#I’m not sure how to credit so let me know if I messed something up

[ffleurist]

🕸️ 029 . a delicate balance

synopsis you confront him about his hidden identity as spider-man, leading to a vulnerable moment where he admits his struggle with love. as the emotional connection deepens, a strange unease fills the room when the nurse lingers with an unsettling gaze. wc 1667

the hospital room hums quietly under the dim lights. kaiser leans against the pillows, mask discarded, revealing the exhaustion etched into his face. you should leave, visiting hours ended long ago but you can't. not when his usual cockiness has given way to something softer.

"you should go home," he murmurs, but his hand finds yours. his grip is weak, but the warmth sends a flutter through your chest.

"not a chance," you say softly, brushing a strand of blonde hair from his face. "you'll start climbing walls again the second i’m gone."

he huffs a weak laugh. "tempting."

for once, he doesn't fight your care. when you adjust the bandages, he just watches you, quiet and unguarded. it's that silence that pulls something raw from him.

"you really stayed," he says after a pause, voice softer. "even after everything."

"of course i did," you reply. "what, you thought i'd leave you to flirt with the nurses?"

a ghost of a smirk tugs at his lips. "jealous?"

"don't push your luck, kaiser."

“mihya.” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

“what?” you ask, not sure if you heard him right.

“earlier... you called me that. please, say it again.”

you pause, your heart suddenly racing at the vulnerability in his voice. “mihya,” you repeat softly, unsure of what’s happening but feeling an unexpected pull.

his gaze softens, and for a moment, it feels like the world around you fades. he looks at you, eyes wide with something raw and unspoken, as if he’s just let down a wall he’s been holding up for so long. “nobody has given me a nickname before.”

“well then mihya, let me be the first.”

his smile fades, and something more serious lingers in his gaze. "i'm not used to this. someone staying."

your heart aches at his honesty. without thinking, your fingers curl tighter around his. "well, you better get used to it. i'm not going anywhere."

his eyes soften in a way that makes it hard to breathe. "good," he murmurs, head tilting slightly toward you. "because if you left, i'd probably do something reckless."

"like what?"

"like this."

before you can respond, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours. the kiss is light and hesitant, like he's afraid to break whatever fragile thing has settled between you but when you don't pull away, his hand moves to the back of your neck, deepening it just enough to make your heart stutter.

"you're a terrible influence, spider-man."  you whisper, your forehead resting against his and just for a moment, the danger outside the hospital walls feels a little farther away.

“but how did you know? what gave it away?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“your tattoos, mostly,” you reply, trying to keep your tone steady. “and your injuries. you weren’t as careful as you thought. i’ve been thinking about it a lot, and everything started to fall into place. it all makes sense now.”

he looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. then, he exhales slowly, the weight of the silence settling between you. “you always were sharper than i gave you credit for,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before meeting your eyes again, the tension in the air thickening.

“i didn’t want you to know,” he admits, his voice quieter now, raw with unspoken fears. “i didn’t want to drag you into this mess.”

you stood away, your voice soft but resolute. “i’m already in it, whether you like it or not.”

he looks back at you, a mix of uncertainty, something softer, yet equally dangerous. "and what if I’m not the person you think i am?” he asks, his words heavy with something deeper.

“not this again, but then we’ll figure it out,” you reply, your gaze unwavering. “but i’m not walking away. not now.”

a flicker of vulnerability passes through his eyes, and he’s silent for a long beat. then, his lips curl into a faint smile, though it’s more weary than anything else. “you’re stubborn, you know that?” he says, almost in awe.

“maybe," you say with a small grin. "but i don’t mind being stubborn about this."

“i was bitten by a radioactive spider, and ever since i saw you at the stadium, i knew i had to get to know you better. when you caught me with the hoodie soaked in blood, and i watched you rush an injured man to the hospital, in that moment, i just… fell for you. i let myself get too close, too attached and i was already in too deep. but knowing the kind of man i am, one without the love of a family, one who finds solace only in soccer, i had to pull away. when i was spider-man, i felt invincible, like i could do anything. i felt reborn. i thought that with spider-man, i could love you and protect you. but instead, i just ended up putting you in danger.”

his words hang in the air, thick with the weight of his confession. you’re speechless for a moment, absorbing everything he’s said. slowly, you step closer, your voice quiet but steady. “you’re not the only one who’s afraid of getting someone hurt,” you reply, your eyes meeting his. “but running away, pushing me away, won’t keep me safe. it’ll just keep me distant.”

he looks at you, his eyes searching, as if trying to gauge whether he can trust what you’re saying. “to be honest with you,” he begins, his voice raw with vulnerability, “i don’t know how to love. i’ve been searching for it my whole life, and when i finally get close, i just push it away, and i—”

“mihya,” you interrupt softly, stepping closer. “stop rambling. i told you, i’m here. i’ll teach you how to love but only if you’ll let me.”

he stares at you for a moment, a mix of disbelief and hope flickering in his eyes. he opens his mouth, as if to say something, but the words seem to get stuck, as if there’s something holding him back.

then, suddenly, a third voice cuts through the silence.

“ahem.” the nurse clears her throat, and you glance up, the sound sharp in the otherwise still room. there’s something unsettling about her tone—too calm and too composed for the situation. “miss, you should really head home.”

you feel an odd chill in the air, a slight shift in the atmosphere, but you push it aside. still, the nurse's eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary, as though she’s studying you, almost calculating.

you glance over at mihya, who seems equally taken aback, his eyes flicking between you and the nurse, a frown forming on his face.

“righttt,” you mutter, trying to shake off the odd feeling, but the weight of the moment hangs in the air. “i’ll let you rest. we’ll finish this conversation later.”

he gives a small nod, his eyes still locked on yours, but there's an unspoken weight between you now. as you turn to leave, you feel his gaze follow you, the tension lingering in the air. “take care on your way home, mein Schatz.” 

the nurse watches you leave, her gaze too steady, too sharp.

you pause, turning to face him, the sound of the german term of endearment catching you by surprise. his gaze is gentle, almost tender, as if he’s offering you a piece of himself he’s rarely shown.

"don’t think this is over," he adds, his voice carrying both a promise and a hint of vulnerability. “i’ll be waiting for you once i recover.”

you feel the weight of his words settle in your chest, a promise you want to believe, but the eerie feeling from the nurse’s gaze still lingers. you give mihya a small nod, trying to push past the unease. "i’ll be careful," you reply, though it doesn’t sound convincing, even to you.

even as you stood outside the door, the nurse’s eyes remain fixed on you, too steady, too sharp, like she's watching you leave for a reason. you turn to walk down the hallway, but with every step, that unsettling feeling grows, gnawing at you.

you pause, the weight of the moment pulling you back. something doesn't feel right.

turning back around, you find yourself walking back towards mihya’s room, feeling a strange pull to go back. when you step inside, the room is empty—mihya’s bed is untouched, the nurse gone as well.

but there’s something else.

the window is wide open. the cold night air rushes in, making the room feel even more hollow. you step toward it cautiously, noticing the curtains swaying slightly as if someone just left.

your eyes flick to the window, and that’s when you see it—a faint green flicker from below, glowing just beyond the edge of the building. you freeze. it’s almost imperceptible at first, like the shadow of a lightning strike without the thunder. another flicker—this time brighter, stronger. a green light cutting through the darkness.

your breath catches in your throat. the air around you feels heavier now, the chill from the window mixing with a rising sense of dread. you step closer to the window, peering out carefully, but the light vanishes as quickly as it appeared, leaving only the dim, cold streets below.

was it just a reflection? a trick of the light?

no. there’s no mistaking it. the green flickers came from the direction of the alley behind the building—too controlled to be random, too deliberate to ignore. your mind races, the pieces clicking together. it’s him. the green goblin.

what just happened?

your mind races, but you can't quite piece everything together. and yet, the echo of mihya’s words remains, a quiet promise hanging in the air.

 “i’ll be waiting for you once i recover.”

despite everything, you feel like you can’t walk away just yet. not when you just got him back.

series MASTERLIST

notes from lily ❦⋆ : i have no words.. lol

TAGLIST

@mixolya @x3nafix @96jnie @tamashithe2nd @cookielovesbook-akie @yuiearyi @noomimi @stargirljas @jhsluvv @lotusofia @livelaughloveshidou @swagkittybear @axquella @passw-0-rd @hwaassaa @saeglazer @tofumiarchives @justanotherweeb666 @metaphorically-here @ravenbc @levihanmyotp @rybunnie @adrnmyknight @etherealrin @shosuki @90s-belladonna @wwastro @shr00mfairy @pan-kojiwa @pctterheadd @shumeow-h @deadlydollsstuff @renchai @nomyimi @beomn @heartmaddie @orphicarchive @sky-casino @8x9d @hanmastattoos @biscuitsx [tell me if i missed out anyone]

© ffleurist 2025 do not plagiarise, translate, or rewrite my writings without my permission !

[nixienewt]

Hu Ru Daxian from Even Rainfall Has Shadows by @lumidotexe in a backless dress :D

[rafesangelita]

rafe + voyeurism

warnings: handyman!rafe, rafe is pervy lol, flirting, pet names, rafe watches you in the shower, masturbation, oral (m. & f. receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, shower sex, slight fluff, rafe answers the door when your date knocks >:)

a/n: inspired by the small piece i wrote here <3 all credit to @rafesheaven for handyman!rafe 🤍 i highly recommend her fics with him ♡

wc: 2.4k

“what’s the problem now, pretty?” rafe answered the phone, popping open a can of beer as your sweet little voice sounded on the other line. “rafe, my shower is out!” you whined, adjusting the pink fluffy robe around your body. “well, what’s wrong with it, babe?” your cheeks heated at the name. rafe knew exactly what was wrong with it, he’s the one who messed it up last time he was there so he had a reason to come back. “i twisted the knob for it to turn on, but i think the handle is loose..” you explained. rafe hummed, getting up from his recliner. “i’ll be there in five.”

rafe lived in the same apartments as you, just in a different complex not too far from your own. it wasn’t long before you heard his heavy footsteps outside of your door, opening it before he could knock. “are you wearing anything underneath that?” he motioned towards your pre-shower ensemble. you whispered a ‘no..’ dragging him in by his large arm. “i have to be ready in one hour!” you were frantic as rafe followed behind you, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “it’s nearly seven o’clock, where are you off to?” you moved aside to let rafe through, taking a seat on the edge of the sink counter.

“my friends set me up on a blind date, ‘said they were tired of me being single.. so.” rafe couldn’t help the way his jaw ticked. “a blind date, huh? is he picking you up here?” rafe set his toolbox down as he got on his knees. “yeah, he insisted on doing so, too. which i thought was a little weird but.. it’s okay i guess.” you shrugged, crossing one leg over the other. rafe looked back, the opening of your robe exposing your bare legs and thighs. thankfully, you were too distracted by something else to see rafe’s tongue glide over his bottom lip. “so.. uh, tell me about this guy..”

rafe let you ramble on, feigning interest as he learned your date was just an arrogant asshole. fortunately, you had a habit of veering off track when it came to having conversations, which lead to you now telling him about a recipe you saw on a late night cooking show. “i’ll make it and you can come over and taste test it, how does that sound?” rafe nodded. he would much rather taste test something else. “i think that sounds great.” he sat up, tossing the last tool in his toolbox with a clank! “alright, moment of truth,” rafe twisted the shower knob, and sure enough the water came out perfectly.

you hopped off the counter, not realizing your robe had come undone a little bit. the valley of your breasts were peeking through, the sight making rafe let out a breath. “thank you!” you grabbed his hand and helped him off the floor. “it’s no problem.” the man in front of you shamelessly stared at your chest, your eyes following his. you gasped at the amount of cleavage that was out, spinning around to cover yourself up. “i’m so sorry, i don’t know how that happened!” you covered your face in embarrassment as rafe laughed to himself. “i’m not complaining.”

rafe walked around you, making you topple forward a bit when he landed a playful smack on your backside. if it was anyone else, you would’ve kicked them out of your apartment with a threat to make a police report.. but it was rafe, so you offered him your fridge instead. “you could take whatever you want! i’ll be out in a sec!” rafe took you up on your offer, grabbing a beer that you specifically bought for him whenever he made a surprise visit. popping it open, he took a swig, reaching for his phone in his pocket only for it not to be there. “shit.” he put the beer down, checking the rest of pockets.

realizing it must be in the bathroom, rafe cursed under his breath when he heard the shower running. “y/n?” you couldn’t hear him over the water, your eyes screwed shut as you washed your hair. opening the door slightly, rafe peeked in and saw his phone on the floor. he swallowed thickly, the scent of your shampoo filling his senses. don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up, rafe chanted in his head, failing miserably when he ultimately zeroed in on your naked form. he knew you were perfect already, but seeing you like this was next level.

he watched as the suds from your hair dripped down to your tits, the clear glass growing foggy with shower steam. he wondered how you’d feel in his hands, wishing so bad he could take a tit in his mouth. rafe’s chest rose and fell, his cock stirring in his pants as you turned around and bent down for your body wash. luckily for you, the steam obstructed the view rafe ached so bad to see. without a care in the world, rafe palmed himself through his work jeans, his head tipping back at the much needed friction. “fuck, yeah..” he whispered to himself, thumb gliding over his sensitive tip.

you lathered yourself up, turning around so your back was facing rafe. with hungry eyes, he watched you scrub down your legs, catching a glimpse of your sudsy folds. pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe refrained from letting out a groan as his hand jerked himself with vigor. he wondered if you knew just how bad he wanted you. if it was up to him, you’d be more than just the pretty tenant he likes to bother, and him more than the handyman, but he could dream. rinsing yourself off under the stream of water, you stood there, relishing in the hot water pattering against your skin.

rafe could make you so so happy if you’d just let him. he’d treat you with so much love and care everyday, and fuck you until you were in hysterics. he imagined what it would be like to be in a relationship with you, how waking up next to you would look like. he was so tired of envisioning these things, he shut the door behind him, startling you. “rafe?” you peered up at the man standing in the middle of your bathroom, his hand in his pants as he looked at you with dark eyes. “w-what are you doing?” he didn’t say anything as he started undressing, his shirt falling to the floor.

“tell me to leave.” his jeans were next to go, the imprint of his length making you swallow thickly. rafe smirked at your lack of response, internally singing as you slid open the glass door for him to join you. you had butterflies fluttering in your tummy when he took off his underwear. rafe was so tall, he had to lean down in order to get in without hitting himself, his broad shoulders barely fitting through. once he was in, your cheeks heated as reality hit you. here you were, standing naked with the man who’s been a pervy flirt for nearly six months now.

“you okay?” rafe’s hands found your hips, pulling you close until his cock sat heavily between you two. you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. he groaned when he felt your nipples against his chest. bringing his head down, you let out a yelp when his hands snaked down to your ass and squeezed. you reached up on your tippy toes and kissed him, his mouth moving perfectly with yours. rafe wasted no time, backing you up into the shower wall where he grinded his hard-on between your thighs. taking the base of him in your hand, you gasped at how hard he felt in your palm.

“can i?” you were already getting on your knees before him, rafe groaning at how eager you felt to please him. rafe grabbed a handful of your hair, staring at you intently as you stroked him before meeting his eyes. you looked gorgeous like this. eyes sparkling up at his face, rafe admired your features under the soft light of the bathroom. you kissed his tip, licking a stripe up from the underside of his cock before he pushed himself between your lips. your pink nails dug into his skin, your eyebrows knitting together as he forced his length down your throat.

you moaned, the sensation making him shudder. “fuck,” he grunted through gritted teeth, “feels’ so fuckin good.” he balanced an arm on the wall, his eyes screwing shut as you worked your magic on his cock. the way you bobbed your head up and down made him want to shoot his load all over your face, your hands cupping your tits as you squeezed the sensitive swells of your breasts. rafe was mesmerized, his mouth hanging open as he watched you pull off of him with a pop! you smiled up at the man above you, rubbing the head of his cock across your lips.

deciding he couldn’t wait any longer, rafe picked you up like a ragdoll, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kissed you roughly. you whimpered when your back met the cold tile on the wall. spreading your thighs apart, you looked down when rafe guided himself between your slick folds, your clit aching to be touched. you two exchanged looks, as if he was asking for permission. placing your palms on his shoulders for leverage, you practically melted in his hands when he thrusted into you. whimpering his name, rafe urged you to lock your ankles around his back.

“y’have no idea how much i’ve thought about doing this to you.” he spoke into the curve of your neck, his body glistening from shielding you from the shower head. you recalled laying in bed one particular night, thinking about rafe and those rough hands of his. needless to say you fell into a deep slumber imagining your fingers as his own. your mouth opened and closed a few times like you wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. watching you struggle was easily the hottest thing rafe has ever seen. “talk, baby, i need to hear that voice so i can dream of it later.”

soon after he said that, you were whining and blabbering about how much you thought about him when you were alone. “yeah? ‘touching yourself to the thought of me?” he taunted, hips slamming into yours as the heels of your feet dug into his back. “yes! oh, god— i just wanted to feel you inside of me..” rafe cursed at your words, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. “show me how you did it, ‘pretty. let me feel this pussy squeeze around me.” you let out a shaky breath, the pads of your fingers finding your sensitive bundle of nerves. you gasped, your back arching off of the wall.

rafe watched you rub delicate circles on the little bud, your body jolting every now and then when the feeling became overwhelming. “can’t!” you shook your head when you were close, your thighs threatening to snap shut around his hips. rafe moved your hand out of the way and replaced it with his own, his fingers working mercilessly on your puffy clit. letting out a scream, your forehead fell on his shoulder as his release teetered on the edge of pure euphoria. he was going to fill you up soon, the thought alone making his hips stutter as you cried out in bliss.

rafe held you against his chest, his hot seed filling you up with every moan that left his mouth. you were jelly at this point, your orgasm hitting you in intense waves of ecstasy as rafe twitched inside your soaking cunt. slowly but surely, your highs subsided, both of you panting against each other’s lips. “think you could walk?” you shook your head, your thighs still visibly trembling at his sides. he nodded, reassuring you with a ‘okay, don’t worry baby.’ still holding you against the wall, rafe pulled out of you with a groan. whimpering at the feeling of being empty, you watched as he twisted the shower knob off.

holding you bridal style, rafe stepped out of the shower and placed you gently on the sink counter. he quickly grabbed two towels from the little shelf you had in the bathroom and dried you off, wrapping the soft cotton around your shoulders. you licked your lips, the sight of the water droplets dripping down his abs was making you ready for round two. wrapping the towel around his waist, rafe carried you once more to your bed. “again.” you looked up at him with a pout. rafe laughed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “yeah? you want more?” you nodded, pulling him on top of you.

slotting himself between your thighs, he kissed you deeply before there was a knock at the door. pausing for a second, you wondered who it could be before your eyes widened. “that’s my date! well— was, my date.. oh, god!” you giggled, covering your face in embarrassment. glancing at the clock on your bedside table, rafe smiled. 8:00 PM. “wow, he’s just in time.” he got up, making you gasp. “don’t be mean to him!” you called out as rafe answered the front door. the poor guy’s smile faded quickly when he saw a shredded, over six feet tall of a man answer the door.

“sorry, i must be at the wrong apartment..” he blinked, about to leave before rafe stopped him. “you’re here for y/n, right? she’s inside.” rafe reached for the flowers in your date’s hand, flashing him a wink. “she’s a little preoccupied right now, though.” shutting the door in his face, rafe hid the flowers behind his back before stalking back inside your room. bless your heart, your towel was gone as you laid naked and pretty, waiting all for him. “i hope you like pink roses, ‘cause i just got you a dozen of ‘em.” you sat up, a gasp leaving your lips as rafe kneeled down on the side of your bed.

“aw, how pretty!” you gave them a sniff, pecking rafe’s cheek. “can you put them in water for me?” you batted your eyelashes at him, the action sending rafe into a frenzy. you were so cute. doing as you asked, rafe came back and got on his knees once more. “i was thinking.. you were so gracious enough to take me in your mouth, it’s only right if i return the favor, yeah?” he hooked your thighs to the tops of his shoulders, excitement pooling in your belly. “yes—” you were cut off when you felt rafe’s tongue delve between your folds. “you’re so fuckin’ sweet, i can eat you all night.” and he did.

[inkedinshadows]

Nights and Days

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are on a mission in Illyria, but as they move from one camp to another, they’re caught in a blizzard and are forced to find shelter in the nearest inn. Thanks to the shadowsinger, there's only one bed.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, just a sprinkle of shadow play, language, lots of witty banter

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut, so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think 🥺

Groups of rebels had begun to appear all over Illyria, claiming that Rhys was not a good High Lord, that a low-born bastard was not suited to be their general, and that training their women was nothing more than a waste of time.

After two weeks of diplomacy that led to absolutely nothing, Rhys had dispatched the Inner Circle to deal with the rebels. Mor and Amren had stayed in Velaris to make sure nothing happened, but the others had been sent out to Illyria. And Y/N had been paired up with Azriel.

They were flying from one war camp to the next—Y/N trying to focus on anything other than Azriel holding her close as he flew—when it started to snow.

“Is it safe to keep going?” she asked him, glancing at his beautiful wings flapping behind him.

“Would you rather I land now? In the middle of nowhere?” Azriel looked down at her with a little smirk on his face. “Give me some credit, Y/N. I can handle a little snow.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you’re a big, tough Illyrian warrior. My bad.”

He didn't answer, but she didn't need to look at him to know he was still smirking. That annoyingly attractive smirk always made her want to kiss him. She focused on the forest below, on anything other than his lips and how close they’d be if she would just turn her head his way.

They flew in silence for just a few more minutes before the snow began to fall more heavily. Y/N simply looked at Azriel with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to use words.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said when he noticed her expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Camp is not that far. We can still make it.”

“Azriel, did you wake up this morning and just decided to be stupid?” She pointed at the grey sky above them, where more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow to come. “You see that, right? It’s already late and we both know it’ll only get worse. We won’t reach the next camp before it turns into a blizzard. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

His only answer was a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? The poor princess is freezing her little ass off?”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My ass is anything but little, shadowsinger. Shouldn’t you find us a shelter or something, instead of making fun of me?”

