fools, haven’t we?”

You laughed, the tension between you finally breaking as the rain continued to fall. “Yeah, I guess we have.”

From a nearby window, Topaz and Ratio watched with satisfied grins.

“Took them long enough.” Topaz muttered, arms crossed, a smirk on her face.

Ratio nodded. “At least now we can stop pretending we didn’t see all those obvious looks.”

[where-dreamers-go]

Hi friend! Can I please request an adult!Edmund Pevensie x f!reader fluff where he’s had a crush on reader for ages and thinks she’s flirting with Peter so he’s super jealous but Susan tells him reader only has feelings for him so he finally confronts her about it?

Thank you!

"Foolish" Edmund Pevensie x f! Reader

(A/N: Hello~ Since you requested Adult! Edmund, I made him King Edmund while the Pevensies were ruling in Narnia. Thank you for requesting! :)

Where King Edmund has a years long crush on Reader. One day he mistakes an interaction between Reader and High King Peter to be flirtatious. Jealousy shows up.

Warnings: angst, mutual pining, fluff, and use of (Y/N) for Your Name.

Word Count: ... words)

~~~

A calm day in Narnia was welcome even in a time of peace. No battle in the North. No need to assist Archenland from would-be invaders.

Even the blue sky held a painting of white, wispy clouds while an ocean breeze brushed across the coastline.

Turning away from the window, King Edmund passed the reset chess set and headed out of the room.

Any day as lovely as the one before him surely held other welcomed wonders.

Movement ahead made him take pause. A familiar figure walked through the space with grace.

Edmund's heart leapt at the sight of you in Cair Paravel. His finished game of chess and next route quickly forgotten. A smile pulled on his lips.

You continued on, having not seen him in the shadow of a doorway.

Yet Edmund has not moved. Struck by your presence. After all, he had not seen you in nearly two days. But he would not stay frozen for long. The king was much too eager to speak with you again, to hear your voice, and perhaps take a stroll.

Or everything, he thought wistfully.

Soles of shoes were padding across the floor almost to the same rhythm as Edmund's pulse. A much different reason for his blood pumping than heading into battle.

Having a long withstanding crush on you was its own battle between his thoughts and emotions.

What to do?

What to say?

How not to act with obvious admiration?

Greet her as you always have. No need to be nervous.

At the sound of a laugh, Edmund stopped at an open doorway. Your laugh.

He smiled. The just King wondered what raised the light musical tone from you.

Taking a show breath first, Edmund peered into the room.

Laughter echoed throughout the room from you and High King Peter.

Confusion struck Edmund first.

You gazed at Peter with such a bright expression that Edmund felt his stomach drop. Hushed voices with words Edmund could not make out.

What are the saying?

Your lips pulled into a grin as you leaned closer to Peter. Friendly on a level that made Edmund's stomach churn.

Heat rose within him when you reached out a hand and touched Peter's arm.

No.

Edmund turned abruptly and fled.

She couldn't.

The memory of your laugh--for Peter--rang throughout his mind.

She sought out Peter.

His fists clenched at the thought of your fingers caressing Peter's forearm.

She has feelings for him? Since when?

Legs continued moving. Thoughts raced.

The further he went from you the more you clung to his mind. His heart still held onto you with every warm fiber of being. But it hurt.

Tumbling from shock to denial to sadness coated with jealousy to hide his pain kept Edmund on his feet. He knew it wasn't the best option, but he didn't want to just feel the ache on his heart. An ache spreading through him. The quickly forming and heavy heartache.

. . .

For over an hour, Edmund had managed to find seclusion. A room where attention was not needed. Comfortable furnishings decorated the room, but that was all.

Pacing the room continuously, King Edmund sank deeper into negative emotions clinging around his heart.

No chance with her.

Lied to yourself.

Too blind to see where her heart was leading.

"How could I have been so foolish?" Edmund thought out loud as his voice nearly cracked.

"Do you require a list?"

He spun on his heel, surprised to see his sister Susan walking into the room.

"You could not have done something foolish enough to warrant such seclusion," Queen Susan announced sincerely.

"I am afraid I have."

She frowned.

"All this time, I let my feelings run wild and grow for (Y/N). She's intelligent, kind, fun..." Edmund swallowed the lump in his throat. "I came to believe that our friendship could be something more. A continued growth of something... wonderful." His gaze raised higher to see his older sister listening quietly. "However," he swallowed again, "I saw her with Peter not long ago. She seems happy to be in his company. I trust Peter will make her happy."

Edmund stood tall even as he felt his heart crumbling from his own words.

"I see." Susan shook her head and continued softly, "If you consider yourself foolish for having feelings for her then your foolishness is misplaced. She does not and never has held feelings for Peter outside of respect and friendship."

Heat from his hands subsided.

What?

"Edmund, she has only ever had feelings for you. She cares for you deeply. In fact, she has been searching all of Cair Paravel for you."

"But..."

"Edmund," she looked at him almost pointedly.

"Where is she?"

. . .

Cair Paravel appeared much larger when one person searched for another.

A new, revitalized rush of warm feelings surged King Edmund onward. No longer were his hopes for a future with you darkening.

You were seeking him. Edmund Pevensie. Your friend. Your king. Your chess competitor. Your reading companion.

She has feelings for me!? I need to --

Rounding a corner up ahead, you appeared in the afternoon light.

"Edmund." You called brightly.

The sound of your joyous relief nearly sent him falling over from the swelling reaction of his heart. Yet he hurried forward to meet you.

"I've been searching nearly everywhere but your room for you." You reached out and Edmund let you grab ahold of his hands. "Where have you been?"

"Stuck in my own mind without truly understanding what I have seen."

"Stuck?" Your eyebrows pinched together in concern.

Slowly, he inhaled. He had to compose himself to prevent you from worrying any more.

"I do not wish to alarm you with an abrupt question, however I find I must. If only to ease my mind or make a mockery of myself."

You squeezed his hands. "I shall not laugh at your question. I promise."

"I know." Edmund swallowed before gazing into your expressive eyes. "Do you have romantic feelings for me?"

Your eyes widened for a moment and he hastened to think of a way to save for from any embarrassment. However, you swayed a little on your feet with a smile on your lips.

"That is a most personal question, Edmund."

Warmth crept up his neck.

"I have not seen you for almost two full days and this is what's on your mind?" You intertwined your fingers with his.

His heartbeat leapt.

"I admit that you take residency in my mind."

"Then you should have my answer." You whispered, "Yes. Always you, Edmund."

A weight felt as if it had been shoved off of his shoulders and his heart was free to indulge in feeling. All you and him. Your infectious smile and touch.

She likes me.

Breathy laughter escaped him for a moment and he inclined his head.

"Why do you laugh?" You questioned as you stepped forward into his space. Doing your best to meet his gaze.

"I laugh only at myself and how foolish I had mistakenly been to not see how you truly felt about me. I nearly locked myself away thinking you loved Peter."

"Peter?" Your face contorted into confusion. "No. He's practically a brother to me. A friendly advisor more so."

"How so?"

You placed your clasped hands to your chest. "I sought his guidance today on if you fancied me romantically."

I truly am a fool. Edmund beamed.

"Silly Edmund," you playfully whispered, "you should have trusted your heart."

Picking his head up, Edmund gently nudged his nose to yours. It earned him a soft look from you. Fully content and comfortable with him.

He wondered if he could gaze at you forever.

"Does this mean I should ask to court you?"

"I would love you to." Edmund answered, leaning ever closer to your warmth and affection.

All playfulness set aside, you asked formally, "May I court you, Edmund? Officially, affectionately, and truly?" Your gaze held his, vulnerable and sure.

Edmund's day had turned and rolled to play with his emotions. Perhaps a test of sorts. A chance to see what mattered to the king.

But he knew what mattered.

He knew who mattered.

"You may." Edmund grinned. "Officially courting, affectionately courting, truly courting, lovingly courting. As long as it's with you, I will be the happiest man in all of Narnia."

