#but I’m still too upset to get to sleep

[lvl1l1]

HEYYY can i please request LADS men when you sleep on the couch after a heated argument

LaDS men when you sleep on the couch after an argument

pairings: LaDS men x Reader(separate)

content: hurt/comfort, arguments

a/n: these are so long idk what possessed me

Xavier

You tried to just keep it a casual conversation, bringing up how you still felt like he was keeping things from you at times, like he still didn’t trust you with everything after you two have been together for so long but with how he kept his answers short and clipped, his expression as cool as always, trying to change the topic, things started to get more heated.

You didn’t like how he was brushing you off again.

“See this is exactly what I’m talking about, Xavier.”

His lack of response was really getting to you.

He stays expressionless, you keep saying things trying to get a reaction out of him but he doesn’t falter.

On the inside, he feels regret and seeing you angry at him upsets him, too.

“Fine. Whatever, be that way.”

He doesn’t feel relieved when you walk out of the bedroom, but he just doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better.

He follows after you, going into the bedroom, he freezes when he sees you grab the sheets and your pillow.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, Xavier.”

You try to slip past him but he doesn’t let you,

“No, you’re not.”

You stare up at him and seeing the usual affection replaced with anger hurts him.

“Please, don’t.”

“I’m mad, Xavier. I don’t want to sleep with you tonight.”

The tremble in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed,

“I can’t sleep without you next to me. And I know you feel the same way.”

You try leaving again but he just won’t let you,

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see you right now.”

You notice the hurt in his eyes and you feel kinda bad but you can’t back down now, right?

He nods but still doesn’t step aside,

“I’ll sleep on the couch then. You take the bed.”

Your shoulders slump, seeing as he resembles a sad bunny.

“Fine.”

You say and turn around, trying not to let this feeling get to you. You put your things back on the bed and hear him leave the room.

Confusion overtakes your features, why didn’t he take his stuff? You wait a minute and walk out after him, after some hesitation.

As you quietly go back into living room, you see him lying on the couch, no blanket, no pillow, eyes closed.

“Xavier, go get your things. You’ll catch a cold.”

He doesn’t open his eyes as he speaks again,

“It’s what I deserve. I upset you.”

Your mouth falls open at that, the ridiculousness of his behaviour almost makes you break out into a laugh. Almost.

“Xavier, even if I’m mad at you, I don’t want you to be cold and uncomfortable the whole night.”

He cracks one eye open, looking at you.

“But I want to be cold and uncomfortable for making you mad.”

You sigh, trying to fight the smile that’s making its way onto your face,

“You’re unbelievable.”

He’s looking at you with both eyes now, noticing the tension dissipate. Xavier props himself up,

“I’m sorry.”

You know he got you once you walk over and sit down on the couch next to him,

“I know.”

Reaching out with your hands to brush through his hair,

“And you know that I’ll forgive you once I wake up.”

He leans into your touch, testing the waters by lying his head in your lap.

“Thank you. But please don’t make sleep without you. I won’t intrude on your space, I just need to know that you’re still here.”

Scratching his scalp a defeated groan leaves your mouth,

“Go into the bedroom. I’ll be right there.”

His lips curl upwards, he begrudgingly lifts his head off your lap. He lingers, not getting up from the couch yet. You can guess why and knowing he needs the comfort just as much as you do, after everything that was said, you lean over and press a soft kiss to his forehead. A relieved hum forms in the back of his throat.

He then gets up, not trying to push his luck.

Xavier knows your feelings are valid and he would never want you to feel like they aren’t.

He doesn’t always handle things the right way but nothings more important to him than making it up to you. He’ll fix this, he’ll show you how much he truly trusts you.

Rafayel

You didn’t mean to leave him waiting, again.

Wondering where you are, if you’re okay and why you weren’t answering your phone.

This morning, you texted him, letting him know about today’s mission.

An emergency, there wasn’t much time and you had to get going now. You promised to come see him and call once you were back.

Rafayel kept himself busy all day, he noticed how you didn’t read his text, telling you to stay safe.

You also didn’t read any of his follow up texts and as the hours passed and there was still no answer from you, he started to feel anxious.

It was getting late, the sun setting soon.

He tried to call you and when it went straight to voicemail, he couldn’t help the concern clawing at him.

You should be done by now. You said you’d call him, once you were back. So, what was wrong?

-

It was dark out now, you had finally wrapped everything up.

Your phone had died in the middle of the mission, as soon as you had gotten back to the HQ you left it to charge.

You knew Rafayel was probably worried but you had texted him this morning, it shouldn’t be too bad. Or so you hoped.

Bidding your farewells to your coworkers, you left the association’s building, finally turning your phone back on.

The wall of missed calls and messages from Rafayel didn’t help your conflicted heart.

You tried to call him back, he wasn’t picking up.

You tried once, twice, it just kept ringing and ringing.

As you finally arrived at his art studio, you noticed the gate was closed.

Confused, you unlocked it and walked to the door.

You were thinking of how to apologise him, you didn’t mean to leave him hanging all day but it’s not like you did it on purpose.

Walking into his home, you saw him painting in the living room, back turned to the door.

“Hey, I’m back.”

You said quietly, placing your keys on the table, waiting for a reaction from your boyfriend.

You expected him to pout, whine, be upset but you were surprised, when… nothing came.

No reaction, he didn’t even turn around.

You approached him slowly, not knowing what to do.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel. My phone died and the mission turned out to be more difficult than expected. I left as soon as I got to the association.”

Usually, he’d be talking to Reddie now, acknowledging your presence in some way or another, making sure you know he was upset.

But still, nothing.

He just kept painting.

No hum, no change in his movements, no looking over.

You sighed, you knew you messed up but the least he could do was talk to you about it.

“Look, I know I should’ve been more careful, made sure my phone was charged or given you more details. I didn’t know, though. So, can we please just-“

“Just what?”

The first time he spoke since you’ve arrived and he still wasn’t looking at you.

“What do you expect me to do now? Throw myself into your arms, crying?”

You were taken aback by his tone,

“No, I didn’t mean-“

He cut in again, voice steady, words sharp,

“This isn’t the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Am I supposed to lose my mind everytime you pull something like this? It’s not like you keep your word, anyway.”

The accusation hung heavy in the air and you were trying to deal with this as sensibly as possible but he was making this increasingly more difficult.

“Rafayel, you know how my job is. I’d never ignore you on purpose. I kept you waiting and I’m sorry, I really am. But sometimes, there just isn’t anything I can do.”

