#and they had the nerve to have me swing by and try delivering to a business that's closed today

[cool-fancier]

Kissed by Stardust

Jennie Kim x Female Reader

Synopsis: A blind date with global K-pop star Jennie Kim leads to an unexpected, magical connection—one kiss turning a surreal night into the beginning of something unforgettable.

Word Count:4.8K

You've always been one to pride yourself on your ability to keep calm under pressure. It's one of the many reasons you were able to succeed as an actress—calm, collected, composed. You could step onto any set, deliver any line, and face any high-stakes scene with the assurance that you would own the moment.

But tonight? Tonight, all of that composure is nowhere to be found.

Instead, you find yourself sitting at a candlelit table in one of LA's trendiest restaurants, staring blankly at the flickering flame as your nerves take over. There's an awkward tension buzzing inside of you, a mix of excitement and dread, and the more you try to suppress it, the more it builds, twisting your stomach into knots.

A blind date. That's what you've agreed to.

Your friends, Simi and Haze, had convinced you it was time to put yourself out there again. "You've been working too much," Simi had said, waving a hand dismissively when you tried to protest. "You never make time for fun."

"I have fun," you'd replied, though even you didn't believe it. The truth was, ever since your acting career had taken off, your personal life had taken a backseat. Sure, there had been a few flings here and there—brief, fleeting, but nothing serious. You were so busy traveling, attending press events, living on set for months on end, that the idea of getting to know someone felt... daunting. It was easier to focus on your work, to disappear into the roles you played on screen.

"You're going on this date, no excuses," Haze had chimed in, backing her twin up with a mischievous grin. "Trust us, Y/N. It's going to be amazing."

So here you are, nerves thrumming beneath your skin as you wait for your date to arrive, hoping against hope that tonight won't be a total disaster.

"You're going to love her," Simi had teased when she dropped you off. "Just trust me."

That's what worries you most. Simi and Haze are notorious for pulling pranks and dragging you into chaotic situations. You could only imagine what kind of person they'd chosen to set you up with.

The seconds tick by, each one stretching into what feels like an eternity. You glance around the restaurant, hoping the low light hides the anxious look on your face. It's a cozy spot, not overly fancy but still high-end enough to make you feel like you're underdressed, even though you'd spent a good hour fretting over what to wear. You settled on something simple—a sleek, black jumpsuit with a delicate silver necklace. Elegant but not over the top. Casual, yet sophisticated.

At least, you hope it's sophisticated.

Just as you're about to pull out your phone and distract yourself from the nerves that are gnawing at you, the door swings open, and you freeze.

Because standing in the doorway, casually glancing around the room with an air of confidence that only comes with fame, is none other than Jennie Kim.

Yes, that Jennie Kim.

Your breath catches in your throat.

No. No, this can't be right.

Your mind races, trying to make sense of what you're seeing. Jennie Kim, the global K-pop superstar, is not supposed to be your blind date tonight. This has to be some sort of mistake. Maybe she's just here for dinner with someone else. Maybe you've been set up at the wrong table, and any moment now, someone completely different will show up.

But as Jennie's gaze sweeps the room, it lands on you. Her eyes widen just slightly in recognition, and before you can even begin to process what's happening, she's making her way toward your table, a soft, knowing smile curving her lips.

Nope. This is real.

Your brain struggles to catch up with the situation as Jennie reaches your table, effortlessly slipping into the seat across from you like she belongs there.

"Hi," she says, her voice smooth and confident, like this is the most natural thing in the world. "You must be Y/N."

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You're too stunned to respond, your thoughts still scrambling to understand how this could possibly be happening. Jennie Kim? Your blind date? How? Why?

Jennie tilts her head slightly, her smile turning playful as she notices your stunned expression. "Simi and Haze didn't tell you, did they?"

You blink, finally finding your voice, though it comes out a little shaky. "N-no. They, uh, left out a few details."

Jennie chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "They have a habit of doing that. I should've known they'd surprise you."

You manage a weak smile, though your heart is still racing. "I guess they thought it'd be funny to leave me in the dark."

"Well, I hope you're not too disappointed," Jennie says, her smile turning a little more tentative, almost as if she's unsure of herself for a moment. "I know this is... probably not what you expected."

Disappointed? How could you be disappointed? You're sitting across from one of the most famous women in the world. You've followed her career, admired her from afar, but you never in your wildest dreams thought you'd be in this situation. Yet here she is, sitting across from you, looking just as human, just as vulnerable as anyone else.

"No, not disappointed," you say quickly, shaking your head. "Just... surprised."

Jennie seems to relax at that, her shoulders dropping slightly as she leans back in her chair. "Good. I was hoping this wouldn't be too awkward."

You let out a soft laugh, some of the tension in your body easing as you meet her gaze. "Honestly, I think I'm the one making it awkward. I just wasn't expecting... well, *you*."

Jennie grins at that, her eyes twinkling with humor. "I get that a lot."

You smile, feeling the ice between you two beginning to thaw. There's a moment of silence, but it's not uncomfortable—more like the calm after the initial storm of nerves. You take a deep breath, finally letting yourself settle into the moment.

This is happening. You're on a date with Jennie Kim. Might as well make the best of it.

"So," you say, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. "How do you know Simi and Haze?"

Jennie's smile brightens at the mention of the twins. "We've been friends for a few years now. I met them through mutual friends in the fashion world. We just clicked right away."

"That sounds about right," you reply, your lips quirking into a fond smile as you think of your two chaotic friends. "They're great at making friends."

Jennie nods, her expression softening. "They are. They've been like family to me, honestly. Whenever I'm in LA, they always take care of me."

You can hear the genuine affection in Jennie's voice, and it strikes you just how grounded she seems, despite the larger-than-life persona the world knows her for. There's something so... normal about the way she talks about her friendships, the way she carries herself. It's disarming, in the best possible way.

"Well, they certainly took care of me by setting this up," you say, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I mean, I wasn't sure about the whole blind date thing, but... this is turning out better than I expected."

Jennie laughs, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," you reply, feeling a little bolder now that the initial shock is wearing off. "I just... I never thought I'd be sitting across from Jennie Kim on a blind date. It's kind of surreal."

Jennie's smile softens, her gaze flickering down to the table for a moment before she looks back at you. "I get that. It's kind of surreal for me too, sometimes. But, you know, at the end of the day, I'm just a person. I like meeting new people, just like anyone else."

Her honesty catches you off guard, and you find yourself smiling. "I guess that's true. But still... you're Jennie."

Jennie grins, leaning forward slightly, her voice dropping into a playful tone. "And you're Y/N. I've heard a lot about you, you know."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You have?"

Jennie nods, her smile turning a little more secretive. "Simi and Haze are big fans of your work. They're always talking about how talented you are."

Your cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment, and you find yourself momentarily speechless. You hadn't expected Jennie to know anything about you beyond the basics, let alone that your friends had been talking you up to her.

"Well, I hope I live up to the hype," you manage to say, trying to play it cool even though your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.

Jennie's gaze softens as she looks at you, and there's something almost... warm in her eyes, something that makes your pulse quicken in a way that has nothing to do with nerves. "I'm sure you will."

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, gazing at each other across the table, and you can't help but feel like something's shifted. It's subtle, but it's there—a spark of connection that wasn't there before.

You're not sure how long the silence stretches between you, but it's comfortable, warm even, and for the first time since Jennie walked through the door, you find yourself relaxing fully into the moment. Her smile, soft yet mischievous, lingers, and the air around you feels lighter, as if the world outside the restaurant has momentarily faded away.

"So," Jennie says, breaking the silence with a teasing tilt to her voice. "Tell me, Y/N, what's it like being a rising star in Hollywood? Simi and Haze made it sound like you're the next big thing."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I wouldn't say that. I've been lucky with some good roles, but the whole 'rising star' thing? That feels a little exaggerated."

Jennie arches an eyebrow, resting her chin on her hand as she leans in, clearly intrigued. "Don't be modest. I saw you in that series everyone's talking about—what was it called again?"

You blink, surprised. "You watched that?"

"Of course," Jennie replies with a smirk. "You were incredible. I mean, I wasn't exactly expecting it, but you really pulled me in. The emotion, the way you carry yourself on screen—it's impressive."

You stare at her for a second, caught off guard by how genuine her praise sounds. It's one thing to hear compliments from fans or even critics, but coming from Jennie Kim, someone who understands the pressures of performing on a global stage, it hits differently.

"Thank you," you say, and despite your attempt to stay cool, you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. "That means a lot coming from you. I guess I've just been really focused on my work lately, trying to make the most of the opportunities I've been given."

Jennie nods, her eyes reflecting understanding. "I get that. It's hard to find balance when you're so driven by what you love, right? There's always something else to achieve, something more to prove."

You nod, feeling a deep resonance with her words. "Exactly. Sometimes it feels like there's this constant pressure to be 'on' all the time, like you have to keep pushing or you'll lose momentum."

Jennie's expression softens, and she leans back in her chair, her eyes thoughtful. "That's one of the hardest parts for me too. Being in the public eye, there's this expectation to always be perfect. But no one can live up to that, not really. It's exhausting."

Her words hit you harder than you expect. It's easy to forget that someone like Jennie, with her perfect image and worldwide fame, might feel the same way you do—caught between passion and pressure, driven yet sometimes drained. There's a vulnerability in her voice that makes her feel more real, more grounded than the polished idol the world knows her as.

You decide to follow her lead, dropping your own guard just a little. "Yeah, I can relate to that. It's like, no matter what you do, there's always this feeling that you have to do more. And on the days when it gets to be too much, it's hard to take a step back without feeling like you're letting people down."

Jennie nods slowly, her gaze locked with yours. "Exactly. It's like... sometimes I wish I could just turn it all off, you know? Take a break from being 'Jennie' and just... be."

You can't help but smile at that. "I'm pretty sure you've earned the right to take a break."

Jennie grins, her eyes twinkling again. "Maybe. But then Simi and Haze would probably drag me into something else."