~~~ ~~~

Coffee

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Narnian Tags:

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.

[neimasturniolo]

A late-night drive with Matt turns into something more than either of you expected. ʚɞ M.S

The night is heavy. Not just in the way the clouds swallow the moon or how the streetlights flicker like they’re struggling to stay awake, but in the way the air feels between you and Matt, charged, tense, and waiting for something to snap.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been driving. Time moves weirdly when it’s just the two of you, slipping through your fingers like smoke. The city is miles behind, replaced by winding backroads and stretches of nothing but darkness.

Matt hasn’t spoken much. He rarely does when he’s like this.. brooding, lost in thoughts he won’t share. His fingers grip the steering wheel tighter than usual, his jaw flexing every so often like he’s holding something back. You don’t push. You never do.

The only sound is the low hum of the engine and the song playing through the speakers, something slow, something aching. It matches the weight in your chest, the unspoken thing that’s been sitting between you for weeks now.

You shift in your seat, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your hands as you glance at him. “You good?”

His lips twitch, like he’s debating whether to lie. But then he exhales, shaking his head slightly. “Just… needed to get away for a bit.”

You nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

That earns you a glance, his blue hues flicking to yours for a second too long before he looks back at the road. There’s something in that look, something you can’t quite name but feel deep in your bones.

A few minutes later, he pulls off onto a gravel road, the tires crunching over loose stones as he parks near an empty clearing. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating nothing but trees and the faint glimmer of mist rolling across the ground. He kills the engine, and suddenly, it’s just silence.

Thick, suffocating silence.

You swallow, fingers twitching against your thigh. “Why here?”

Matt leans back against the headrest, rubbing a hand over his face before turning to you. “I don’t know,” his voice is lower now, rougher. “It just felt right.”

You hold his gaze, your pulse picking up at the way he’s looking at you, like he’s been waiting for something. Like he’s on the edge of saying something he can’t take back.

The air inside the car feels warmer, heavier. You shift again, and the movement draws his eyes downward for just a second before he looks away, jaw clenching.

“Matt,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Do you ever feel like… I don’t know,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Like something’s about to change, and you don’t know if you’re ready for it or not?”

Your breath catches. “Yeah,” you admit, barely above a whisper. “I do.”

The space between you feels smaller now, like the universe is slowly pulling you toward him whether you’re ready or not. His hand, resting on his knee, flexes like he wants to reach for you but won’t. Like he’s waiting for a sign, for permission.

So you give it to him.

Slowly, deliberately, you reach out and trace your fingers over the back of his hand. His skin is warm, his breath hitching just enough for you to notice.

And then, he moves.

Not just leaning in, not just hesitating at the last second like he always does. He moves, shifting over the center console, one knee pressing into the seat as his body crowds yours. His breath fans over your lips, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at each other, the tension coiled so tight you swear the air could shatter around you.

Matt’s fingers hover near your jaw, hesitant. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than gravel.

You don’t.

Instead, you tilt your chin up just slightly, your silent way of saying don’t you dare.

And then his lips are on yours.

It’s slow at first, testing, like he’s still afraid of ruining something. But then you exhale against his mouth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, and that’s all it takes for him to unravel.

The kiss deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as he presses closer, the weight of him making your head spin. His lips are warm, insistent, and when his fingers tighten just slightly against your skin, you realize.. you were right.

Whatever this is, whatever it’s turning into, neither of you are walking away untouched.