“Said the one who just called me stupid,” he pointed out. He lifted a brow, flashing her another one of those smirks. “Maybe you should apologize for that, and I might think about landing somewhere.”

She cocked her head, unsure if he was messing around or not. “I refuse to apologize for telling the truth. And you’d better land soon, or I’ll kick your ass when you do.”

Azriel’s laugh echoed in her ears, and it took all her focus not to smile just at that sound she so rarely got to hear. “As if you could actually kick my ass.”

If her arms hadn’t been wrapped around his neck, she would have crossed them over her chest. Or maybe she would have used them to strangle him, if only it wouldn't mean they'd fall out of the sky. Eventually, she settled to roll her eyes again. “Azriel, I’m being serious.”

Though she enjoyed their usual banter and she knew as well as everyone that she could never kick his ass, she hadn’t lied. Even with her Illyrian leathers, she was starting to freeze out there in the snow, and there was no way they would reach their destination without being caught in a full-blown blizzard.

“Relax. Despite what you think, Y/N, I’m not stupid.” He gestured to something below them just as she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s an inn. You would have noticed it already, if only you hadn’t been so busy complaining.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, squinting to see through the trees and the snow. But as Azriel glided down, she finally saw it. It was a rather large building for an inn in the middle of the woods—many Illyrians probably passed through it—so there was a high chance of finding a couple of rooms to spend the night in.

Azriel landed and gently set her on the ground. Together, they headed for the door and were welcomed inside by the warmth of a fire in the corner of the room. She shook the snow off her hair as she took in their surroundings—a few tables full of Illyrian warriors, most of them drinking and laughing quite loudly.

“We ran out of double rooms.” The innkeeper looked at them as they approached, apparently too bored to even bother with greetings. “But we’ve still got a few single ones.”

Before she could tell him that two rooms were perfect, Azriel was already answering. “We need only one, actually.”

Next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand and was leading her up the stairs, a key now clutched in his fingers. She waited for the door to close behind them before she turned to him with a frown. “What the hell was that? Why only one room?”

Azriel tossed his pack on the floor and replied as if the answer was obvious. “The hall was packed with drunk Illyrians.”

“So?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t quite understand what she saw in his eyes. Was it concern? Or frustration because she still didn’t realize something he thought was so simple?

“I’m not letting you sleep in another room alone, when a bunch of drunk Illyrians have just seen you, probably the only female here, walk in.”

Well, that was not what she expected. But as she thought it over, she couldn’t deny he had a point. She was able to hold her own in a fight, just not against fully trained warriors, and she didn't want to take any risk, especially when it was just one night.

Not knowing what to answer, she looked around the room, which consisted of only one bed and a small dresser—lame and boring, but it would do. Except for the one single bed.

She watched as Azriel sat on an old rug, the only decoration there was. “And what are you doing now, exactly?”

He shrugged, with that same expression that seemed to tell her the answer was obvious. “I'll take the floor, you take the bed.”

She almost laughed at that. “You can't sleep on the floor, not with your wings. I'll do it.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and extended his wings behind him as if to prove it. “Why would you want to sleep on the floor anyway?”

“Because I don't want you to do it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now get your ass off that floor, shadowsinger.”

Azriel did no such thing and instead leaned back against the wall and extended his legs in front of him. Her gaze dropped to his thighs, the muscles shifting with the movement.

“Why would I do that? It's comfortable here.”

She looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest. “It's not and you know it.”

Both of them too stubborn to give in, they glared at each other. She made no move to sit on the bed, and he made no move to get up. They probably could have spent hours like this, but she couldn't stand the idea of Azriel sleeping on a half-consumed rug, even if it meant she'd do it.

“You wouldn't want to face the rebels with a sore body tomorrow, would you?” she tried, hoping it'd make him think straight.

“I've slept on the ground before, I'll be fine. Big, tough Illyrian warrior, remember?” His lips twitched up, and amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just take the bed, Y/N. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Which is exactly why you should sleep on the bed, Az,” she snapped before taking a deep breath and speaking more calmly. “I'm just the backup. It doesn't matter if I'm sore.”

“It matters to me.”

His words hung heavily in the air, and she swallowed, not sure how to react to them or to the fervor in his voice. There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before and, unable to his gaze any longer, she blinked.

“You’re not going to budge, are you?” she asked with a sigh, her arms falling back to her sides.

“No.” And there it was again, that teasing grin she usually wanted to kiss. Right now, though, she felt more like punching him for his stubbornness. It outmatched even her own. “So I suggest you listen and take the bed. You need some rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you don't?”

This time, it was his turn to sigh and roll his eyes at her. “Y/N, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions, and it’s only just one night anyway.”

And yet, the thought of him sleeping on that rug while she was all comfortable on the bed didn’t sit right with her. Just like her well-being mattered to him, his mattered to her. Maybe it was because he’d admitted it, or because he’d rather sleep on the floor than let her stay in another room when the place was full of Illyrians. Or maybe she was just trying to find some kind of excuse, but the words were out before she could think better of them.

“Sleep on the bed. With me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she immediately regretted even thinking about it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… it’s just…” she stuttered, her cheeks heating up as she looked away. What a huge mistake she’d just made. Just because he cared about her didn’t mean he’d want to share a bed with her. What was she even thinking? “I know it’s small and there’s not much space, but I just… I thought it’d still be more comfortable than the floor… you know?” Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet.

Deafening silence filled the room, and then Azriel finally spoke, his tone cautious. “And that’s all you were asking?”

She frowned, not sure what else she might have been asking. But she quickly realized what words she had used and how that could potentially sound like something more than an offer to share the bed. Sleep on the bed. With me. Cauldron, she was so stupid. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. When was the last time she had blushed?

“No, I wasn’t— that’s not what I—” She couldn’t get the words out, and it didn’t help that her mind was now wandering toward certain scenarios that involved the two of them, a bed, and very little clothing. She turned away from him and mumbled, “Whatever.”

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless.” There was amusement in his voice, and she knew the asshole was smirking once more. “You should watch your word choice if that’s not what you intended to ask.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” she murmured as she reached for her pack, but when she took her nightgown out, she realized there was no place to go to get changed. How was she supposed to change in front of him after such an embarrassing mistake? So instead, she delayed the moment she’d have to do it by trying to explain again. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything. It came out wrong.”

She could feel his eyes on her as he answered. “I noticed. What was your intention, then?”

The look she gave him was one of annoyance. He knew exactly what her intention was, and he just liked to mess with her. She glared at him for a moment before she replied, “I meant what I said. I don’t want you to sleep on that rug, and you don’t want me to do it either. So, the only other option is that we share the bed.”

“Mh, I see.” His lips tugged up in a self-satisfied grin that just made her want to hit him to see it disappear. Not that she could hit him even if she really wanted to. Azriel would block her blow with little effort. But how could she have ever wanted to kiss him?

“So sleeping next to me is the only option?” he added.

“You know what?” she snapped, gesturing to the rug where he was still sitting like it was the most comfortable place he’d ever been. “I changed my mind. Sleep on the floor. I don’t care.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Cauldron boil her.

She turned her back on him and, without giving it any second thought, she began undressing. She hadn’t realized how warm the Illyrian leathers were until she shivered as soon as she took them off.

“It seems like you’re cold,” Azriel drawled from behind her.

“I’m not,” she replied. She put on her nightgown and sought refuge under the covers. “Not for long, anyway.”

How was Azriel going to spend the night on a rug, without a blanket? When he didn’t answer, she considered maybe asking him one last time to share the bed. Out of the goodness of her heart, she supposed.

But then Azriel spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. And the goodness of her heart be damned.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Prick.”

“I'm the prick? You're the one who suggested we should share the bed.”

Y/N resisted the urge to turn on her side and face him. Maybe it was stupid and childish of her, but she kept lying with her back to him. “I don't see how that makes me a prick, Az. Besides, you're the one who made fun of me because of it, which means you're the prick here.”

His voice still carried a sense of playfulness as he answered. “I made fun of you because you stumbled over your words like a fool. It was quite amusing, to be honest.”

Instead of replying, she slid a hand out from under the blanket and flipped him off over her shoulder. As she hid it again and curled up in the bedsheets, Azriel’s soft laugh made her smile despite herself.

She heard some noise and, assuming he was getting changed and ready for the night, she closed her eyes. But her mind was running wild.

Images of his hands on her. Of her hands on him. Their lips touching, first tenderly, then passionately. Their bodies pressed together as pleasure overcame them. All scenarios she had never let herself fully consider before, now evoked by Azriel's misunderstanding of her words. Scenarios she now knew for sure would never happen if the way he'd teased her for even suggesting sharing the bed was any indication.

“Make room for me?”

His voice was so close to her that she started, her head snapping around to find him standing next to the bed. He had taken off his leathers and was now wearing loose pants and a shirt. His wings were tucked in tight behind him—those beautiful wings that she knew were bigger than Cassian's and Rhysand's. She still wasn't sure she should believe Mor about the correlation between an Illyrian's wingspan and other body parts.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he added with a small smile.

“You and your absurdly silent steps,” she grumbled, but she was already moving to the other side of the bed.

Only that there wasn’t exactly an ‘other side’, not when the bed was barely big enough for both of them. As Azriel slipped under the sheets, she found herself with her back pressed against his chest. His familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her senses, and his warmth seeped through her, chasing away the remnants of the cold that even the blanket hadn’t yet managed to rid her of.

“Tell me you don’t move a lot when you sleep,” she said as he settled behind her. “Because if you push me off, I’ll make you regret not staying on that rug.”

His laugh skittered down her back. “You always have something to say, don't you?”

“I promise you, the moment there will be nothing to say, I will shut up,” she replied with a chuckle.

Silence fell and Y/N nestled more against his side. She just couldn't help it. Feeling him so close, their bodies pressing together... it was intoxicating, and she wanted to stay like that forever. She hesitated a moment, and then she decided that she might as well do it: grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her waist and laced their fingers together, their intertwined hands resting against her stomach. Azriel tensed behind her, and she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a deep breath that tickled the back of her neck.

“I would never let you fall off the bed,” he murmured. His voice was so close to her ear that it almost made her shiver. And as if to show he really meant what he said, Azriel draped his wings around her.

Y/N suddenly had a lump in her throat. Being enveloped in his wings was somehow more intimate than lying so close to each other. “Glad to hear it,” was all she could think about. After a second, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for not letting me sleep alone.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. When he spoke, she could tell by his tone alone that he wanted to say more than just, “You're welcome.” She didn't push him though. He'd tell her when and if he decided to.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting the sound of the blizzard outside lull her, but with Azriel holding her it was nearly impossible. Wrapped in his arms and wings, she felt safe and protected. Everything else seemed to disappear until it was just the two of them in their small cocoon.

“Can you turn over?”

Her eyes opened at his question, but she didn't move. To face him would mean being only inches away from him. She didn't trust herself to be that close to him. To his lips.

“Why?”

“Just turn over, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the barely audible ‘please’—that had her giving in. She had never heard him say it before, not like that.

But as she complied, her face was even closer to his than she'd anticipated. Their noses were almost touching, and she made a point not to let her gaze drop to his lips.

Azriel didn't say anything. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments or maybe an hour—Y/N didn't know. The one thing she knew was that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and it only got worse when he brushed her cheek, his touch gentle and soft. She smiled, and the movement caused his gaze to dip to her mouth. She waited for him to look up again, but he didn't.

Her smile turned into a little smirk. “Are you just going to stare at my lips all night, or do you plan to actually do something about it?”

Azriel looked at her again, and though he tried to look annoyed, she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why do you always have to make such quick-witted comments?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied before she even knew what she was saying. She didn't regret it though, because he did it.

And the world shrank till there was just Azriel.

His lips were soft against hers, warm and inviting. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She melted against him, opening up for his tongue to slip inside, tasting her slowly, almost reverently. Her heart was beating so fast it might have jumped out of her chest.

She'd wanted this to happen for the longest time, and now that it was real, the leash she'd kept on herself vanished. Every feeling, every emotion she'd stifled for so long, now rushed to the surface like a tidal wave.

What had started as a tender kiss soon turned into something passionate and greedy. She whimpered softly against his lips, and her hands began to make their way down to the hem of his shirt.

“Y/N.” Azriel's whisper stopped her as she looked into his eyes. She could see her own need reflected there. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don't look sure enough to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should just send you a note and—”

Azriel silenced her with another kiss. “You and your sarcastic answers,” he murmured with a smile.

Y/N giggled and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb against his lips. “I mean it, Az,” she said, her tone softer now. “I'm sure about it.”

“Good.” He pulled her flush against him as his hands roamed down her back. “Because if I start, I don't think I could stop.”

“Good,” she repeated before she kissed him again.

Y/N tugged on his shirt, and they parted long enough for her to take it off, though it took a bit of struggle to undo the clasps on his back and free his wings. She'd seen him shirtless before, mostly when he was training—he was a real feast for the eye—but now she got to touch him, to run her hands across his torso and feel him shudder. His mouth descended on her neck in response, leaving a trail of wet kisses while his hands gripped her backside.

“You were right, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Your ass is definitely not little.”

She chuckled as he kneaded it. “Told you.”

Azriel hummed, planting one last kiss on her neck before he shifted position and Y/N found herself pressed down on the mattress, the shadowsinger now on top of her. As she pulled him closer for their lips to meet yet again, his hands caressed her legs, trailing up her thighs and slipping under her nightgown.

She held her breath as he brushed past her panties, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. He then moved up her body, causing the fabric to rise and reveal her soft flesh.

Y/N broke the kiss, a small sigh leaving her lips when Azriel’s hands reached her breasts. He smiled at the sound, and as their eyes met, his gaze was so full of desire that her core clenched.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Before she could reach between them to push down his pants, Azriel gently stopped her by grabbing her wrists, sensing what her intention was. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She frowned. A slight tug was all it took for him to release her hands, though she didn't try to undress him again. “Why not?”

And there it was again, that smirk. But now, with him on top of her, both of them half naked, she didn't simply want to kiss it. No, she wanted do all the things she'd never let herself consider.

“Because I want to see you first, princess.”

Azriel was already pushing her nightgown up, but as usual, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So it's official? You're calling me princess now? You've never done that before.”

He looked down at her with so much desire that it seemed to set her body on fire. “I've never been about to fuck you before,” he answered, his voice low and sultry.

Her thighs clenched together, but before she could come up with a response, Azriel removed her nightgown. Her skin was already so heated she barely felt the bite of the cool air, and it was completely forgotten when he ran his hands all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to take one of her nipples in his warm mouth, a soft moan escaping her as she shivered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close, and she arched against him when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

“And you're so responsive,” he murmured. Hooking a scarred finger into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. The scent of her arousal wafted through the room as Azriel nudged her legs open and settled in between them.

Y/N was about to tell him to hurry, her need to feel him against and inside her now almost overwhelming. But she couldn’t form the words, not as Azriel pushed his hips against hers and she felt the evidence of his own arousal pressing hard against her wet core.

His hands caressed her sides, her ass, her thighs, and yet he never touched her where she needed it most.

“Azriel…” she complained, eyes locked on him. She moved her hips to grind against his erection, seeking some sort of friction, and she was rewarded by his sharp inhale. But it still wasn't enough.

“Be patient, Y/N.” His mouth descended on her neck again, biting the soft spot where it met her shoulder. “I want to taste you first. I want to worship every inch of you.”

Even though she closed her eyes at his little nips, she shook her head. “Azriel, I appreciate it. I really do. But you have no idea how long I've waited for this.” Her breath hitched when his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “We can leave the worshipping for later. I need you now.”

“You need me, uh?” He kissed her other breast, and she bucked her hips against him once more. “And you've waited a long time for this?”

Y/N looked at him again, her fingers still clutching his hair. She nodded and realized her mistake too late—a new mischievous gleam entered Azriel's hazel eyes.

His lips trailed down her stomach and toward her belly button. Each kiss sent a shiver right to her core. “Then you can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her patience now at its limit. “Azriel, you—”

A gasp cut her off as he licked a stripe up her dripping folds. She couldn't tell who moaned first when Azriel tasted her once more, his tongue flicking over her clit.

Her fingers tightened in his black curls and her head fell back on the pillow. Azriel's lips closed around her clit and she clamped a hand on her mouth to keep quiet as he gently sucked on it.

His shadows began to slither up her body, their touch cool against her heated skin. Her breathing quickened and she had to hold back a moan when his tongue was replaced by a finger slowly sliding inside her folds.

But it didn't move. Azriel looked up at her and she wished she could somehow capture the picture: his head between her legs, those beautiful hazel eyes focused on her with an almost predatory intent.

“Don't go all quiet on me now, princess,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to hear all your pretty noises.”

A tendril of shadow brushed against her hand, and she removed it from her mouth. “Az, the other rooms—”

He curled his finger to hit that soft, spongy spot inside her that had her see stars, and she couldn't stop the moan that left her lips.

“I don't care if someone hears you.” His voice was a low, almost commanding growl. “Let them hear you. Let them know you're with me.”

She was about to answer, to tell him she wasn't sure she should, but Azriel added a second finger, and she lost all control, another small cry of pleasure slipping out.

Azriel seemed satisfied because his smirk reappeared. “If I had known this is all it took to put a stop on the witty comments, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Y/N wanted to make one of those very witty comments to prove him wrong, to show him she hadn't become helpless just because of how good he made her feel, but his tongue circled her clit again and Mother above, she was helpless.

“Do you want to come, princess?”

Unable to form even a coherent thought, all she could do was nod, her body on the brink of release as his fingers curled once more, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes… yes, please,” she panted.

But instead of keeping going, of driving her over that sweet, craved edge, Azriel placed a kiss to her inner thigh and slowly removed his fingers from her folds. He even moved away from her, standing up at the foot of the bed.

She groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows to glower at him. “Azriel, you get back here right now.”

He only grinned. “Ah, there she is.”

“If you're doing this just because you missed my comments, you should know that I—”

The words died on her tongue as soon as his hands swiftly undid the buttons of his pants. Her eyes followed his every movement as he pushed them down his legs, watching his muscles shift and his wings unfold ever so slightly to keep him balanced.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

The realization caused her brain to stop working, and the sight of his naked body took her breath away. Maybe the rumors about Illyrian wingspans were true after all.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed before finally speaking again. “Azriel,” she repeated, her voice quivering with barely restrained desire. “Get back here right now.”

For once, he obliged without questioning, his grin wide.

Climbing onto the bed, he crawled up her body until his cock pressed against her entrance, her need for him now through the roof.

Their eyes met, and slowly—too slowly—Azriel pushed in, stretching her inch by delicious inch, both of them releasing a moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound shooting straight down to her core. “Fuck, Y/N... you feel incredible.”

She had no words to describe how he felt inside her. ‘Incredible’ was an understatement, but her mind was too foggy to think of something else. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed him to move.

“Azriel,” she breathed as she wrapped her legs around him. He shuddered when she accidentally brushed his wings with her toes. “Please, move. Now.”

With his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her, pulling out almost all the way. “I love hearing you beg for it,” he whispered against her lips, and rocked back into her with a quick roll of his hips before she could even think of a response.

He didn’t even try to go slow, instead immediately setting a relentless pace that left her panting, but she didn’t mind. Every choked sound and breathless moan were swallowed by his kiss, their tongues swirling together. Her hands found their way into his hair, around his neck, down his back, and her nails scraped along his warm and slightly sweaty skin while he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

Azriel’s own groans and whimpers were music to the ears, each of them bringing her closer to release. As if he knew her body well enough already, he seemed to sense it too, because his lips left hers to trail down her neck.

“That’s it, princess,” he praised. His clipped voice let her know he was probably trying to hold back his own impending orgasm. “Come for me.”

His shadows flew in the little space between their bodies to tease her clit, drawing a guttural groan from her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—cool against her hot skin, a barely-there touch that yet was enough to make her shudder and whine. But it was the uniqueness of it all that sent her toppling over the edge.

A loud cry broke from her as her vision blurred and her body tensed, her nails slightly digging into Azriel’s back while he slowed his thrusts to draw out her pleasure. But he soon resumed his punishing pace, his hips slamming into hers almost frantically, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room as he chased his own release.

She choked out his name right as he stilled, hot spurts of cum filling her, his last few moans muffled when she pulled him in for another desperate kiss.

They were both panting by the time they broke apart, but neither of them tried to move. Azriel still lay buried deep inside her, and simply rested his forehead against hers, a smile on his lips that mirrored her own.

Despite his heavy breaths, his brows raised as he asked playfully, “So was the wait worth it?”

“It was,” she answered with a chuckle. Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You certainly know what you’re doing, shadowsinger.”

Wrong words.

“Is that so?” His grin only widened, and he gave another roll of his hips that dragged a groan from the back of her throat.

She slapped him on the shoulder, but her smile matched his. “Smug ass.”

Azriel's soft laugh tickled her cheek as he kissed it. Slowly, he pulled out of her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.

Not ready to let him go just yet, she curled up in his arms as soon as he lay down next to her. Azriel immediately embraced her, holding her close to his chest, their legs tangled.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they bathed in the afterglow of sex, interrupted only by their soft breathing and the blizzard still raging outside.

As the minutes passed, Y/N struggled to keep her eyes open, but she had always wanted to trace the swirling lines of Azriel's tattoos, and now she had her chance. Her fingers danced along the Illyrian design, following the pattern from his neck to his arm, then lingering a bit longer on his sculpted pecs and feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. His heart was beating fast, pounding in his chest.

“Can you promise me something?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Depends on what it is.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment before he spoke again with a new seriousness in his tone. “Promise me that we’ll give this a chance. That we’ll give… us a chance.”

Her fingers halted their roaming, her heart skipped a bit, and a part of her whispered that she had heard that wrong, that she had misunderstood. No way he was actually asking her what she thought he was asking her, despite just having had sex.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat to be able to murmur, “Do you mean that?”

Azriel's eyes softened, like he knew she was even more vulnerable now than while they were fucking, and that whether her heart broke or not depended entirely on his answer.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time too, Y/N,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks to look right into her eyes. “I don’t want just this one night with you. I want all the nights you’ll give me.”