You both laugh, and the tension that had lingered at the beginning of the night dissipates entirely. The conversation starts to flow naturally, easily, like you've known each other far longer than the hour you've spent together. You talk about your shared love for travel, the challenges of maintaining privacy in the entertainment world, and the tiny moments of joy that help keep you both grounded amidst the chaos of your careers.

As you chat, Jennie becomes more animated, her laughter spilling out freely as she shares funny anecdotes from her time as a trainee and stories about her bandmates. You find yourself relaxing more with every passing minute, captivated not just by her beauty—though it's hard not to be—but by the way she listens, really listens, and how she speaks with such genuine interest.

At one point, she leans forward conspiratorially, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Okay, so you have to tell me... worst audition story."

You groan dramatically, burying your face in your hands. "Oh no, you're going to make me relive my trauma?"

Jennie laughs, a full, bright sound that makes your heart do a funny little flip. "Come on! I bet it's not as bad as you think."

You sigh, knowing you can't back out now. "Alright, fine. So, this was a few years ago when I was still trying to break into the industry. I got called in for this small role in an indie film—nothing big, but I was excited because it was one of my first real auditions."

Jennie nods, her eyes wide with anticipation, clearly enjoying where this is going.

"I walk into the audition room, ready to give it my all," you continue, gesturing for effect. "And I'm halfway through this really emotional monologue, right? Tears in my eyes, pouring my heart out. I'm thinking, 'This is it, I'm nailing it.' And then... I notice the casting director is on his phone."

Jennie gasps dramatically, her hand flying to her mouth. "No way."

"Way," you say, grinning at her reaction. "I froze. Completely forgot my lines. And the guy didn't even notice because he was too busy scrolling through Instagram."

Jennie bursts out laughing, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's awful! I'm so sorry, but that's hilarious."

You can't help but laugh too, even though it had been a mortifying experience at the time. "Yeah, it wasn't funny back then, but now I can laugh about it."

Jennie wipes a tear from her eye, still giggling. "Well, I'm sure you showed them after that. Look at you now."

You shrug playfully. "I'd like to think so."

The conversation continues well into the night, and before you know it, you're both finishing dessert—a shared chocolate lava cake that Jennie insisted you try. There's a contentment between you now, a warmth that feels... easy. Natural. Like this is exactly where you're supposed to be, sitting across from her, trading stories and smiles.

— — — —

As the evening winds down, you find yourself not wanting it to end. You've enjoyed every moment with Jennie, from the initial nerves to the laughter and everything in between. She's more than just a superstar—she's funny, smart, kind, and down-to-earth in ways you never would've expected.

Jennie looks up from her plate, catching your eye, and there's something in her gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. It's soft, almost shy, and it takes you by surprise because up until now, she's been so confident, so self-assured. But in this moment, she seems a little... uncertain.

"I had a really good time tonight, Y/N," she says quietly, her voice sincere. "I didn't know what to expect, but... this has been nice. Really nice."

You smile, your heart swelling at her words. "I had a great time too. Honestly, I'm glad Simi and Haze dragged me into this."

Jennie laughs softly, nodding. "Yeah, they're good at that."

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the air between you charged with something unspoken. It's not awkward, but there's a tension there—a kind of anticipation that hangs in the space between you.

And then, without really thinking, you say, "Do you want to take a walk? It's still early, and I'm not ready for the night to end just yet."

Jennie looks up, surprised, but then her expression softens into a smile. "I'd like that."

You both stand up from the table, and as you exit the restaurant together, stepping out into the cool night air, you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. The streets are quieter now, the city settling into a calm lull, and the moon hangs low in the sky, casting a soft glow over everything.

Jennie walks beside you, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, and for a few moments, neither of you speaks. It's a comfortable silence, though, and you're content to just be in her presence, enjoying the quiet rhythm of your footsteps on the pavement.

After a while, Jennie glances over at you, her lips curving into a small, playful smile. "So... what do you usually do after a date?"

The question catches you off guard, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Uh, I don't know. I don't go on a lot of dates, to be honest."

Jennie laughs softly, her gaze flicking up to the stars. "Yeah, me neither."

There's a pause, and then she adds, "But if I did, I think I'd want to end it on a high note. Something memorable."

You turn to look at her, intrigued. "Like what?"

Jennie stops walking for a moment, her eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief. "Something like this."

Before you can Before you can fully process what's happening, Jennie steps closer, closing the distance between you in one smooth, deliberate motion. The soft glow of the streetlights casts a gentle light on her face, and for a split second, time seems to slow. Her eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet your gaze, silently asking a question.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the tension between you build, an electric current that hums in the air. It's not rushed or forced—it feels like the natural culmination of everything that's happened tonight. Every laugh, every shared story, every glance has led to this moment. And before you even have a chance to overthink it, you find yourself nodding ever so slightly, giving her the answer she was waiting for.

Jennie smiles, a barely-there curve of her lips, before she closes the final gap between you. Her lips press softly against yours, and it's like the world falls away, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of quiet intimacy. The kiss is gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if she's testing the waters, but it's enough to send a warm thrill coursing through you.

You respond instinctively, leaning in just a little more, your hand finding its way to her arm as you deepen the kiss ever so slightly. Jennie's hand comes up to cradle your cheek, her touch soft and reassuring, and in that moment, everything feels right. There's no pressure, no expectations—just the sweetness of this unexpected moment, the soft brush of her lips against yours.

When Jennie finally pulls back, it's slow and unhurried, her forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before she steps back slightly, her eyes still half-closed as if savoring the moment. You both stand there, breathing softly, the cool night air swirling around you, but neither of you says anything at first. There's no need for words right now.

Jennie's eyes flutter open, and when she looks at you, there's a soft glow in her expression—a quiet joy that mirrors what you're feeling. "That," she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, "felt like a high note."

The warmth of Jennie's lips still lingers as she steps back, her breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. The kiss was soft, tender—unexpected in all the best ways. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence not awkward but charged, as if you're both savoring what just happened.

Jennie looks at you with a quiet smile, her eyes glowing beneath the streetlights, her hand still resting lightly on your arm. "That was..." she trails off, her voice soft and full of emotion she doesn't seem to have the words for.

You grin, feeling giddy, your heart still pounding from the kiss. "Yeah... that was something."

Jennie laughs, a light, carefree sound that fills the quiet street. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking almost bashful for the first time tonight. "I'm glad Simi and Haze set this up. I didn't expect to have such a good time."

"Same," you reply, your voice coming out a little breathless. "Honestly, this whole thing has been kind of surreal."

Jennie tilts her head, her gaze softening. "Surreal can be good, though. Sometimes you just have to go with it." Her lips quirk up into a smile, and you feel a rush of warmth spread through you.

Before you can respond, Jennie glances down the street, her expression shifting slightly. "My manager should be here any minute," she says, her tone almost apologetic. "Duty calls, unfortunately."

Your stomach dips a little, not quite ready for the night to end, but you nod, understanding. She's Jennie Kim, after all—idol, global sensation. She doesn't get to slip away unnoticed like the rest of the world.

Jennie seems to sense your hesitation, and she reaches out, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary. "But," she says, her voice lowering conspiratorially, "this doesn't have to be goodbye forever, you know."

Your heart skips a beat at her words. "Oh?"

Jennie leans in slightly, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "I think we should do this again. Soon."

Your breath catches in your throat, and all you can manage is a wide-eyed nod. "I'd really like that."

Jennie's smile widens, and just then, a sleek black car pulls up to the curb, the back door opening as her manager steps out. Jennie glances at the car, then back at you, her eyes lingering on yours for a beat longer than expected.

"Well," she says with a playful sigh, "I guess this is where I make my dramatic exit."

You chuckle, trying to keep the moment light, though your pulse quickens as you realize it's really happening—she's leaving. But before you can get too caught up in that thought, Jennie does something that makes your heart nearly stop.

She blows you a kiss. It's casual, light, but there's something about the way she does it—her eyes sparkling with mischief, her lips curling up just so—that makes it feel intimate, as if the two of you are sharing a private joke that no one else in the world could understand.

"Don't forget me," she says, her tone playful, but there's an underlying sincerity in her voice that catches you off guard.

You laugh, shaking your head as your heart does a little flip. "Trust me, I couldn't if I tried."

With one last smile, Jennie gives you a little wave before turning and slipping into the backseat of the car. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and you watch, rooted to the spot, as the car pulls away from the curb and disappears down the street.

For a moment, you just stand there, blinking in the quiet night, trying to process what just happened. Then, all at once, the excitement hits you like a tidal wave.

"Oh my God," you mutter under your breath, your hands coming up to cover your face as a wide grin breaks across your lips. "Oh my God."

You can't help it—you start bouncing on your toes, your whole body buzzing with an energy you can't contain. The cool night air feels electric against your skin, and before you even realize what you're doing, you're literally jumping up and down in the middle of the sidewalk like some giddy schoolgirl.

Did you just kiss Jennie Kim? Yes. Yes, you did.

You let out a breathless laugh, your heart pounding in your chest as you pull out your phone, immediately dialing Simi. The line rings once, then twice, before she picks up, her voice full of curiosity.

"Hey, Y/N! How'd it go? Are you still alive, or do I need to come scrape you off the floor?"

You can hardly get the words out, your voice spilling over with excitement. "Simi. I just... I just kissed Jennie Kim."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—

"WHAT?"

You can practically hear the shock and excitement in Simi's voice, and it only makes you giggle harder, the joy bubbling up inside of you like champagne.

"I'm not joking!" you say, your voice full of breathless disbelief. "We kissed! Right there on the sidewalk, just now! And it was... amazing. Oh my God, Simi, she's so... she's perfect."

Simi lets out a loud, gleeful squeal, and you have to pull the phone away from your ear for a second as her excitement blasts through the speaker. "I TOLD YOU!" she shrieks, her voice barely containing her joy. "I told you it would be amazing! Oh my God, Y/N, I can't believe this! Haze is going to freak out when I tell her."