And you’re not sure if that terrifies you or if it’s exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

[dimlylittorch]

part 1 ended with angst :( i made myself very sad so here is a second part

My Masterlist🌱

Silco x transmasc!chubby!sweetheart!assistant!reader

small synopsis: more silco and his assistant working out their dynamic. sorry these aren’t longer !! i have adhd so its easier to do multiple parts

The walk home after that night had been.. rough. To say the least. Tears slipping down your cheeks, feeling that crushing pain of doing something wrong. Misinterpreting something. Ruining any connection you had with your boss.

The next day you walked into work with your head down and your gaze averted. Not making eye contact with anyone like you usually would, not even bothering to put up a somewhat realistic fake smile. Walking into the office where Silco sat at his desk smoking and reading papers, you walked to your desk and sat down without a word. No greeting. No kind words. Not even a smile.

Silco feels a stabbing pain in his heart when he sees how crestfallen you look. His eyes follow your soft form as you sit at your desk, pulling your supplies out of your bag and getting started on your paper work immediately. Usually you’d offer to get him a coffee, make small talk. But not today.

You both sat in silence for a small while, silently hoping there wouldn’t be a moment where you were forced to speak. You wanted to stay quiet, not knowing what to say. He wanted to speak, but he had no idea how to put his feelings into words. After a few moments, you spoke before he could.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

His brain practically stops at your words. Uncomfortable? The thought that he could even be uncomfortable anymore.. when was the last time someone cared about his comfort? He puts out his cigar in the ashtray on his desk before standing up and slowly walking over to where you sat. Moving behind your desk, he sits on the corner of it with his gaze locked on you.

“You’re a silly little thing.” He murmurs, grabbing a pen on your desk and twirling it between his fingers. “I’m not used to dealing with something this.. weak.”

His words make your grip on your own pen tighten. You know you’re not strong like everyone else down here- but weak? That was rich. You let out a shaky breath as you try to calm yourself, trying not to snap.

When he sees how your body tenses, a small smirk appears on his lips. Teasing you was a way to make you look at him.. god how he wanted you to look at him. But he’d never seen you angry before. Maybe a little annoyed.. but never like this. He leans down so his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear. “Pathetic.” He breathes.

You suddenly slam your hands on your desk, pushing your chair back as you stand up as quickly as you can. As you move your head hits against his slightly, mainly hitting his nose. He quickly leans back, holding his nose with a huff, his eyes still on you. “Pathetic? I’m pathetic?” You seethe as you turn towards him, face flushed and a rage in your eyes he’d never seen before. “That’s hilarious coming from the man that is only powerful because of other people- why are you in charge again? Because of shimmer. Do you make shimmer? Do you sell shimmer? Do you even sign off on the shimmer contracts you make? No! Because guess what? I do- I forge your signature just like you told me to. Your entire empire was made off of the backs of other people. Without manipulating others, you’re nothing.” You yell at him, ragged breaths slipping past your lips. When you see how he’s simply staring at you blankly, you grab his collar and push him into the wall. “What? Not a big scary man anymore? Just going to let your stupid brainless assistant push you around?” You hiss.

Silco knew it from the second you raised your voice. He was gone. His little ball of fluff could turn into a ball of rage. You were perfect. He can’t help but gaze at you as you yell at him, simply admiring how nice you looked when you were angry.

When he sits there staring at you, your breathing start to slow and you just stare back at him. It starts to set in what you’d done.. yelling at your boss. Pushing him into a wall. Fuck, you were definitely fired. But before you can say anything or make a move to leave, he grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss.

“You’re anything but brainless” he whispers against your lips when he pulls back for only a moment, his eyes locked on yours. You’d stopped breathing completely, frozen in shock. “You’re.. everything.” He says faintly before he kisses you again, slipping one hand to the back of your head and the other around your waist.

After a few seconds, your brain starts to catch up with everything. And you can’t help but push him away slightly, looking at him with pure confusion, breath ragged. “I- I just-“ you stutter out. “I just yelled at you.”

“Yes. You did.” He says quietly as he cups your chin, his thumb gently tracing over your lips. “You remember what I said, don’t you?” You stare up at him with confusion which makes him chuckle. “I said.. if someone has a problem with you, they have a problem with me.” He murmurs. “I couldn’t protect you from myself.”

“Silco..” you say softly, confusion turning to concern.

“You were a good boy.” He says firmly, making your heart skip a beat. “You stood up for yourself.. when I couldn’t.” He sighs. “Last night my heart tore itself to shreds for what I said to you. Soft little thing.. I am the weak one. Not you.”

Your breath hitches at his words and you look downcast, trying to think. “You.. you still hurt my feelings.” You say faintly. While his words made your heart stir, you still had some sense of self preservation.

He frowns slightly, letting out a soft sigh as he moves his hand to cup your cheek. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. Christ.. when was the last time he said those words to someone? Anyone? “I’m a stupid man. With a scarred heart.”

You let out a breath at his words, leaning into his hand a little. “I’m sorry too.” You murmur, looking up and cupping his cheeks, pulling his face close. “Is your nose okay? I didn’t mean to hit you.” You say softly as concerned eyes trail over his face.

He chuckles faintly, covering your hands with his own. “I know you didn’t.” He says comfortingly. “I shouldn’t have teased you.. but I’d rather angry you than emotionless you.” He smiles.

“You can hit me back if you want” you smile softly. “Settle the score.”

He sighs at your words, leaning forward and resting his forehead against your own as his eyes close. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, little one.” You both stay like that for a few moments before you break the silence.

“You kissed me.” You murmur faintly as you both straighten up again, looking at each other as your hands leave his face. “A minute ago.”

“I did.”

A few seconds of silence pass as you try to think of what to say next. What could you say?

“Was that alright?” He asks softly before you can say anything.