Y/N smiled then, so bright it could have lit up the whole room. She wanted to kiss him senseless, to hold him tight and never let go. And nothing was stopping her anymore, she realized, so she did just that.

She showered his face with tiny kisses. Every beautiful inch, from his nose to his jawline, from his eyebrow to his chin. Azriel's arms wrapped around her middle to pull her closer, and she relented her assault only when he chuckled.

Their eyes met again, and she knew there was no turning back now. But she would never turn back now.

“I’ll give you all the nights in the world, Az,” she finally said once the burst of joy subsided. “And the days, too. I'll give you anything you want.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was wider than ever before and the urge to touch his small dimples rushed through her—dimples she'd never known he had, but that she'd do anything to see again.

When he kissed her, it was slow yet passionate, gentle yet desperate, their breaths mingling, their hands caressing cheeks and running through hair.

“You're the only thing I want,” Azriel murmured once their lips parted. “Every night and every day. I want only you.”

Those were probably the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. Not even in her dreams did she imagine he would say them. Dwelling on what it would be like to share moments of passion was one thing, but this…

She moved to straddle him, mindful of his wings splayed out beneath him. She wanted to run her fingers down their length, and hopefully, sooner rather than later, she might get to do just that.

“Then I hope you're not too tired, shadowsinger.” She leaned down to trail kisses along his tattoo, but her eyes never left his. “Because you can't say something like that without expecting me to fuck you again.”

His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, her words enough to ignite the fire in him once more. “I'm yours, princess. We have all night.”

“All the nights,” she corrected him with a grin, already grinding on him. “And all the days.”

Maybe they would be facing the rebels with sore bodies, after all.

Tags: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

(If I accidentally added someone who wanted to be tagged only in part 3 of A Helping Hand and not the general tag list, please let me know and I'll fix it)

[fxllfaiiry]

❥ It's so sweet, knowing that you love me

★ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

★ summary: miguel knows you're pregnant, the only problem is he doesn't know how to to tell you. ─ or the time miguel found out before you.

★ warnings: fluff!! usage of many pet names, angst if you squint, miguel being a simp for his wife, pregnancy stuff, swearing, some shitty humor.

★ notes: there aren't enough dad and husband miguel fics out there so i had to write this!! icon credits: @/natashowlet

Miguel knew something was off, he’s known for days.

You’ve recently been throwing up, having odd cravings and random mood swings. At first, he thought you might be sick, you thought the same thing but now he knows it's not that. You were definitely pregnant. Everything adds up, and all of it made sense, then again he could be totally wrong. 

He made up his mind to try and talk to you once you returned home, he would surprise you with a romantic dinner and bring up the subject. He had about an hour to prepare everything. 

Well, that's what he thought, the second he got up to start preparing, you waltzed in through the door. 

“Mi Amor, I’m home.” Why are you home this early? He wanted to surprise you. 

“Mami, why are you home so early?” He says pulling you into a bear hug, usually, he would squish you completely but right now he wasn't sure that’d be the best idea. 

“What, aren't you happy to see me?” You chuckle. 

“No, no I'm really happy, I was just gonna cook you a surprise dinner that's all,”  he replies bashfully

“Aw, that's so sweet.” You threw your arms around him, placing kisses wherever you could reach. “I have the best husband ever.” 

“And I have the most amazing wife, now come on let’s go make something to eat.” He scoops you up in his arms and carries you bridal style towards the kitchen. He desperately wants to bring up the topic of you possibly being pregnant but now was not the best time, he didn't want to ruin the moment. 

This conversation could wait till tomorrow, right now he just wanted to enjoy some time with his wife.  

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Good night, Miggy.” His head was buried into your neck, his arms were secured somewhat tightly around your belly, and your smaller hands were coving his bigger ones. 

He thought about bringing up the topic right now but quickly scratched off that idea.

He was so tired from the day's activities, he could fall asleep instantly.

He could hear you slowly drifting off, your breathing calming him down and lulling him into slumber... well almost. 

Just as he was on the verge of falling asleep he heard something ─ or rather someone. 

He could hear another heartbeat. Coming right from you. He thought he was going crazy at first, but the closer he listened, the clearer it got. He was right, you were pregnant.

Holy shit. You were pregnant. He was going to be a dad. 

In all this, it occurs to him that you didn't even know yet, he would have to tell you tomorrow no matter what.

He’s so happy. He finally has another chance, he won't mess up this time. He would do anything to protect you both.

But what if you didn't want kids just yet? The topic of kids has come up before and you both want them, but what if you changed your mind? There were so many things that could go wrong but Miguel tried to push all the negative thoughts away and focused on falling asleep. 

He slept like a baby that night. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 

“So, honey, I was hoping to talk to you about something.” He avoided having the conversation all morning, now he needed to tell you. 

“What is it, Miggy?” You sit down looking at him expectantly. You could see that he was nervous, it was obvious by the way he was acting. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yes, everything is fine, mi corazón, don't worry.” How should he start? Should he just jump straight into it or start off slow? He should have thought about this before, well no time to do that now. 

He took a deep breath and it all came rushing out “I think, actually no, I know that you’re pregnant.”  

Silence. You were too stunned to speak. 

“Excuse me?” There was pure shock written all over your face, he would’ve laughed if the situation was different. 

“I heard 2 heartbeats last night, one was yours and the other one was -”

“Are you sure? I mean are you 100% sure? Maybe you heard something else?” You didn't want to get your hopes up just yet, you always wanted a baby with Miguel but if this turned out to be a false alarm you would be a little crushed. 

“I’m 9.99% sure. Bebé, if you want we can get a pregnancy test done?”

“Yeah okay, let’s do it.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

An hour later both of you stood in the bathroom. Three minutes felt like hours right now. 

You might be pregnant. This isn't some crazy dream.

“Bebé, if you don’t want to keep the baby I absolutely respect tha-” He’s still not sure if you’re happy with this or not. He was worried he messed up in some way. 

“No, I want to keep the baby but I just don't want to get my hopes up just yet. I definitely want to have a baby with you.” You wrap your arms around him, his scent calmed you down. You were going to be okay. 

“I want to have a baby with you too,” he whispers. 

You lean up to give him a kiss, your hands gently coming up to stoke his cheeks. Miguel pulled back and mutters, “I love you.”  

“Love you too.” A moment later you both heard the timer going off. This was it. 

You slowly step forward picking up the stick and turning it around. 

Positive. You were pregnant. 

“Well, what does it say?” This whole thing is making him feel so anxious. 

“We’re having a baby.” His wife is carrying his baby, this is real, he isn't dreaming. 

“I knew it! I was right.” He pulls you off the ground and into a hug, placing kisses all over your face while muttering small “thank you’s” and “I love you’s” 

“I can't believe we’re gonna have a mini O’Hara running around soon,” you giggle kissing his jawline. 

“She’s going to be just like her mother. ” Knowing a mix of you and him was going to be here soon made him feel content. 

“How do you know they're gonna be a girl, hm?” 

“Just… a small feeling.” His small feeling would be proven right 9 months later.

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ wildflower . . . m.s

in which . . . matt takes care of his drunk ex girlfriend at a party, not expecting you to confess feelings you shouldn’t have.

warnings . . . unresolved angst, mentions of a break up, alcohol mentions, honestly really sad.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

matt had never expected to see you again, especially not like this.

the bass of the music pulsed through the floor as he made his way through the crowd of intoxicated strangers. matt wasn’t even sure why he had come. maybe out of obligation to his friends, the feeling of being left out, or maybe because deep down, he still searched for you in every room he walked into. matt told himself he was over you. It had been six months since you both ended things. six months of forced smiles, of avoiding old songs that reminded him of the way you used to hum along, of ignoring the aching loneliness that crept into his chest when he least expected it.

and then, just as he turned the corner—he saw you.

you were slumped on a couch in the corner of the crowded living room that flashed with colorful lights, a half-empty red plastic cup dangling lazily from your hand. your hair, which was perfect a few moments ago—was now a disheveled mess, your makeup was also smudged unintentionally. you were laughing with a guy, a guy you didn’t even know, a guy you met 10 minutes ago. and that pissed matt off.

the random teenage boy giggled at whatever drunken nonsense slipped out of your mouth, but when matt looked into your glassy eyes—he saw nothing but sadness, and hurt. it was absolutely breaking his heart to see you in this state, something twisted in his gut, you never ever drank like this, at least the old y/n wouldn’t.

without thinking, matt stepped forward, brushing past people until he reached you. he stepped in front of the guy you were talking to, not giving the slightest fuck that he interrupted your conversation with him. how could that boy just—stand there and let you do this to yourself? matt leaned down, delicately tapping your cheek and placing that same hand on your shoulder afterward. “y/n.” he spoke.

you slowly lifted your head, squinting at him as if he was a mirage or hallucination of some sort, your mind was foggy. your lips parted, “matt?” you slurred. matt swallowed thickly. “yeah, it’s me.” he reassured. your face crumpled, and for a moment—he thought you were going to cry. instead, you let out a breathless laugh and reached for his face, your fingers clumsily grazing matt’s jaw. “i misssseddd youuu, i knew you’d be hereee!” you laughed stupidly, slurring your words. matt frowned, noticing how you were barely able to sit upright. he touched your arm, rubbing it soothingly, suddenly you felt a familiar sensation of warmth and comfort again, even when you were drunk. “come on, let’s get you some water.”

you immediately pouted at him. “nooo, i like it here! ‘cause you’re here!” matt ignored the way your words sent a sharp pang through his chest, he crouched beside you. “you’re drunk, love.” he cursed himself in his head for letting that familiar name slip out, he was just so used to calling you that. “so what? it’s fun when i’m drunk!” you giggled, swaying slightly.

“no, y/n. you’re hurting. you’re coping with alcohol.” matt spoke, his voice breaking slightly. for a second, something flickered in your eyes—like a moment of clarity cutting through the haze. but then, you let out a dramatic sigh, letting your head fall against matt’s shoulder. “i miss you.” you whispered weakly. matt’s breath caught. he should have let it slide, brushed it off as drunk talk. but the way you said it—like it was something you had been holding in for so long, something too painful to admit sober, made it absolutely impossible to ignore. “y/n…” matt hesitated.

you lifted your head, your expression hazy yet heartbreakingly sincere. “do you ever think about us?” you murmured. all the time, he wanted to say. every damn day. he thought about you so much it killed him, you were the only thing that consumed his thoughts, and his heart. but instead of responding to your drunken question, he looked away. “let’s get you home, yeah?”

you whined in protest but didn’t resist as he helped you up. you were very unsteady, leaning heavily against him as the two of you navigated through the party. people stared, some whispering, but matt didn’t care at the slightest. all that mattered was getting you out of there safely. the cold night air hit you guys as he led you outside. you shivered, and without thinking, matt shrugged off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders instinctively. you blinked up at him, eyes wide, like he had just done something earth-shattering.

“thank you for taking care of me, you always do.” you said. matt looked away, “old habits.” he shrugged. you reached for his hand, your fingers lacing through his. it was instinctual, natural, like muscle memory. and gosh, he wanted to pull away. he wanted to tell you that this—whatever this was, wasn’t fair. but you looked at him with so much raw vulnerability that he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“i still love you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. his heart stopped upon hearing this. “every single day,” you continued. “and it sucks. it really, really sucks, because i see you everywhere. i hear your stupid favorite songs in coffee shops, and i still order your dumb vanilla lattes because they remind me of you. and i know i messed up, but, i don’t know how to stop loving you.” matt clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay still, to not let his emotions take control. “you’re drunk, y/n. you don’t mean that shit.”

you let out a humorless, dry laugh. “drunk words are sober thoughts, right?” more like—drunk words, sober heart. matt closed his eyes. he wanted to believe that you were just saying these things because of the alcohol, but deep down, he knew better than that. and you were right, these were things you were truly feeling.

you were hurting. just like he was.

and for a brief, fleeting moment, he considered telling you the truth—that he still loved you too, that he had spent every night wondering if you missed him even half as much as he missed you. that maybe, just maybe, you guys could find your way back to each other. but then he remembered why the both of you broke up in the first place. the late-night fights. the misunderstandings. the way you guys tore each other apart even when you swore you both wouldn’t. so instead, he exhaled shakily and forced himself to say, “you just need to sleep this off.”

a tear slipped down your cheek, but you nodded. “okay..” your voice broke. matt’s gaze softened as he wiped your tears, feeling a pang of sympathy and guilt within him. he helped you into the passenger seat of his car, buckled you in, and drove in silence. every now and then, he’d glance at you, at the girl he once called his forever, and silently wondered in solemn if love alone had ever been enough.

when matt finally reached your apartment, he walked you to your door, making sure you got inside safely. you turned to him, looking heartbreakingly sad in his oversized hoodie. “will i remember this in the morning?” you asked softly. he forced a small smile. “i don’t know.” you hesitated, then whispered, “would you…want me to?” matt swallowed the lump in his throat. every part of him screamed to say yes, clawing at his brain to just grab you and kiss you tightly, break down in tears and apologize for everything.

but he knew better.

“goodnight, y/n. get some sleep for me okay?”

and with that, matt turned and walked away—leaving behind the only girl he had ever loved, even when it broke him to do so. some people weren’t meant to stay.

just like wildflowers, they were beautiful, but they didn’t last forever.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

taglist

[smolkooks]

joshua hong's recipe for valentine's

summary: jisoo knows you like the back of his hand. he hopes. (he does). which almost makes asking you out for valentine’s day even more intimidating. 

pairing: joshua (svt) x you

genre: college au, fluff

*

“hey alexa,” joshua called out into the emptiness of his bedroom, “what the fuck am i supposed to do?”

the sound of jeonghan’s quip cut through the air before alexa could even process joshua’s complaint, “don’t think ai is equipped to help with your relationship problems.” jeonghan rounded the corner and popped his head through the door, an amused smirk quirking up the corner of his lips.

“there are no relationship problems!” joshua buried his hands in his hair, “there’s no relationship problems, that’s the problem,” his tone trailed off hopelessly as he banged his forehead onto the table hoping that the brief pain would knock some sense into his brain.

“haven’t you two known each other for like, most of college? i’m sure she won’t mind no matter what you do,” jeonghan offered, and joshua knew he was trying to be helpful but the advice only made him feel worse.

“you know that feeling,” joshua began, spinning around on his chair to face his friend, “when you know someone too well? when you feel like they’ve seen everything and nothing will surprise them? fuck, she’ll probably notice something in my expression the day before or like sniff me out when i slip up on a sentence or something.” usually, he loved how detail-oriented you were, but in moments like these, he wished you were a bit more oblivious.

“you’re giving her too much credit, man,” jeonghan said with a shrug, “don’t think she’s going to be that perceptive.” he appreciatively eyed the pastel bouquet and origami paper that joshua had strewn across his desk and then said, “there’s no way she’d see all of this coming.

“you don’t know her,” joshua groaned, already fearing the worst. he’d spent the better part of the week planning all your valentine’s day gifts—brainstorming and ripping his hair out and agitating over making every detail perfect. he was not about to let you sniff anything out or become at all suspicious beforehand.

he truly did know you too well, because his very first dilemma arose just an hour later, after jeonghan had left for his evening class and he was alone in his apartment, putting together your gift when his phone had pinged with a message.

from: y/nnie

josh wyd

to: y/nnie

lmao wtf so random

immediately he knew he’d fucked up. because texts at this time from you were a daily occurrence, and his response was too fucking unnatural. but unfortunately he’d been so preoccupied with folding origami puppies and tucking them into the bouquet he’d picked out earlier this morning and surprised by your text that he replied without thinking.

as he went to edit the message, your read receipt came through and he resisted the urge to cry as your typing bubble showed up.

from: y/nnie

don’t be weird...

from: y/nnie

if ur free i’m gonna come over i’m dropping something off

from: y/nnie

jeonghan said ur home

joshua’s eyes widened as he cast a glance over the ginormous mess on his desk. he’d been planning to meet you later tonight anyway, yes, but not immediately! he still had to put together the last of the origami animals and also finish off wrapping your actual gift...

but then again, if he said no, you would for sure instantly know something was up anyway, so there was absolutely no winning. not unless he became an origami monster immediately and finished your bouquet within the next five minutes.

panicked, he started to type a response:

to: y/nnie

give me like twenty min pls

ty

from: y/nnie

alr

cya

tossing his phone onto his bed, he locked into the origami flower youtube video that he was up to. he didn’t think he’d ever been so focused before, not even during his final exams, not even during his driving test, not even ever. there were high stakes at play here, and he was not about to let all his plans fall apart. in fact, he tried to convince himself, you coming over was a blessing. the thought of seeing you did put a smile on his face, as stressed as he was about the lopsided paper tulips that he was currently mass producing.

within ten minutes, he’d tucked the final ones of his origami projects between the pastel petals of the bouquet he’d picked out earlier in the morning and began to survey his next project: the actual gift.

gritting his teeth determinedly, he set to work.

*

joshua was being weird, you’d decided, as you switched off your phone with a frown. why did it feel like he was so nervous? you visited him and jeonghan’s dorm all the time, it wasn’t like an out of the blue event, right...?

the doubts continued to cloud your train of thought as you surveyed the gifts that you’d prepared. flowers, of course, for your best boy. bead sets, a new phone case, matching smiski hippers for the two of you, his favourite snacks...you’d gotten everything he’d mentioned wanting. (except for the apartment by the seaside. you weren’t financially successful enough yet for that. one day).

as far as relationships went, yours and joshua’s was relatively fresh despite having known each other ever since the first week of freshman year. you’d been together for two months give or take, just in time to settle down for a proper valentine’s day—your first with a boyfriend, and you were determined to make it the best.

you’d even purposefully visited him almost every evening so that your visit today wouldn’t seem as suspicious. you hoped he wasn’t suspicious. as you switched your phone back on and read over your chats again, you realised maybe you did come across a little nervous...drop something off? you were lucky he didn’t question it today. it was so vague, and at the same time, lowkey obvious considering the date...

you hoped he’d overlook it.

the trek to joshua and jeonghan’s apartment wasn’t far at all. in fact, he lived one building down the road, so carrying all your gift boxes wasn’t that much of a hassle. you’d made the walk so often that you knew it better than the back of your hand, so when you arrived at his door, you couldn’t help the familiar smile that curved on your lips.

“josh!” you called out alongside your knock.

you heard his faint response and then some banging around before the door finally opened.

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!”

your overlapping voices made your eyes widen in shock. when you finally registered the sight in front of you, you realised joshua was also holding an armful of gifts—a massive bouquet of origami and real flowers blended together so prettily, and another bag of pristinely wrapped presents.

he seemed equally as shocked—his hair a little unkempt but still cute, glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as he blinked at you through the doorway—at all of the stuff that you were holding out to him.

“y/n,” he managed, as you huffed a laugh of disbelief, “there’s—what—wait, i was going to surprise you.” he glanced down pointedly at all the things in his arms, and you laughed in earnest.

“you did, josh,” you said with an amused giggle, finally stepping into the apartment and letting joshua shut the door behind you, “i think we scared the shit out of each other.”

you set down the bouquet you’d brought on his dining table as he did the same to the bouquet he had prepared, before he was ushering you to sit down, a faint blush on his cheeks as he said, “i can’t believe this.”

“great minds think alike!” you exclaimed, as you noticed the little puppies he’d tucked into the flowers, “wait, josh, hold on—,” you did a double take as you looked closer at the bouquet, “did you put sonny angels in the flowers?”

he sat down beside you and rolled his eyes in an ‘obviously’ way, “they’re your favourite, aren’t they?”

“stop it,” you said in disbelief, your surprise continuing to multiply, “you’re so crazy josh. this is why i love you.”

“because of the sonny angels in the flowers?”

it was your turn to roll your eyes as you shoved him a little, “no, idiot. because we know each other too well.”

[piinkgore]

Hmm, how about your favorite overwatch characters with a tall reader?

Overwatch characters with a tall reader, featuring Ramattra, Junkrat, and Mauga

warnings: nsfw ahead! mentions and displays of size kink, dom/sub dynamics, nudity, degrading, sex, hatesex, masturbation etc etc

a/n: heyyy, anon! I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG *sniff sniff* Thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!! I will take this very opportunity to be a bit… naughty and make this hcs nsfw flavored (maybe these will be the ones making me less self conscious of my smut writing… we’re hoping so). Also!! Will write for different characters this turn, despite Ramattra ofc; he’s my soulmate, I can’t help but simp. *maybe I will do a version with Junker Queen, Ashe aaaand Ana later, rn I just wanted to give you this piece dkwajfk **reposting bc i guess my stupid try of posting during the afternoon plus being aesthetic FAILED KJDWKAF

OPEN FOR HEADCANON REQUESTS! Send yours here, but me mindful of my rules (I may write for other characters other them the listed if you ask nicely)

!! NSFW UNDER THE CUT ⚠︎ MINORS DNI

Ramattra

He was built to be tall, standing above the tropes as Anubis’ commander of a deadly army; a living weapon in all meanings. So it’s an admirable surprise to find someone who, despite not matching his fully extension, can almost face him directly  

He finds it… a bit challenging at first, also because you do challenge him with the unnerving comments you call opinions, and it’s so much worse when it ends up you were right all along

A human, who should be inferior to him not only in intellectual aspects, but in constitution as also, and it’s none of it at all? I mean, big fella is so mad at it that it’s actually a shame how much he gets turned on by all this hatred

And as despise grows inside him, burning his circuits by the memory of you alone, something else finds a room to sneak in, making these heated feelings even worse

How he would love to silence this clever tongue of yours whenever you used it against him, to have you swallow all of your words instead of him being the one to gulp his pride as trying to untangle the mess you made of him with your words only

Ramattra wants revenge on all the times you’ve made a fool of him, to let you know who is really above here; not only by the few inches that apart your heights, but to clearly state for once who’s the superior being

And when you dare to use your tongue against him again, an argument about to explode… let’s just say you both find it a better use. A much, much better one.

Now you’re the one to be taken by surprise, finding yourself fitting his length all the way down to your throat; a few gags here and there, but still your mouth circles his cock almost perfectly, as it was made for you and for you only. Well… you’re not sure about it, not even why a R-7000 of all omnics had a dick module installed nice and ready, but this was no time to ask, was it?