You're still grinning like a fool, your heart racing as you try to piece together everything that's just happened. "She blew me a kiss as she left," you add, unable to keep the giggles out of your voice. "Like, a literal kiss in the air. Who even does that?"

"Jennie Kim, that's who!" Simi shouts through the phone, her voice full of pride. "Oh my God, I knew she'd like you. I knew it. You're going to be the next power couple, I swear!"

Your face heats up at the thought, but you can't deny the thrill that rushes through you at her words. You bite your lip, trying to keep from getting too carried away, but the way Jennie had looked at you, the softness in her smile, the kiss—it all felt so real, so full of potential.

"Simi," you say, still catching your breath from both the excitement and the kiss, "I don't even know how to process this. I mean, I went into this thinking it was going to be awkward and weird, but... she was so easy to talk to. Like, we really connected."

Simi lets out a dreamy sigh on the other end. "You're totally smitten, aren't you?"

You laugh, running a hand through your hair. "Maybe just a little."

"Good," Simi says, her voice full of satisfaction. "Because I think Jennie's smitten too."

You feel your heart skip at the thought, remembering the way Jennie had smiled at you, the way she'd leaned in for that kiss. You can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Simi is right.

"Well," you say with a grin, "I guess we'll see."

Simi giggles, clearly as thrilled as you are. "I'm so proud of you, Y/N. Seriously. You deserve this."

You can't stop smiling, your excitement and nerves still buzzing under your skin as you stand on the sidewalk, the city quiet around you. "Thanks, Simi. Really. This was... honestly, one of the best nights I've had in a long time."

"And it's only the beginning," Simi says, her voice full of promise. "I can feel it."

You hang up the phone, still grinning from ear to ear, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring up at the sky. The stars are twinkling above you, the city sounds distant and far away, and all you can think about is Jennie—her smile, her kiss, her soft laughter.

You don't know where this is going, but for the first time in a long time, you feel like something special is just beginning. And you can't wait to see what happens next.

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 01/08 // second chance

wc: 2.7k // rating: M // cw: mild language, references to sexual content // tags: angst with a hopeful ending, miscommunication, eddie makes some questionable (bad) decisions, post-s4 but vecna died, protective robin buckley

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“Woah, hey, no. Absolutely not.”

Eddie is being shoved in the chest by someone before he can even register the sharp anger in their voice.

“Wait, wait, Rob, just—”

“No!” Robin smacks him on the chest after successfully pushing him back out the door of Family Video. “You do not get to see him.”

“Robin, please—”

The bell jingles as the door swings shut, and Robin is still pushing him off the curb and into the parking lot. “No, Eddie. You’ve hurt him enough, I’m not letting you do it again.”

There’s a fire in her eyes that lets Eddie know she’s more than serious, and willing to do a lot more than just shove him out the door. He holds his hands up and steps back in surrender, no doubt looking as pathetic as he feels. “Okay, okay, okay, I’m not coming in! I just…”

“Just what?” Robin crosses her arms across her chest, looking at Eddie like he’s the scum of the earth. Maybe he is. He feels like it.

Eddie sighs and anxiously pulls at his hair. His stomach rolls with nerves. “I just wanna talk to him.”

Robin scoffs and looks off to the side, understandably skeptical of his intentions.

“I know! I know, I fucked up!”

“You—” Robin cuts herself off, her sharp gaze returning to him. He flinches at the anger in it. “Do you? Do you actually know?”

“I…” Eddie had only assumed, by the way his last conversation with Steve had ended, the way all his calls had been avoided, minus the one where Robin had answered and swiftly delivered the message to never contact her best friend ever again. He had only assumed it was bad bad. “I… didn’t know.” He finishes weakly.

“And the fact that he told you—”

“I was scared!” Eddie cuts her off. “Can you blame me?”

“Yeah, I can, actually.” Robin’s tone is harsh. Eddie knows he deserves it. “After everything you’ve been through with him, after everything you know, and to just run off like that?”

Her words sting, and Eddie can’t help but hang his head in shame. “I know, Robin. But I was wrong!”

Robin scoffs again, eyes narrowed. “And it only took you, what, a week to figure that out?”

“No! No. I regretted it as soon as I left, but I…” Eddie exhales heavily. “I still—I was still scared.” The venom in Robin’s expression doesn’t change. “Please, Rob, I wanna be with him. He’s gotta give me another chance.”

“Okay, let’s get a couple of things straight.” Robin raises a finger. “One, Steve doesn’t have to do anything.” She raises another. “Two, if, and that’s a big if, he decides to give you another chance, you better be for real, Munson. I will kill you myself if you hurt him again.”

“I am! Rob, I swear, I wouldn’t’ve come back if I wasn’t. I…” Eddie hesitates for a second. Pulls on his hair again. His heart pounds wildly in his chest. “I love him, Robin.”

Robin assesses him, eyes narrowed, trying to see if he’s serious. Eddie tries to hold her gaze, hoping she sees his sincerity. Whether she sees that, or the bags under his eyes from not having slept at all the past week, or the fact that he’s begging with everything he has in him, she seems to accept it.

“Fine. But you will not do this during work. At least let him finish his shift in peace before you come and blow everything up.” Robin turns swiftly and starts walking back to the shop, not waiting to hear anything more from him.

Eddie fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter, fingers trembling as he walks back to his van. That could've gone better, he thinks. Could've gone worse too. Taking a couple deep drags, smoke filtering out with the shudder of his breath, he wills his heart to settle down. He had time to kill now. If he had to wait until the end of Steve’s shift, he would wait.

“I love you, Eddie.”

Steve’s soft voice came from above where Eddie was resting on Steve’s chest. It made him freeze, hand idly playing with Steve’s chest hair stilled. It sounded like Steve said… but no. That couldn’t be right. This… thing, this friendship, Eddie guessed he would call it, that he and Steve had been doing since all the end-of-the-world stuff, had definitely turned into something different. Yes, Eddie had very recently had Steve’s cock in his mouth. But they were still just friends, right?

The first couple of months were average enough, as far as trauma bonding friendships went. Just being there for each other, working through nightmares and panic attacks and pain flare ups. But as they healed and moved on, Eddie found himself and Steve hanging out just for the sake of hanging out.

And then there was the flirting. Eddie started it, he knows he did. A little call back to the “big boy” comment from the RV. He’d watched as Steve’s cheeks flushed a faint pink at the pet name, and found himself wanting to see it more and more. To his surprise, Steve started flirting back, catching Eddie off guard and having him hide behind his hair, cheeky smile peeking through the curls. It just seemed to be a… thing they did. It was normal to flirt with your friends.

It culminated in a night where, after sharing a joint and drinking some beers, Steve leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. Sweet, slow, romantic. Eddie reciprocated with heat and desire. Steve had laughed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and pulling him into his lap. They ended the night asleep in Steve’s bed, wrapped up in each other, exhausted after the bliss of touching and tasting each other. Eddie left the morning after with a shy wave from Steve. It happened again and again, the taste of Steve’s skin, the warmth of his hands on Eddie’s waist, the feeling of his chest hair between Eddie’s fingers, finding pleasure in each other’s touch, all becoming familiar.

Eddie thought he knew what this was. He thought they were just messing around, just having fun. The idea of being with Steve, in any capacity beyond this, was so laughable to Eddie, he refused to even think about it. There were moments where Eddie almost thought Steve liked him as more than a friend, but he quickly shoved them down. Pushed them deep into the recesses of his mind where he wouldn’t have to think about it. He knew Steve was just an affectionate guy. And it would never happen, so why even think about it? Eddie would just enjoy what they had. It was enough. He told himself over and over. It was enough.

But then Steve said…

“Wh-what?” Eddie managed to stutter, still frozen in shock.

Steve’s hand trailed down Eddie’s spine. “I know that it’s early, and you don’t—you don’t have to say it back. But I don’t wanna waste time. Almost lost you once. I wanna be with you, Eddie. I love you.”

Eddie’s mind sluggishly takes in what he’s hearing. When it finally catches up, he sits up so swiftly, Steve jerks back on reflex. Eddie sees the soft concern in Steve’s eyes, and suddenly his heart is pounding in his ears and he feels like he can’t breathe. Steve reaches out, back of his hand about to caress Eddie’s jaw.

“No! No, no, no, no, no.” Eddie jumps up, very aware of his own nudity.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Steve sits up, hands out like he’s placating a wild animal. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” Eddie can feel himself panicking, but can’t seem to stop it. “You just said you love me?” He can’t help the incredulity in his tone, the very idea so insane to him.

Steve’s confusion seeps into his voice. “I… I do?”

“No, you don’t,” Eddie argues instantly.

“What are you…? Eddie, what is this?” Steve’s eyes are widened with hurt, head shaking slightly. Eddie can see that he wants to reach out, but is holding back.

Frantically looking for his clothes, Eddie’s hands shake. “You—you’re just confused.” He finds his pants and yanks them on, not looking at Steve. “You don’t love me, you’re just… this is just…” Eddie trails off, looking for his shirt.

“Eddie, Eddie, look at me,” Steve pleads, fear starting to lace into the concern. “This is real, I do love you.”

Eddie refuses to look at him as he quickly pulls on his shirt, searching for his boots. “No, no, you don’t. I can’t Steve, I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Steve finally stands up, trying to catch his eye.

Exhaling heavily, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, before looking up at Steve and seeing the pain in his. “I can’t let myself believe that.”

Steve takes a step back, looking as though Eddie had pushed him. He sees the shutdown happen, the way Steve is suddenly closed off, pulling away, grief barely concealed as he averts his gaze. Unable to stand the expression on Steve’s face anymore, Eddie grabs his boots and runs out the door. He keeps running until he gets to his van, throwing himself inside and slamming on the accelerator, not daring to look back.