You gaze up at him for a moment, a million thoughts swirling behind your eyes. “I wish you had done that last night.” You murmur softly with a faint chuckle. “You would’ve saved me a few tears.”

“Don’t tell me you cried over me?” He smiles faintly.

“Shut up.. I’d walked in here today fully prepared to be over you. And now look at me.” You murmur, looking down at how close the two of you were.

He sighs softly, his hand moving from your back to your hip, gently molding the flesh in his hand. “I was going to fuck the anger out of you if I had to.” He whispers under his breath. “But a pretty little thing like you.. so forgiving. More so than I deserve.”

Your heart rate picks up at his words, letting out a shaky breath before it turns into a small chuckle. “Not everything has to be rough you know.”

He looks up, his eyes meeting your own. “Rough is all I know.” He confesses quietly. You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so.. raw before.

“Hm.” You hum as you gently cup his cheek again. “For such a powerful man, there sure are quite a few things you don’t know.” You smile teasingly.

A weak laugh slips past his lips as he only slightly leans into your touch. “Teach me.” He muses.

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: ch.5/5 of p.2 (The Corridor, the Favor, the Lunch, & the Hero)

I wanted this done way sooner, like around Valentine's day, but I had a keyboard malfunction and am currently using a temp workaround until I either fix or replace it.

Edit: It auto-restarted one night and it's working again!🥳

This is a longer chapter so I hope you enjoy. Anyways Happy Stab Caesar Day Y'all!

first, prev, next, lore, ao3

~~~

In the end, Jason moved on. All he could do for now was hold his feelings in his chest and try not to think of them. (At least till he figures out how/whether to act on them)

Of course, this meant those coiled feelings burst forth the second he saw a distressed Ellie sitting outside the door of her apartment.

Jason had finished his meeting early and decided to take his paperwork home so he could (pretend) to do it (while getting distracted by his case files). He had just turned into his corridor when his blood froze as he saw a small figure sitting on the floor, leaning up against a door. He picked up his pace to a brisk walk and approached the small figure, only to find that it was Ellie.

The young girl's eyebrows were scrunched in frustration. The pout on her lips gave away her upset-ness and her eyes glistened with the beginnings of tears. Her little fists clutched tightly to a small backpack decorated with blue butterflies.

'Help her!' his gut screamed at him.

He immediately knelt down, reaching out to her gently.

"Hey kiddo, you okay there?"

The girl looked up at him, "Uncle Jason?" she questioned in a shaky voice.

"Yeah, it's me Ell. What are you doing out here?"

Her lip quivered. "I'm stuck out here 'cause I'm stupid!" she cried out, startling Jason.

He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey now, none of that!" he tried to calm her. "You're not stupid Ellie, don't talk about yourself like that. Just tell me what happened."

"I locked myself out," she sniffed. "Daddy had to go work today, sniff, b'cause someone got sick and they needed more help. So he talked to Sasha's mom and they said I could play with them this afternoon, sniff, b-but Sasha had to go to the dentist later so I-I was supposed to bring my key with me so I could get back in, sniff, and then I'd only have to wait a little while for daddy b'cause he said he'd be home by six! So Sasha's mom made sure I got to my door but then she and Sasha had to go. And, sniff, then I checked my bag bu-but they weren't there!" She said, proffering out her bag to him. "Then I 'membered I left my keys on my nightstand instead of putting 'em in my bag a-and now I can't get in, cause I'm stupid and forgot'em!" she finished tearily.

"Hey now, what'd I say," Jason reminded her, gently pulling the girl into a hug. "You are not stupid, you made a mistake. It happens, sometimes even I forget things. One time, I was taking my brother to school and I got halfway there before I realized I left my brother at home!" he reassured her.

She huffed a bit, not quite giving her usual giggle, and started rubbing at her eyes.

"Really?"

Dear god, she sounded so small it made his heart clench.

"Yeah really," he smiled. "How about this gimme a second to see if I can talk to your dad. I'll ask if you can come over to my place till he gets back. If he can't pick up or doesn't feel comfortable with it, then I'll wait out here with you."

She nodded in affirmation, turning to fiddle with the straps of her bag.

Jason whipped out his phone and shot Danny a text explaining the situation and how he found Ellie.

"If you're cool with it, she can hang at my place till you get back?"

He got a quick reply:

"That would be great Jason

I'd feel so much better knowing she was somewhere safe

Thank you so much"

"Your daddy said he'd be okay with you coming with me since it'll be safe. I guess that means you stuck with me for the next," he paused glancing at his phone, 5:13 pm, "hour or so munchkin!"

He reached over jokingly poking at her stomach, lightly tickling a smile out of her. Oh, and smile she did as she shyly held out her arms to Jason. Wordlessly, he scooped her up and the two entered his apartment.

He set her down in the living room, allowing her to get comfortable on the couch and assuring her she was allowed to touch the books littering the coffee table or even turn on the TV if she wanted. He left her to her own devices as he migrated to the kitchen to make a snack to offer her.

When he returned with a plate of apple slices cut to look like little bunnies and a small dish of animal crackers he usually reserved for giving out to street kids, although Dick always tried to sneak some when he came over. As he set the plates down on the table, he saw that Ellie had elected to ignore the TV and was instead nosing at an old, worn copy of The Boxcar Children.

That had been his own copy, one he'd gotten when he was a kid. It had been his 8th birthday and his parents had decided to get him a book. Probably because they'd noticed how he devoured any reading material he could get his hands on: discarded magazines, old newspapers, battered books from recycling bins. They had decided if they were lucky enough to have a literate kid, they might as well give him something to read. It was one of the few things he remembered coming from Catherine and Willis both. One of the last things they'd done for him together before they started falling apart.

He snapped out of his thoughts, quickly pushing them to the back of his mind. He'd only had it out because he'd offered the book to Damian recently, who'd read it to be polite before returning it. The story had simply not been his taste.

Now, he smiled down at Ellie, who stared at the page with great concentration. It was a bit above her reading level, but she seemed so determined to read it, he wondered if she'd be able to absorb the store via osmosis or something.

"The Boxcar Children eh," he began. "It's a good read." He continued conversationally.

"Whazzit 'bout?" She asked curiously.

"Well, it's about four siblings: Henry, Jess, Violet, and Benny, who try to take care of each other after their parents die. They are scared to live with their grandfather because they haven't met him and think he's mean because he didn't like that their parents got married. So they run away and manage to find an abandoned train car called a boxcar in the woods to call home. But living in the woods is tough and they're just kids. They do their best and in the end they get a happy ending." He explained trying not to spoil the story for her.

She nodded at him, appearing to be in deep thought before turning to him with a big pair of puppy dog eyes and pleading, "Will you please read it to me?"

Jason didn't think there was a universe in which he could have said no to that.

Jason picked up the book and began his narration. He made an effort to do voices for the characters and change his tone to reflect the story. And for the first time since he'd met her, Jason saw Ellie sit completely still, too absorbed in the story to even shift in her seat like she often tended to do. The largest move she had made the entire time he read to her is when they had just started and she'd moved over to lean her head on his biceps and stare at the page.

At some point they paused to eat the crackers and apples that had begun to slightly brown. Apparently, Ellie had stored up the energy she hadn't used while sitting still, because she now used it to channel a dragon who she insisted was snatching up animals from the forest that was Jason's coffee table. Of course, as the humble peasant he offered up his livestock as an offering to appease his mighty dragon lord. Which devolved into a session of pretend where the Dragon Overlord quashed the foolish peasant's rebellion (Jason tried to take the plates back to the kitchen) and asserted her dominance by holding him down and demanding he entertain her(she crawled into his lap and told him to keep reading) or else there would be consequences(she'd bop his nose).

And just like that the time flew by so quickly that the two actually startled a bit when they heard the bell ring. Ellie crawled off him and began to gather her stuff as Jason hurried to answer the door, book still in hand. He was hit with a slight chill as he opened the door for a slightly nervous looking Danny.

"Hey," he said a bit breathlessly.

"Hi," he got back

"Daddy!" Ellie called rushing out from behind Jason and crashing into Danny's legs.

"Hey Ell," grinned, picking up his daughter. "Did you have a good time with Uncle Jason?"

Ellie nodded vigorously, "We had a lot of fun! Uncle Jason read his book to me and we played and I was his Dragon Overlord!"

Danny took it all in stride, grinning at them.

"So what do we say?"

"Thank you Uncle Jason!"

She leaned over and pressed a clumsy kiss to his cheek.

Jason's insides melted. "You're welcome Princess, I had fun too." He glanced at the book in his hand before making a split second decision. He held it out to her, glancing back at Danny. "Here, keep it. Maybe Dad can read to you some more later."

"What- Jason, we couldn't pos-"

"I want her to have it." Jason cut off Danny's protest. "I'd be glad to have someone else appreciate as much as I did."

Ellie clutched the book to her chest and her eyes turned glossy.

"I'll take care of it daddy! Promise!"

"Oh alright," Danny relented.

He turned his attention back to Jason, thanking him for watching after Ellie and wishing him a good night. And with that, the two left him to his empty apartment and his neglected paperwork.

Later that evening, as Jason worked through his paperwork, his thoughts drifted through memories of digging through junkyards, kind doctors, a rich man's home and a grandfatherly face.