What you do know is how sensitive it is, for the way Ramattra flinches when your tongue touches his tip before running all the way down. You know he’s doing his best to keep his usual steadiness, stopping the grunts that are vocalized with a little static, after all, his pride was his to maintain unharmed; or as little as he could. The failing is obvious, but still it’s damn amusing to see how even under him, you got the upper hand nonetheless

That’s when he catches you grinning like a devil, your tongue swirling around and the warm wetness of your mouth driving him fucking insane; something you already did with no effort, but now… it’s divine as much as it’s wicked. A creature like you, a pathetic human with little care for danger sucking a goddamn Ravager out of his mind. Maybe he should give you more credit… Once he’s done, who knows, right now he can’t think of other thing but you, kneeling between his legs, taking him without a trouble; as you’ve desired this longer than he did

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he groans, fingers finding their way through your hair, hissing when he grabs a handful too close to the scalp, tight enough for your skin to burn in response. The reply is right there, on the tip of your tongue… but your grin just gets wider before you could come up with it. “Don’t act like you aren’t.”

Junkrat

When he looks up at you, it’s almost like you can see the stars sparkling in his eyes. Amazed is one way to describe it, but if he was the one in charge of choosing a word for this feeling it would totally be: SMASH! 

Definitely, Junkrat would love to be smashed by you. One recurrent and very dirty thought of his is to have you sitting on his face, dwarfing his frame with yours, until his moans were suffocated by your skin as he indecently runs his tongue all around your soft spots

He can’t help being a bit of a slut, actually. Always touchy and clingy, running his fingers around the lines on your palm, claiming how big your fingers are and then wondering how they would feel if you randomly smacked them right into his cheek. Oh, how sad it would be… and the great pain that would come… dude has a boner before he can think twice

A masochist and proud, thank you. To be spanked and have his pleasure denied by you? The thought of it already has him nuts! Junkrat is one who loves to be mistreated already, and by a stunning person such as yourself just makes it even better

Most of the time, you’re the one on top, and he insists it’s like this. If you’re riding him, you can totally use his neck for support, of course! Please, just do it with your big fucking hands and choke him until his face burns red. Hell, he’ll take everything with an enormous goofy smile to his lips, braincells going dead with each bounce of your hips making the pressure on his neck rougher and rougher

Pinning him against a wall is a MUST. He will blush and squirm pathetically as you lean on, barely making with a sloppy kiss before turning a mess of himself from how his whole body quivers in anticipation, a huge bulge to his pants that definitely will end up being rubbed on your thigh, perfectly fit between his legs; and even raising him a little bit

Eager to try something new, making quite a pervy genius as he comes up with toys you don’t even know that existed in shape and length, some of them his own making. Junkrat’s favorite by now is wax play, which has him trembling and almost imploding when the warm wax touches his skin, tracing patterns all along his back as he shivers and moans your name over and over. And, again, if you’re down for it he’ll beg for you to sit on top of him while you do it

Just. sit. on. him. But not on his lap, no: he wants you to be laying under you, to have his figure clouded by your shadow, at your full mercy and… yeah, also your chest is actually really really great to be seen from this angle. And your face, oh your face! It’s just one hundred times meaner when you stare at him from above, asking who’s your little slut

“IT’S ME! IT’S ME!”

Enjoys degrading much more than he should. At first you’re uneasy about saying such things, but again: Junkrat insists. He wants to hear you putting him in his place, calling him pet names that state you’re the one in control… he’s yours to be tortured until he’s crying out from pleasure. Still, he will beg for more

“A lil’ bit harder won’t hurt, y’know? Well- who am I trying to fool here? ‘Course it will hurt, bring it on!”

In the aftermath, he IS the little spoon, no point arguing. And with the height difference between you, his body fits much better in yours this way, so there isn’t a reason to complain, actually

Mauga

Dude is big already and always thought the little ones were so fun to ruin. So when you tag along with Tallon, standing a few inches under his shoulder length… a whole lot of new ideas instantly pop into his head. And boy, none of them are less than nasty

Mauga tries to corner you everytime, pinning you down a wall would be a statement, but… your faces are pretty much on the same level, so there’s no down here, and you easily brush him off around his first eleven tries. Well, plan B was to stay in front of you during missions and then ooopsieeee… falling down on top of you while so innocently trying to prevent you from being damaged. All of it for your well being, damn!

Reaper has scolded you both for it despite you having nothing to do with whatever Mauga thinks he’s doing with those stupid muscles, the obvious flirtation and that ridiculously charming smirk… oh, fuck him!

Even when you had a spare day to keep your mind cool, there he was, testing your nerves. You’re doing great on ignoring him, until the bastard shot a compliment to your body, and you did blush madly with each word he spoke evenly

“You have such beautiful long legs, y’know? Tch, you’d need a pair of big hands to smooth them right,” the most shameless smirk ever follows along, and despite you feel like smacking it out of Mauga’s face… you feel something tingling under your skin

Still, the best way to deal with a teaser is to not let them embarrass you. Direct confrontation should do, and despite your burning cheeks stating the contrary, you had the guts to stare right into his eyes and dare him to do it so, since he had hands big enough for the job

That’s how you ended up fucking. 

Before you knew it, your face was pressed against the wall, a cold contrast to Mauga’s fever pitched body behind you, pressing you further as his hand get rid of your pants, leaving the free way to skin to touch skin

Indeed, his hands were more than fitting the run along the extension of your tights, leaving nothing untouched as they reached for the inner parts, brushing against your core until you’re swallowing thick 

“Told ya’, darling. You just needed the right guy for it,” is it questionable that of all options you could have, he would be the right one? Yes. Would you contest him as his fingers teased you further? Absolutely not. You couldn’t care less for all the shit he had ever done as your underwear is pulled, thick fingers trailing their way between your folds as he already knew you for ages

All Mauga could think as he fucks you with his fingers, curling them inside and reaching for that sweet spot as his other hand muffles your fucking delicious moans, is how you’re a perfectly fit for each other. The way his body molds itself against yours, the little difference just makes it even perfect, how effortless you’ve given yourself to him… oh, he’s your soulmate, for sure

This man turns out to be absolutely obsessed with you, your body, your voice: everything. Both of his hearts are beating for you, and only you… and say toodaloo to your peace, ‘cause he won’t leave your heel any sooner 

[theconstantsidekick]

Everybody Loves A Clown

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x BestFriend!Reader

Genre: fluff covered angst

Summary: John died a week ago, and Dean's been weird. Sam's been up his ass about it but it finally comes to a head when Y/n decides to talk to him about the whole thing.

a/n: it has an open ending but i can write more if y'all eat this up

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of smoking, romanticisation of smoking, a lot of that yes, sorry. Don't smoke kids

“You were right,” Sam admits.

“About what?” Dean asks from where he stands over the Impala, wrench in hand.

“About me and Dad,” Sam answers with red eyes and a crack in his voice. “I’m sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I’m sorry that I spent most of my life angry with him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him.” He pauses. “So, you’re right. What I’m doing right now, it’s too little… It’s too late.” His lips tremble. There’s a self-deprecating smile on his lips as he continues, “I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I’m not all-right. Not at all.” There’s tears in his eyes now as he stares directly at Dean. “But neither are you. That much I know.” He waits for a second, seeing if Dean might answer, and still knowing that he won’t. “I’ll let you get back to work.” With that he walks off.

Dean doesn’t know what to… do.

He fidgets.

He paces and fidgets.

He clenches his jaw hard enough for it to hurt and then he paces and fidgets some more. 

Until his eyes fall on her.

“The fuck do you want?” He asks her.

In turn for his crude tone and cruder words, he is given half a smile. “Nothing,” she tells him.

“Then what the hell are you doin’ here?” He bites back. 

To her credit, she doesn’t flinch away at his harshness. No, she just smiles wider. 

She gets to her feet from where she was sitting on the steps of the shed behind them and walks over to Dean. She pulls something out of her pocket as she asks, “Asking, if you want a cigarette?”

The lack of pretence throws Dean off completely. “What?” is all that he can bring himself to say.

She shrugs, shaking the pack of menthols in her hands. “You want one?”

Dean, again, is met with the curiously unsolvable puzzle that is Y/N and left struck. “I didn’t know you smoked?” It’s a stupid thing to say, all things considered. But the fact that the answer is stupider consoles him some.

“I don’t!” she exclaims, a little too defensive to be God's honest truth. She pulls one cigarette out of the box. “Do you want one or not?” She throws the box at him. 

Dean catches it on reflex. 

“Fuckin’ menthols,” Dean curses looking at the box, but pulls one out for himself all the same. 

“Might make your swimmers less effective,” she says a little too easily as she lights his cigarette, “but they’re a certified cure to sadness.” She smiles, lighting her own. And standing this close, with the flame from the lighter painting her all shades of yellow, Dean has to physically pull himself away. He has to will himself to take a step back and catch his breath. He gulps and takes a drag. He is clenching his jaw again.

“You should mind what you’re sayin’ while lighting a guy’s cigarette. Talking about my ‘swimmers’ when you’re an inch away from my face?” He shakes his head. “Another guy might take it the wrong way.”

“Or the right way,” she mutters, so jumbled and wrong, Dean’s not even sure he heard it correctly.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she dismisses him off handedly, a little too easily. 

He decides to let it pass, because again, he’s not sure he heard it right. And if he did, he’s not sure he has the mental wherewithal to be able to deal with that implication. So, he lets it pass. 

Besides, she doesn’t really give him any other option. “You remember how Sam was when Jess died last year?”

“It was last fucking year, yes! ‘Course I remember it,” Dean throws back, exhaling smoke out as he speaks.

She nods, “And?”

He knows what she’s getting at. “Sam was a mess,” he answers the unasked question. “I’m not like that.”

“That’s precisely the point I’m trying to make,” she states, taking a drag. “Not the second half, the first. Sam deals with emotions very openly. He… He lets himself fall apart and crumble. That’s what he’s gonna do now. He’s gonna get sad and he’s going to try and do things that John would have wanted him to do when he was alive. He is going to feel guilty and he is going to be a mess… because he deals with death, like he deals with everything else. He’s not emotionally constipated like you are. He’s normal…” She shakes her head slowly from side to side, reconsidering her words. “Or well, as normal as anyone in this line of work can be.”

Dean takes another puff. “Well, does he have to drag me into it?”

“Yes!” She answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And it fucking isn’t. “Why?!”

“Because he isn’t used to this.”

“What? Death? We just established that—”

She shakes her head at him like he’s being difficult for the sake of it… Maybe he is, but it’s not fair for her to be able to read him that easily. She cuts him off then, with, “No. He’s not used to you being like this.” And the words hit him hard. She must see it too because then she pauses and brings the cigarette to her lips and takes a long drag. “He’s used to the flirty, cocky Dean, who’s an overall dickhead.” When she exhales the smoke, it’s thick and white. Don’t smoke, my ass, Dean thinks to himself. “He’s going to ask you if you need something. He’s going to try to make you feel better and he’s going to keep checking up on you, because he has never seen you—his big brother—bereft before.”

And fuck, if she isn’t talking complete and utter sense. 

He runs a tired hand over his face, cigarette clipped between the index and the middle finger. “And what, you have?”

He’s not very good at people assessing him and his brother emotionally so accurately, okay? He needs to retaliate.

“No,” she replies easily with a smile. “When your mom passed away you were too young, and with everything that followed, I’m not even sure you had the opportunity to deal with it. This might as well be your first time dealing with loss.”

He clicks his tongue and raises his brows briefly in semi-agreement. And having been assess accurately once again, “Well, isn’t that just fucked?”

She nods. “It is.” She brings the cigarette to her lips. “But at least you’ve got me.”

He laughs. 

It’s kind of cruel that he does and he knows it.

But he laughs, because what the fucking hell?

And again, he’s fully aware of his cruelty in this moment and ready for the repercussions. 

What he isn’t ready for is to look at her and see her wearing a smile instead of a hurt look on her face.

“You think you’re gonna save me, sweetheart?” He retorts, adding to his asshole-ry.

She shrugs. “I don’t think I’m meant to save you, Dean,” she says, all too politely while taking a puff from the cigarette. “I just meant…” she looks at him. “I know what you’re going through.”

“No, you fucking don’t.” His words are harsh and cold and painful and mean.

You’ll break her, he thinks. You’ll break her and it’ll hurt worse than anything ever could.

But she doesn’t seem to be breaking. “Your dad died ‘cause of a demon and you feel responsible for it—”

“I don’t feel responsible for it, I am responsible for it. He died to save my life. It was supposed to be me who you salt and burned, not him! It was me who was supposed to be dead, not him!” And he’ll carry that weight with him for the rest of his fucking life. “You have no fucking idea what I’m going through.”

Her eyes are locked to his as she counters without hesitation. “My brother died because of a demon and I feel responsible for it.”

Dean can do nothing but close his eyes and yell out in frustration, “It’s not the same!”

“Isn’t it?” she bites back, standing straight and unmoving in the face of Dean’s rage. She doesn’t let him answer. “It was supposed to be my job. I was supposed to be the one who got possessed by a demon and driven around like a meat-suit. I was supposed to be the one who died in a freakin’ basement like a rat. It was my job, Dean. I was the first call, the second and the third… But I just decided to ignore it. But he didn’t… ‘Cause he’s nicer than I am…” She winces, looking away. She looks hurt for the first time since they began this conversation. And it seems she’d done it to herself. Because then she corrects, “Was nicer…” She takes another drag from her cigarette. “So, fuck you. But I know what you’re going through.”

He bites his lips.

Then he lets his head fall.

Because as much as he’d like to fight her on this, he can’t. 

She’s right… as usual.

He doesn’t know what to say to any of that so he stays quiet. Moreover, he thinks he’s kinda supposed to. Because she doesn’t swear often, even less so at him. So yeah, zipping it might be the right call here.

She takes charge then, as he begins pacing and smoking once more. “This might be your first go around at grief. Sam’s second. But, for once, I’m the season player.” 

When he turns to look at her, she’s smiling.

“Does that mean you’re gonna keep fucking smiling at me like that?” He retaliates, again. He’s already told you the logic behind that one.

“Sorry,” she holds up her hands in surrender. “I don’t mean to. I’m not smiling at you—not really.” She smiles again. “It’s just… It’s just that look on your face. I’ve seen it before.”

“I thought we just established you’ve never seen me like this before?”

“No, not on you,” she clarifies.

“Then?”

“In the mirror,” she tells him honestly. “Every morning for the last three years.”

Fuck him. Fuck this. And fuck everything.

A part of him, a selfless and kind part of him wishes she didn’t get him, wishes she’d rather be hurt at his words than look at him with so much understanding.

But another part of him, the selfish and unkind part of him, is comforted by the fact that at least someone does, in fact, get him. Even more so, he’s comforted by the fact that it’s her.

“So, take it from someone with experience,” she begins then, breaking him out of his mind numbing miserable thoughts. “You’re gonna wanna explode. You’re gonna wanna break something.”

“You got a cure for that, oh experienced one?”

She smiles again. “Yeah, break it.”

“What??”

She shrugs all too easily, taking another drag. “If you can find something you can break, that won’t hurt anyone, that you could ideally fix, then yeah! Break it.”

He stops pacing to look at her and cocks her head. “Will it make me feel better?” He is genuinely curious.

She outright laughs at him then, “No!” She brings her foot up and butt the cigarette on the back of her boot, sending embers falling to the ground like fireworks. “Nothing ever will…” She looks back at him, still smiling, “But it'll help.”

Dean sighs. 

He nods.

And then he throws the cigarette to the ground, steps on it and then walks over to the side. He picks up a crowbar, and then he walks back to the Impala. He grips the crowbar tighter and then he smashes the window. 

Then he starts slamming it into the trunk, over and over and over and over again. It clatters to the ground. 

He keeps at it till there’s a hole in the metal near as big as the one in his heart. 

And when he’s done, he lets the crowbar fall to the ground and pulls the packet of smokes out of his pocket. He grabs a cigarette and places it right between his lips. When he looks up, she’s close to him again, lighter in hand.

She looks at him and he looks at her.

Then she lights his cigarette. “How’d it feel?”

“It didn’t make me feel any better,” he replies, handing her the packet back to her when she smiles at him. “But it helped.”

She nods, and takes the entire packet to her lips, with her teeth she pulls one cigarette out and then lights it, pocketing the packet and lighter in one go. “Look, I know you… You don’t know how to deal with this, and as much as I want to, I can’t really help you with it either but unlike me, Sam’s not gonna get it.”

“I know,” he tells her. Because he knows that his brother means well, but he has a tendency of being too in your face about it. 

She hums in agreement, as if hearing her thoughts. And fuck, if he’s to go by her track record, maybe she can. “You’re gonna wanna get mad, go crazy and lash out. So… I’m suggesting that you do that with me, instead of him.” Her eyes are too fucking kind as she adds, “If you want to get mad, go crazy and lash out—lash out at me, get mad at me.”

Dean can’t fucking breathe.

“Why?” he asks.

“‘Cause he’s grieving too.”

“That the only reason?” he asks, hoping for… well, you know what he’s hoping for. You’re his inner monologue.

She tilts her head with a sweet smile. “You gotta mind what you’re saying, Winchester. Being emotionally vulnerable when you’re an inch away from my face? Another woman might take it the wrong way.”

He can’t help himself.

He snorts.

“Or the right way,” he says then with a smile of his own. 

And fuck it all, her face turns red at the realisation that he’d heard her. 

He loves it so fucking much that he’s not even bummed about her taking a step away from him.

“Asshole,” she curses him, but her heart’s not in it.

“I’ve got one condition though,” he says and watches confusion break onto her face. “For lashing out at you instead of Sam.”

She shakes her head fondly, at his wording. “What is it?”

“You promise to do the same.” It’s the kindest thing he can offer her. His misery, in exchange for hers.

She chuckles at that. Morbid as it may be, their sense of humor was always on par with each other. “Sure,” she says. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

He raises his hand, cigarette still wedged between his fingers, “Shake on it?”

Apparently, that’s the wrong thing to say ‘cause then she makes a disgusted face like the hand he’s offered is covered in snot. 

Slapping it away, she throws the smoke in her hands away and she steps closer. And then hugs him. 

The action catches Dean off-guard. 

It takes a second for his brain and his heart to have a meeting and catch up with each other. And then finally his brain sends the signal out for his to hands drop the cigarette and wrap around her. 

Probably encouraged by him hugging her back, her grip on him tightens. And fuck if that doesn’t thaw Dean’s cold, broken, blackened heart. He happily does the same, snuggling his face into her neck and breathing her in.

They stay like that for a bit, until Dean realises she’s waiting on him, letting him have his fill.

Reluctantly, eventually, Dean lets her go. 

When he does, if she can spot his misty eyes, she doesn’t mention it. 

Instead she says, “Now, hand me the crowbar.”

“Huh?”

“What, you think I don’t wanna break shit?”

[baigepueckers]

Caitlin Clark X Reader

Love on the Back Nine

You’re sitting at the kitchen table with your phone buzzing in your hand as you scroll through your messages. You’d made plans earlier to hit the mall with a friend but they just canceled at the last minute, leaving you with an empty afternoon. You sigh already silently debating whether to just stay in or come up with something else to do.

Cait has been pacing around the living room, messing with her golf gear when she catches your sigh. She looks over her eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb just went off in her head.

“Plans fall through?” she asks walking over and leaning on the back of the chair across from you.

“Yeah” you reply, setting your phone down. “Guess I’m stuck here now.”

“Stuck here?” Caitlin grins like she’s been waiting for this opening. “Or… you could come golfing with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not this again.”

“Come on” she says circling the table to stand beside you. “It’s perfect! You’ve got nothing else to do, and I’ve got a tee time. Plus I need a partner.”

You arch a brow at her. “Partner? Or someone to show off for?”

“Baby, I would never show off.” she says, though the twinkle in her eyes suggests otherwise. She leans down..her face close to yours. “I’ll be your personal coach. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. It’ll be fun, just you and me.”

You snort. “You’re gonna be my personal golfer girl?...”

“Yep, that’s what I’m here for!” she says, straightening up. “I’ll start you off slow. Show you how to hold the club, line up your shots by the end of the day, you’ll be killing it.”

You tilt your head, amused. “And if I’m awful?”

She places a hand over her heart, her voice turning sweet. “Then I’ll still love you, even if you’re the worst golfer in history.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “I don’t know…”

“Please, baby?” Caitlin moves behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her chin on top of your head. “It’ll be a cute little date. Just us, cruising around in a golf cart soaking up the sun. I’ll even let you pick the music for the ride.”

You glance up at her. “The entire playlist?”

She grimaces but nods. “Even your cringy guilty pleasure songs.”

You bite your lip pretending to reconsider. “Tempting...”

“Fine…what if I throw in ice cream after?” she adds, giving you her best puppy dog eyes. “I’ll even let you pick the place.”

You laugh finally giving in. “Okay baby, but I call driving the golf cart!”

Caitlin beams, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling you up from your chair. “Whatever… you’re gonna love it, I promise.”

The drive to the course is filled with Caitlin’s nonstop chatter. She’s clearly hyped, between explaining the different clubs and teasing you about being a great coach. “I bet you’ll nail at least one shot today” she says with a wink. “And when you do, I’ll totally take credit for it.”

You shake your head and laugh. “Sure, Coach Clark.”

When you arrive Cait wastes no time, guiding you through the basics. She hands you a club and positions herself behind you, her hands gently adjusting your grip. “Okay babe, so just relax” she says, her voice low and soothing. “Keep your eye on the ball, and follow through like this.”

You nod letting her guide you for the first few swings. The shots are decent, but nothing impressive. Caitlin cheers you on regardless, offering tips and encouragement with every swing. You can tell she’s enjoying herself, and honestly you’re having fun with her. But then it’s your turn to take a real shot.

You step up lining up your stance and gripping the club just right. You take a deep breath, then swing with confidence. The ball soars through the air landing cleanly on the green.

Caitlin’s jaw drops. “Wait, what?”

You suppress a grin as she rushes over to you. “That was perfect!” she says, wide eyed. “Do it again.”