He doesn’t ease up until he’s halfway back to the trailer park and feeling like his chest might explode with the quick, panicked breaths he’s taking. Eddie pulls the van off to the side of the road and hits the brakes, body jolting with the force of the stop. The conversation with Steve replays in his mind on a loop. He forces himself to take a deep breath but the look on Steve’s face in his mind’s eye makes him choke on it. Eddie finally calms down enough to stare blankly through the windshield, and he asks himself what the hell he just did.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of his van, Eddie’s hands tap on the steering wheel, jittery with anxiety. The clouds grow dark overhead. Steve’s shift ends in a couple of hours, but Eddie didn’t want to leave in case he left early. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about cornering Steve at work, but he wouldn’t take his calls, and he was sure that if Steve didn’t intend to hear him out, Buckley would have come to tell him by now.

With half an hour left of Steve’s shift, Eddie opens the door to his van and swings his legs out, his last cigarette in hand. Keeping his eyes trained on the door, he waits for the last few customers to file out. He sees Buckley flip the door sign to ‘Closed’, catch his eye, roll hers, and disappear back into the store. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, waiting to see if Steve would appear, or if Buckley would come out to tell him to piss off for good.

After several agonising minutes, the door swings open slowly and Steve steps out. Eddie had never seen him look so… wary. So closed off. Not since they’d been friends. Steve catches his gaze, and Eddie watches the hurt flash briefly in his eyes before being quickly hidden. Buried deep down somewhere Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it. An impassive mask taking its place.

“Hey…” Eddie starts softly. “Can we talk?”

Steve only raises his brows and gestures vaguely between them. Eddie figures it’s as much approval as he was going to get. He tosses the butt of his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it as he hops down from the van seat, shutting the door behind him. He takes a few slow steps towards Steve, who still only regards him with caution. Eddie rubs his hands down his jeans, trying to still the trembling. Tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. Finally, he decides to sit on the curb a few steps away from Steve. He looks out and takes in the grey sky. Weirdly fitting. After a few moments, Steve sighs and sits down, leaving a bit of space between them.

Eddie, hunched over his knees, turns his head to look over at him. Steve looks straight ahead, but Eddie could see the darkness under his eyes, the overall flatness of his expression. It made Eddie ache to realise he caused it. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that Steve wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m… so sorry, Steve.”

Steve scoffs, still not looking at him. Still unreadable.

“I mean it, Steve, really.” Eddie continues to stare, hoping (and scared) that Steve might turn his head. “I just—I panicked. I didn’t think you’d ever—”

“I get it,” Steve cuts him off sharply. “You thought we were just messing around. It’s fine. I don’t, y’know, need to hear your reasoning. For why you don’t feel the same way.”

“No! That’s not it at all.” Eddie tries to keep his voice calm, but the wobble gives him away. “I mean, yeah, I did think we were just messing around but I… I thought the idea of you wanting more than that was, y’know… crazy.” His hands continue to shake as he gestures vaguely.

Steve finally turns to him, only to give him a look that was equal parts hurt, confused, and honestly quite harsh. “What? Because King Steve could never be capable of love?”

“No, Steve, of course you’re capable of love, I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it.” It takes everything in Eddie not to reach out and take Steve’s hands in his. “I just. I didn’t think you’d ever love me.”

The silence sits heavy between them for several long moments.

Steve closes his eyes, his tone is measured. “I told you I loved you—”

“I know, and I didn’t believe you.”

“And you ran away.” Steve continues as though Eddie hasn’t spoken, looking back to him. “You told me I was confused.” The hurt returns with full force in Steve’s eyes, the slight green in them shining with it. “You said you couldn’t let yourself believe it. That I could love you.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Eddie’s voice cracks. “I’m so, so sorry. For all of it. I hurt you, and I wish I could take it all back. I was just… scared. Terrified. To believe it. I thought I was protecting myself. That if I let myself believe you, it would hurt too much when the rug was pulled out from under me. But I was wrong. So wrong. Nothing hurts more than knowing I hurt you, and I know you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it, and…”

Steve just waits, tears shining in his eyes but not spilling over. It breaks Eddie’s heart all over again to see how much pain he’s caused. He meets Steve’s gaze with as much bravery as he can muster.

“And… I love you, Steve. I do, I love you so much. I don’t wanna be without you.”

Steve closes his eyes at Eddie’s words, turning away from him, brow furrowed. Tears trail down his cheek and settle at his jawline. “I don’t… think I can trust you.” Steve’s words are slow and thick. Measured.

Eddie feels the knife twist in his heart. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he continues. “I… I get it. I do. But I’m asking—begging you to give me another chance. Please, Steve. I’ll spend every single day proving it to you, until you can trust me again.”

Steve peeks over at him, wary. “Every single day?”

“For the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes,” Eddie promises. “I swear it. I love you, Steve.”

Eddie holds his breath, throat tight, and blinks away his own tears. Expression unreadable, Steve looks at him for a long moment, carefully considering Eddie’s words. Tentatively, Eddie reaches out towards Steve’s hand, leaving enough distance for him to decide. Steve slowly takes his hand and grips it tightly. He lets their joined hands hang between them, before finally whispering, “Okay.”

[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.”

[venuzasmuse]

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐓𝐨 𝐃𝐢𝐞, 𝐣. 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 (dbf! joel)

author’s note: i wrote this high as balls & depressed because it’s loosely based off of my situationship LOL. anyways hope yall like reading my misery as much as i loved writing it. <333

he was the worst man you’ve ever met.

not just in the sense of morality; his compass split down the middle of north and south, interceding the blurred lines of need and desire.

he’s everything cathartic personified. the kind of feeling that could snap you in half if you bended back enough.

but, you’ve always been keen of broken toys and your knees bent at the want to be their savior.

he was the worst man you’ve ever met but you were worse for wanting to be loved by him even more.

the lingering taste of marlboro reds sat on the tip of your tongue and your throat burned at the sight of him.

the back of your mouth lit aflame with all of the vituperative words you want to say. they beat against the cage of your chest as he downs yet another whiskey neat and smoked like a chimney all night.

boisterous laughter filled the hot, arid atmosphere. the wind slapped against the bare of your back as the rope from the tire rippled and divided, swinging from the weeping tree.

you snap out of your july induced daze when you hear your name be called.

“can you go fetch us another pack of corona?” drunkenness dripped from your father’s voice and you could tell you’d probably be up all night cleaning up after him.

familiar hazel eyes pay homage to your face and your nerves plea against your dignity to save itself by looking anywhere but where his gaze followed.

you comply with a simple nod, not wanting to deal with the back and forth of cutting your father off from another drink. you walk past joel close enough for him to smell the floral lotion spread across the skin of your calves.

once you were far enough to sneakily steal glances outside, you opened the refrigerator door and grabbed another pack of beer.

how could he just sit there?

he hadn’t said anything to you since he arrived— or more so since you’ve come back from college and the desperation to simply be acknowledged skinned you raw.

you were angry, hands hot with the urge to slam the beer against that stupid, glass table he’d built for your father.

you wanted him to feel a lick of what you did that summer: abandoned and left high and dry.

your slide open the back patio door, placing down the beer in front of the two men. only one “thank you” in response and it’d been from your father.

from him? nothing. he’s cold as ice as if you were simply a servant there to deliver his wants.

the night went on just like that until your father groaned out his resignation to drinking and trudged upstairs yelling a simple “lock the door when you leave” to joel.

you sigh as you bend down to grab yet another empty beer bottle, tossing it into the trash bag. each clink just overstimulating you even more.

joel was still here with a half empty bottle in his hand. when he chugged up the remaining remnants, he stood up and stalked towards you.

“you want some help, sweetheart?” he offered.

you wanted to take that bottle and chuck it at him— you had too many questions and knew he didn’t have enough answers he cared to muster up to relieve you.

instead, you simply snatched it from him and chucked it into the bag carelessly.

“thanks but no thanks” you mutter, shrugging past him to collect another pile of trash. “if you wanna make yourself useful, you could start by goin’ home for the night, mr. miller.”

he chuckles lowly.

“what ever happened to southern hospitality? your generation lost their sense of manners, already?” he pulls out another pack of those deathly marlboro reds, lifts a stick up to his lips, lighting the end of it until it was cherry red.

you whip your head around and furrow your brows.

“manners? you’re trying to tell me about manners?” you drop the bag and not even the clashing of glass could slice the tension. “don’t give me that shit, joel.”

he doesn’t dare to utter a word and he only stares back at you with indifference. yet, even the lack of condescension in his expression, still managed to tick you off. not because you wanted that reaction out of him, but because it reminded you of how much he didn’t care.

“you don’t know a shit or two of what manners look like on a woman.”

stupid, old man. he never cared about anything other than himself and his filthy inhibitions.

“you’re hurting my feelings, baby.” your feet are planted on the ground and your knees almost buckle at the way the word slid off his tongue.

so carelessly unaware of the cruelty of what he does to you.

you search his eyes for meaning and drag them down to his chapped, ghastly merlot lips. you remember the way they felt tracing the dip of your spine and you want to break.

after a couple more seconds of a silent, knowing exchange of stares “i’m sorry i didn’t call you.” he finally says.

you dreamt over and over about the moment he finally said those words. you fantasized about shoving them back down his throat with a cold remark about he could fuck himself with them.

you imagined the anger of what his regret would finally feel like that over time, leading up to this moment, all you felt was sadness.

sadness for the time lost and sadness for the disappointment of knowing you’d still be his, even if you held up a mirror of his worst qualities to him.

an apology from joel miller felt like prolonged grief that you run from until it finds you on a sunny day.

your lip quivers and he pulls you into his rugged arms at the sight of your distressed state.

you wanted to hit him, kick him where the sun didn’t shine— do anything but enjoy his embrace. but all of the anger began to dissipate as his hands ran over your back, soothing you from the pain he illicit.

“i hate you for what you did to me. for making me love you, even when you knew, you’re no man i should ever love.”

a tear slipped from your eye and he kept holding you.

“i hate you, joel.”

“i know.”

“i hate you for ruining me the way you do.”

“i know, baby.”

he pulls you away by your forearms. he wipes away your tears, lightly smearing your mascara in the tracks of his thumbs.

“you know why.” he states seriously. “you deserve better.”

and you did. you knew you deserved better but you didn’t want better. you wanted him. to consume him: to swallow his transgressions and sins.

your bring your hand up to his scruff, caressing it with the pad of your thumb.