A scoff escaped him and you could feel a headache forming. You were expecting him to follow up, come up with a retort, tell you how disappointed he was but he just went silent again.

You felt tired, your eyelids heavy and you simply didn’t have the emotional maturity to deal with this appropriately right now.

You went to get changed, as you were leaving the room, you heard him mumble something under his breath,

“As expected.”

You halted, standing still for a moment before turning back around,

“What was that? If you have something to say, speak up.”

You crossed your arms and he finally looked up at you, gaze completely void of emotion.

“Not like you care, anyway.”

Your eye twitched at that,

“I understand if you’re upset but if you’re not willing to talk to me like an adult, I can’t help you. If you want to act like a child, be my guest.”

An ironic laugh left him at that and his eyes went back to his painting,

“Im the one acting like a child?”

“I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now, Rafayel. I have to do my job, grow up.”

You spun around on your heel to actually leave the room this time, when you heard rustling behind you, he was getting up.

He grumbled under his breath again,

“Didn’t know being a hunter meant you have to ghost your boyfriend.”

You clenched your teeth at his condescending comment but decided to not dignify him with a response.

You quickly walked into your shared bedroom, changing into your PJs.

Finally catching a glimpse of yourself for the first time today, you looked rough.

Thinking about how Rafayel still treated you so harshly, after seeing the state you were in.

Impulsively, you grabbed your pillow and your blanket and stormed into the living room.

He wasn’t there anymore, probably having gone to the bathroom to get ready for bed as well.

You settled down on the couch, you knew you were acting petty but you just didn’t want to put up with his attitude tonight.

You laid on your side, back turned to the room, when you heard the bathroom door open.

Rafayel’s steps were loud, you could feel his eyes on you as he came to a stop. The urge to turn heavy but you refused to budge.

He inhaled sharply, you could hear him mumble something under his breath again but couldn’t make out what he was saying, even if you could’ve, you were done arguing.

When you still didn’t hear him move, you turned around, seeing him standing in the middle of the room.

He looked hurt, making eye contact with you but not saying anything else.

He turned around, walking into the bedroom.

You heard the door click shut and a feeling of hurt settled into your chest.

You laid awake for a while, tossing and turning, regret seeping in, you didn’t want to fight with him like this.

Soon, sleep found you.

Eyes falling shut, mind still stuck on the interaction with your boyfriend.

-

Your eyes fluttered open, taking in the darkness.

You wanted to rub your eyes, when you felt your left hand being engulfed by something warm and heavy.

As you looked over, you immediately noticed the mop of purple hair being on eye level with you.

The scene in front of you made a lump form in your throat;

Rafayel was sitting on the floor, one hand holding onto yours, face resting again the couch.

His long legs were crossed and his posture was atrocious, you knew he’d wake up sore like this.

Him setting his pride aside, seeking you out in your sleep, made your heart race, even after how he was acting earlier.

You knew he was trying to hurt you both in an attempt to put his walls back up, he was scared for you.

There was nothing he feared more than losing you, you disappearing again. He didn’t want to wake up one day, finding out you were gone.

And you admittedly weren’t always making it easy for him.

Your other hand reached out and ruffled his hair,

“You idiot…”

You got up to the best of your ability, with him still gripping your wrist, sitting down next to him.

You managed to wrap him up in the blanket as well as you could, pressing your head into his shoulder.

You two would make amends once he woke up.

You couldn’t help but press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Zayne

You’ve been buried in work lately, barely having time for yourself. No time to cook meals, so you’ve been relying on take out. Coming home so late from work makes you feel like you’re not making the most of your day, so in turn you stay up late, watching shows, playing games, trying to keep up with your boyfriend’s schedule.

Zayne has been trying to be lenient, he doesn’t want to tell you what to do and what not to do but he could see how your unhealthy habits have been getting worse and how it’s wearing down your condition.

Once he brings it up, he’s objective, neutral, speaking as your doctor, not your boyfriend.

When you try to reason with him and explain how those little acts may be unhealthy but they’re the only comfort you have in the midst of so much work.

You promise him, these habits aren’t here to stay and once you have enough breathing room again, you’ll go back to doing all those things he puts so much emphasis on.

He’s unimpressed, urging you to rethink. You know it comes from a place of concern, he’s telling you these things out of love but it simply feels so belittling.

You’ve been so overwhelmed and he’s seen firsthand how badly you need some understanding more than you need health advice.

Seeing how he doesn’t back down, you start to feel irritated. He refuses to see things from your perspective and you refuse to back down now.

The argument spirals as you call him out on not being much better,

“Overworked? Bold coming from you.”

His voice is steady and his words are harsh as he doesn’t pay much attention to your feelings,

“Yet I still make sure to get my nutrients. I also don’t spend my free time rotting away in front of a screen. You barely go outside during your time off.”

Zayne notices the hurt on your face a little too late,

“You’re my boyfriend before you’re my physician, Zayne. Act like it.”

His brows furrow at that, not responding.

He leaves the room before this could escalate any further, telling you to calm down first, which naturally sets you off even more.

You weren’t done with this conversation but realising he won’t continue you this, you decide to back off.

You’re mad at him and you’re going to show him.

While he’s in the bathroom, you grab your things from the bedroom and bring them over to the couch.

After he’s done getting ready for bed, he walks out and sees you sprawled out on the couch, cuddled up with your pillow, clinging onto it, the way you usually would to him.

He lets out a sigh, he can’t see your face, but that sound aggravated you even more.

Zayne sits down next to you, you don’t look at him.

“Do we have to do this?”

You don’t answer, he stills for a moment before getting back up.

Your lips tremble, seeing how quickly he gave up but to your surprise he comes back with his own blanket and pillow in hand.

“It’s going to get cramped. But I don’t mind, if you insist on sleeping here.”

“Zayne, I wanna sleep alone.”

He shakes his head, putting his things down next to yours.

“We might’ve disagreed but I don’t want the day to end like this. If you don’t want to talk to me right now, that’s fine. But don’t push me away, please.”

You stay silent at first, not knowing what to say.

Your heart feels a little warmer,

“Almost forgot you can be thoughtful, after all.”

He chuckles at your snarky comment, showing he’s not irritated.

You push your pillow lower, making your eyes visible to him.

Your eyebrows are still furrowed but he can tell your gaze softened.

You turned away and scooted over, making some space for him.

He took the hint and laid down next to you.

You’re lying in the dark, breathing slowly, starting to miss your boyfriend even tho he’s right next to you.

It’s not like you enjoyed fighting with him, especially with how apathetic he could be when he thought he was right.