You shrug pretending it was a fluke, but your next shot is just as good. Caitlin stares at you, clearly in disbelief. “Okay seriously babe….where did this come from?”

You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment before dropping the bomb. “Well… my ex taught me...”

Caitlin freezes her expression shifting from shock to a mix of disgust and mild jealousy. “Your ex?”

You nod, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, they made me go to the driving range almost every other weekend.”

She groans dramatically throwing her head back. “Ew, Y/N! Why would you tell me that?”

“You asked!” you say laughing at her reaction.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect that answer,” she grumbles crossing her arms. “Now I’m picturing some loser trying to impress you on the course. Gross.”

You grin stepping closer. “Jealous?”

“No” she says quickly, though the slight flush in her cheeks tells a different story. “I just think it’s weird that anyone else ever got to teach you anything. That’s my job.”

You wrap your arms around her waist pulling her close. “Well baby, for what it’s worth…I like being out here with you way more.”

She softens, her pout fading into a smile. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now and for the record, I’m way cooler than your ex.”

“Oh, way cooler,” you agree leaning in to kiss her.

For the rest of the game Cait makes it her mission to outdo you…though she can’t help but laugh whenever you land another perfect shot. By the end of the day she’s both impressed and annoyed.

“You totally hustled me, darlin..” she says as you load the clubs back into the car.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you sweat a little” you tease grinning.

She wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walk. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You lean into her smiling. “And you’re lucky I love you, even when you’re a sore loser.”

She laughs squeezing you tighter against. “Next time I’m bringing my A-game so you better be ready.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Dorito my beloved, would u ever consider writing a Jason x reader blurb where reader has a bad day and in an attempt to cheer them up he either brings home their fav ice cream or frozen treat or takes them out to somewhere like cold stone creamery for ice cream, and then after a successful cheering up reader kisses him on the cheek and then he tells because COLD… it feels weird to send an ask I’ve never done it before so sorry if it comes off weird? Anyways I love your writing and I’m always pleased to see u pop up on my feed :)!

Oh what I wouldn’t give to have this man comfort me on the shitty days.

Jason knew that as of recent there was storm cloud hanging over you. You looked as horrible and you felt horrible and given how little you talked about it, the distant look in your eyes or how all you wanted to do was retreat to your room and go to sleep said it all for him. He understood that not everyday was going to be a good one but recently it seemed as though you had more of a shitty week then anything else, and you just didn’t want him to know about it, but unfortunately for you Jason was far more observant when it comes to you than most give him credit for.

And he knew just what might help ease that feeling of nothingness, of the numbness and perpetual exhaustion that riddled you right now.

‘Sweetheart?’ Jason popped his head through the doorway, spotting your unmoving form on your shared bed, taking this as his cue as he entered the bedroom to sit on the bed as close to you to you as he could. ‘I got you a little something that I know might cheer you up, even it’s a little bit.’

‘What?’ Your say shortly, already feeling as though saying any more would only drain you even further then you already were to begin with.

‘Ice cream.’ Jason replied as he sets aside quite a decent sized tub of honeycomb ice cream on the bedside table before moving to make himself comfortable in bed next to you, making sure to keep some distance between the two of you unless you asked for him to close the distance. You managed to muster out a weak ‘thank you’ to Jason as you sat yourself up against the headboard of the bed, reaching out to grab the tub of ice cream to your lap, not noticing that Jason had a tub of ice cream himself until you looked over at him shovelling spoonfuls into his mouth; which made his cheeks puff out much like that of a chipmunk.

Jason tended to be somewhat of a messy eater and it lead to quite humorous situations where you were left wiping sauce from his lips, crumbs from his cheeks and left over ice cream that had somehow missed his mouth. You might not have been feeling all that great of a week but you knew you could always count on Jason to remember things you’ve said in passing, and use it to his advantage to make you feel better despite whether or not he himself wasn’t feeling too up to it; it was something about him that you loved deeply and couldn’t help but admire.

Your sour moods, depressive states and moments of sadness never lasted long when you were with Jason as he always brought a sense of comfort, a sense of understanding when he coddled you against his chest while whispering sweet nothings against your forehead. He was your comfort, your strength and your guiding light all in one and you would forever be grateful for everything he’s ever done for you, even if you didn’t have the strength to do so but you’d always make up for it by letting him know that his hard work payed off by one simple act; smiling.

So as you continued to watch Jason inhale half of his ice cream, not waiting long enough to finish swallowing before shovelling in more of the cold sweet treat, and in a way that you worried that he would give himself major brain freeze. However you were more focused on just hoe full his cheeks were getting and the mess he was leaving all across his face, some part off you felt as though this was all an intentional shoe just to make you feel better, but another part of you appreciated that Jason was more then willing to look a little goofy and be a little silly if it meant making you forget everything that has left you wanting to wallow in eternal isolation.

You could feel the weight lift from your chest and the fog clear form your head slowly as you started to smile, only to let out a soft chuckle which caught on Jason’s ear as he stopped his shovelling to look at you with soft, attentive eyes. ‘What is it? Is there something on my face?’ He asked through a mouthful of ice cream as he began to touch his face with his hand, something that only proved in smearing ice cream further across his cheeks, which only added to the humour of it all as your cheeks were more or less hurting from how large your smile had become.

‘Yes, a lot of it if you don’t stop doing that!’ You replied as you reached over to swat away his hand in order to wipe the ice cream that had started to dry on his cheeks even, only pulling away when you were satisfied with your work. ‘There, that’s better you don’t look like a messy chipmunk now, just a full one.’ You teased as you kissed that very same cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your chilled lips from the ice cream as you smiled before pulling away, not forgetting the beautiful way his breath hitched the moment your lips met his warm skin. ‘Thank you.’

‘Whatever for gorgeous?’ Jason asks as he looked at you adoringly, happy to see you be at least somewhat better now. In truth his cheeks were starting to hurt from how much melting ice cream he was stuffing in them full, not that he’d ever tell you that as all he wanted was to offer you some light in your darkest times, much like how you did for him when he was in the same predicament you’re in now.

‘For being you, for making me feel better, for being here with me and most importantly being my anything and everything.’ You say to him as you set aside your now empty tub of ice cream to cuddle into his side, resting your head against his chest with his arms moving to keep you tethered to him, though not that you were complaining as you felt his lips cascade gently semi-chilled kisses across your face, forehead and nose.

‘You don’t ever have to thank me for anything darling.’ Jason whispered to you as he noses the side of your head, kissing it. ‘I’m just come here with one thing in mind and one thing only, to make my sweetheart smile again like they should be always.’ He adds as he hold you tighter against him, smiling to himself in victory that he had helped ease the conflict within your mind, even for a little while but Jason was more then willing to keep up the fight until you get better again to stand up on your own.

[okasuka]

Conner kent x batfam!reader - patrol partners.

ps. sorry about the random part labeling part i messed it up and couldn’t fully get rid of it……..

Behind her, the sound of a boot scuffing against the rooftop grated on her nerves.

“You always this dramatic, or is this just for show?” Conner Kent’s smug voice broke the silence.

Y/N didn’t bother to turn around. “Some of us actually focus on the mission,” she said coolly.

Conner leaned casually against the antenna at the center of the rooftop, his leather jacket slung open over his S-shield shirt, the red and black colors popping against the dark backdrop of the city. The sunglasses perched on his nose, even at night, gave him the infuriating aura of someone who didn’t take anything seriously.

“Relax, Bat-lite,” he said with a lazy grin. “Clark’s golden boy is here to save the day. No need to brood yourself into an early grave.”

Her jaw tightened. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Bat-lite? Fine. Broody McPunch-a-Lot, then?”

Y/N finally turned to glare at him. “You’re not funny.”

“Debatable,” he replied, tilting his sunglasses down to meet her eyes. “But we’re partners tonight, so maybe try to enjoy my company for once. I’m a delight.”

She snorted softly, turning back to the streets. “Bruce thinks I can learn to ‘lighten up’ from you. That’s laughable.”

“Guessing that means you’re here to teach me how to scowl harder?”

“Something like that.”

The radio crackled in their earpieces before Conner could fire back. Clark’s calm voice came through.

“Y/N, Conner. Report of a break-in on Fifth and Pine. Two suspects. Armed. Proceed with caution.”

“On it,” Y/N said crisply, already stepping off the ledge and firing a grappling hook toward the neighboring building. She moved with practiced ease, her cape trailing behind her like a shadow.

“Wait up!” Conner called, hovering briefly before zipping after her. He caught up quickly, his flight speed more than compensating for her head start.

“Show-off,” she muttered as he floated beside her mid-swing.

“Just keeping up,” he said with a cocky smirk.

They landed on the roof of a pawn shop overlooking the intersection. Below, two masked figures were shoving what looked like jewelry and cash into a duffel bag.

“Stay here,” Y/N whispered, already angling for the fire escape.

Conner raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”

“This requires stealth. Something you know nothing about,” she snapped.

“Hey, I can be stealthy,” he insisted, crossing his arms.

She shot him a pointed look. “You’re wearing a bright red ‘S’ on your chest and sunglasses at night.”

“Touché.”

Ignoring him, Y/N crept silently down the fire escape, her footsteps light and calculated. Conner, to his credit, stayed behind—though he leaned casually over the edge of the roof, watching her with obvious amusement.

One of the suspects turned just as Y/N landed softly behind them. Before he could react, she delivered a swift kick to his knee, sending him crashing to the ground. His partner spun around, pulling a gun from his waistband—only to have it yanked out of his hands by an unseen force.

“Uh-uh,” Conner said from above, the gun floating into his hand. He crushed it effortlessly, his grin widening. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

The second suspect tried to run, but Y/N cut him off, twisting his arm behind his back and forcing him to the ground.

“You’re welcome,” Conner said as he floated down to her level.

“I had it under control,” she replied, her voice icy.

“Sure you did,” he said, tossing the remains of the gun to the side. “I’m just here to make your life easier.”

Part 2

Y/N didn’t bother responding. She zip-tied the second suspect’s wrists with practiced precision before standing and looking up at Conner. He stood there like a statue, hands on his hips and that smug smirk plastered across his face.

“You’re in my way,” she said, stepping past him to retrieve the duffel bag.

Conner didn’t move. “I think you mean, ‘Thanks, Conner, for being awesome and saving my life.’”

She froze mid-step, her head turning slowly toward him. “I didn’t need saving.”

He gave a low whistle, holding his hands up. “Wow, you’re fun. You always this warm, or do I bring it out in you?”

“Are you always this insufferable, or is tonight special?” she shot back, hoisting the duffel over her shoulder.

“Depends on who you ask,” he replied with a wink, trailing after her as she moved toward the street.

By the time the cops arrived to take the suspects into custody, Y/N was already giving a report to Clark over comms. Conner leaned casually against a lamppost nearby, occasionally tossing glances her way as she talked.

“She’s a bundle of sunshine, isn’t she?” he muttered to himself.

“I heard that,” Y/N said without looking up.

Conner chuckled, pushing off the lamppost and stepping closer. “So, what’s next, boss? Or do you need a break to recharge all that brooding energy?”

Her hands clenched into fists, but she forced herself to stay calm. “There’s another report on Tenth and Broadway. If you’re done standing around, maybe you can actually do something useful.”

“Lead the way,” he said with a sweeping gesture, sunglasses flashing under the streetlights.

They moved in silence this time, Y/N swinging between buildings with her grappling hook while Conner soared above her like an overconfident hawk. Every so often, she’d catch him glancing at her from the corner of her eye, and it only irritated her more.

When they reached the next scene—a group of gang members looting a storefront—Y/N landed on the roof first, crouching low as she surveyed the area.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Here’s the plan—”

“No need for a plan,” Conner interrupted, cracking his knuckles. “I’ve got this.”

“Wait—” she started, but it was too late.

Conner shot toward the gang like a bullet, landing right in the middle of them with a loud thud. Glass crunched under his boots as he straightened up, grinning.

“Hey, guys,” he said, his tone casual. “Mind putting that stuff back?”

The gang members froze for a moment, their eyes widening at the sight of him. Then, as if on cue, one of them pulled a knife and lunged.

Conner didn’t even flinch. The blade snapped against his chest, and he raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Before the guy could react, Conner grabbed him by the back of his jacket and tossed him into a dumpster a few feet away.

The rest of the gang scattered, but Y/N was already in motion, intercepting two of them before they could escape. She took them down with a series of swift, calculated strikes, her movements efficient and precise.

By the time she was done, Conner had rounded up the rest, piling them together like a heap of laundry.

“You’re welcome,” he said again, brushing his hands off as he floated back toward her.

Y/N’s glare could’ve melted steel. “You didn’t follow the plan.”

“What plan?” he said, genuinely confused. “Your plan was probably ‘brood and punch,’ anyway.”

Her jaw tightened. “You’re reckless. You could’ve gotten someone hurt.”

“Relax,” he said, holding his hands up. “They’re fine. You’re fine. Everyone’s fine.”

“That’s not the point,” she snapped, stepping closer. “If you keep rushing in without thinking, someone will get hurt. And I won’t let that happen on my watch.”

Conner stared at her for a moment, his cocky grin fading slightly. “Wow,” he said softly. “You’re serious about this, huh?”

She crossed her arms. “Unlike you, I take this job seriously.”

“Hey,” he said, frowning. “I take it seriously too. I just don’t let it turn me into… you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’re so focused on the mission, you forget there’s more to life than crime-fighting. You ever hear of fun?”

She turned away, shaking her head. “This isn’t about fun. It’s about doing what needs to be done.”

“Spoken like a true Bat,” Conner muttered under his breath.

Y/N ignored him, her attention already back on her comms as she reported the situation. But his words lingered in her mind longer than she cared to admit.

Part 3

The night stretched on, with crime reports coming in one after another. As the duo tackled each incident, the tension between them grew. Y/N’s sharp commands and meticulous strategies clashed with Conner’s impulsive, devil-may-care approach at every turn.

At a small electronics store on Twelfth Street, Y/N disarmed a group of tech thieves with precision, while Conner smashed through the back wall to corner their getaway vehicle. The crash startled the remaining culprits, giving Y/N the upper hand but drawing her ire.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she snapped as the last thief was cuffed.

“I call it improvisation,” Conner replied, dusting brick fragments off his jacket.

“I call it reckless,” she shot back.

“Recklessly awesome, maybe,” he said with a grin.

By the time they reached their final stop—a warehouse filled with suspected smuggled weapons—Y/N’s patience was threadbare. She crouched on a high beam inside, mapping out their approach as Conner hovered beside her, arms crossed.

“This one’s serious,” she whispered. “We go in quietly, disable the security systems, and—”

“Or,” Conner interrupted, “I can just smash the guns and call it a night.”

Her glare could’ve pierced his invulnerability. “This isn’t a joke. If these are high-tech weapons, one wrong move could trigger an explosion.”

“Got it,” he said with mock seriousness. “No smashing. Light tapping only.”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p.” “Pretty sure it’s part of my charm.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. “Why me, Bruce? Why me?”

“What was that?” Conner asked, leaning closer with a teasing smile.

“Nothing,” she hissed, dropping silently to the ground below.

Conner followed, his boots hitting the floor with significantly less stealth. Y/N winced at the sound but pressed on, her focus sharp.

Inside, they found rows of crates stacked high, each marked with the logo of a prominent defense contractor. Y/N pulled out a small device to scan for hidden traps while Conner wandered over to one of the crates, giving it a curious knock.

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly.

“Checking for bad guys,” he whispered back, tapping his ear. “Super-hearing, remember?”

“Could you at least pretend to take this seriously?”

“I am serious,” he said, straightening up. “There’s no one here except us.”

Before she could reply, the lights suddenly flickered on, and the sound of guns cocking filled the room. Y/N spun around to see a dozen armed men stepping out from the shadows, their weapons trained on her and Conner.

“Nice going,” she muttered.

“Hey,” he said, holding his hands up as if surrendering. “At least we don’t have to look for them now.”

Y/N glared at him before turning her attention back to the gunmen. “I’ll take the left,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Cool. I’ll take the other eleven,” Conner said with a smirk, cracking his knuckles.

Before she could stop him, he was already moving. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off his chest as he plowed through the gunmen, disarming them with almost comical ease. Meanwhile, Y/N darted between crates, using shadows and cover to take out her targets one by one.

As the last man hit the ground, Conner dusted his hands off and turned to Y/N. “And that’s how you clear a room.”

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, scanning the crates for any signs of a self-destruct mechanism.

“And you’re welcome,” he replied, leaning casually against a crate. “You know, if you’d just let yourself have a little fun, you might not hate me so much.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said without looking up.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

She sighed, closing the scanner. “You’re just… distracting.”

He grinned. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night.”

Y/N shook her head, already heading for the exit. “Let’s just finish this and go home.”

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Conner fell into step beside her, his sunglasses tilted back onto his forehead.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “we actually make a pretty good team.”

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Don’t push it.”

He chuckled, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Whatever you say, Bat-lite.”

“Conner,” she warned.

“Fine, fine. Y/N,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But admit it—you had some fun tonight.”

She didn’t answer, her gaze fixed ahead. But for the first time all night, the corners of her mouth twitched—just barely—into something resembling a smile.

Part 4

The ride back to the Watchtower was quiet—at least for a moment. Y/N sat rigid in the passenger seat of the sleek transport pod, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the distant stars through the window. Conner sat beside her, tapping his fingers on the console with a rhythm she suspected was deliberately designed to annoy her.

“Can you stop?” she snapped, glaring at him.

“Stop what?” he asked, clearly feigning innocence.

“That,” she said, gesturing to his tapping hand.

He grinned. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize my natural charisma was so distracting.”

She let out a slow, measured breath and turned away. “I’m trying to debrief in my head. You should try it sometime.”

“Why bother?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “We stopped a bunch of crimes, caught the bad guys, and no one got hurt. That’s a win in my book.”

“You’re so cavalier about everything,” she muttered.

“And you’re so intense about everything,” he shot back, his grin softening into something more sincere. “It’s okay to ease up, you know. You’re allowed to breathe.”

Y/N didn’t reply. Her mind was already cycling through every moment of the night, analyzing what could have gone better, what she could have done differently.

Conner watched her for a moment, his usual cockiness giving way to a flicker of curiosity. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” she asked without looking at him.

“Beat yourself up over stuff that went fine,” he said, his voice less teasing and more genuine.

“Because it’s my job to make sure it always goes fine,” she replied. “If I don’t analyze every detail, someone could get hurt next time.”

“You know you can’t control everything, right?” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You’re good—great, even—but you’re not perfect. None of us are.”

She stiffened at his words, her jaw tightening. “I don’t have the luxury of failure.”

Conner raised an eyebrow. “And who put that kind of pressure on you? Bruce?”

She didn’t answer, but her silence spoke volumes.

“Figures,” he muttered. “Look, I get it. I do. Clark can be a bit of a perfectionist, too, but he doesn’t expect me to kill myself trying to live up to some impossible standard.”

“That’s because you don’t take it seriously,” she said, turning to face him fully for the first time.

“That’s not true,” he said, his tone sharper now. “I care just as much as you do. I just don’t let it crush me.”

“Maybe you should,” she shot back. “Maybe then you’d understand what’s at stake.”

He leaned closer, his blue eyes meeting hers with unexpected intensity. “And maybe you should realize that you’re allowed to be human, Y/N. You’re not some machine built to fix the world all by yourself.”

Her breath caught for a moment, his words hitting closer to home than she wanted to admit.

Before she could respond, the pod docked at the Watchtower, and the hatch hissed open. Y/N was the first to step out, her boots echoing against the metallic floor as she headed for the debriefing room.

Conner followed a few steps behind, watching her with a mix of admiration and exasperation. “You’re a tough nut to crack, you know that?”

“I don’t need cracking,” she replied curtly, not breaking stride.

“Right,” he said, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Because you’ve got it all figured out.”

Part 5

She paused at the door to the debriefing room and glanced back at him, her expression unreadable. “You don’t know anything about me, Conner.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Maybe not. But I know what it’s like to feel like the weight of the world’s on your shoulders.”

She hesitated, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. Before she could respond, the door slid open, and the familiar figures of Bruce and Clark stood waiting inside.

“Report,” Bruce said, his voice low and firm.

Y/N straightened immediately, slipping into the role of soldier. “We stopped multiple crimes across Metropolis, dismantled a weapons-smuggling operation, and secured all suspects without casualties.”

“Efficient,” Bruce said with a curt nod. “Any challenges?”

“No,” she replied quickly, though her jaw tightened.

Conner tilted his head, his sunglasses now hanging from his jacket collar. “Well, unless you count her trying to control everything and me saving the day when she overthought it.”

Y/N’s glare shot to him instantly. “That’s not what happened.”

“Pretty sure it is,” Conner said, leaning against the wall with a smirk.

Bruce’s sharp gaze darted between them. “Is there a problem I need to be aware of?”

“No,” Y/N said firmly.

“Not unless you consider her being allergic to fun a problem,” Conner quipped.

“Conner,” Clark said, his tone a mix of warning and exasperation.

Y/N folded her arms, her glare locked on Conner. “Maybe if he took anything seriously, we’d actually be a functional team.”

“We stopped every bad guy we ran into,” Conner countered, his smirk fading slightly. “Sounds functional to me.”

Bruce stepped forward, his imposing presence silencing both of them. “The point of pairing you was to address these exact flaws. Y/N, your tendency to overanalyze can lead to delays in decision-making. Conner’s impulsiveness creates unnecessary risks. You’re supposed to balance each other.”

“Great. Mission accomplished,” Conner said, raising his hands in mock celebration. “We survived without killing each other.”

“For now,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Clark stepped in, his voice gentler. “What Bruce is saying is that you both have something to learn from this partnership. Y/N, Conner’s right that not every situation can be controlled. And, Conner, Y/N’s discipline and planning are qualities you could stand to adopt.”

Conner crossed his arms, glancing at Y/N. “Fine. I’ll try to plan a little more.”

Y/N sighed. “And I’ll… try to adapt on the fly.”

“Good,” Bruce said, his tone final. “Because you’re not done yet.”

Y/N blinked. “We’re not?”