~~~

As July grew into August and summer began to dwindle, back-to-school season took the market by storm. Parents were hunting for deals on school supplies, teachers were prepping their classrooms and Jason was gathering up some more personalized items for the tutoring center.

Fern had already bulk ordered the supplies for the free tutoring center they set up in the alley in hopes of improving the education levels, but there were a couple of kids Hood knew were too scared or embarrassed to go. He hoped a more personalized gift to show his investment in helping them would encourage them to reach out or show up.

And that's how Jason found himself staring at a value pack of animal-themed eraser pencil toppers. He looked at the label "GARDEN FRIENDS" which boasted including a butterfly, a ladybug, a cat, a bunny, a blue bird and a hedgehog. He contemplated whether giving these to Damian as a gag gift over the next family dinner would earn him a stabbing attempt. With a grin he slid the erasers into his basket. The little brat would probably use them even if he refused to admit to liking them.

He began making his way back up to the registers when something caught his eye. A bright blue fabric pencil case, decorated with hot air balloons, biplanes, jets and rockets, dancing through clouds.

'I bet Ellie would love that.'

Without thinking he reached out and plucked it off the shelf, adding it to his basket. He rushed up and got into line behind the register with the shortest queue, trying not to dwell on what he'd just done.

Shortly after another customer came up behind him to join the line. She was short, had a puffy pixie cut and radiated nosy and privileged. Jason internally sighed. He knew what was coming. Any second now this woman would open her mouth and-

"So who are you buying for?"

It should've been a question but her tone made it feel like a demand. As if she had a right to know who he was shopping for. There were still two people ahead of him in line. Jason turned to the woman resigning himself for a few minutes of painful small talk.

"Oh, just a couple of things for my niece and little brother. A gift for back to school and all that ya know." He said showing only a cursory level of politeness, ignoring the way the woman blatantly began staring at his basket.

Only one person to go and they only had 4 items. He'll be free of her soon.

"Well I'm sure your niece will love the erasers! Why, my own little Aspen begged me for a butterfly eraser when she was young. Of course I allowed it, there are certain things young girls can't help but love!"

Jason took advantage of it being his turn to step to the register to ignore her. This did not appear to dissuade the woman. As he started putting his items on the belt, she continued to prattle on.