You knew he didn’t say any of those things with malice, he was worried and that was his way of expressing it.

Unable to sleep due to the emotional and slight physical distance to your boyfriend, the thoughts running through your mind and the tiny couch you were sharing with your freakishly tall partner, you opened your eyes again.

“Zayne?”

You whispered, being quiet in case he had already fallen asleep.

He hummed in response and you shimmied back a bit, wanting to feel him,

“I don’t want to fight anymore…”

He shuffled, wrapping one arm around your waist loosely, not wanting to overstep,

“I’m glad. Me neither.”

His voice was low, not disturbing the quiet.

“Do you think we could go back to the bedroom?”

You heard him exhale a laugh,

“If you’d like to.”

You nodded, still not turning around.

Before you could say anything else, Zayne spoke up again,

“I’m sorry. I overstepped earlier. I have no right to tell you what to do. However, I only want the best for you, even though I might not be the best at expressing that at times.”

You turned around, looking up at him in the dark, and he was still able to make out your features,

“I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t willing to hear you out at all.”

“The same goes for me. I wasn’t offering solutions, I was just lecturing you.”

Leaning your head against his chest, you snuggled closer,

“Honestly, you had some valid points. I should spend more time with you whenever I finally have some free time.”

Zayne cradled your head,

“Don’t feel forced to. I just think I could make you food whenever you home, you don’t have to get junk food. In hindsight, there’s nothing wrong with indulging once in a while.”

You nodded,

“Yeah, sounds like a good plan.”

The two of you basked in each other’s presence like this for a little while longer, before Zayne dragged you back to bed.

His main priority is looking after you, his love for you is unrivalled but he’s still new to all of this, he’s trying.

Caleb

You and Caleb rarely fought.

Ever since you were younger, Caleb was always willing to bend to your whims.

He’d always back down and let you have your way.

Whether it’d be about who got to go first in a game, who got to sit in the passenger seat of the car or who had to clean up after playtime.

The older you two got, the more serious your fights became at times but Caleb would still back down, wait for you to let your anger out at him.

Obviously, whenever he could, he’d try to mediate.

He never wanted to fight with you, it was the worst.

There was this irrational fear in his mind, that whenever you were mad at him, you’d leave, hating him, never wanting to see him again.

He knew it was stupid, unrealistic but he much preferred your loud anger, yelling at him, staring him in the face, not turning away and ignoring him.

It was the same reason he’s never truly been angry at you.

Yeah, he’s been irritated because of careless things you’ve done but that comes from a place of concern.

He loves you too much, feels too much for you to ever show his anger, however that doesn’t mean the mask doesn’t slip sometimes.

Still, he wouldn’t keep arguments going.

He’d serve as an outlet for your anger, he’d let you get everything off your chest and whenever he wanted to bring something up that bothered him, he’d do it in a way you wouldn’t notice his true feelings.

So, whenever it did come to an argument, you knew it was serious to him. But you simply weren’t used to having him not agree with you, especially because you knew you were in the right about this.

Well, so you’d say, if you could recall what “this” was.

You don’t even remember what the fight was about, you two have just been spiralling from one thing to the other for a while now. The tension was starting to become unbearable.

Especially because Caleb was doing what he’s always done, taking whatever you throw at him and just accepting it.

He’s willing to be the bad guy in your eyes, as long as it meant keeping you safe.

And you were starting to grow sick of it.

Caleb would never raise his voice at you, he’d never intentionally do anything that could hurt you, whether it be emotionally or physically.

A stark contrast to how you’ve been shouting at him for the past 20 minutes.

Everything was so different now, it was like you were both speaking a different language. Not like when you two were kids, not when it felt like it was you and him against the world.

You didn’t want him to just stand there and take it while standing his ground, insisting he knew better than you.

It was starting to drive you crazy, so the next thing you knew, was you angrily stomping out of the room.

Caleb stood in the living room, unmoving.

Replaying the argument in his mind, trying to think of where he went wrong.

As he was standing there, starting to wallow in self pity, you returned.

He was thinking of how to solve the situation, when he noticed the blanket and pillow you were holding.

You waltzed straight past him, plopping down on the couch, fluffing up your pillow in silence.

“Pipsqueak, c’mon.”

Not looking at him, still preparing your newly decided sleeping spot, you answer,

“We’ll talk in the morning. I don’t wanna be near you right now.”

His eyes widened slightly, moving towards you but keeping his distance, as to not set you off more.

“I understand that but I don’t want you to go to sleep upset.”

At that, you paused for a moment, fingers hovering over the pillow you were still adjusting, before you collected yourself and went to busy your hands again,

“It’s a little late for that.”

You heard a thud near you and you quickly looked up, worried.

You saw Caleb on his knees in front you, head hanging low,

“I’m sorry. You’re rightfully upset but please, let me fix this.”

You sighed, lying down.

“Caleb, go to sleep. We’re not doing this right now.”

Once he looked up at you, you felt your resolve waver. Just why did he have to resemble a kicked puppy so much?

You turned around, not letting your wet dog of a boyfriend get to you.

“Okay, I love you. Sleep well.”

He said but he got up really slowly, hoping you’d change your mind after all.

He went into your shared bedroom, leaving the door open behind him.

Caleb tried to sleep, he really did but he’s been laying awake for the past two hours.

It felt wrong to sleep without you in his arms. The right side of the bed shouldn’t be cold; you shouldn’t be away from him, especially after such a long time apart.

He didn’t want you to be mad at him, he didn’t even want to fight with you but you were just so stubborn.

Why couldn’t you just see he was trying to protect you?

He stopped his train of thought, knowing it was just putting him in a worse mood.

Surely, you were asleep by now, right?

And you’ll have cooled off by the time you woke up.

So, you definitely wouldn’t blame him if he joined you on the couch, would you? He just missed you so much, he couldn’t sleep without you.

He quietly walked into the living room, not wanting to wake you up.

When he saw you there, lying all by yourself, he felt something in his chest tighten.

It made him feel like he was a little boy again, like you were right here but so far out of his reach.

So, fragile and vulnerable, like if he touched you, you’d break, disappear.

He was pulled out of his thoughts, when you mumbled quietly in your sleep,

“…caleb, don’t..”

He couldn’t make out what else you were saying, but you were thinking like him, even in your sleep.

He never wanted you to go to sleep upset.

He slid in under the covers with you, wrapping his arms around you.

He couldn’t stand being away from you too long, he needed to make sure you were real, that you were with him.

And with that thought, he finally managed to drift off to sleep.

Sylus

This was the angriest you had ever been at Sylus.