“You’re being assigned another week of joint patrols,” Clark said, though his smile was more apologetic.

“A week?” she repeated, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Conner said with a grin, nudging her shoulder. “You’ll get to spend more quality time with me.”

Y/N stared at him, her expression a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “I’d rather patrol Gotham during a Joker breakout.”

“Ouch,” Conner said, clutching his chest dramatically. “That hurt, Bat-lite. Really.”

Bruce and Clark exchanged a glance, the smallest flicker of amusement passing between them.

“Dismissed,” Bruce said, turning back to the console.

Y/N turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, her cape billowing behind her. Conner followed a moment later, still grinning.

“So,” he said as they walked down the corridor, “what’s the plan for tomorrow, partner?”

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered.

“You’re gonna miss me when this week’s over,” he teased.

“Doubtful,” she shot back.

As they reached the elevator, Conner pressed the button and leaned casually against the wall. “You know, I think this could be good for us.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“Because by the end of this, I’ll teach you how to have fun, and you’ll teach me how to stop annoying you.”

Part 6

“That’s impossible,” she said, stepping into the elevator and crossing her arms.

“Nothing’s impossible,” Conner replied, following her inside. “You’re stuck with me for a week. Plenty of time for miracles.”

The doors slid shut, and the elevator hummed softly as it began its ascent. Y/N fixed her gaze on the glowing floor numbers, pretending not to notice Conner’s lopsided grin as he leaned casually against the wall.

“Do you always have to talk?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s one of my best qualities,” he said.

“Debatable.”

He chuckled, watching her out of the corner of his eye. “You know, I’ve never met anyone who can brood as much as Bruce. Congrats on being his heir apparent.”

She shot him a sharp look. “And I’ve never met anyone who can be this obnoxious without even trying.”

“See?” he said, pointing at her. “That was almost a joke. You’re learning.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to reveal the living quarters. Y/N stepped out first, eager to escape the conversation.

“Where are you going?” Conner called after her.

“To my room,” she said without turning around.

“Cool, I’ll walk you there,” he said, falling into step beside her.

She stopped abruptly, fixing him with a glare. “Why?”

“Because I’m a gentleman,” he said, flashing his signature grin.

“More like a menace,” she muttered, continuing down the corridor.

They reached her door, and she placed her hand on the biometric scanner. The panel beeped, and the door slid open.

“Goodnight, Conner,” she said firmly, stepping inside and starting to close the door.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he replied, his grin widening.

Before she could retort, the door slid shut, leaving her alone in the quiet of her quarters. She let out a long breath, running a hand through her hair as she moved to her desk.

Sitting down, she opened her laptop and began reviewing the night’s patrol log. But her focus kept slipping, her mind wandering back to Conner’s words.

“Maybe you should realize that you’re allowed to be human.”

She shook her head, closing the laptop with more force than necessary. “He doesn’t get it,” she muttered to herself.

But deep down, a small, annoying voice whispered that maybe—just maybe—he did.

The next night came all too quickly.

Y/N stood on the roof of a high-rise building in Gotham, the cool wind tugging at her cape. Conner hovered a few feet away, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he surveyed the city below.

“Gotham, huh?” he said, breaking the silence. “Didn’t think you’d want me here.”

“I don’t,” she replied flatly.

“Then why bring me along?”

“Because Bruce assigned us to work together,” she said, adjusting her gauntlet. “And unlike you, I follow orders.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug.

She glanced at him, surprised by his lack of a snarky comeback. “What? No witty retort?”

“Not in the mood,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

She frowned, studying him for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, but the tension in his jaw said otherwise.

“Conner,” she said, her voice softening just slightly. “What is it?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “It’s just… this place. It’s heavier than Metropolis, you know? Like the city’s carrying all this darkness, and it’s seeping into everyone who lives here.”

“That’s Gotham,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze distant. “Guess I’m just not used to it.”

She studied him for a moment, her gaze softened.

Later that night, Y/N sat at her desk in her sleeping quarters, her room dimly lit by the soft glow of the desk lamp. She’d intended to review the patrol routes for tomorrow, but her mind refused to focus. Instead, her pen moved aimlessly across the edge of a scrap of paper, creating a swirling pattern of lines and shapes.

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. It was late, but sleep felt impossible. The events of the day replayed in her mind—Conner’s comments, his sudden seriousness in Gotham, and the way he managed to both infuriate and intrigue her in equal measure.

A faint noise broke her thoughts—a barely perceptible shift in the air behind her.

Her instincts kicked in immediately. She dropped the pen and spun out of the chair in one fluid motion, grabbing the intruder’s arm and twisting it behind their back. Using her weight for leverage, she slammed them against the wall.

“Who are you, and what do you—” she stopped mid-sentence as her eyes landed on the grinning face of Conner Kent.

“Hey,” he said casually, despite being pinned. “Nice reflexes.”

She released him instantly, stepping back with a scowl. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Relax,” he said, straightening his jacket. “I knocked. You didn’t answer.”

“That doesn’t mean you can break in!” she snapped.

He held up his hands. “Technically, I didn’t break anything. Your door doesn’t exactly stop someone with super strength.”

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “Why are you here?”

“I was bored,” he said simply, leaning casually against the wall as if this were perfectly normal.

“So you decided to sneak up on me in the middle of the night?”

“Well,” he said, tilting his head, “I wasn’t sneaking. I just didn’t want to startle you.”

“You failed,” she said dryly, sitting back down at her desk and picking up her pen again.

He stepped closer, peering at the paper. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” she said, quickly turning it over.

“Looked like doodles,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“It’s nothing,” she repeated firmly.

“Come on, let me see,” he said, reaching for the paper.

She swatted his hand away. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Not really,” he said, pulling up the spare chair and plopping into it.

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” he said with a grin, leaning back in the chair. “So, what’s keeping you up?”

“Work,” she said curtly, gesturing vaguely to her desk.

“Liar,” he said, his grin softening. “You’re doodling. That’s not work.”

She shot him a look but didn’t argue.

“See?” he said, sitting forward. “Even you need a break sometimes.”

“This isn’t a break,” she said defensively. “It’s just… something to clear my head.”

“Exactly,” he said, leaning on the desk. “So why not do more of that instead of stressing yourself out all the time?”

She stared at him, caught off guard by the earnestness in his voice. “Why do you care?”

He shrugged, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by something softer. “Because I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve got to prove something all the time. And trust me, it sucks.”

For a moment, she didn’t reply, the weight of his words settling over the room.

Finally, she sighed, picking up the pen again. “You’re not as dumb as you look, you know that?”

“Thanks,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She shook her head, but this time, there was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the tension between them easing just a little. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn’t feel entirely alone.

part 7

The next morning, Y/N woke up early, as always. The Watchtower was quiet at this hour, and she relished the stillness. After a quick routine workout, she returned to her quarters, showered, and sat at her desk with her headphones on. Music had always been one of the few things that helped her center herself before the day started.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes as the soft, melancholic notes of “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House filled her ears.

The moment was short-lived.

The sharp knock at her door made her sigh. She ignored it, hoping whoever it was would leave. Instead, the door slid open, and Conner strolled in, looking entirely too awake and chipper.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said with a grin.

Y/N pulled off her headphones, glaring at him. “Do you not understand boundaries?”

“Not when it comes to my favorite patrol buddy,” he replied, flopping onto the couch in her room like he owned the place. “What are you listening to?”

“None of your business,” she said, putting the headphones back on.

“Oh, come on,” he said, leaning forward. “Let me hear. I bet it’s something intense and broody, like symphonic metal or darkwave.”

She ignored him, turning the volume up.

“Please?” he said, dragging out the word like a child begging for candy.

She finally yanked the headphones off and glared at him. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because music says a lot about a person,” he said, grinning. “It’s like a window into your soul. I mean, if you have one.”

She rolled her eyes but picked up her phone, scrolling to the track. “Fine. If it’ll shut you up.”

She tapped play, and “Don’t Dream It’s Over” began to play through the room’s speakers. Conner blinked in surprise at the opening notes.

“No way,” he said, sitting up straighter.

“What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I love this song,” he said, his grin widening. “And this band. I didn’t think you’d be into music from the ’80s.”

“I didn’t say I was,” she replied quickly, though the faintest hint of color touched her cheeks. “I just like this song.”

“Sure,” he said, smirking. “You’re secretly an ’80s music fan. Admit it.”

“I’m not,” she said firmly, though her lips twitched.

“Come on,” he teased, leaning forward. “Crowded House is a classic. The lyrics, the melody—this is the kind of song you play when you’re driving with the windows down, just vibing with life.”

“Not everyone’s life is a constant road trip, Conner,” she said dryly, but her tone lacked its usual edge.

He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. “Still, you’ve got taste. I respect that.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the music filling the room. Y/N watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was completely at ease, nodding along to the beat with a contented smile on his face.

“It’s a good song,” she admitted quietly.

Conner turned to her, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Yeah. It is.”

She looked away, but not before he caught the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

For once, she didn’t mind his presence so much.

Later that morning, Y/N and Conner met in the Watchtower’s training room for a scheduled sparring session. Y/N was already stretching when Conner sauntered in, still wearing his leather jacket and sunglasses despite being indoors.

“Are you seriously going to spar in that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned and shrugged off the jacket, tossing it onto a bench. “What? Didn’t want to make you feel underdressed.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, finishing her stretches. “I hope you’re ready to get knocked on your ass.”

“Big words,” he said, stepping into the ring. “Let’s see if you can back them up, Bat-lite.”

The sparring started with Y/N darting forward, quick and calculated. She aimed a kick at his ribs, which he blocked effortlessly, grinning the whole time.

“You’re fast,” he said, dodging her next attack.

“And you’re predictable,” she shot back, sweeping his legs out from under him.

Conner hit the mat but rolled back onto his feet almost instantly. “Okay, okay. That was good.”

Y/N smirked, her confidence building. “Want me to slow down for you?”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he said, lunging at her.

The fight escalated quickly, with Conner clearly holding back his full strength but still using enough power to keep her on edge. Y/N was agile, landing sharp punches and kicks, but every time she thought she had him, Conner countered with almost lazy ease.

Finally, he decided to use his powers to tip the scales. He feigned a stumble, then surged forward with super speed, grabbing her wrist and spinning her into a pin. In less than a second, Y/N found herself on the mat, her arms pinned above her head by one of his hands while he crouched over her, smirking down at her.

“Gotcha,” he said, clearly pleased with himself.

Her face flushed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “You cheated.”

“I used my resources,” he corrected, his grin widening.

“Get off me,” she snapped, squirming under his grip.

“Not until you admit I won.”

“Never,” she hissed, her glare sharp enough to cut steel.

“Suit yourself,” he said, settling in like he was perfectly comfortable. “I can stay here all day.”

Before she could retort—or flip him off the mat, which was her next plan—a voice interrupted.

“What’s going on here?”

Both of their heads whipped toward the door, where Bruce and Clark stood side by side, their expressions varying degrees of disapproval and surprise.

Conner immediately let go and scrambled to his feet, his usual confidence faltering. “Uh, sparring. Just sparring.”

Y/N sat up, brushing herself off and avoiding Bruce’s scrutinizing gaze. “He was cheating,” she muttered.

Clark raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Using your powers in a sparring match, Conner?”

Conner rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Hey, I wasn’t using all of them. Just a little speed. For fun.”

Bruce’s gaze shifted to Y/N, who was still glaring daggers at Conner. “You let him pin you?”

Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I didn’t let him. He cheated.”

“Cheated is a strong word,” Conner said, holding up his hands defensively. “I’d call it improvising.”

Bruce’s expression remained unreadable as he turned to Clark. “They’re making progress, at least.”

Clark chuckled softly. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

Meanwhile, Y/N and Conner exchanged a quick, flustered glance before looking away in opposite directions, both pretending not to notice the faint blush on each other’s cheeks.

Bruce’s voice cut through the tension. “Since you’re both so eager to test your skills, why don’t you suit up? You’re patrolling together tonight.”

Y/N groaned inwardly, while Conner perked up. “Sweet. Team Bat-Kent rides again.”

“Don’t call it that,” Y/N muttered, her embarrassment quickly replaced by annoyance.

Clark clapped Conner on the shoulder as they walked out. “Try not to annoy her too much tonight.”

“No promises,” Conner replied with a grin, earning another glare from Y/N as they headed to the locker rooms.

After their sparring session, Y/N decided to cool off—both literally and figuratively—with a shower in the Watchtower’s communal facilities. The shower room was empty, and she relished the rare solitude as she stood under the warm water, letting it wash away the tension from the match (and her residual irritation with Conner).

She sighed, running her fingers through her wet hair. “Cheater,” she muttered under her breath, her thoughts drifting back to the smug grin on Conner’s face when he had her pinned.

The sound of the shower drowned out the faint click of the door opening.

Conner strolled in, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d taken his jacket off again and was grumbling to himself. “Where’s the stupid—oh, here we go,” he muttered, stepping further into the room.

Y/N froze, her ears catching the familiar voice even over the rush of water. She peered around the edge of the shower stall, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Conner?!”

He stopped mid-step, his eyes darting to where her voice came from. For a moment, he looked genuinely confused—then realization hit him like a freight train.

“Oh, crap.”

“What are you doing in here?!” Y/N snapped, ducking further behind the frosted glass of the stall.

“I thought—this is the men’s, isn’t it?” he stammered, his face turning red as he shielded his eyes with his hand.

“No, it’s not! Get out!”

“Right, okay, I’m going—sorry!” Conner said quickly, spinning on his heel. But in his haste, he tripped over the edge of the tile, stumbling before catching himself on the wall.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N groaned, her voice somewhere between exasperation and mortification.

“I’m leaving, I swear!” he called, fumbling for the door. “Didn’t see anything—didn’t want to see anything!”

“Good!”

Finally, he managed to escape, the door sliding shut behind him with an audible whoosh.

Y/N pressed her hands to her face, her cheeks burning. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, shaking her head as she tried to calm the swirl of embarrassment and frustration.

Meanwhile, outside, Conner leaned against the hallway wall, still red-faced and muttering to himself.

“Smooth, Kent. Real smooth.”

He glanced back at the door, half expecting Y/N to storm out and throttle him. When she didn’t, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Great. Now she’s going to murder me before the next patrol.”

And for once, he couldn’t even blame her.

A few minutes later, Y/N stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, still feeling the sting of embarrassment from the unfortunate incident. She quickly dried her hair and dressed in her usual tight-fitting combat gear, taking extra care to avoid thinking too much about the awkwardness that still lingered from her encounter with Conner.

As she stepped out into the main area of the Watchtower, she spotted Diana—Wonder Woman—talking with Bruce, their voices low but animated. Diana’s presence always had a way of calming Y/N, and she appreciated the brief moment of peace as she made her way over to the conversation.

“Morning,” Y/N greeted, joining them with a slight smile.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Diana said warmly, her gaze friendly and inviting. “How’s the day going?”

“Could be better,” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Trouble with the sparring session?” Bruce asked, his tone more neutral than curious.

Y/N didn’t answer immediately, choosing instead to take a seat at one of the nearby workstations. She didn’t feel like elaborating on the situation—especially since she was still trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Meanwhile, across the room, Conner was talking animatedly to Bruce, his words flying in a frantic stream of consciousness. He was pacing in front of Bruce and Diana, eyes wide as he babbled.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Bruce! I was just trying to go into the men’s shower, right? And then I—I walked in on her! Y/N! She was in there, and I didn’t even notice until—”

“Conner,” Bruce interrupted, his voice dangerously calm. “Can we keep it down? You’re not exactly helping your case here.”

Conner blinked, finally noticing how loudly he was speaking. He turned to Diana for reassurance. “I mean, I didn’t see anything, but I definitely scared her. You know, she was probably already mad about the sparring and—”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to him, catching his expression in the middle of his rambling.

And then, as their eyes met across the room, she gave him the coldest, most unimpressed stare she could muster.

Conner froze mid-sentence, the reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks. He gave her an awkward, half-hearted wave, but Y/N didn’t flinch. Instead, she took a slow, deliberate sip from her water bottle, as if she had all the time in the world to watch him squirm.

For a long moment, there was an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of Conner shifting uncomfortably in place. He knew what was coming.

Bruce, who had been watching the exchange quietly, finally cracked a small smile, clearly enjoying Conner’s discomfort. Diana, too, looked at Bruce, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“Looks like someone’s in trouble,” Diana teased, her voice light with amusement.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, the faintest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. “Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy.”

Diana smirked back at him, her eyes gleaming with playful insight. “Is it just me, or do you two always end up in situations like this?”

Bruce didn’t answer, but the subtle tension in his expression was enough to suggest that the idea wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

Meanwhile, Conner was still trying to figure out how to get himself out of the mess he’d made. “I—look, I’m sorry, okay?” he said to Y/N, his voice much softer now that they were face-to-face. “It was an honest mistake. I didn’t mean to walk in on you. Really.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, staring him down with that same unimpressed expression. “You better hope I’m not stuck patrolling with you tonight.”

“I—I promise, I won’t do it again,” he said quickly, though his sincerity was laced with a bit of nervousness.

Diana glanced at Bruce, catching his subtle shift in demeanor. She leaned closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “What do you think, Bruce? Are we witnessing a different kind of training session here?”

Bruce didn’t respond at first, but his smile lingered, just long enough for Diana to catch the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“It’s complicated,” Bruce said in his usual gruff tone, though it lacked its typical edge.

Diana leaned back, raising her eyebrows as she caught his eye. “Complicated… or maybe just interesting?”

Bruce’s smirk deepened, though he remained silent. He glanced at Conner, who was still trying to salvage the situation. “You’re lucky she’s not in the mood to throw you off the Watchtower, Conner.”

Conner shot a nervous glance at Y/N. “Right. Got it. Noted.”

“Good,” she replied flatly, her tone dropping into a comfortable finality.

Conner sighed in relief. It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been—at least she wasn’t about to choke him out. But he knew one thing for sure: he was going to have to earn back a lot of good will if he didn’t want to spend the entire patrol in the doghouse.

Y/N stood up then, looking between Diana and Bruce with a brief smile. “Well, I’ll leave you two to continue your little chat. I’m going to go grab my gear.”

As she turned to leave, she shot one final, pointed glance at Conner. “And just so you know, I’m not forgetting this.”

Conner gulped, watching her walk away, before looking back at Bruce and Diana.

Bruce’s smile turned into a small, knowing smirk. “You’re in trouble, kid.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Conner said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Diana chuckled lightly, her eyes glinting with amusement. “I’d say she’s got a fire in her, Conner. You should be careful.”

Conner just groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “I’ve got no chance, do I?”

“No,” Bruce answered, deadpan. “Not really.”

Diana grinned, her gaze flicking to Bruce again before meeting Conner’s eyes. “Looks like you’re both in for a very interesting patrol.”

And with that, the tension in the room lightened just enough for them all to know that something was simmering beneath the surface.

Later that evening, Y/N and Conner set out on their patrol across a quieter part of Metropolis. The streets were busier now, filled with people heading home after work or out to enjoy the night. Conner, in his usual black leather jacket, had his hands shoved into his pockets as they perched atop a building, looking out over the city. Y/N, ever the stoic one, stood next to him, scanning the area below for any signs of trouble.

The night was still, but they both knew better than to think it would stay that way.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Y/N said, her voice low but steady.

“Always,” Conner replied, though his eyes were more distracted than focused. “So, uh, you’re still mad at me?”

Y/N glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “For walking in on me in the shower?”

He winced at the reminder. “Yeah. That.”

Y/N shrugged, still scanning the area. “I’m not mad, just… annoyed. It was an accident. You don’t need to keep apologizing.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I need to make up for it,” Conner said, his voice dropping in a rare moment of awkwardness. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze lingering on the dark skyline. “I didn’t mean to make it weird. It’s just… you know… I didn’t think anyone was in there.”

She turned to look at him now, her face unreadable, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s fine, Conner,” she said with a casual wave of her hand, as if it were no big deal.

“I—I know, but it’s just…” Conner trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought. He was so used to joking around, to being the guy who could easily brush things off, but Y/N wasn’t like everyone else. She didn’t let things slide that easily, and now he found himself stumbling over his words.

Y/N could sense his discomfort, but she wasn’t about to make it easy for him. “You’re really making a big deal out of this, aren’t you?”

He sighed, hanging his head. “I just don’t want you to think I’m some kind of jerk. You know I respect you, right?”

She paused, considering him for a long moment before a flicker of amusement crossed her face. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Conner blinked, clearly caught off guard by her lack of a sharp retort. For once, she wasn’t being cold or distant. There was something almost… warm in the way she said it.

“Good,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’ll stop bringing it up. I’ll just focus on keeping Metropolis safe. No more… accidental walk-ins.”

Y/N smirked, clearly enjoying his awkwardness. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

They both turned back to the streets below, their conversation drifting into comfortable silence as they resumed their watch.

The night passed uneventfully at first. They stopped a few petty crimes—some muggings, a car break-in, and a couple of minor robberies. Each time, Conner’s usual swagger returned as he easily handled the culprits, using his powers with ease and tossing criminals around like ragdolls. Y/N, ever the tactician, made quick work of the situations, apprehending the criminals with precision. Despite their contrasting styles, they were a solid team in action.

By the time they found themselves on top of another building, the adrenaline from the previous encounters had begun to settle, and they were once again standing side by side, the quiet hum of the city below the only sound.

Y/N crossed her arms and glanced at Conner, her tone light but her gaze serious. “You know, I’ve got to admit… you’re not terrible at this hero thing.”

Conner grinned at her, the compliment clearly hitting the mark. “You too, Bat-lite. I mean, it’s not like I ever doubted you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I’m glad to know you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well,” Conner started, his voice turning a little more serious again, “I just wanted to say… thanks. For, you know… not making a bigger deal out of earlier. I was just trying to be a good teammate, but I didn’t think you’d be so… I don’t know, forgiving about it.”

Y/N paused, glancing at him as if she were weighing her words carefully. “You think I’m mad about a mistake?” she asked, her voice almost teasing. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than your accidental shower incident, Conner.”

Conner opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond to that. “Right, sure. Gotcha.”