"Oh and my boy Hudson simply adored all types of machines: cars, planes, trucks, boats, and the like! Ah but all boys go through phases like that! I'm sure your brother will adore the pencil case! I know my Hudson-... "

'Was this woman for real?' Jason thought as he began to pull out his card to pay while the cashier, an older teen with purple hair and a nose piercing, began bagging his items. He turned to the woman feeling resigned and vaguely pissed.

"Look ma'am, not that it's any of your business, but the erasers are for my brother and the pencil case is for my niece."

"Wha- but, but! Those are girls' erasers and that's a boy's pencil case!"

"Again ma'am, I don't see why it's any of your business or why you're assigning gender to school supplies but I hardly think it matters as long as the kids like them. Please," he paused taking the bag from a somewhat amused cashier, who was definitely enjoying seeing this woman get shut down, "keep your unsolicited opinions and notions of gender conformity to yourself. Oh and have a good afternoon or whatever I guess?"

Jason finished as he quickly made his exit from the store, leaving the woman red in the face with her mouth gaping.

~

"Would you and Ellie wanna come over for dinner tonight?

I'm making tortellini al forno"

"Sure! I wanted to talk to you about something anyway!

What time should we be over?"

"Does 7 work for you?"

"Ofc!

See ya then😊"

~

Jason's apartment filled with warm smells as he prepared dinner. Cooking had become almost meditative for him. The repetitive motions, the clear instructions, the satisfaction of creating something. It was all so soothing. And if he managed to convince himself that he wasn't nervous in-between cooking his bacon and thickening his roux for his bechamel sauce then well-

'It's not even a big deal, we've had dinner before. Hell! I've given them gifts before!' Jason thought to himself, remembering his welcome cookies and his book. 'This is totally fine.' He repeated to himself topping his pasta with shredded mozzarella and bacon before sliding it into the oven and moving to set the table.

Jason continued to navigate through his kitchen with practiced motions as he got ready for dinner. Grabbing utensils, setting out some juice for Ellie, cutting up a peeled orange into circular slices to go with the cheesy pasta.

He had just finished setting the table when he heard a knock on his door. He left his tortellini down on a heat absorbent pad on the table to cool before yanking off his apron and rushing to get the door.

A refreshing rush of cool air flooded his senses as he pulled open the door to greet the Nightingales. He was greeted by those heart-melting twin smiles and a hug to the knees from Ellie. Danny chuckled softly, holding up a rectangular tupperware container.

"Here," he offered. "Ell and I made dessert! It's that fudge I promised you." Danny grinned as Jason accepted with reverence for the heavenly fudge this man produced.

And with that Jason led the pair into his apartment as they sat down for dinner.

'A feeling,' Jason thought, 'I really shouldn't be getting used to.'

Dinner went much like the previous occasions: small talk, light hearted banter, compliments to the chef. Although, Ellie managing to smack herself in the face with the cheese pull from her tortellini was new. Luckily the girl had laughed it off, complimenting Jason for the stretchiness of his cheese.

As they wrapped up, Jason pulled out the fudge Danny had brought. When he pulled the lid off the container, he found that it wasn't the same fudge Danny had given him originally. This new iteration was topped with *sniff* cocoa powder and a coffee bean in the center of each square. He glanced at Danny, raising an eyebrow, who gave him a devilish grin in return.

"Seeing as were having Italian tonight, I thought it'd be nice to stay on theme," he purred out. And oh gosh-, wow, did that tone do things to Jason. "I took it as an excuse to experiment. They're tiramisu flavored."

Jason simply huffed and turned back to get his plates for dessert, hoping that the burning he felt in the tips of his ears wasn't a visible blush. Instead of acknowledging it, he turned back to the conversation they'd been having with Ellie, who informed him she would be going to 1st grade soon because she was a big girl.

"So princess, where are you gonna go?"

"Gotham Academy!" Ellie informed him cheerily.

Jason glanced at Danny, slightly raising his eyebrows. Danny sniffed and crossed his arms.

"Vlad insisted on paying for it," he began dryly. "And while I'd normally never let him have a say, Gotham Academy is probably the best school in the city. It can give her a better education and more opportunities," he sighed, his face softening. "And that's something I want for her."

Jason nodded in understanding. As much as he tried to help with his after school programs and tutoring centers, there was only so much he could do. The shitty public education system would remain shitty till the community could work toward solutions on a city-wide level. Which would be like pouring water into a leaky bucket, what with all the corruption in Gotham.

Danny was just trying to give his daughter the best future he could with all the resources at his disposal and Jason couldn't begrudge him for that. So, Jason decided to capitalize on this opening instead.

"Hey speaking of which, I actually got you a little somethin' Ell." He addressed Ellie. He got up quickly, ignoring the curious looks that followed him, returning with a small gift bag. "Consider it a present for starting the first grade."

Ellie's hand shot into the bag and pulled out the pencil case Jason had bought with her in mind. She stared at it in quiet wonderment, she stroked the fabric gently, examining different aircrafts that danced across it.

"It's a case for all your pencils 'n' markers 'n' stuff. I saw it at the store and thought you'd like it."

An ear-splitting squeal erupted from Ellie as her face broke into a wide grin. She hopped out of her seat and barreled into Jason's lap.

"Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou THANK YOU! I LOVE IT!" she said, throwing her arms around him, the pencil case still in hand.

Jason wrapped his arms around the young girl, holding her close. He glanced up, making eye contact with Danny. He was almost startled to find a steely look of determination in his eyes. For a second, Jason worried he'd overstepped. But then the look gave way to something so undeniably fond that Jason couldn't help but relax.

The evening continued to close and the adults sent Ellie into the living room to watch some cartoons while they cleaned up. But with the way the air was charged, Jason could tell Danny was gearing up to say something important.