“i deserve better.” you repeat. “but tonight, i want you for whatever you are.” you walk closer to him until you could feel the heat radiating off of his clothed body. you lean in and pause. you search for any hesitation in his eyes and when you couldn’t detect any, you leaned in planting an open mouth kiss on the left corner of his mouth.

“you can pretend, right? just for tonight.”

“pretend what?”

“pretend that i’m the one for you.” you place another kiss on the right corner. “tell me all the things i wanna hear. make it feel real just for tonight and after this, i’ll find a nice, respectable man my age who i don’t have to pretend with.”

you step back a half and inch, bringing up his callused hand to your lips, kissing his fingertips as if they were something sacred.

he watched you with dire eyes that felt like you were the last drop of water he needed in a yearning drought.

he leans in and kisses you. he’s surprisingly gentle and you melt into him. you deepen the kiss with hunger, pressing your body against his as if you were trying to merge your soul with his.

manicured hands tangle themselves into his tousled hair, ever so slightly pulling at the roots as he kissed you.

what you missed the most about joel, was the way he kissed you. he drank you in like wine and held you like a woman. every-time he kisses you, it feels like a threat. like he knows the way he does, will ruin your life.

and it can. it absolutely can and it has.

he grips your hips hard enough to leave purple in its wake and you sigh into the kiss. “you’re the worst man i’ve ever met.” you pull away to whisper just to melt back into him.

he abruptly pulls away, breathing heavily. “not here. your father could walk in any minute.”

“you scared your best friend is gonna know what you do this daughter?” you bite back, a ghost of a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

he rolls his eyes, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the direction he began to walk in. when ya’ll get to his ford bronco he says, “come on, get in the truck.” he opens the truck door, ushering you to hop in.

you do and scoot back far enough that your back hits the other car door. he climbs in right after you, snaking his body over yours.

his hand finds your neck, tilting it up to litter kisses all over the skin of your throat.

you softly moan at the change of tempo in his kiss, stretching your neck out for easier access. disrespectful hands roam over your thighs, pushing up your sundress to play with the band of your underwear. his pointer fingers dip inside of them and your breathing speeds up with anticipation.

he pulls them down and wriggle them off for him, lifting up your legs so he could slip them off. he pushes your dress up to your stomach and kisses your navel. you writhe into the pressure of his kiss, begging for more of it with the arch of your back.

he wetly kisses your skin and his hands push your legs up by the backs of your knees until your kneecaps met your breast.

“missed her just as much as i missed you.” he says looking up at you while planting a reverent kiss on the mound of your pubic bone. you almost wince at the closeness of his lips, heating radiating off of your cunt.

he licks a stripe up from your entrance to your clit and your breath hitches in your throat.

as much as you hated most words that came out of joel miller’s mouth, god, did you love what he could do with it, too.

your hands find his hair, tugging on it as if you had no safe common ground and the only thing you could use to level yourself was him.

he responded to your breathy moans with enthusiasm, drinking each one in as he lapped you up with a flattened tongue. his hands found your lifting hips, pushing them back down by placing his forearm over your lower stomach to gravitate you back to earth.

“fuck” you cry out shakily, your tone mimicking a sob. his lips suction around your clit and you’re sent over the edge. your eyes are screwed shut as the backs of your eyelids fade into white from how tightly closed they were. your legs tighten around his head and he rips them back apart, ignoring the shake of them. the high is short lived as your back falls back into the seat.

he meets you where you are, placing a sloppy kiss onto your lips. you taste yourself on his tongue and shackle your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

“you alright?” he asks.

how cute.

you offer him a lazy nod and kissing your burning cheek before telling you to turn around. you oblige, shifting your weight around to face your reflection in his foggy car window. joel slides himself in between your legs, maneuvering you to accommodate to his stature.

“you want me to put it in?” he awaits for consent and you turn your face to kiss him again to which he captures your lips in his again fervently. his finger finds your clit, playing with it.

“don’t make me beg, joel. please. waited so long for this.”

“wanna know you want it just as bad as me, sweetheart.”

“i want you, joel.” he kisses the crown of your spine and undoes his belt. you whimper when you feel him tease your entrance with his tip back and forth before finally pushing in.

your mouth falls agape and both of you moan simultaneously at the protrusion. he begins to slide in and out of you and it feels so good, tears begin to well up in your bambi eyes.

“i missed my favorite girl.” he groans out, pushing your hair out of the way to plant a kiss on your shoulder blade.

you let out a shrill moan. it’s light as a feather and you press yourself into him with each thrust, wanting him deeper. one one of his rough hands finds your breasts, roughly tugging at it.

the both of you felt it, in this space how much you missed each other. the intimacy had you veering for more than what he could offer, and joel felt like three more strokes in were enough to send his him flying over the edge.

he pulled all the way out, drew you in by throwing arm over the front of your shoulders, and plunged himself back in at brutal pace. you yelped out a moan, cursing yourself for allowing this to happen again but it felt too good to be wrong in the moment.

you’d vow to cry about this later— bloody mary eyes— but right now, you were fully immersed in a fucked out daze.

“fuck, i don’t wanna come yet.” he groans but he’s unrelenting. “come on, pretty girl. show me just how much you missed me.”

“joel— fuck!”

“come on, show me. let me see what i made out of you.” he drags out his, urging you to show him just the mess he made out of your sanity over the course of the summer.

“tell me you love me.” he doesn’t reply and you look back at him with pleading eyes. “tell me. i won’t hold you to it.”

he kisses you again. “i love you.”

you press your cheek against his as he repeats it, over and over and over again. he snakes a hand in between your cunt to play with your throbbing clit. your head falls limp as you come around him with a tight spasm, your body launching forward as the pleasure washed over your fucked out face.

he spares a couple more strokes before he empties out his cum inside of your cunt with a guttural moan.

the two of you pant, and you turn around to lay back your sweaty body back against the seat.

the night is still humid and the clouds have spread out to reveal the stars that hid behind them.

you’re silent as he walks you back to your door, pulling down your dress down a bit more to smooth the fabric.

your chest feels heavy and it feels like the other shoe has already dropped. you cursed yourself mentally, the aftermath of your own actions hitting you like a truck.

you didn’t expect the regret to wash up against the surface so bad and you felt your heart strings tug with each step you made.

you look back at him to see a cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth, smoke leaking out through the seams of his cracked lips.

the two of you don’t exchange any other words and your heart feels as if it’s going to fall out your chest.

didn’t you want this?

you crack open the door quietly to slither back inside of the comfort of your home, back into reality where “i love you’s” and one night stands clashed.

“see ya’ kid.” he bids his goodbye and ruffles your hair. your heart clenches at the way he couldn’t bring himself to care— to not see anything past himself and you wanted to cry at the thought that you could never change his mind.

honeysuckle lips with strings of excuses as to why he couldn’t love you the way you want, why he couldn’t let you keep him.

joel miller was the worst man you’ve ever met— casually cruel and noncommittal— but at least you had a bit of him to call yours and maybe that made you worse.

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 5 (Batter up)

a/n: To clarify, I do not own the rights to any pictures or names used in this story, except for Sierra Riley. All other rights and names belong to the NFL and MLB. Additionally, some characters are inspired by the game MLB The Show 24, which includes fictional characters. The title of the book is inspired by the song "It's a Man's World" by James Brown and Betty Jean Newsome, for which I also do not own the rights. All rights are held by Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. and Unichappell Music, Inc. Enjoy!

If you had told me 10 years ago that I would be playing for the Atlanta Braves, I would have told you. You're lying, but here I am. After the draft, I had to fly to Florida for spring training, and then when that was over, I flew to Atlanta to sign my rookie contract, which is $380k for my first year plus a 2 million signing bonus. Then fly to Cincinnati for my first game for the season. Safe to say I've had a crazy couple of weeks. 

Oh and how fitting that Joe is throwing out the first pitch since its Reds opening day.  So it's really true what they say. It does come full circle. 

I walked out from the clubhouse into the away dugout. I noticed Joe in the batter's box swinging a bat at baseballs as they fired out the shooter and must I say he looked damn good while doing it too. 

Ok, time I come clean about something. Do I have a crush on my best friend Joe Burrow? Yes. Am I scared to tell him? Yes. Why? because if I do I'm going to make a complete fool of myself and I just do not want to risk that and possibly losing a friend.  

But friends don't text each other every day for random things or have late-night phone conversions like they used to when they were in LSU together. To sum it up over the last couple of months Joe and I have slipped back into our old ways and not that I'm complaining I just wish we were more. 

I noticed Joe had finished and might as well say hello. I walked out towards home plate catching the tail end of his conversation “I'm so proud of her…to watch her play in college I knew she was big league bound and now she's here.” I heard Joe tell my teammate Austin Riley, a third baseman. 

“There's the woman of the hour!” I hear Ja’marr call out as I make my way toward the group, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves.

I shake my head, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “Stop! I'm done crying for today,” I reply, my voice tinged with a slight whine, reflecting the emotional rollercoaster I've been on.

Ja’marr looks at me with a supportive smile. “How do you feel? Are you ready for this?” he asks, his eyes filled with genuine concern. I nod slowly, trying to muster a confident expression despite my jitters. “I feel ready; I’m just trying not to overthink everything,” I admit, forcing a nervous smile.

“Sis, you’ve got this in the bag!” Ja’marr encourages, his voice steady and reassuring. “Don’t let them cloud your mind—just play your heart out, like you do every time.” His words resonate with me, pushing back the self-doubt that threatens to creep in.

“Ri, you’ve worked your ass off for this moment,” Joe chimes in, giving me a playful nudge on my shoulder. “You’re going to absolutely kill it today! And we just happen to have front-row seats to witness your brilliance.” His enthusiasm and belief in me fill me with warmth and motivation.

Nodding, I accept their words with a grateful smile, feeling a rush of confidence. “Thanks, you guys! That really helps. But now I have to ask: what the hell is this?” I say, gesturing pointedly at the Cincinnati jerseys they are both proudly wearing. They burst into laughter, clearly thinking they could charm their way out of my noticing their blatant team allegiance.