“Good,” Y/N said with a small smirk. She let the silence stretch on before speaking again. “Now, let’s finish up here. I don’t feel like staying on this rooftop all night.”

Conner nodded eagerly, clearly relieved that the tension had finally broken. “Agreed. But hey, at least we’re getting the job done.”

Y/N just nodded, her focus shifting to the next area they had to cover. As the night wore on, they patrolled side by side, each of them comfortable with the presence of the other, the earlier awkwardness slipping away as they worked together to keep Metropolis safe.

The quiet banter between them, the shared understanding of the mission, and the sense of unspoken camaraderie made it clear that, despite their differences, they made a pretty good team.

And, maybe—just maybe—they were starting to understand each other a little better too.

Later that evening, after a long and eventful patrol, Y/N and Conner made their way back to the Watchtower. The quiet hum of the station seemed to contrast sharply with the intensity of their patrol, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction in the air. Both of them had been working well together, and despite their earlier tension, the night had gone smoother than either expected.

As they entered the locker room to change out of their gear, Conner tossed his leather jacket onto the bench, feeling the weight of the night lift off his shoulders. He was still trying to process everything from their patrol and the little moments that had been a bit… different. Y/N had been more relaxed with him, less guarded than she usually was. But he wasn’t about to get ahead of himself.

Y/N was already in the middle of taking off her utility belt, her expression neutral as always. The awkwardness from earlier seemed to be fading with each passing second, and for once, Conner wasn’t sure what to say to her. He hadn’t exactly expected the patrol to go the way it had.

“Hey,” Conner finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

Y/N glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow, but she didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she finished unzipping her jacket and shrugged it off. “You’re going to ask me about the shower incident again, aren’t you?”

“No, no!” Conner immediately shot down the idea, his face flushing slightly. “Not that. I mean, maybe a little, but… no, that’s not the point.” He hesitated for a second, trying to find the right words. “I just—uh, I’m kind of… I don’t know, in over my head here.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing his unease. “In over your head?”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, I’ve been thinking. I know we’ve been kind of… at odds, and you’ve got your walls up, and I get it. But, uh…”

Y/N gave him an unreadable look. “But what?”

Conner hesitated again, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say, but it all felt so complicated. Finally, he just blurted out, “I want to ask you out. Like, on a date. But I have no idea how to get past those walls you keep up.”

There was a long silence between them. Y/N stopped mid-motion, her fingers stilling as she stared at him. Her face remained carefully neutral, but Conner could feel the tension in the air.

He started rambling, clearly flustered. “I mean, not that I’m expecting you to say yes, it’s just—well, I wanted to ask. I’ve never really… done this before, and you’re always so… you know.” He waved his hand vaguely in her direction. “Distant, cold, stoic—”

“I’m not cold,” she interrupted, her tone sharper than usual.

“Right, not cold,” Conner mumbled, his face turning even redder. “But, you know, I’m trying to figure out how to, I don’t know, get through to you. And I thought—maybe a date? I mean, it’s just a thought. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

Y/N stood there, still processing his words. She didn’t answer immediately, and Conner’s nerves started to get the better of him. He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just thought—”

But Y/N’s voice cut through his rambling. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Conner blinked, taken aback by her calm tone. “Well, yeah. I’m not messing around.”

For a long, drawn-out second, Y/N just stared at him. But then, much to his surprise, her lips curled into a small, amused smirk. “Alright, fine. I’ll go with you.”

Conner froze. “Wait—what?”

She smirked a little more, crossing her arms. “You asked. I said yes. How hard can it be?”

Conner’s heart nearly skipped a beat. “You’re saying yes?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Did you expect me to say no?”

“Uh… yeah, kind of,” Conner admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not exactly the type to go out for a casual dinner.”

“I’m not that much of a robot, Conner,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I can go out for food.”

He stood there for a moment, still processing what she’d just said. His voice was a little incredulous. “Wait, are you sure about this? Because you’re not exactly the… dating type, either.”

Y/N gave a small shrug. “I’m not. But I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Conner’s grin spread across his face. “Alright, alright! We’re going to get food. And it’s not going to be weird. It’s just… food.” He said that last part like he was convincing himself just as much as he was trying to convince her.

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, but her expression softened just slightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Conner. I said yes, but I didn’t say I’m going to make this easy for you.”

He laughed nervously, the excitement of her agreement mixing with the familiar anxiety he always seemed to feel around her. “I can handle that. No problem.”

She gave him a sharp, pointed look. “Just so we’re clear—I’m not one of those girls who gets swept off her feet easily. Don’t expect any grand romantic gestures.”

Conner nodded eagerly. “Totally. I’m not into that either. Just… dinner. That’s it.”

“Well, you’d better make sure the food’s good,” Y/N added with a smirk, before turning back to finish removing her gear.

Conner stood there for a moment, stunned but thrilled. “You actually said yes.”

“Don’t get too excited,” she muttered without turning around. “You haven’t earned anything yet.”

Conner grinned to himself, his heart racing. He wasn’t sure what to expect from their date, but if tonight was any indication, maybe—just maybe—he was finally starting to crack through the walls Y/N had built around herself.

The diner was small but cozy, tucked into a quieter corner of Metropolis, far enough from the hustle and bustle of the city center to offer a bit of peace. The neon lights buzzed softly outside, casting a gentle glow on the interior. The hum of conversation and the clink of dishes filled the air, but it was calm—a far cry from the intensity of their usual patrols.

Y/N sat at the booth across from Conner, savoring the first bite of her burger. The thick, juicy patty, the crisp lettuce, the melted cheese—it was simple but satisfying, exactly what she needed after a long night of action. She’d been anticipating the meal all evening, and now that she had it in front of her, she dug in with gusto, enjoying every bite.

Conner, on the other hand, sat back a little, watching her with a subtle, almost awestruck look on his face. He couldn’t help it. She was so focused on the burger, her brow furrowing slightly as she took each bite, and the satisfaction on her face was… honestly, kind of adorable. The way she fully immersed herself in the experience was something he hadn’t quite expected.

It wasn’t like he’d never seen someone eat before, but there was something different about the way she did it. It was as if the world around her faded away for a moment, and all that mattered was the food.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away, and before he knew it, he was openly admiring the way she devoured her meal, oblivious to the fact that he was staring.

After a few moments, Y/N suddenly paused mid-bite, her eyes locking with his across the table. Conner froze, caught in the act, and for a split second, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression amused but knowing. “What?” she asked dryly.

Conner blinked rapidly, his face flushing instantly. “Uh, nothing. Just… nothing.”

She smirked, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms as she took another bite of her burger, clearly enjoying the way he was fidgeting. “You’re staring at me, Conner.”

He sputtered, trying to brush it off. “I wasn’t—well, I mean, I guess I was. But not in a weird way! I was just… uh… admiring how you, uh, eat?”

Y/N’s smirk deepened, clearly enjoying the effect she had on him. “You’re really bad at this whole not staring thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m just trying to, uh, make sure you’re enjoying your food!” he said, flustered but determined.

“I’m definitely enjoying it,” Y/N replied, her tone dripping with mild sarcasm as she chewed another bite. “But it’s not like I need someone to watch me eat.”

Conner shifted uncomfortably, his face a deep shade of red. “Right, sorry. I’ll, uh… look away now.” He turned his gaze toward the window, trying to act casual, but the warm glow of the diner seemed to highlight just how flustered he was.

Y/N chuckled quietly to herself before taking another satisfying bite of her burger, her eyes flicking back to him. “It’s fine, Conner. I’m just messing with you.”

He couldn’t help but glance back at her, his expression sheepish but unable to hide the lingering admiration. “You’re just… you’re really into your food, huh?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow again, this time taking a sip of her soda. “What can I say? I don’t waste time on anything I don’t enjoy.” She pointed her straw at him playfully. “But if you want to watch me eat, I’m not going to stop you.”

Conner’s eyes widened in surprise, and his face turned a few shades redder. “I—uh—no, no! I’m good, I’m good.” He cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. “Just… you’re… you’re really focused. I respect that.”

Y/N’s smirk softened into a small smile, and for the briefest moment, the walls she usually kept up around her seemed to fall just a little. “Well, you might as well learn something from me, then.”

Conner couldn’t help but grin, despite his nervousness. “I’m trying. I really am.”

The conversation shifted as Y/N finished off her burger and turned her attention to the two large orders of fries sitting in front of her. She wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting there, but as soon as she noticed them, it was as if they were the only thing that mattered. Without a second thought, she reached for a handful and dipped them into the ketchup, savoring the taste.

Conner watched her again, though he tried to keep his focus on his own meal this time. It was hard, though—especially when Y/N was so unapologetically comfortable in her own skin, doing something as simple as eating fries.

“Are you always like this?” Conner finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Y/N paused mid-dip, glancing up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like… not caring about what anyone thinks? You’re just, like, fully yourself.”

She shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal. “I don’t have time for pretense, Conner. Life’s too short. You might as well enjoy the things you actually like.”

Conner smiled a little, clearly impressed by her no-nonsense attitude. “I think I could learn something from you.”

“You probably could,” she said with a faint, almost imperceptible smile of her own. “But don’t get any ideas. I’m not here to be your role model.”

He laughed, the sound more genuine than before. “I don’t need a role model, but… yeah, I could definitely use some of your confidence.”

Y/N took another bite of her fries, a small smile still tugging at the corners of her lips. “Confidence doesn’t come easy. But it does come. Eventually.”

Conner nodded, his admiration for her growing in ways he wasn’t sure how to articulate. This wasn’t the person he had expected when they first met—she was sharper, stronger, and far more intriguing than he had ever imagined. And even though he knew she wasn’t the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, he couldn’t help but feel like she was showing him a side of herself that not many people got to see.

Y/N caught him staring again, but this time, she didn’t comment. Instead, she gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if silently acknowledging the shift in their dynamic.

And as the night wore on, with the laughter and conversation flowing more freely between them, Conner realized something—this wasn’t just a date. This was a glimpse into a side of Y/N he had never thought he’d get to see, and it felt like the beginning of something… unexpected.

Something real.

After their meal, Conner and Y/N decided to take a walk around Metropolis. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow across the skyline. The city was alive with the sounds of the evening rush, but there was a quiet intimacy to the moment as they walked side by side, the distance between them shrinking with each step.

Conner couldn’t help but notice how comfortable the silence felt between them. It wasn’t awkward or forced—just… easy. But that didn’t stop his brain from working overtime. He was still trying to figure out what was going on between them. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the way Y/N had agreed to go out with him in the first place, or how she didn’t seem to mind the fact that he was obviously getting way too flustered by everything she did.

But he didn’t want to overthink it. He wanted to be honest, even if it made him sound like an idiot.

“So…” Conner started, breaking the silence. “I know you probably think I’m annoying, and you probably hate being around me, but… I’m gonna be real with you.”

Y/N glanced at him sideways, an eyebrow quirking up at his sudden admission. She kept walking but didn’t respond immediately.

“I like you, Y/N,” he continued, rambling. “I mean, I’ve liked you for a while now, but, you know, you’re all… brooding and intense, and I didn’t think you’d ever even—well, I didn’t think you’d go out with me, honestly. But you did, and now I’m just trying to figure out if this is real or if it’s just some weird… what do you call it? ‘Hero bonding’ thing. You know?”

Y/N’s steps slowed slightly, and she glanced over at him, her expression unreadable. “What are you saying, Conner?”

He took a breath, realizing just how ridiculous he must sound. “I don’t know, it’s just… I think you might despise me sometimes, but I really, really like you. Like, really like you, and I don’t know what to do with that. It’s, like, the most frustrating thing in the world because you keep pushing me away and… God, I sound like an idiot.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling embarrassed.

Y/N stopped walking entirely and turned to face him, her gaze softer than usual. She looked at him for a long moment, as if deciding whether to say something or let him keep rambling.

Conner, still flustered, took a step back, running his hand through his hair again. “I just thought… maybe I should be honest with you for once. You know, instead of trying to play it all cool and detached.”

Before he could finish, Y/N moved. In one smooth motion, she grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him toward her. Conner didn’t have time to react before her lips crashed into his.

It was sudden, surprising, and completely out of nowhere, but as soon as it happened, Conner’s entire body froze. He was barely able to process what was going on, but his mind went completely blank as he kissed her back, not caring about anything else in the world. The whole city seemed to fade away around them.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, and Conner’s heart was racing. He blinked a few times, his hands still gripping the edges of her jacket, completely stunned.

Y/N just stood there, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “That better be the last time you ramble on about how much you like me,” she said, her voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

Conner, still recovering from the shock, blinked a few more times, trying to gather his thoughts. “I—I didn’t know… I didn’t expect—”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her smirk widening. “Well, you’ve been talking about it long enough. Thought I’d make you shut up.”

Conner finally found his voice. “You—you really kissed me.”

“I did,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it were no big deal. “And now you know. You’re welcome.”

Conner stood there for a moment, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face. He was absolutely floored by what had just happened.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, high up on a nearby skyscraper, two very familiar figures were watching the whole scene unfold.

Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne stood side by side, observing the couple below with a sort of knowing amusement.

“I told you they’d kiss,” Clark said with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bruce didn’t look at him but gave a small nod. “I’m surprised you didn’t bet more. You should have bet ten.”

Clark chuckled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled five-dollar bill. He handed it to Bruce. “Five bucks is good enough for me. I figured it would happen sooner or later.”

stoic demeanor. “This is going to be interesting, isn’t it?”

Clark raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. “You could say that. I think they might actually work.”

Bruce just grunted in response, looking back down at Conner and Y/N. “We’ll see how long it lasts. But I’ve seen enough to know that they’re… different.”

“Different is good,” Clark said with a smile. “Sometimes, it’s exactly what they need.”

Bruce didn’t respond immediately, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, as if something had occurred to him. He watched as Conner and Y/N continued walking down the street, the tension between them melting away. Maybe Clark was right. Maybe the two of them did have something special.

After a few moments, Bruce turned to leave. “You’re still paying for dinner next time,” he muttered.

Clark just grinned. “Deal.”

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

nonsense!

pairing: minho x fem!reader

summary: based off of nonsense by sabrina carpenter <3

tags/warnings: minho is lwk kind of head over heels, minho tells himself he doesn't like us, studio/hyunjin mentioned, kind of odd confession? it was kind of rushed

a/n: hi guys!! k so i was listening to my playlist and like always!! i found a song to make a oneshot off of!! so todays is minho <3 i haven't done anything with him yet so im excited eeee! hope yall enjoy <3 (also asher!!! tysm for making me the banner :> credits to u @asherthehimbo <3)

masterlist nonsense link

Minho had never been the type to lose focus. He was disciplined, sharp, and always in control. But for some reason, lately, he couldn’t shake the thought of you.

It started with small things. A laugh that echoed just a little too loudly in the studio, or the way you’d offer him a bottle of water after practice. Nothing big, nothing that screamed obvious attraction, but enough to make his thoughts linger on you longer than he cared to admit.

He kept telling himself it wasn’t anything. Maybe you were just easy to talk to, or you were just really good at making him feel like he wasn’t the only one in the room. There had to be a reason he couldn't stop looking at you in rehearsals—he just hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Minho, are you even paying attention?” Hyunjin’s voice broke through his thoughts. He blinked, quickly refocusing on his friend.

“I’m listening,” Minho muttered, forcing himself to concentrate on the routine in front of him. But his mind was still drifting, like it had a mind of its own, right back to you.

You were across the room, catching your breath, and Minho couldn’t help but notice the way the sweat glistened on your skin, how your eyes were narrowed in concentration. He had seen you do this a hundred times, but today, it seemed different. Or maybe he was just noticing it more. He mentally cursed himself and refocused on the task at hand. Stop it, Minho, he thought.

But every glance, every smile you sent his way, only added to the strange feeling that had started to settle in his chest. It was subtle—just a small tug, but it was enough to make him question himself. He couldn’t let himself fall into this mess. Not with you. You were just... you. And he had better things to do than get distracted by someone like that.

After practice, Minho found himself walking out of the studio without thinking, but before he could get too far, he heard your voice calling from behind.

“Minho! Wait up!”

He paused and turned around, trying to act casual, but his stomach did that annoying flip when he saw you jog over, your cheeks flushed from the exercise, eyes sparkling as usual.

“What’s up?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

You gave him a quick grin. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me earlier. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. So… thanks.”

Minho shrugged, feeling his heart race for no reason at all. “No big deal. You were just struggling with that move. I didn’t want you to feel frustrated.”

He noticed how your expression softened at that, and for some reason, it made him feel... weird. Not in a bad way. Just different.

You tilted your head slightly, still looking at him, but now with a small, knowing smile. “You’re pretty nice, Minho. Don’t let it get to your head though,” you teased, tapping his shoulder lightly.

Minho chuckled, trying to ignore the way his chest felt tight. “It’s hard not to when you say stuff like that.”

There was a beat of silence. For some reason, it felt like you were waiting for him to say something more. He was sure you noticed the slight shift between the two of you, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“So, are you heading out?” You broke the silence, looking toward the exit.

“Yeah, I was about to. You?” he asked, his voice a little too eager, though he didn’t know why.

You shrugged. “I’ll be around. Maybe I’ll catch you later?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Minho said, trying to act cool, though inside, his thoughts were all over the place. Catch you later? What’s that supposed to mean?

Over the next few days, Minho kept telling himself he wasn’t interested. He wasn’t falling for you. That would be ridiculous. But every time he saw you—whether it was during practice, or when you stopped by the studio just to chat—it was like he couldn’t get his mind to stop racing.

There was something about you that made everything feel lighter. You didn’t care for the fame, didn’t care about the pressure, and yet you still gave everything you had in every moment. Minho admired that. Admired you.

But he couldn’t admit it to himself. He wouldn’t.

It wasn’t until a week later, after another long practice, that the words he had been avoiding finally spilled out.

Minho had just wrapped up his session when he found you sitting alone in the lounge area. You were scrolling through your phone, looking peaceful—something that caught his attention in a way he hadn’t expected. The way you were completely at ease with yourself made something shift in him.

You glanced up and caught him staring, and this time, he didn’t look away.

“Minho?” you asked, your voice light, but he could see the curiosity in your eyes.

He walked over, feeling the weight of the moment. “Hey.”

There was an awkward pause before you smiled and patted the seat next to you. “You’re looking serious today. What’s up?”

Minho shook his head, half-laughing. “Just tired, I guess.”

You nodded knowingly. “It’s been a long week for everyone.”

He stood there, contemplating the words he’d been holding back. “I’ve been thinking… maybe I’ve been a little distracted lately.”

“Distracted? How so?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, that spark of curiosity still there.

Minho ran a hand through his hair, sighing quietly. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, shaking his head again. This is ridiculous. You don’t even know her that well.

But then, the words tumbled out before he could stop himself. “I think I might be... getting too attached to you.”

There. It was out. He couldn’t take it back now.

Your expression shifted for a moment, processing what he said. You didn’t laugh. You didn’t brush him off. You just looked at him, as though trying to figure out if he was serious.

Minho felt a strange mix of embarrassment and relief. Maybe you’d think he was crazy, maybe you’d laugh it off. He didn’t know.

But then you spoke softly, “I’ve been feeling the same way. I didn’t want to say anything either.”

Minho blinked, his heart skipping. “You... you have?”

You nodded slowly, your gaze steady on him. “I didn’t want to make things weird between us, so I kept telling myself it was just… nonsense. But you’re not the only one who’s been distracted.”

Minho exhaled, almost in disbelief. “So, you—”

You smiled, a little shyly this time, but there was something warm in your eyes that made him want to stay in this moment forever.

“I guess we’re both just a little too stubborn for our own good,” you said softly. “But maybe we don’t have to overthink it.”

Minho’s chest tightened again, but this time, it felt like a weight he was happy to carry. "Yeah. Maybe we don’t."

And for once, he let himself relax. He didn’t need to question it, didn’t need to convince himself it wasn’t real. He didn’t have to know all the answers.

Maybe it didn’t make sense. But in this moment, it didn’t need to.

hope yall enjoyed <3

todays writing playlist....

nonsense by sabrina carpenter, seven by jungkook (ft. latto), maniac by conan gray, cupid by fifty fifty, cruel summer by taylor swift, shinunoga e-wa by fujii kaze, touch by katseye, feather by sabrina carpenter, what is love by twice, super shy by newjeans, you belong with me by taylor swift, as if its your last by newjeans, heather by conan gray, because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, the feels by twice, 3D by jungkook (ft. jack harlow) queencard by (g)-idle, style by taylor swift, antifragile by le sserafim, theres nothing holding me back by shawn mendes, left and right by charlie puth (ft. jungkook), deja vu by olivia rodrigo, lover by taylor swift, magnetic by illit, nxde by (g)-idle, perfect night by le sserafim, omg by newjeans, i am by ive, psycho by red velvet, blank space by taylor swift, teeth by 5sos, stupid in love by max (ft. huh yunjin)

*bold is explicit*

my playlist

taglist: @rockstarkkami @sirloncelot-of-bananas

taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3

[littlenahsstuff]

Sugar, Spice, Not Nice

Bridget x Demigod!reader

Requested by @ladyqueenxoxo

Synopsis:You are hades niece. No one knows you are a demigod or that you are staying with Hades. You hang around his group but don’t fit in at all. You try your hardest but sometimes you crave the sweetest things in life. You are handpicked to mess with Bridget in order to prove yourself. No one knows you are dating her either.

Warnings: not proofread! Bullying. Uliana’s an asshole. I’m not sure how much I like this one, but the endings nice.