As the two began on the dishes, Jason washing and Danny drying, Jason tried to calm himself. It was super unlikely Danny would suddenly say Jason was no longer welcome around them, right? Maybe he just wanted Jason's pasta recipe?

"So you know how I said I needed to ask you something earlier?" Danny began.

Jason nodded in confirmation.

"Well, I wanted to ask you a favor and this evening has all but confirmed for me that you're probably the best person to ask."

Jason felt the curiosity well up in him as the voice in the back of his head declared that he'd give Danny anything he wanted, no questions asked. Jason did not verbalize this thought to the voice's dismay. Instead, he waited for Danny to continue.

The man in question took a deep breath before setting down his rag and turning to face Jason.

"I wanted to ask if I could list you as Ellie's secondary emergency contact for school."

Stunned, Jason pulled his hands out of the sink, his plastic gloves dripping with soapy water.

'That's - that's' Jason tried not to lose his mind at the implications of this request.

He gaped quietly at Danny, who flushed and averted his gaze.

"It's just, my friends from my hometown all live out of state and normally I'd ask my older sister but she's also lives out of town and she's working on her PhD so I don't wanna have to bother her, and I'm not really particularly close with anyone else on that level quite yet, and like hell am I trusting Vlad or my parents with any form of guardianship over her and-" Danny ramble, slowly becoming breathless.

"And I trust you, Jason." He breathed out. "And Ellie trusts you too. She calls you Uncle Jason for a reason ya' know." He tries teasing, but his voice is too sincere to have the intended effect. "You've been nothing but kind and supportive and caring since we met you. You're always looking out for us and reaching out. Hell- you bought Ellie a gift for school entirely unprompted!" Danny continued. "You've proven to be someone trustworthy, someone who wouldn't take advantage of either of us when we were vulnerable."

Images flash in his head: that night they comforted each other on fire escapes, the day when Danny had heat exhaustion, the time he comforted Ellie in the hall.

"I want it to be someone I can trust with her, Jason. And- well, I'd like it to be you."

Danny's gaze had never felt more heavy on Jason's shoulders. The overwhelming weight of trust he was being shown. The stark confidence and sincerity showed in his eyes. For a moment Jason's world seemed to stand still.

He only snapped out of it when Danny began to stare at his feet muttering.

"I know it's a lot to ask, especially when we haven't actually known each other all that long. And- you don't have to say yes. I won't be offended! I can always ask Ja-!"

"Yes."

Jason pulled Danny into a hug, not even bothering to take off his soapy gloves.

"Yes, I'll be her emergency contact." He pulled back to stare the other man in the eyes. "I want to be there for you. For both of you. Thank you for trusting me with this."

Danny pulled him close once more.

"Thank you," he murmured into Jason's shoulder, "for being so trustworthy."

Jason doesn't remember when they pulled away, or even when the father-daughter duo left his apartment. He just floated around his apartment in a haze. And if anyone saw the Red Hood absentmindedly trip over a crack in the sidewalk later that night- well, no they didn't.

~~~

About a week or so later, Jason stood in front of his fridge staring at leftovers from last night's family dinner.

As much as everyone hated to acknowledge it, Alfie was getting up there in years. That's why Jason had started showing up earlier to help him in the kitchen, since with the way the Bats ate it was like cooking for a small army. Of course this also meant Jason got sent home with heaps of extra leftovers.

~"You helped make it my boy, only right to take your fair share home"~

Not that Jason was complaining, that meant more food he could offer to some Alley kids or someone else who could use the meal. He pulls out the disposable tupperware he keeps of situations like this and begins portioning out pasta salad and chicken biryani into the smaller containers.

Something in the back of his head made itself known as he did this.

'The cafeteria food kinda sucked at Gotham Academy when you went there. Ellie starts her first full week tomorrow. What if she has trouble focusing because she's not getting proper nutrition?' it whispered. 'And didn't Danny say he was picking up a late shift this evening? What if he's too tired to pack a lunch for either of them cause he's tired from a long day at work?'

Jason's brow creased in discomfort at the thought. The little voice grew bolder.

'You have plenty of food. You should pack some up for them! It's not like you haven't fed them before!'

Before Jason fully realized what he was doing, he began setting aside portions for Danny and Ellie too. He tried not to think too hard as he neatly printed their names on to brown paper bags. Maybe not the prettiest, but they got the job done.

'It'd be even better if you had one of those bento lunch boxes. Like the ones those moms use in those aesthetic food packing/serving videos that Tim likes to watch.'

Hhmm, had his inner monologue always been this ... vocal?

Jason wanders out his door and into the hall, brown bags in hand, still contemplating the merits of getting a specialized lunch box. It was only after he knocked on the Nightingales' door that he realized what he'd done.

Danny shouldn't be working till later, but he instantly regrets not asking if it was okay to come over as chills cover his body and the door swings open.

"Jason?" Danny asks quizzically, raising his eyebrows. "Did you need something?"

"Uh I-" Jason flushes with embarrassment. His hand comes up to touch his nape only for Jason to realize he's holding the bags in that hand. He panics for a second before thrusting an arm out to Danny.

"I made lunch for you and Ellie. Something she can take to school, and- uh, for you to take to work?" He gulps, bashfully handing over the lunch to Danny. He winced at how that ended up sounding like a question and rushed to explain himself further.

"You, uh, mentioned picking up a shift later today so I thought I'd- um, save you the trouble of cooking for tomorrow's lunch." He stuttered.

Danny simply took the lunches from Jason's hand and gave him a soft smile in return.

"Thanks. For thinking about us, I mean, and for the lunches."

'His smile is so nice.'

Jason nodded dumbly before pointing down the hall.

"No problem. So I, I should get going. Stuff to do ya know?"

He didn't wait for further response before turning away and leaving with the tips of his ears burning.

~

The next day Jason gets a text in the middle of the day. It's a selfie of Danny beaming at the camera holding up a spoonful of rice.

Jason bangs his head against his desk, scaring Fern, who looks up from where they were doing paperwork. They try to ask if he's okay but Jason simply waves them off.

~

Later that night Jason gets another text.

"She's planning to slip it under your door"

Followed by a picture of a thank you drawing Ellie made him. It's a messy crayon rendition of, who he assumes is himself based on the white streak, in a chef's hat holding a plate of something yellow and brown that he assumes is Ell's rendition of biryani.

A couple of startled henchmen drop the supplies they were moving into a warehouse upon hearing a loud groan. They all turn, on high alert, only to find their boss hunched over as if someone punched him in the gut.

They begin to freak out, asking if he's okay. One of his lieutenants rushes to his side but Jason can't respond. He's too busy internally dying of cuteness.

The drawing finds its way onto his fridge by the next morning.