“Hey it was a gift from them but believe me I would wore yours if I could” Ja'marr gives his excuse. I turn to Joe waiting for his.

“I'm from Ohio.” he gives the most obvious answer—typical Joe.

------

Against all odds, Joe delivered a flawless pitch after the pregame festivities and the stirring national anthem. I could feel the excitement coursing through me—this was my moment, my MLB debut.

As they called my name, I heard Joe and Ja’marr erupting with cheers from their private suite through the crowd their support only boosted my confidence and set the stage for what was about to happen.

I locked in my focus, ready to face the pitcher. He glanced at the runner on first, then turned his gaze to me and wound up for the throw.

The pitch came rushing straight at me! I instinctively jumped back, narrowly avoiding it. “One ball, no strikes.” But that wasn’t a mistake; he wanted to rattle me. Too bad for him—I’m not easily shaken. 

I reset myself, gripping the bat firmly, ready for the next challenge. The pitcher checked the runner again and delivered another pitch.

This time, he made a crucial misstep—an offspeed pitch! I saw it coming, and without hesitation, I swung with all my power. The crack of the bat was electric, and I sent that ball soaring out of the park. A home run on my very first hit! 2-0, baby! Now that’s how you make an unforgettable debut. 

-------

We won only by the skin of our teeth 5-4. I had just changed out of my away uniform into some sweets and a hoodie when I heard a knock on my locker room door. 

“It's open” I shout, not feeling like walking to the door. 

The door opens and Joe pops his head in “Hey can I come in?” 

I waved my hand “Yeah come on” 

 He steps in closing the door behind him “Getting ready to head out just wanted to say you looked great out there today” he compliments. 

“Thanks, I had to show off a bit, you know. Oh! I meant to give this back to you, but everything just happened so fast,” I said, remembering his chain that he gave to me to wear on Daft Night. But I never did give it back to him. If I remember right, I was in my gym bag. Bingo pulled it right out. 

I went to hand it back to him be he stopped me “Keep it Ri” 

 “Huh?” I said making sure I heard him right. This boy is crazy.

Joe cracked a little smile “Keep it...believe me I've got plenty”  

I looked at him to make sure he wasn't joking “You sure cause this is worth more than my signing bonus” I joked nervously.

He smiled and nodded his head “Yeah I'm sure think of it as an ‘I knew you would make it’s gift”.

I smiled “Ok no take takebacks Burrow,” I said putting back in my bag. 

“What are you doing when you leave here?” Joe asked suddenly. I shrugged my shoulders. “It's still early so I'm not really tired. Might just chill back at the hotel. Why what's up?” I answered taking a seat on the bench.

He looks at me for a second then slightly shakes his head. “Some friends of mine wanted to go out to eat and all but Ja'marr had to leave soo…” 

“You want me to go in his place?” I finished the sentence for him. 

This is not anything new. I went to a lot of Joe's events as his plus one back in LSU. And he did the same thing for me. 

“Yeah but if you want to call it a day I understand” he quickly says.

I shake my head with a laugh “No I'll go with you, Joe. Plus it would be nice to get a breather before tomorrow's game” I said, opening up my suitcase. 

“Give me a few to get changed and I'll be right out”

Joe raised his eyebrows “You really could go in what you have on” he said nonchalantly 

Is this boy out of his mind? “Joe I'm not hanging out around people I don't know in a hoodie and sweatpants,” I said looking at him all upside his head.

“Yes, you can cause one where only going to Texas Roadhouse. Two you just finished a hell of a baseball game and have a right to wear this. And if someone has a problem with it then we can go and have our own dinner” he says the confidence just flows out as he says it.

My stomach should have not tightened up but I just love how protective this man is. Biting my lip not knowing what to say except “Alright let's go”

-------

Joe was walking me up to my room after that impromptu hangout session with his friends which by the way all amazing. 

“Yeah I'm definitely paying for this tomorrow,” I said feeling like I was ready to pop. 

Joe gives out a small chuckle “Yeah that makes two of us”  

I give him this funny look “You got time to burn it off, Joe. I on the other hand have to play a game tomorrow” I said pulling out my keycard for my room. “Fair point Far point,” Joe said not disagreeing with me

Stopping in front of my room “This is me” I said turning to Joe “Thanks again for inviting me” I said suddenly nervous as I looked at him and his features pretty blue eyes, dirty blonde hair so silky you could run your fingers through it and not get tangled. To some it up this boy was fine. 

His voice knocked me out of my thoughts “No thank you for coming. I owe you one for this Ri” 

Yeah, a date.

“What’d you say” I saw Joe's eyebrows raise..Did I say that out loud could have sworn I said that in my head. 

“I didn't say anything,” I said quickly shaking my head trying to avoid this conversation at all costs.

“Nah, Nah you said something. What did you say?” he asked stepping a little closer. Looking the other way with a blush on my cheeks “I said a date” I repeat my words still not looking a him. 

He stood there with the biggest smirk on his face “I still didn't hear what you said say it again and this time” he paused to gently grab my chin “Look at me” 

Soaked absolutely Soked straight through.

Unable to move I said it again looking straight dead in his eyes “A date. You owe me a date” 

Joe nodded his head and let my chin go “That's what I thought you said” he said stepping away from me. “Ok, how about this. If you get to the World Series which I know you will I'll take you on a date” he said proposing a challenge or more like a bet. “Ok and if I don’t,” I said waiting for the catch no pun intended. 

“Then I still take you on the date’

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hihiiii tis i the one and only soupiie!!

okay, i LOVED that domestic tyler fic with the xmas livestream and was wondering if you'd make fluffy josh x reader where she's seen by fans at a concert and take pics with them and then while josh is running to his b stage drumkit, he kisses her and the fans take pics. then maybe after the concert some fluff with josh and tyler.

love love loooveee your writing, please never stop, its one of the few things keeping me sane rn 🧡🧡🧡

Barrier Kisses - Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Nothing hehe

Word Count: 1087

A/N: RAHH LOVE THIS SO MUCH! Hello soupiiiie!! Thank you for requesting something! I'm so glad you're enjoying my writing. It's kinda hard to keep it up considering how my requests have been fewer and fewer but I'm trying :) Please request another piece!!

The energy in the arena was nothing short of magical. I could feel it in my chest, the heavy thrum of bass and the sea of voices singing along with Tyler as the show reached its halfway point. The Clancy Tour was in full swing, and the fans were louder than ever — their excitement so infectious, I found myself smiling without even realizing it.

I stood tucked off to the side of the stage, close enough to watch Josh's every move but far enough to stay out of the spotlight. Tyler was on the main stage, delivering one of his iconic speeches, hyping the crowd up before Routines in the Night. Meanwhile, Josh was preparing for his run to the B-stage, ready for the song to start while Tyler stood under the stage with Mark.

I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill every time I saw Josh on stage, the way his presence just filled the entire arena. It wasn’t just the drumming, though that was always mesmerizing — it was the way he connected with the fans, like each beat he hit meant something to them. And to me.

Lost in the moment, I barely noticed the small group of fans standing near the barrier who had spotted me. I wasn’t exactly trying to keep a low profile, but I didn’t expect them to recognize me. Their eyes went wide, and then one of the girls waved me over, excitement practically bursting from her.

“Are you Josh’s girlfriend?” she asked, voice high-pitched with nerves but sweet as ever.

I felt my face flush, but I smiled. “Yeah, I am.”

Immediately, phones were pulled out and I laughed softly, shaking my head. I wasn’t exactly used to the attention, but it was kind of cute how excited they were. They asked for a few pictures, and I couldn’t say no. The girls were so kind, gushing about how much they loved Josh, and it made me proud to know that he had fans like them.

“Can we get a picture with you?” another girl asked.

“Of course!” I agreed, stepping over closer to the barrier and posing with them.

We chatted a bit about the tour, their favorite songs, and how long they’d been following the band. I could tell how much the show meant to them, and it made my heart swell knowing Josh and Tyler could bring that kind of joy into people’s lives.

“Do you think we could get a picture of you and Josh?” one of them asked with wide, hopeful eyes.

I laughed, feeling my face heat up again. “I think he’s a little busy for that right now,” I said, glancing back toward the stage where Tyler was winding down his speech. Josh was waiting in the wings, just a few feet away, already prepared to make his sprint toward the B-stage.

Right on cue, the lights shifted, casting everything in deep reds and golds, the perfect backdrop for his run. I turned to see Josh glance over at me, that unmistakable smile on his face. My heart skipped a beat. It always did when he looked at me like that — like I was the only person in the room.

And then, without warning, he started jogging over.  The fans around us squealed in surprise, and my eyes widened as he came closer.

He didn’t stop running, just slowed enough to lean in and press a quick kiss to my lips. It was so fast but so sweet, leaving me blushing as the fans around us erupted into excited cheers.

The sound of phones clicking and capturing the moment filled the air, and I was half-laughing, half-shocked by how casual Josh had made it all seem. He just flashed me another grin and took off again, heading toward the B-stage to continue the show as if nothing had happened.

My heart raced as I turned back toward the fans, who were all wide-eyed and giggling, holding up their phones like trophies.

“Did you see that?” one of them gasped. “That was so cute!”

I just laughed, feeling giddy myself. “Yeah, he's… kind of perfect, huh?”

The rest of the concert felt like a blur. Every time Josh’s drum beats echoed through the arena, I could feel the memory of that quick kiss lingering in my mind. And from the way the fans nearby kept sneaking glances at me, I knew they'd be talking about it for weeks.

After the show, the backstage area was quieter, though still buzzing with the after-show energy that always seemed to linger. I made my way through the halls, weaving past crew members and friends until I found Josh in the green room, towel around his neck, sweat still glistening on his skin from the performance. Tyler was with him, lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“There she is!” Josh beamed, pushing off the arm of the couch to meet me halfway. He pulled me into a warm, post-show hug, the kind that always made me feel like home.