Word count: 2.3k

~~~~~

The Vks all sat around one of the courtyard tables. You had to try your hardest not to gag at Hades and Maleficent. It didn’t end well the last time you did. You were lost in thought, thinking about your wonderful girlfriend Bridget.

What kind of sweets will she make today? Maybe I can help her after-

“I’m bored, someone come up with something interesting to do” Uliana demands.

Maybe Bridget will bake-

“Uh hello, earth to Y/n!” Uliana screeches. You immediately focus.

“Oh uh, sorry..” you trail. You know you’ve messed up again based off of the look on Ulianas face.

“What have I told you about apologizing. Seriously for being the only one to care about those stupid honors classes you sure are a grade A imbecile,” she responds and the others laugh at you. You just nod and shrink a little.

“Hey Uli,” Hook starts. He’s looking at you menacingly. “I think the honors girl here needs some sort of extra credit. Let’s give her something evil to do!” The panic is growing exponentially. You haven’t had to actually do anything evil yet, mainly sending some half-assed insults.

Uliana’s grin grows. “Why do you look so nervous Y/n? Scared of doing a little bad? I guess you do need it. The petty thievery and cheating doesn’t cut it anymore.”

“No, I’m just having an off day,” you excuse. You gulp. You’ve also tripped a couple of people and maybe driven Ulianas car as the getaway driver while they stole a hamster from the store. You felt so bad for the little guy. It’s not like you were the meanest but looking back on it you sure as hell were bad a lot.

“Well… in that case” Uliana’s voice gets high pitched. “We should give you something easy! Why don’t you prank Bridget for me. I have yet to do it this year, with the fresh meat and all that.” You get confused and terrified. “You’re new, but Bridget happens to be my favorite target. I always typically set aside the nastiest of my plans for her.” She cackles, making the already cavernous pit in your stomach bigger.

“Oh really?” You say. You can tell any strength in your voice is gone.

“Yeah, so… this year we were planning something a little more personal. We know Bridget takes those stupid honors classes too. That makes you the perfect candidate for this particular prank,” Uliana chuckles darkly. “That brat is always trying to make friends, so let’s give her exactly what she wants. Once you manage to do so you are to hide these magic beans in her room.” She held out the beans and they shimmered. Magic beans were totally illegal and would get Bridget expelled if anyone found it. You twiddle your thumbs as a slight sweat breaks out.

“But- what if-“ you’re cut off.

“Come on y/n don’t be so chicken!” Hook laughs. You look at hades and he sends you back with a raised brow.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” You say. Uliana breaks into a wicked grin. The bell chimes.

“Great. It’s almost first period, why don’t you hop along,” she finishes and motions for you to leave with her hand. You nod, grab the beans, and rush to class.

You decide you have to tell Bridget, even if it might leave you without any friends.

You get to Honors Alchemy 2 just in the nick of time, meeting Bridget at the front. She squeals and gives you a hug. You awkwardly pat her back and look around.

When she pulls away her smile disappears. You take a deep breath.

“Bridget…” you start with a gulp, “I may have gotten myself into trouble.” She gasps.

“Not yet,” you continue, it’s- well. Uliana gave me some magic beans and told me to put them in your room as some sort of prank. I know how evil it is and I’m really sorry.” You said it so fast you had to take a big inhale. Bridget softens.

“Sugar, it’s okay,” she grabs your arm.

“I just don’t know what to do. I mean, they’re my only friends other than you and- well I fear going against- he won’t like- oh.” You pause, realizing Bridget deserves to know of your situation eventually.

“It’ll be okay! But I might be a little confused, who’s he?” She gets that adorable big stare you love whenever she needs help. It makes you melt a little.

“Hades is… my uncle. Only him and Maleficent know. He is technically my guardian while he is on Olympic probation. My dad added me onto the punishment,” you whisper before chuckling bitterly. “I just worry he’ll get even more angry at me when we’re home.” You look down. Bridget stops it with a hand tilting your face to look at her.

“You should never have to worry about that. But wait, dad… as in?” She questions.

“Zeus… I’m a demigod…” you squeak. Her eyes bulge for a second.

“Do you have powers too!?” She almost yells. You shush her.

Professor Merlin clears his throat,

“Ladies, class must begin. I do hope you’ll keep the chatter to a minimum.” He grumbles, not too angrily, however.

“Yes, um could we maybe talk more about this after school? I still have no clue how I’m to go about this,” you request. She nods enthusiastically. The rest of class you focus on getting a good lab grade and do in fact keep the chatter to a minimum. Bridget seems excited the whole time but you just feel awful still for getting mixed up in this mess.

***

When you were done with your classes for the day, you met up with Bridget in her room. You waited nervously before knocking.

When you did she opened the door with a smile.

“Come on in!” She says. She looks adorable in her pink pjs, they fit her personality to a t.

You walk in and she grabs your hands to lead you to her bed.

“So…” she chuckles awkwardly, “do you know what you’re gonna do?” You look down and sigh.

“I had an idea I guess. I was thinking maybe I hide the beans and just try avoiding the group as much as possible. If they say anything I’ll just match their energy and tell them I don’t wanna do the prank or hang out with them. Does that sound good?” You question. Any input would be useful.

Bridget yums but nods, “As long as you’re safe I don’t see why that plan wouldn’t work.” She taps her fingers on her leg.

“Thanks B, I’m a little nervous but everything will work out. Um, anything you wanna know about the whole demigod thing. I’m really sorry for not telling you. I just wanted to be somewhat normal.” You admit sheepishly. She gives you a soft smile.

“Normal is boring, but I understand. Just tell me anything you want to” she resolves. She grabs your hand and holds it.

You take a deep breath, “Well, I age normally, I have these little sparky things when I get really angry but other than that I get hurt the same as everyone else. I don’t really have any more powers than that though. I’m not magic like you are,” you add.

“What about your family,” you get a little bit more sad at that.

“Or, y-you don’t have to tell me!” Bridget fixes.

“No I can tell you. I’m not really allowed on Olympus that much. My mother died when I was really young, hence why Hades is hosting me. He can be chill. He likes doing evil things a lot but he usually doesn’t have a care about anything.” Bridget looks at you and gives you a hug.

“I’m so sorry Y/n, it must still be hard. But the sparky thing is really cool. Maybe I’ll get to see it one day!” She says. You smile.

“Maybe.”

She gasps making you jump a little with how loud it was.

“Hey I have an idea,” she says, “why don’t we go out and get some ice cream!” She squeals and stands up. She pulls you up with a sudden strength, twirling you into her. You both start giggling.

“That sounds very nice Princess B. You know all the ways to my heart.

****

Gapetto’s Gelato was in walking distance in the nearby town. You and Brigette talk about school and a bunch of other random things, giggling and having such a good time. You didn’t even realize you were there.

“Okay I’ll get the ice cream, Strawberry with rainbow sprinkles still?” You ask and she nods.

You go up to the window and go to order it, as soon as you open your mouth you hear very familiar voices behind you. You whip around to see Uliana holding Bridget’s purse way above her head.

“Relax Bridgy, we just want some money to buy icecream! You should understand since you love sweets so much. You should be careful anyways, you might be looking chubby!” Uliana spits, waving it just out of her reach. Your skin prickles. You walk away and shout out a sorry to Gapetto.

“I’ll be back.”

“Uliana come on, just give me my bag. You’re gonna break it!” Bridget stresses. She’s stopped trying to jump for it.

“What, too much exercise? Told you you’re getting chubby!” Hook cackles. Your skin now feels like it’s on fire and you tense up. A faint buzzing can be heard.

“Give. It. Back.” You grit through your teeth. Bridget looks at you, you can’t tell if she wants you to stay out of it or not but either way you’re helping her.

“Oh! Looks like you were doing what you were supposed to, for once. Well, i rather mess with her myself. Your services are no longer required.” Uliana says while another one of her tentacles pushes Bridget hard on the ground.

“The moneys not even in there,” Bridget whimpers. As if lightning courses through your vains you stand up straight and try to hold back. You can feel the sparks forming up your arms.

“I’m giving you one chance Uliana, leave now,” you stomp your foot.

“Ugh, why are you acting like this. Here; take your ugly bag pink piggy,” Uliana says as she hurls it at her. Bridget looks so scared but you manage to catch it by the strap just in time. Uliana cackles. Bridget looks like she’s about to cry and you look down to see it completely ripped.

“Oops… oh well, it was almost as ugly as y-“ before Uliana can finish what she says, you blast a huge lightning bolt at her feet causing her to yelp. “Oh you little shit!” Uliana tries to slam a tentacle into you, you grab it and it spasms away. She lets out another yelp. You hold up your burnt fists at her.

“Try it again fish for brains. I never want to see you around Bridget again. I’m done being your pawn. Bridget is more genuine and beautiful than you could ever be. She’s smart and kind and the best goddamn baker there is and even if she were to get chubby, which she’s not! She would be so much hotter than you on any given day!” You scream. She just rolls her eyes and backs up.

“Fine freak,” she says and walks (stumbles) away with a cackling Hook. You whip around and make sure all of the energy is dispelled. Since you aren’t raging right now it is but you hold out a hand to Bridget. She grabs it and you try not to wince at the sting when you pull her up.

“Woah that was- thank you! No one’s ever done that for me before.” Bridget says incredulously. She pulls you by your arms into a kiss. “I love you- Y/n?!” Is the last thing you hear before fainting.

***

When you awake you are in Bridget’s dorm, feeling sore as shit. Bridget here’s shuffling and immediately rushes over to your side.

“Hey there sugar,” she says softly. “I take it that your powers did this?” She carefully picks up your bandaged hands. You chuckle.

“Yup, cursed with a painful gift. I’m sorry for them. If I had known they were always such assholes to you, I would’ve made her into fried calamari sooner.” You giggle. Bridget smiles.

“Well; I hope you never have to do that to yourself again. But… you were- ARE amazing. I love you so much already.” Bridget kisses you on the cheek.

“Can we cuddle. I feel so much better and I just want cuddles please?” You whine, give her your biggest puppy dog eyes. Despot looking very disheveled, Bridget can’t deny how adorable you look. She chuckles and nods, carefully peeling back your blankets and getting in next to you.

“I’m sorry about your bag,” you sigh.

“Don’t be, I’m a princess remember? I can get another one anytime,” she chuckles. You feel like smacking your head. Of course she can, she’s rich.

“Oh. Well, can we make out until my headache goes away?” You instead ask. Once again, making the puppy dog eyes.

“Of course my heart! How long do they usually last?” She asks. You sheepishly grin.

“A couple of days,” you reply, trying to wiggle your eyebrows.

“Well, we better get started then.” She grips your chin softly and gives you a peck before going into the real kiss. Her lips taste like the color pink and sugar and you can’t help but feeling you only ever need her. Princess Bridget will forever be known as the love of your life.

[x1un4rx]

| Home Is Wherever You Are | (No Outbreak) |

Pairings: Husband!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a rough day full of unexpected challenges, you come home to find a quiet comfort waiting for you. With the weight of the world still on your shoulders, your partner knows exactly how to turn it all around, offering a kind of comfort you never knew you needed. In the midst of exhaustion and stress, it's the simple, thoughtful gestures that remind you what truly makes a place feel like home.

Warnings: Emotional themes, mild language, fluff, relationship dynamics, and comfort. <3

A/N: Hey starlights! 💕 I wrote this as a little escape for anyone who's had one of those days where it feels like everything’s going wrong. Sometimes all you really need is someone who gets you, right? A huge thank you to anyone who’s reading this, I hope it brings a little warmth to your day. If you liked it, feel free to drop a comment, like, etc. Enjoy! 🫶 <333 (I do apologize if something doesn’t sound quite right—this took me about 5 hours (and maybe a whole day to make sure it sounded okay) to fully complete! Plus, I’m only 15, after all and this is my first story, so please bear with me as I am trying to get the hang of writing more better. lmao)

Word Count: 1,9k+

Credits: @enchanthings for these lovely dividers <3

(edit: I tweaked the format a little lot, so if you see this reblogged by others and it looks different, it’s just me making things a bit easier to read, lol.)

You grab your work bag and step out of the car, closing the door behind you. Pressing the lock button on the key fob, you hear the car beep as it locks. You walk toward the front door of your shared home, feeling absolutely drained, like every ounce of energy has been stripped from you—as if you'd just been hit by a damn bus. All you wanted was to be curled up with your husband in your shared bed.

Today just wasn’t your day.

Your boss had called you in on your day off—because, naturally, half the office was either sick or with family for the holiday, so being the good person you are, you went in— that had left you buried under a mountain of paperwork you never signed up for.

To make matters worse, on your way in, you stopped for coffee, and, of course, they got your order completely wrong. As if the universe already knew how the day would go. And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, you were walking outside your work building and on your way in… is when a bird decided it was the perfect moment to shit on you. It was the kind of morning that made you feel like the universe had it out for you, and you knew it was going to be one hell of a shitty day.

And, of course, you were right. Customers called nonstop, one after another, the chaos blurring together. Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, your boss barged in, his voice sharp, yelling at you for ‘not trying hard enough.’ You could’ve… would’ve punched him. But you still needed the paycheck, after all, and the job… even if it was slowly driving you insane.

You fumble through your keys, exhaustion sinking deep into your bones as you search for the right one. After what feels like an eternity, you finally find it and push the door open, the familiar scent of your shared home wrapping around you. Stepping inside, you close the door with a heavy sigh, leaning back against it for support. You groan, the tension of the day weighing heavy on your shoulders as you drop the workbag on the floor with a thud.

From the kitchen, you hear Joel moving around and the smell of his lovely cooking fills the air, the comforting rhythm of his presence (and the smell of food) surrounding you.

You kick off your shoes, the relief instant as your feet hit the cool hardwood floor. You nudge them aside, placing them next to Joel's boots, the two of them forming a quiet, familiar mess by the door. You shrugged off your coat, letting it fall from your shoulders before hanging it up, the fabric settling softly against the hook. The quiet warmth of the house wrapped around you, and for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to breath. It was these small, comforting rituals—his boots, your coat, the space you shared—that made everything feel just a little bit more like home.

You headed towards the kitchen, each step lighter now that you were home. As you walked through the doorway, the air seemed to shift, and you were hit with a delicious aroma that instantly made your stomach rumble. The familiar scent of your favourite food filled the space, rich and savory, a warmth that made everything else fade away for a moment. It was the kind of comfort only Joel could create, and you felt your shoulders relax, the tension from the day starting to melt. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing that, as always, he had managed to make everything feel a little more like home.

And then your gaze landed on him, and you couldn’t help but giggle. There he was, wearing that ridiculous apron you’d gotten him as a joke on Christmas, the one with bold pink letters that read, "Kiss the Cook". It was so out of character for him, but seeing it now, you couldn’t help but laugh. He caught your eye and gave you that small, amused grin of his, the one that made your heart flutter every time. The apron might’ve been silly, but in that moment, it made you feel happy he was wearing something you got him, even if it was a joke gift.

He walked towards you with that easy confidence of his, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Without a word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips grounding you in the moment. “How was your day, love?” he asked, his voice low and soothing, as he pulled you into a big, comforting hug.

For a second, you let yourself melt into him, feeling the weight of the day’s chaos lift just from being in his arms. But then, like a wave crashing back into you, all the frustration, exhaustion, and little annoyances came rushing back—customers, work, the mess of it all. It made your chest tighten slightly, a dull ache that lingered as you leaned against him.

You didn’t want to dump all of that on him right now, not when he’d gone out of his way to make dinner and create a sense of home, but it was hard to hide the weariness in your soul.

You stay silent, absorbing the quiet warmth of him, the exhaustion from your day hanging heavy on your shoulders. With a soft sigh, you whisper, “It was… a long day.” The words feel heavy, but his presence lightens them, just a little. He held you tighter, sensing the change in your mood without needing to ask.

He then pulled away.

He looked at you for a few moments, his brow furrowed in thought, before a spark of realization seemed to hit him. “How about I make it up to you?” he suggested softly, his thumb brushing your cheek before he leaned in to give you a gentle peck on the lips. “I’ll set up a warm bath for you to relax in, and I’ll fix something up for you… how’s that sound, hm?”

You felt the tension in your chest start to loosen, just hearing the thoughtfulness in his voice. He smiled at you, eyes full of love, as if he already knew exactly what you needed—something soothing, something simple, something you.

Without waiting for a response, he kissed your forehead, then turned toward the bathroom. You watched him go, already feeling lighter just from the way he handled things. It was as if he could read your mind, and somehow, that made everything better.

A few moments later, you could hear the sound of the bathroom faucet running, the warm steam filling the air. He came back to you with an armful of your softest, coziest clothes—your favourite oversized hoodie (which was 100% his), and those worn-in sweatpants you loved. “Put these on when you’re done,” he said, his voice tender. You didn’t realize how much you needed it, but just the thought of sinking into the softness of those clothes made you feel a little more human again.

You made your way to the bathroom, the scent of bath salts floating into the hallway, a quiet invitation to unwind in the warmth he’d prepared for you. The bathroom was bathed in a soft glow from the candles he had set up on the counter, flickering gently as they cast a calming light. You could already feel the heat of the water sinking into your muscles, easing the tension with each step you took toward the tub.

As you slipped into the bath, the hot water enveloping you like a hug, you closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh, allowing yourself to relax for the first time all day. You could hear Joel moving around in the other room, probably gathering the last few things for his plan, but you didn’t need to worry about any of that now. This was your time.

When you stepped out of the bath, the scent of lavender lingered on your skin, leaving you wrapped in warmth. You slipped into the cozy clothes Joel had picked out, the softness a welcome relief, and made your way back to the living room.

The scene before you made your heart swell. Joel had set up your shared bed like it was a little safe haven—tons of pillows piled high, the blankets draped just perfectly, inviting you to sink in. On the nightstand, there were snacks—your favourite chips, a bowl of popcorn, and even some of that sweet dessert you’d been craving. The best part? A steaming plate of your favourite food, still warm, waiting for you. He’d thought of everything, as always.

Joel, always attentive to the little things that made you feel loved, gave you a soft smile as he stepped aside. "All set," he said, his eyes holding that quiet, steady warmth you cherished. "You deserve this. I might not know what happened today, but I’ll take care of you—always."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the warmth of his affection settle around you like the blankets. You reached out for him, pulling him in close as you both nestled into the cozy cocoon he’d made for you.

“You really know how to make everything better,” you murmured, your voice full of gratitude and comfort.

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Anything for you, love.”

You nestled deeper into the blankets, feeling the weight of the day slowly slip away as you sank into the comfort that Joel had created. The warmth of the food, the cozy clothes, the soft hum of the movie starting in the background—it all wrapped around you like a protective cocoon. You could hear Joel’s steady breathing beside you, his hand brushing against yours as he settled in, his presence grounding you in the best way.

For a moment, the world outside your little bubble didn’t exist. It was just you, Joel, and the quiet, comforting rhythm of the evening. You reached for the plate of food, savoring each bite as if it was the first real taste you’d had in hours. You couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly he made you feel cared for, how he could turn a shitty day into something so… perfect.

Joel, noticing your smile, leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, throwing his arm over your shoulder, his voice low and tender as he whispered, “You’re everything to me, you know that?” His words were simple, but they hit you in all the right places, like a soft sigh that echoed in your chest.

You nodded, heart full, as you snuggled closer to him. “I know,” you whispered back, “And you’re everything to me, too.”

The movie played softly in the background, the glow from the screen flickering gently, but it was the quiet moments—the ones where you felt completely at peace, completely loved—that really stayed with you. You could feel the weight of the world slowly melting away, the stress of the day fading into nothingness.

You looked up at him, feeling the weight of the day dissolve in his gaze. Your heart was full, but the words didn’t come easily—"I love you, Joel," you whispered, your voice a quiet confession. He paused, eyes softening as they locked with yours, before he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you too," he murmured, his words (and arms) wrapping around you like a promise.

For the first time all day, you finally felt at peace.

a/n: I will edit this if something doesn't sound right or make sense, but I hope you enjoyed <3

- lunar <3

[petalsandantlers]

for @taylorswiftmicrofic / january prompt n.14: psycho (541 words) A03

The door to the Heads' Common Room slammed shut with enough force to rattle the picture frames. Lily Evans stormed inside, hair wild and green eyes blazing. James Potter was sprawled on the sofa, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, a book he wasn’t actually reading perched on his knee.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Lily snapped.

James didn’t even flinch, which made her angrier. Of course, he looked utterly unbothered, glasses slightly askew, a smug grin playing at his lips.

“What’s it this time, love?” he drawled, stretching as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Don’t you bloody ‘love’ me,” she spat, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You told the entire Quidditch team I’d hexed you last week! Again!”

James smirked. “Well, you did hex me last week. And the week before that. Pretty sure it’s become a regular hobby of yours.”

“You deserved it, you prat!” she barked, crossing her arms. “If you weren’t such a sodding show-off—”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you,” he interrupted, standing up now, all six-foot-something of him towering in the dim firelight. “You’re the one who went full psycho over a bloody Muffliato charm! It’s hardly my fault you can’t take a joke, Evans.”

Her mouth fell open. “Psycho? You absolute—”

“Oh, go on, tell me how I’m the problem,” James said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “This’ll be good. Write a whole essay about it, why don’t you? I’m sure Slughorn’d love to mark it.”

Her cheeks flamed. “You think you’re so bloody charming, don’t you?”

“I know I am.”

She let out a frustrated noise, spinning on her heel to pace in front of the fireplace. James, to his credit, didn’t press further. For a moment, there was nothing but the crackling logs and the rustle of Lily’s robes as she fumed.

“Sometimes,” she muttered, not looking at him, “I don’t know why I bother.”

His grin faltered. “Oi.”

She didn’t stop pacing.

“Oi,” he said again, softer this time, stepping in her path. “You don’t mean that.”

She stopped short, staring at him. His hair was a mess (always), his glasses were smudged (again), and he was looking at her with that maddening mix of arrogance and sincerity that made her want to kiss him and hex him in equal measure.

“You’re impossible, James Potter,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

“And you’re bloody perfect, Lily Evans,” he replied without hesitation. “Even when you’re an absolute nutter.”

Her lips twitched. “I am not—”

“You are,” he said firmly, leaning in. “But you’re my nutter.”

For a moment, she just stared at him, weighing whether or not to stay angry. Then, before he could say anything else infuriating, she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him hard enough to make her point.

James stumbled slightly, but recovered fast, his hands finding her waist as he kissed her back with every ounce of devotion he had. When they finally broke apart, both a little breathless, she narrowed her eyes.

“You’re still sleeping on the sofa,” she said, stepping back.

James grinned. “Fair enough. But you’ll miss me.”

“Bugger off,” she muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

And he knew.