~~~

Hood would like to say he's surprised but honestly, if you don't experience (or attempt) at least 3 muggings a month or a Rogue attack at least every three months then can you even call yourself a Gothamite?

It's late September now so he supposes they were due for one soon anyway.

But why'd it have to be fucking Kite Man?

At least it was just a D-lister, no need to call in the cavalry. In fact, this was technically Spoiler's take down for the night. The only reason Jason got involved is because the chase led them through the Alley.

The fucker had sent out some of his kite devices to pick random civilians of the street as a distraction cause the man didn't even know how to leverage hostages correctly, the chump.

Hood ended up having to jump in so that Spoiler could continue the pursuit and they were heading out only a few minutes after they came in, leaving Jason to get the civilians down.

Jason set down a young woman who had been on her way home before she'd been "lifted off", for lack of a better term, who hugged him tightly, thanking him for saving her. That's when his comms sprang to life.

~Bzzt~ "Hey Hoodster, just a head's up, those hostage kites are apparently experimental. Might wanna get everyone down before the stop working!" ~Bzzt~ Steph's voice rang through.

Jason cursed as he locked onto the remaining kites. He'd have to be quick about this. Panicking civilians dangle from great heights on experimental kites that could give at any moment were soooo not a good combo.

Jason shot his grapple gun, planning out his route to the-, 1, 2, - 4 civilians that remained in the air. At least he had the advantage of being higher up than the kites were able to go.

Assisted by this height and gravity swooped down, wrapping an arm around another civilian, an older man who hadn't bothered flailing and simply hung in the air, looking like he'd been over this type of bull for the last 20 years.

'Felt, my guy.' Jason thought to himself as he set the man down on an adjacent rooftop. The guy didn't wait for Hood to check if he was okay, simply giving him a quick nod before scaling down the fire escape. Hood huffed internally, amused by such a typical Gothamite response. He turned back to the kites only to notice they'd begun to waver.

'Shit,' Jason though. 'Time to pick up the pace!'

Jason executed two more rescues as fast as he was able to. He was approaching the location of the fourth when a cool sensation washed over him and a sense of dread formed in his stomach.

The kite holding the last remaining civilian gave out and the dark-haired figure began to plummet.

Hood could feel his body go on autopilot as his mind swung into overdrive. He plotted the arc of his swing, adjusted his body position, calculated the angle he'd have to catch this guy at, and shifted his strength into one arm, leaving his other open for catching.

40 feet off the ground, Jason made contact. He wrapped his arm around the young man's waist, pulling him close in sort of messy dance lift. The man hadn't bothered to flail or struggle as he fell, which made catching him way easier. He felt the man lean into him as he followed through his arc, aiming for a decent place to land.

Once they touched down on a nearby three-story building, Hood released the man, finally allowing himself to take a good look at him.

Of -Freakin'- Course

The Red Hood stared into the icy blue eyes of his neighbor, and more importantly, his crush. Who, decidedly, did not know he was the Red Hood. Shit.

Jason internally freaked out. He could have lost Danny. Ellie could have lost Danny. Jason felt sick at the thought.

However, he couldn't afford to act suspicious and blow his cover. This was technically their first meeting like this and he needed to say something quickly!

Years of training allowed Jason to default to the regular civilian check-in questions.

"Are you okay, sir? No injuries?"

"I'm good, Mr. Hood. Thank you for catching me."

"Well, thanks for not flailing, made yourself easier to catch. Not too shaken up though? Ya weren't too scared?" Hood double checked. Danny gave him a small smile and shook his head.

"Nah, I knew you were coming."

Something in Jason fluttered at the sight. A small sense of pride grew as he realized Danny must have seen him save the others and had faith that Red Hood would save him too.

"I'm glad you're okay. Are you fine to get down yourself?"

Danny nodded at him, before biting at his lower lip. He leaned in to Hood's space and planted a brief peck on the side of his helm.

"Thanks for saving me. My Hero," he whispered before turning tail and booking it to the roof access stairwell.

Hood stood there shell shocked as he watched him go.

'He could have died. But I saved him. And he called me his hero ... and oh-' Jason realizes. 'This is more than a crush. I don't just like Danny. I am in love with him.'

And an odd sort of feeling swirls in his chest because he's not quite sure what to do about that.

~~~

Omake:

Jason: *staring at the place Danny kissed on his helmet*

Jason, angrily: I should have just gone with a like everyone else!

~

Danny: Wait, I kissed his helmet... is that sanitary!!

Danny: *proceeds to go home and wash his mouth with soap*

~

As you know I'm obsessive abt including recipes I researched so Tortellini al Forno - Insanely Good and https://www.sobeys.com/en/recipes/tiramisu-fudge/

Honestly I should add food as a love language in the tags for this

As always I'm open to comments and constructive criticism!