“You really kissed me in front of everyone?” I teased, poking him in the chest as I looked up at him, but I couldn’t hide the smile on my face.

Josh chuckled, his hand coming up to brush a stray hair from my face. “Couldn’t help it,” he said, eyes soft. “I saw you there, and I just… had to.”

Tyler snorted from the couch. “Real smooth, Josh.”

Josh rolled his eyes, still grinning. “You’re just jealous because Jenna’s not here tonight.”

Tyler held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I’m just saying — it was pretty bold, man. Risky move, but I respect it.”

I laughed, leaning into Josh’s side, his arm wrapping around me protectively. “Well, the fans loved it,” I said, thinking back to all the excited faces and cameras. “They were snapping pictures like crazy.”

Josh leaned down and kissed the top of my head, softer this time, a little more private. “Good,” he murmured. “Maybe I’ll make it a habit.”

Tyler groaned dramatically. “Please, spare us.”

Josh just grinned wider, pulling me closer as we all sank into the easy, comfortable feeling that came after a successful show. It was moments like this — the quiet in the storm, the laughter and love we shared — that made everything worth it.

And as I rested my head against Josh’s shoulder, I couldn’t help but think that this life, this wild, crazy life with him, was more than I could’ve ever dreamed of.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 3

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You wad up the napkins and turn to stand. As you do, you feel a firm grope on your ass. You nearly yipe as you tear away and spin to face Lloyd. He sways as he sits forward with a sneer, licking his lips as he reaches for you again. You toss the balled up fabric in his face but it hardly deters him.

“Hey, stop,” you swat away his hand, “what is wrong with you?”

“Come on, baby, it's my turn to take care of you,” he slides forward on the cushion, swallowing a hiccup as he grins at you like a doofus.

He swipes his hand between your thighs and you barely keep him from reaching your pelvis. You swing his arm away from you and his other grasps onto the top of your jeans. You grab onto his wrist as you try to untangle yourself.

“Listen, you creep, get off–”

He pulls you forward and buries his face in the front of your jeans. You gasp and smack his crown as hard as you can. He recoils and touches his skull as he sits back with a pout. You can’t help but deliver another blow, right across his cheek as you growl in disgust.

“Ugh, you’re awful,” you step away, palm tingling from the slap, “I… I was being nice, you jackass.”

“And I’m being nice. Come on, I just want a taste–”

“Shut up,” you snatch your purse off the couch, “good luck.”

You turn on your heel and stomp off, letting yourself out with nothing short of slamming the door. That’s the last time the twins do this to you. You are too old for this. You have a relationship and you don’t relish spending your nights out with jerks instead of your boyfriend. Johnny doesn’t appreciate it much either.

🎀

You get home to the glare of the television, colours changing over the sleeping silhouette of your boyfriend. You lock the door and dump your purse on the chair as you pass it. You sit on the edge of the couch and rub Johnny’s shoulder as he snores, the simulated explosions of the action moving bursting from the speakers.

“Hey, hon,” you squeeze gently, “I’m home.”

“Grmmmp,” he snorts himself away, smiling at you as his lashes flutter dreamily, “hey, babe.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you coo and bend over, kissing his temple.

He grumbles and throws his arm over his head, hiding under it as he refuses to move. You huff and grab his arm, forcing him to sit up.

“It’s not that far,” you haul him up and he groggily gurgles, resistantly hobbling with you to the bedroom.

You get him on the mattress and he flops across it with a grunt. You pull the blanket over him as he hugs his pillow with one arm. You go back into the living room and shut off the television. You tidy up the empty chip bag and cans of beer from the coffee table, sure to wipe off the crumbs before you shut off the light.

You wash off your make-up, moisturize, brush your teeth, and go through your nightly routine. It’s just little things that help you unwind. After the night you had, you need the mindless habit to calm your nerves.

You go into the bedroom and undress a piece at a time, dumping each into the hamper. You pull on a tank top and pair of sleep shorts before rolling in next to Johnny. He slings his arm over you and nuzzles your neck. He inhales and gives a growl.

“You smell like cologne…” he mutters.

“Do I?” You wonder.

“Yeah,” he sniffs and draws back, laying flat on his back, “you were dancing with some dude, weren’t you?”

“No,” you turn over and prop yourself up on your elbow, “you know I’m not into that.”

“But you were with some guy, weren’t you?” His voice croaks as the grit of sleep slowly fades, “I told you not to go out with those two sluts.”

“Hey, they’re my friends.”

“And I’m your boyfriend. You shouldn’t be hitting up the club when you got a man at home.”

His anger seethes into you. You chew your lip and reach to rub his chest. He smacks your hand away and turns his back to you.

“You know I wouldn’t do anything, Johnny,” you murmur, “I love you…”

“So you go out dancing and leave me alone,” he scoffs, “you shoulda left me on the fucking couch. I can’t even lay next to you right now.”

“You don’t… you don’t think–”

“You smell like someone else, what am I supposed to think?”

Johnny’s fatal flaw has always been his jealousy. It’s as much as you expected but it still throws you off guard. You hoped he’d be too tired to have the same old argument. But you know how to break through his iciness.

You touch his shoulder daintily, laying a kiss on it, “J, you know I don’t want anyone else, don’t you,” you slide your hand down his arm, “you’re the only man… the only one for me. You know that.”

He says nothing. He’s tense as stone beneath your touch. You lean forward, pressing against his back as you kiss his short hair.

“Johnny,” you soften your voice, “please, let me make it up to you…”

He exhales and you feel him ease, just a little. You lay in the frozen silence. These nights end in two ways; he goes out on the couch or he stays and you… make him happy.

He rolls onto his back, surrendering. He catches your hand and pulls it across his chest. He plays with your fingers.

“Make it up… how?” He slowly guides your palm down his stomach.

Relief washes over you, even as your nerves stir. The night weighs on your eyelids and you can barely keep the yawns from breaking free, but you know you won’t sleep with him mad at you. Besides, it won’t take that long.

“Whatever you want, hon,” you tickle his lower stomach.

He purrs and reaches up to caress the top of your head. He spreads his large hand across your skull and urges you down.

“You know what I like, baby,” he forces you to curl around and you shift as you pull up his ribbed shirt, kissing his stomach as your fingertips dance on the hair that trims his hard stomach, “mmmm, yeah, that’s it, baby. Show me I’m the only one.”

[mitzukiyapping]

A Dragon Queen’s Council - Part II.

Summary: The queen is pregnant. So, Aera made it her mission to help her, to ease her worries. And so, it was also her duty to overlook what she’s eating, that wouldn’t harm the baby.

Pairing: platonic! Cersei Lannister x fem!targaryen!oc, platonic!Jaime Lannister x fem!targaryen!oc, platonic! Tyrion Lannister x fem!targaryen!oc

Word count: 2.5k

Warning: tbh, none

Author’s note: this story is also soon available on ao3!!

prologue || part I.

It began on a quiet afternoon.

The sun warmed the stone corridors of the Red Keep, and through the arched windows drifted the lazy scent of blooming rose trees from the gardens below. Queen Cersei, ever regal in gold-threaded green, sat upon a cushioned chaise in her solar, one hand gently draped over her stomach, her other cradling a goblet of watered wine she had no intention of drinking.

She looked tired.

It has been three months since the wedding, and not even a handful of weeks since the maesters confirmed the pregnancy of Queen Cersei. At first it were only rumors, whispered between maids who passed the halls. But, ever since the announcement, everyone was trying to be as silent as possible around her.

Her golden hair was twisted high, her face pale. Even the usual tight line of her mouth had softened, just slightly, with the weight of exhaustion. And seated beside her, like a shadow of light, was Aera. The seven-year-old princess sat on a stool she had clearly dragged from across the room herself, her legs swinging gently as she peered up at the Queen with wide violet eyes.

"I read that ginger helps with sickness in the morning," Aera offered, voice soft, careful. "And mint tea. I made some. The kitchen ladies helped me." Cersei looked down at her, one brow rising. "Did they?"

Aera nodded eagerly. "Yes. I asked them what my mother might have liked too. She was pregnant with my little sibling until... well." She shrugged, looking away briefly, then back up with a soft smile. "I wanted to help."

Something flickered across Cersei's face then. Suspicion? Confusion? A ghost of memory? It passed quickly. "I didn't take you for the mothering type," she said dryly. Aera tilted her head. "I'm a dragon, not a monster."

"Not yet," Cersei muttered, sipping the tea. But she drank it. And when she didn't spit it out, Aera gave a proud little smile, as if she had conquered a kingdom with leaves and sweetness.

—

They made a habit of it.

Aera, slipping into the solar in the mornings under Gregor's watchful eye, bringing odd little gifts: a silk pillow she said was "good for the back," a small pouch of lemon and dried rose petals "to calm the nerves," and once, even a wooden toy lion cub with wings. "For the baby," she said.

Cersei snorted at the sight of it. "What a terrifying creature."

"I thought it looked like what he might be," Aera said with a mischievous grin. "A lion, but born in a dragon's den."

_

And of course, Tyrion and Jaime were not far behind.

"You're either grooming her," Tyrion said to Jaime over a goblet of wine, "or she's grooming you." Jaime, leaning against a column, arms crossed, said, "No, she's grooming Cersei. That girl's going to rule half the court before she reaches ten."

"Seven and a half," Tyrion corrected. "And already more dangerous than a whole battalion of Unsullied."

"She's just being kind."

"Kindness is the most effective disguise of all." The younger man stated with serious. They both turned just in time to see Aera walk past them in the hall, trailed by a sleepy maid and a sullen Gregor, holding a basket full of lavender sachets and a small leather-bound book titled The Midwife's Companion: A Tonic for Every Month.

She gave them both the sweetest smile imaginable.

"Good day, uncles." Tyrion grinned. "Planning to deliver the baby yourself now?" At the question her face shine with glee. "I've already read five books," she said matter-of-factly. "I'd do better than most maesters."