He prided himself on being a man of his word, keeping all his promises, especially the ones he made to you.

So, when he showed up again after 4 days, you were making sure he knew how mad you were.

He had promised you, he wouldn’t repeat what happened with Tulla Island.

He wouldn’t disappear without saying anything, he wouldn’t leave you wondering whether he was dead or alive, but that’s exactly what he did.

He send you a cryptic message the morning of, not answering when you tried to figure out what he meant.

Mephisto was still around, but he was no help either.

So, when you decided to pull up to the base 2 days in, having Luke and Kieran explain to you, that your boyfriend had to leave on urgent business that they couldn’t elaborate on, you felt many things at once.

You’d been seething until he showed back up, acting like nothing happened.

“You promised, Sylus.”

He was sitting, while you were pacing around the bedroom, anger evident in your voice.

“This time was different. I didn’t leave without a trace. You ended up asking the twins, no?”

You stopped in your tracks, looking at him in outrage,

“And they were no help at all! I didn’t know where you were, I didn’t know what you were up to, actually, I still don’t know!”

He was trying to be understand and pragmatically approach the situation but you weren’t putting up with this.

“Sylus, you’re not listening to me at all. How many more times are you planning on pulling something like this?“

He raised a brow at you, having a hard time hiding his amusement, you thought he was mocking you, when in reality he felt relieved to know you cared about him so much,

“This isn’t much different from you leaving for your missions. You don’t tell me where you’re going, either.”

You crossed your arms,

“You can’t be serious. You can utilise your stupid resources and figure out where I am, you find a way everytime. It’s either Mephie showing up or you! How is that fair?”

He propped his chin up on his palm, looking at you with hooded eyes,

“Those resources are open to you, too, sweetie. What’s mine is yours. Besides, don’t you know the saying? Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough.”

You couldn’t deal with his sarcasm, not when you’d been worried for the past four days, wondering if he was alright, whether this was his way of disappearing out of your life after all, still feeling the anxiety you had the last time this happened.

The smugness on his face was just pissing you off more.

“Can’t you be considerate of my feelings for once? Is it fun to you to see me suffer like this? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you.”

You knew you didn’t mean any of the things you just said, he knew you didn’t mean any of it, he was always bending over backwards to accommodate you.

His love for you was unconditional and whenever he kept you in the dark, it was for your own sake.

But his usual teasing was just setting you off.

You were getting more animated by the second, the realisation of how you had been feeling for the past few these really settling itself in your mind.

Sylus was just silently watching, not saying anything but seems like that was also not quite the right choice, as his silence irritated you as well.

At some point, Sylus started answering. His patience started to run thin, while it would never run out when it came to you, he didn’t appreciate the tone you were using with him.

He stood up in the middle of your sentence, walking towards the door,

“What, so you’re just going to walk away now?!”

“Yes. Before either of us say something we’ll both regret.”

And with that, he was out of the door.

You watched, dumbfounded.

Your firsts clenched, you felt like he wasn’t taking you seriously.

He was definitely underestimating your level of pettiness.

-

Sylus had left your apartment, thinking of how to make it up to you.

He understood why you felt the way that you did and he never meant to leave you worried but sometimes ignorance was bliss.

Admittedly, his business ended up taking longer than expected.

He originally wanted to be back sooner, before you even knew it but things played out more complicated.

Still, you should know he was essentially undefeated.

There was nothing, that could stop him from coming back home to you.

So, coming back to just to see you hurt like this, because of him, made his heart break.

He also didn’t dislike your angry side, he liked seeing you give into your emotions, showing what you truly thought.

What he didn’t like, was seeing you talk yourself into a spiral without letting him get a word in.

He thought it would be for the best to leave you to cool off, while he tried to get back into your good graces.

Now, what he didn’t expect upon his return into your bedroom, was the emptiness on your side of the bed.

He walked into the living room with quick steps.

And there you were, in all your glory, hogging the entire couch, duvet, comforter, multiple pillows, plushies included.

You were on your phone, paying him no mind.

“What’s the big idea, kitten?”

You just hummed, turning to lay on your stomach, kicking your feet up in the air, tapping away on your phone,

“I’m mad at you, so I’m sleeping here tonight. Good night.”

The laugh he let out vexed you even more, and of course, he noticed that.

“That’s funny, sweetie. Come now, get up.”

When you didn’t move, the corners of his mouth curled up in an entertained smirk.

He walked over to you and stopped right next to the couch, towering over you.

“Don’t make me say it again, kitten.”

You didn’t miss the amused lilt in his voice.

You barely spared him a glance,

“Sylus, I don’t want to sleep in the same place as you tonight. You managed for the past four days, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it today as well.”

He let out a huff,

“My, that’s too bad.”

You thought that meant, he’d leave you be, so imagine the surprised noise you let out, as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Sylus, you jerk! I’m not joking around with you!”

Sylus tightened his grip on you, as you started thrashing around,

“I know.”

Your escape attempts were futile, he carried you back into the bedroom and dropped you onto your bed,

“You can be mad at me, scream at me but you don’t get to avoid me. That won’t make things right.”

You jutted out your lower lip, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden,

“You don’t get to lecture me right now.”

You rolled over onto his side of the bed and hid under his covers.

The bed dipped, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him but not taking the blanket off your head,

“You’re right. But I don’t want the love of my life to feel even more alone than they already have for the past four days.”

You slowly lifted the blanket off your face, not looking up at him,

“Allow me to mend things between us.”

You scoffed,

“There’s nothing broken…”

“Then, let me show you just how much I adore you.”

Damn that smooth talker.

[rafesheaven]

when stepbro!rafe comes home from college ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

warnings — stepcest, mention of reader x jj, praising, degrading, dirty talk, unprotected sex, spanking, rafe gagging reader w her panties, mirror sex, creampie a/n — (originally posted 11/20)

“gonna miss you,” you frown into your stepbrother’s chest, hugging him tightly. he rested his chin on the top of your head, “i’ll miss you too, but hey, i’ll be home for the holidays, and i’m only a phone call away. you could call me or text me anytime, i’ll make sure to get back to you when i can, alright?”

when rafe left for college, he responded to you when he could, just like he said he would. talking to him nearly every day almost made it feel like he wasn’t hours away from home. however, a month passed, and you started to hear less from him until your calls and texts were unanswered. at first, you assumed you weren’t hearing from him because of how busy he may have been with classes, and it wasn’t until you came across instagram posts from him and his fraternity brothers that he was too busy partying to get back to you.

it was his first year at college, and you knew you shouldn’t be upset; you had no right to be. especially when it was the only time he had freedom away from home, specifically from ward. it didn't stop you from missing rafe; you couldn’t help but think about what else he could be doing, and no matter how much you tried, knowing it was wrong, your mind started to wander over who he could be with.

when two more months had passed and still no communication from rafe, you sought out a distraction through jj maybank, who was unknowingly helping you take your mind off your stepbrother. the more time you had spent with jj, the less you thought about rafe and the promise of not running to anyone that wasn't him.

the promise you made was pushed into the back of your mind until one night, as you were about to sneak out of the house to see the blonde pogue, you received an incoming call from rafe. you could feel the guilt consuming you the longer you stared at his name, itching to answer. but your bitterness got the best of you, your finger tapping 'decline' before quietly leaving your house, not knowing rafe was calling to tell you he'd be home for the holiday.

a week later and yet another late night with jj, you tip-toed up the stairs, ensuring not to wake anyone up. just as you were about to reach your bedroom, you froze in your spot, looking like a deer in headlights, when the door to the room across from yours swung open. "sneaking back in?", his hand encircled your wrist, pulling you into his room and shutting the door behind you. “rafe…what are you doing here?” your brows furrow, more than confused as to why he was home.

“missed you, princess," his hands slid up your waist, walking you back until your lower back pressed against his dresser. "if you had answered when i called, you would’ve known i was coming home for the holidays.”

your palms pressed at his firm chest, pushing him away when he started peppering kisses along your jaw. "what? what's wrong?" rafe asks, "don’t tell me you’re upset cause i made you promise not to go to anyone else while i was away on campus.”

“i can't be upset over that when i’ve been seeing jj,” the words rolled off your tongue with ease, “i don't know why it matters anyway when you've been ignoring me for the past few months, probably too busy sleeping around with sorority girls every weekend.”

rafe’s nostrils flared the second jj's name slipped from your mouth, “what did you just say?” he gritted his teeth, removing his hand from your waist to grab your throat. “what?” you bat your eyes innocently, “don't act all innocent, you've been fucking around with maybank, huh?”

"what happened to being my good girl? guess your poor, needy little pussy couldn't handle being empty for a few months, hm?" rafe snickered, "and now you wanna push me away all 'cause i've been too busy?"

your mouth gaped open to speak, only for him to cut you off, "is that why you're pushing me away, acting like you didn't miss me and your panties aren't soaking wet right now?”

rafe spun you around to face the mirror of his dresser, bending you over. his large, warm hands slip under your skirt, pushing the article of clothing around your waist. his fingers hooked into the elastic of your panties, pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "step out of them," he ordered, delivering a sharp smack to the fat of your ass; when you didn't oblige, "don't make me tell you twice."

rafe bent down, grabbing your panties before standing back up. his hand reached around, cupping your jaw, your lips parting when his fingers dug into your skin as he squeezed your cheeks. rafe shoved the silk material into your mouth and his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "you want an apology? fine, here's your apology."

his free hand dipped between your legs, chuckling as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. “i’m sorry, princess…” he cooed, extending his thumb to rub circles to your clit, pulling a soft moan from you.

a desperate whine bubbled in your throat at the loss of friction on your puffy clit, your heart racing in anticipation at the sound of fabric rustling behind you. rafe nudged your thighs further apart with his knee, slotting himself between your legs. his palm rested on the small of your back as you squirmed under him, feeling the thick head of his cock sliding up and down your folds.

he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to make you look at him in the reflection, watching your eyes roll back as his thick cock stretches you deliciously, “sorry that my poor girl was so fuckin’ needy to the point she had to run to a pogue of all people.”

“shit…missed being buried deep in this sweet cunt,” rafe groaned, "guess i gotta ruin this tight little hole; make sure you don't go runnin' back to jj, huh?" he taunted, slowly pulling back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you.

"don't worry, by the time i'm done with you, all that pretty little head and pussy is gonna think about is how much she missed and ached for my dick," rafe sucked his teeth, your body jolting forward, biting down on the pair of panties stuffed in your mouth as he slammed himself back into your willing cunt.

your hands grip the top of his dresser, eyes barely staying open. a loud, muffled yelp forces its way through the flimsy silk fabric stuffed in your mouth when rafe harshly tugged at the roots of your hair, "did i say you could close your eyes? keep 'em open, want you to watch me fuck you like the needy little cockwhore you are."

rafe removed his hand from your hair, snaking it around your throat to hold your head upright. he buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave bruises on your flesh. he leaned forward, putting all his weight onto you and pressing his chest to your back, "this s'all you wanted, yeah? just wanted to be stuffed full of my cock again?"

drool soaked through the silk as his cock pounded into you relentlessly. you grabbed onto his arm, struggling to keep your eyes open, and your nails bite into his skin as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits your cervix. rafe’s eyes flicker to look at the two of you in the mirror, “look at how pretty you look takin’ my dick,” he praises.

“came way too many fuckin’ times to the thought of you…been craving feeling your pussy around my cock again since the day i left,” rafe rasped. “especially feeling you cum all over my cock,” he groaned as he felt your walls flutter around him.

“c’mon, princess, cream all over my cock and make a mess like you used to,” he nipped your ear, holding you steady as your legs trembled. your pussy convulses around him, his hand clamping around your mouth to further muffle your cry of pleasure as you cum all over his thick cock.

your orgasm triggers rafe’s, his hips slowly pumping into yours as they become sloppy. he gives you one more harsh thrust, his hips stilling, pushing his cock deep inside you, and letting out a moan as thick ropes of cum spill into you, painting your walls white.

rafe removes your panties from your mouth, your chest heaving, small pants filling the room. your breath hitches in your throat when his hips slowly rolled into yours, “how’s that for an apology? or you still need some convincing?”

taglist + moots: @anacamofficial @chrissturnslovergirlx @dollyfiles @heartsforvin @ilovefiction4lmen @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @rafesbabygirlx @rafeysangelbaby @rafeyscumangel @rafesangelita @rafesthroatbaby @rowdydevs @kild4re @rafeysvenicebitch @faiyaz555

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Ten

“Eddie?”

Eddie wakes up slowly, rubbing his face into the warm material under him, Eddie’s hand coming up without much thought to wipe away the wet drool pooled under his mouth. “What?”

Steve chuckles, and the firm chest under Eddie shakes with it, “it’s morning.”

“What?” Eddie says again, thoughts still slow and sleepy, dragging himself up.