Jaime gave a small laugh. "If you ever decide to become a maester, let me know. I'll lend you my sword for the graduation ceremony." Aera nodded. "I'll knight you for it." She then turned on her heels and continued down the corridor, humming softly.

Jaime waited until she rounded the corner before saying, "We're all going to die, aren't we?" Tyrion drained his wine and said, "Oh, undoubtedly."

—

The solar was warm with the scent of mint and rosewater. Cersei reclined on her cushioned chair, the sunlight filtering through sheer green curtains casting patterns over her golden hair. Across from her, perched like a hawk, sat Princess Aera, her small fingers flipping through pages of a thick book laid open on her lap.

"So," she said, tapping a page, "you shouldn't wear anything too tight around your ribs. It affects your breathing and could upset the baby." Cersei blinked at her. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Aera replied with great authority. "And your feet. They're going to swell. That's normal. But don't ignore it. Elevate them. I have a step stool if you'd like." Cersei stared. "You brought a stool?" The girl nodded happily. "I painted little dragons on it."

"...Of course you did."

Behind them, the maid stood awkwardly with a tray of sweet biscuits. Ser Gregor, the Queen's new favorite threat, loomed in the corner, looking confused but dangerous, as always. That was when the doors slammed open.

"Where in the bloody seven hells is—" King Robert halted, one hand still on the door frame. His eyes swept the room, taking in his pregnant wife seated smoothly on a chair before a very smug looking seven year old Targaryen, who sat there like she owned the place. A big book, who looked like it had seen better days, laid opened on the girls lap. And Gregor Clegame, the mountain, looking like he was guarding a secret garden tea party.

"...What," Robert said, "am I looking at?" Aera looked up brightly. "Oh, hello, Your Grace. We were just going over second-trimester essentials." Cersei, never missing a beat, sipped her tea. "She's rather informed, actually." Robert blinked. "You're meant to be in your room."

"I had permission," Aera lied smoothly. "From who?" he asked, suspicious. She smiled. "From me." Gregor made the faintest noise, like he was choking on air. Robert let out a long, tired groan and scrubbed a hand over his face. "You're seven!"

"Seven and three quarters," she corrected.

He opened his mouth again but said nothing. He had once gutted a man for calling him fat — and now a tiny dragon girl was politely explaining uterine positioning to his Queen while sipping lemon water.

"This is my life," Robert muttered, looking to the ceiling like the Seven would give him mercy. They didn't. "And Your Grace?" Aera added sweetly. "What now?"

"You really shouldn't interrupt. Stress isn't good for the baby." Robert turned slowly to leave. "I'm going to the godsdamned feast hall," he grunted. "Where the wine doesn't talk."

"You shouldn't drink so much either," she called after him. "It affects virility!" The door slammed shut. Silence. Cersei burst out laughing. "Did you just insult the King's—"

"I was helping," Aera said, folding her hands primly. "He'll thank me later." Cersei shook her head, chuckling into her tea. "Seven save us all."

—

It began innocently, like always.

Ser Jaime Lannister had done what he always did after his early patrol - wander into the Queen's solar to check on his sister, dodge responsibility, and steal a peach or two. What he didn't expect was to be met by a very stern Princess Aera, perched once more on her velvet stool, parchment in hand, brows furrowed in deep, scholarly concentration. "Ser Jaime," she said before he could even open his mouth. "You've been very irresponsible."

"...What?"

"You're the Queen's twin. That makes you legally, emotionally, and ethically 25% responsible for her pregnancy." She shut the parchment close. Her eyes glaring at the knight. He blinked. "Is that so?"

"Yes," she said seriously. "And as such, I've made you a list." She handed him a scroll she got out of nowhere. Jaime unrolled it slowly, eyes scanning the thick, neat handwriting. His brows rose.

"Foods the Queen Should Not Be Allowed to Consume Under Any Circumstances."

"Wine? Fried eel? Honeyed locusts?" he asked, reading aloud. "Where in the seven hells would she get honeyed locusts?" He looked at her in confusion, trying to think of ways where his sister could get that from. "I don't know," Aera said, "but they're dangerous. And slippery. Also, no goat cheese. Or swordfish. Or overly salted pies. My mother always had a way of getting it from somewhere."

Cersei, from her seat, looked bored and murderous. "Tell her to leave." She practically whined, to feed up with the food rule. "She has a second list," Jaime said, smirking. "I do," Aera replied, pulling it from her stack like a maester unveiling divine scripture.

"Herbal Tea Alternatives to Alleviate Swelling and Mood Swings."

Cersei sat up. "Mood swings?" She was offended. "You threw a chalice at a maid yesterday," Jaime said, remembering what happened the day, shuddering slightly. "She oversteeped my tea!"

"And I'm trying to fix that," Aera added brightly. "See? Chamomile. And lemon balm. It's known to calm nerves. I read about it in—" But the girl got interrupted by the queen. "I will put your dragon egg in the river." The princess took a deep breath before continuing. "That's rude," Aera now said calmly. "Also, I don't have it anymore. It hatched like two weeks ago. Haven't told anyone yet." Jaime gave a strangled laugh, pressing a hand to his mouth.

Aera narrowed her eyes at him. "You laugh, but you haven't even been helpful. Did you deliver the prenatal pillows I asked for?" Immediately the smile fell from his face. His eyes narrowed down at her. "I'm a knight, not a nursemaid." He tried to defend himself, but Aera ignored him. "You're a brother. Which, again, makes you 25% responsible."

"Don't let Tyrion hear that," Jaime muttered. "He'll start charging the crown for the remaining 50%." As if summoned, Tyrion peeked into the room. "Oh gods, she's still at it?" Aera then waved a new scroll in his direction. "You're on this one too." A smug smile overcame Jaime's face. "I knew I felt my ears burning," he said, walking in. "Tell me, what crimes have I committed now?"

"You made Cersei laugh too hard during a coughing fit yesterday," Aera said, handing him the "List of Visitation Restrictions During Third Trimester." Tyrion examined it. "You put me below the dog that lives in the kennels?" The youngest Lannister was offended. "He's quieter," Aera only replied.

Jaime doubled over laughing, bracing himself on the windowsill. Even Cersei chuckled despite herself. At that exact moment, King Robert burst in. Again. And stopped. Again. "...Nope," he said, turning around before Aera could speak. "Not this time. I'm going to the training yard. Where swords don't give medical advice."

As the door slammed shut behind him, Aera turned to the Lannister twins and Tyrion with a regal nod. "You're all welcome." Cersei picked up a cushion and threw it at her. Aera ducked. Tyrion caught it midair and made it a hat.

—

Now, the royal kitchens of the Red Keep had faced many terrors over the years. Ravenous kings. Drunken knights. Even Queen Rhaella once setting a pudding on fire during a fit of royal rage. But none... none had ever terrified them as much as Princess Aera on a Mission.

She burst through the kitchen doors just after noon, with the dramatic swirl of a red velvet cloak and the confidence of a seasoned warrior. Behind her waddled Beauty, her snow-white dragonling, wearing what could only be described as a custom leash made of embroidered silk, trailing behind like the world's most judgmental lapdog. His wings fluttered every few steps, and he sneezed fire twice before they'd even made it to the bread counter. Behind them both came Gregor Clegane, ducking to get through the door, glowering like a thundercloud made of muscle. The kitchen staff froze.

"Stop everything!" Aera called. "Where's the cook?" She stood there like a tiger ready to pounce onto its prey. "Wh-which one, Your Grace?" a terrified baker whispered. "All of them!"

Within minutes, five very nervous chefs were lined up beside the hearth, each holding ladles like shields and smelling vaguely of panic and rosemary. Aera marched before them like a general before battle. Beauty growled softly, sniffing a pan of roasted duck. "I've been informed," she said, pacing, "that the Queen—who is in her delicate and most treasured condition—has been suffering from indigestion." The chefs glanced at each other. No one spoke. Beauty snorted smoke at a turnip.

"I have questions," Aera said. "And I expect honesty. Because if I find one more salted pie in her chambers, there will be consequences." She pointed a finger. "You," she said, gesturing to the youngest cook. "What herbs are in the stew today?"

"B-bay leaf, parsley, and- " He barely was able to finish his sentence when he got cut off by an annoyed Aera. "No ginger?" Her brow furrowed as she glared at him. "We - we ran out..."

"Unacceptable." Aera turned to Gregor. "Ser Gregor, remind me to write a royal decree about ginger imports." Gregor only grunted. Aera spun back around to face the nervous chefs. "Where's the sweet wine you were supposed to substitute with fig water?"

Another cook looked like she might faint. "We—figs aren't in season yet, Your Grace." The glare of the princess was now on the woman. "Then substitute with pear. Or apple. Or—just anything that won't poison the Queen's liver!" Beauty, delighted by the raised voices, tried to pounce on a loaf of bread. The head cook screamed. "Stand down, Beauty," Aera said absently, patting his head like one would a misbehaving cat. He flopped down by the hearth, smoke curling lazily from his nostrils.

"Now," she continued, unrolling another list she got from Gregory's arms, who held countless other scrolls, "we're going to go over the entire pantry and mark what's safe, what's dangerous, and what's so spicy it might make the Queen breathe fire before the babe does." She paused dramatically. "And yes. I will be tasting everything."

By the time the inspection was done, five pies had been confiscated, two wine bottles shattered "by accident" (Beauty's tail), and a loaf of bread declared treasonous for being too dry. Aera was seated on a flour barrel, eating an entire lemon tart while explaining the benefits of dandelion tea. Gregor stood guard, occasionally blocking the dragon from setting things on fire. Beauty had managed to steal a leg of lamb and was now gnawing on it under the spice rack.

And the cooks? They were whispering prayers to every god in every language, all while promising to write down everything Aera suggested, twice. She finished her tart, wiped her mouth, and stood tall. "I expect a full menu revision by tomorrow," she said with a proud smile. "This is a royal pregnancy. Not a pub feast."

As she marched out of the kitchen, dragon leash in hand and Gregor trudging silently behind, one of the sous-chefs finally dared to whisper, "...The Queen might give birth to a child, but that child's already acting like their mother."