It is light outside, a little daylight making it’s way though the blinds. Eddie can’t remember the last time he slept through the night like that, “I’m going to go let Falkor out in the yard, shower, and then make breakfast, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie just agrees, latching onto the knowledge that he’s got at least twenty minutes to rub one out and get vaguely presentable before he’s got to go eat, the feel of his hard on and the accompanying arousal almost immediately pressing, “make sure you pick up all the shit,” Steve snorts a laugh as he slides out of bed and pads away.

“What are we doing today then Jedi Master?”

“Well, my young padawan-”

Eddie snorts, not at all surprised that Steve’s willing to play along and yet still disgusted and charmed by it in equal measure.

Steve gives him some side eye from where he’s rinsing dishes at the sink.

“I thought we could start by walking Falkor, then some yoga and maybe a little housekeeping on my part. Then you can have a bath and stuff if you like. I wanted to make pesto shakshuka for lunch, and then,” Steve shrugs, “whatever.” He starts drying dishes, putting them away.

Eddie nods, “got a couple of tunes I could work on.”

Steve smiles, like, genuine, but not overdone or anything, “that’s great Eddie. I’ll appease the green owl.”

“Then a movie, maybe? After we’ve walked the dog again, I mean.”

“Sounds like we have a plan for the day.”

“Such a boy scout.”

“I was never a boy scout, but what can I say, failing to plan is planning to fail.”

“Jesus Christ fucking kill me.”

Scenting Steve helps. Pinning Steve appeases Eddie’s Alpha. Eddie hasn’t jerked off this much in years.

Mostly because there’s, up until recently, been someone around to do it for him, but that’s neither here nor there.

He doesn’t have the horrible, half formed, gritty sensation he had through his whole last rut, and even Eddie recognizes how much better this feels than the last one. Much more clear headed, and, as much as he hates to admit it, much more reasonable. He feels so much better, but he’s not willing to admit that it’s anything to do with walking or yoga or eating vegetables.

Steve would just be unbearably fucking smug about it.

Eddie’s started viewing Steve as a big, annoying, fortune cookie. Crack him open and out pops things like, ‘tidy space, tidy mind,’ and ‘you’d be surprised by how much of a positive an effect something as simple good sleep hygiene can have,’ and ‘have a glass of water, dehydration can affect mood and cognitive function.’

Steve is agreeable about reading his notes to Eddie every evening before he sends them to Chris, and honestly, Eddie sounds like a fucking A plus student once he’s been polished through the filter of Steve’s professional linguistic skills.

Eddie knows he isn’t, not even remotely, but, still. Steve’s on side, which is really nice to know, despite how fucking Steve is…Steve about everything.

Which is why it’s kind of upsetting when, at the end of day four of Steve’s imposed routine, Eddie’s rut starts to cool off. It’s still a little long run for a rut, if Eddie’s rut starts on a Tuesday morning, it’s usually done and dusted by Thursday afternoon but. Still. Not that much longer than normal, and Eddie figures that means it’s balancing out.

Steve knows it too, if the way he keeps side eyeing Eddie is anything to go by.

“What?”

“I haven't actually emailed Chris yet today, I could call her, get out of your hair now. You’re pretty much done, right?”

Eddie faces the prospect of going to bed alone for the first time since Steve got here, and he doesn’t like it. Once the band aid was off, Eddie had no issues scenting Steve. Which has led to, and this is extraordinarily irritating, possibly some of the best sleep Eddie has ever gotten. It probably helps that, despite not usually being at all Eddie’s type, Steve is almost offensively good looking.

And the pectoral pillows are, just, well. Eddie’s more comfortable with company when he sleeps, he guesses. Having the warm lump that is Steve within easy reach has been...nice. Especially compared to the hospital. And his lonely little room at the center. Chrissy made sure that rock star status did not allow Eddie a single spec of preferential treatment when he was drying out.

Not so much as letting him have a tab at the commissary. Eddie couldn’t talk his way out of a single room search, no matter what he offered to sign or whose selfie he offered to pose in. Not that he had anything to hide, but the invasiveness of having his room tossed always made him feel itchy as fuck.

“Maybe, I mean, it’s still a little, like, you know?” Eddie hasn’t had trouble telling people what he wants since he had a number one track, but he knows making demands of Steve will almost, definitely, result in the opposite occurring. He’s got to rely on Steve being the perfect blend of contrary asshole and bleeding fucking heart, “I mean, actually, you know what yeah, you go. Fuck off. Be nice to have the place to myself again. Since it’s actually my house, and everything,” Eddie lets his voice shake a tiny bit, right at the end there, even as he lifts his chin and crosses his arms stubbornly across his chest.

Steve can be a tricky fucker, conning Eddie into scenting and yoga and hidden fucking vegetables, but Eddie’s no slouch.

Steve stares at him for what feels like a long time over the top of his laptop, “I’ll email her that this is the last night then. I’ll go tomorrow sometime, it’s late anyway, I probably shouldn’t leave tonight. If that’s okay.”

Eddie lets his head flop back on the couch cushion so that Steve can’t see his face, “fucking, just, whatever then,” he aims for disgruntled, and he thinks he nails it.

Eddie sighs, blinking at the shadowed blinds that cover his bedroom windows. He resists the urge to nuzzle into Steve’s tee shirt covered pec, then almost the moment he stops himself, his brain does it anyway, operating on autopilot.

Eddie sighs again.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve whispers in the dark, his hand coming up to gently rest on the small of Eddie’s back.

“What’s the suggestion doc? Meditation? Glass of water? Counting sheep? Organize everything in the fridge by expiration-”

Steve snorts a laugh, “it makes it easier to see what to prioritize. Less food waste.”

“Uh hu,” Eddie yawns, “starving kids in Africa would kill for that half a jar of pickle.”

“Probably.”

They lie quiet again, Steve’s hand wandering, dragging the material of Eddie’s vest. Eddie thinks vaguely about what kissing Steve might be like. Soft and pathetic Eddie guesses. Gentle, romantic. Steve probably only kisses people he really cares about, and it probably shows. Minty fresh and soppy and definitely everything Eddie hates.

He shuts that down.

“Tell me about being a boy scout, that shit will put me straight to sleep.”

“Pretty sure I already told you I was never a scout.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re lying.”

“I don’t lie.”

“Uh hu, that’s exactly something a boy scout would say.”

“My integrity is very important to me.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “of course it is. What do you do when you can’t sleep?”

Steve hums, thoughtful, “well, you didn’t sound too keen on mediation, so that’s out. So, read, sometimes, I guess.”

“Cop out,” Eddie says, even as he rolls away. He hasn’t read anything for a long time, can’t, truthfully, remember the last time he picked up a book. Eddie was a voracious reader when he was young, and it’s one of the habits that got replaced with...far worse habits. He suddenly misses it. Misses it viscerally. Something that he hasn’t had any interest in at all for...a long time, and at the mere mention of it, it feels like it’s coming back and making demands.

He pads down the hall in the dark; all the scrappy paperback books got banished from Eddie’s bedroom when he did the great redecoration. Probably shouldn’t have done all that when he was fucking high though.

He doesn’t know what he wants to read really, nothing heavy, not this late at night, but then The Gunslinger is staring him right in the face from the dead center of the shelf and Eddie thinks, fuck it, why not?

If Steve is annoyed when he leans over to flick the light on, he doesn’t show it at all. Doesn’t seem even slightly put out by having his sleep delayed, “what you got?”

“The Gunslinger. King.”

“Oh yeah, Dustin likes those, keeps telling me I should read them.”

“You should, they’re the best.”

“You start then.”

“Huh?” Eddie gets settled again on his back, leaning into the crook of Steve’s arm, “start what?”

“You read a bit, then I’ll read a bit, if you want?”

“I…” Eddie wants to protest, because this is dumb, and he doesn’t understand why Steve is showing any interest in it, not really. But he finds himself unable to articulate why it’s dumb, and he knows Steve is always ready to tell him he’s wrong if he points out that Steve doesn’t care, not really. He gives in instead. “The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed...”

Falkor’s in the car, big pink tongue hanging out of his mouth, his head sticking out of the passenger side window of Steve’s car. Eddie vaguely wonders if Falkor is actually going to ride shotgun.

Steve’s got a dinky car; Eddie could buy him a new one.

Steve would fucking hate that, he’d probably donate it to charity or something.

“Okay, pretty sure I’ve got everything.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie steps back in through his open front door, watching as Steve puts down his bags to pull his jacket out of the little boot room thing that Eddie was informed all rich people houses have.

“Yeah, so I’ve updated Chrissy, pretty sure she’ll be here later. Look after yourself, Eddie.”

“What, because you won’t be here to do it?” It’s meant to be snarky. It is snarky. It’s snarky for all the wrong reasons.

Steve grins though, huffing an almost laugh, “something like that.”

He shuffles through the door, negotiating his very sensible duffle bags, “you sure you got all the dogs stuff?”

“Pretty sure,” Steve shrugs, “but if I don’t that’s Dustin’s problem.”

They stand for a second then, staring at each other, “enjoy the ren fair,” Eddie says, just to drag it out a second longer before he’s alone again.

“Oh yeah! I’m sure I will.”

“You can, uhm, tell me all about it, maybe?” Eddie sticks his hands in his hoodie pockets to avoid fiddling. Steve might not be back. They both know they might never see each other again, that’s pretty much the reality here. Eddie’s rut was okay. He’s been out and dry for...well, few months now. He has a therapist.

He’s kind of doing okay.

“Sure,” Steve answers kindly. Or just...politely, which Eddie doesn’t really like. He much prefers the idea that Steve likes him, even though Eddie’s an asshole.

Maybe Steve likes people who are absolute dick heads to him.

The words are out before Eddie can really give them permission to go, “maybe we could get coffee?”

“Sure thing, Eddie,” Steve says, leaving with a smile and a nod. The smile was Steve’s bullshit professional one, and the words sounded kind of sad. Steve leaving suddenly feels kind of abrupt. Oddly...unfinished.

Eddie senses that he’s just fucked up, but he can’t...he can’t pin down why, because he’s not sure how.

He watches Steve’s little car trundle down the drive.

Chrissy crashes through the kitchen, slapping her bag down on the counter top, “Edward Munson what did you do?”

“What?” Eddie puts his guitar down, half climbing out of the lawn chair, ready to flee off the end of the deck if necessary, “what did I do?”

“Steve just emailed.”

“Right?” Eddie ignores the little twist of feeling in his chest.

“He said that he’s really thankful for the opportunity and really liked his time here, but, regretfully, he isn’t available to support you any longer.” Chris has her arms crossed over her chest, one foot tapping, and Eddie suspects he’s two minutes from having his blood sprayed across the lawn, “so why would that be?”

“I-I mean I don’t know?” Genuinely bewildered and doing his best to ignore just how sharp the hurt is.

“You don’t know?” Eddie’s heard the expression ‘thunderous’ before, and he’s pretty sure it applies now. Right to Chrissy’s face.

“Eddie, how can you not know? You must have done something. I told you not to push his boundaries okay, I told you this is not a sex thing, I told you he is a professional-!”

“Oh,” Eddie deflates. He puts his guitar fully to one side, flopping back in the chair.

“You know what you did?”

Eddie shrugs, “maybe. I mean. I didn’t think it was bad I just-” the warm squirming in Eddie’s chest is desperately unpleasant. The crawling embarrassment. The hurt. Eddie blinks a little too fast, trying to get rid of the sudden wetness accumulating on his lashes, “I didn’t mean it to be bad.”

“Oh honey,” Chrissy seems to turn on a fucking dime, she sits, taking the seat next to Eddie, “what happened?”

“I, uhm,” Eddie can’t even look at her, he’s so mortified, “I asked him out. For coffee. Steve probably saw that as like...encroaching on his professional boundaries or whatever. Not within the framework of his contractual employment. Fraternizing with the paying customers-”

“Eddie,” Chrissy quietly interrupts Eddie’s rambling, touching his arm gently, “why? I thought you didn’t like Steve?”

Eddie shrugs, angrily dashing away the one tear that’s broken free. He’s crying because he’s embarrassed and angry at himself, and now he’s crying he’s even more embarrassed and angry at himself because this is just so stupid-

“Oh. Oh honey that’s okay. I mean...Steve probably gets it all the time, I mean he does spend people’s ruts and heats and stuff with them. That’s probably...confusing for a lot of people.”

“I’m not confused,” Eddie protests quietly, looking across the lawn so he doesn’t have to see Chrissy’s pity face.

“Okay, sure,” Chrissy agrees way too fast. She doesn’t believe him at all. But then, she doesn’t know Steve, not like Eddie does, so she wouldn’t get it.

Eddie gets up, running away from whatever bull shit mess he’s created.

He’s never going to see Steve again.

Twelve

[halfwayhearted]

Hiii love your work 😇🥰😍

Can you write an angst to fluff with Pedri? long-distance relationship, and while visiting him, there’s an argument and reader wants to sleep on the couch or in the guest room, but he insists, “No, I want you with me.”

Here We Go Again — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: After finally being able to see your long-distance boyfriend, an argument ensues, but that doesn’t mean he’ll waste his only opportunity to finally sleep next to you.

Word Count: 975+

Disclaimer/s — Argument, slight cussing, angst to comfort!

A/N: “No, I want you with me.” IS INSANE OF YOU, NONNIE.

What the hell happened in the past thirty minutes that made you both storm out of the perfectly nice restaurant you were eating at? You mean, come on! It was going fine! Or, well, it was at first.

Fine until the topic of your guys’ future was slowly brought up—by him, nonetheless. Pedri was quite curious, as one would be when wanting to focus on what will happen to the two of you. Like how your relationship will obviously evolve, or whose house you would want to live in—all of that stuff.

Until one comment from you made him tense up. “I’d really think we should weigh all our options!”

It was a simple miscommunication. Truly. Instead of waiting for you to realize your mistake and take it back, he let out a sigh, ran a hand down his face, and wasted no time paying the bill. Alright…

You lingered a step behind him, your heart heavy while you silently made your way toward his car.

“Pedro—this,” a pause. “This is really immature.”

He doesn’t respond. Immature? Maybe. Though he wasn’t sure what else you could’ve possibly meant by what you said. “Let me explain, Pedri.”

Once you reach his vehicle, your eyebrows raise when he opens the door for you. It’s quick to drop; you didn’t want to make him more upset.

The instant you both settle in, he starts the engine and heads back to his apartment complex.

Explain while it’s still fresh. “I… didn’t mean it like that. By weighing out all our options, I meant that we still have time. Let it smooth out a little more.”

“It’s unnecessary,” the man says simply. Right.

“Then it’s unnecessary! I didn’t want you to think I was rushing into the entire ‘moving in’ process. It was just me being cautious—that’s all, I promise.”

“Have I mentioned you’re horrible at explaining?”

What the hell? Your eyebrows furrow. Was it a joke? Well, maybe. But given the circumstances, you definitely wouldn’t be taking it as one. “Okay, have I mentioned that you’re being immature?”

He doesn’t reply, though you notice his grip on the steering wheel tightening. You let out a sigh, thankful that the music is on. This would be a while, at least it wouldn’t be filled with silence.

Upon arrival, you didn’t wait for him to open the door for you like he always would; you just made your way up the steps, leaving the man behind.

You reach for the knob when you realize—shit. He literally has to unlock the door. How great for you.

Clenching your jaw, your gaze falls to the ground.

You hear your boyfriend’s footsteps grow closer and closer before they stop, the sound of his keys clinking together a welcome sound. When he opens the door, he waits for you to walk in first.

And you do, slipping off your coat and hanging it up. How fun! Now you have to get ready for bed.

It’s fine—just don’t think too much about it. You rummage through your suitcase, grabbing a pair of pajamas and disappearing into the bathroom.

When you finally come out, you see that he’d taken the chance to change as well. He’s tugging on a shirt when you slowly enter his bedroom.

“Blankets, where do you keep them?” You ask.

All he does is stare at you, like you just grew two heads. Like you just asked the stupidest question known to man. Yoo-hoo! “…blankets. What for?”

Oh, brother. “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

That’s when he goes rigid. After what feels like an eternity, Pedri finally finds his voice. “No, I want you with me,” he insists. It’s soft, but you hear it.

Your stomach does about a dozen backflips.

Be logical—not a good idea. “You’re mad at me,”you tell him, as if it’s obvious. Because it, well, is.

“I’m—” his shoulders slump. “I’m not mad at you. Just confused. Just… just come sleep with me. I don’t want you on the couch,” he finishes quietly.

You meet his gaze; so does he. You stare at each other until you feel your body slowly relax. Fine. Whatever, he’ll get his way. Gently padding your feet further into his bedroom, you awkwardly pull the covers over and slide under them with ease.

He does the same, more gracefully than you.

What a show-off, you thought to yourself before getting comfortable, staring up at the ceiling.

Minutes pass in complete and utter silence. Oh, fuck. Maybe you are that horrible at explaining.

Inhaling sharply, you turn to face him. “I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I was hesitant on moving in with you because I’m not.”

Pedri’s quick to look over at you. “You’re not?”

“God, no,” you huff. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted these past few months. If there’s anything I am, it’s sure as hell not uncertain. I’d want to move in with—”

“I’m sorry.” He interjects, his hand coming up to push a strand of your hair away from your eyes. “I was being stupid. I was already thinking about it too much. I shouldn’t have stormed out,” he says.

A smile slowly forms. “You can say that again.”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“I wasn’t being serious, idiot. It’s okay,” you utter with a shrug. “I didn’t mean to call you immature.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Yes, you did.”

You laugh. “Guilty. Just—don’t do that again?”

“I won’t. I should’ve let you explain from the beginning, and I didn’t. That was entirely on me.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can plan everything out.”

His lips twitch. “Tomorrow. Yeah, sounds good.”

“Tomorrow,” you agree, your smile softening. And with that, the sleep that sweeps by is nothing short of pleasant. You could so get used to this.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @lechrts + @levidazai + @gadriezmannsgirl + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ (I LOVED THIS SO BAD.)

[spnjediavenger]

Father's Day (Matt Murdock x sister!reader)

Title: Father’s Day

Type: long one-shot; Matt Murdock x sister!reader, some Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: sadness (not having a dad on father’s day) then fluff, platonic sibling fluff, maybe little AU cuz Tony Stark is mentioned?

Spoilers: none

Notes: like all my fics these days, not proofread #sorrynotsorry

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Disclaimers: i do not own daredevil, its characters, or plot

Word count: 2906 (oops)

Y/n sat on her bed at the apartment, stewing in her sorrow and depression, a bouquet of flowers discarded on her dresses. It was the same day she dreaded every year without fail. Father’s Day. But for some reason, it never bothered her as much as it did now. Well - she did know why. It seemed like there were more kids than normal had been going on about their plans with their dads after school that day.

“We’re going out to dinner.”

“Oh, us too! And I got him this new tie he’s been looking at. It goes with his favorite suit.”

“I got my dad his favorite chocolates plus I’m making dinner myself tonight.”

“I handmade a card for mine and crocheted a pair of gloves, a scarf, and hat that match.”

We’re doing this and I got that. My dad this and my dad that. Y/n was sick of it. She was sick of the gushing, she was sick of the bragging, and she was sick of the reminder. The reminder of the one thing she didn’t have. A father.

Granted, this wasn’t a new development. Since Y/n could speak and comprehend things, the nuns let her know what happened to her dad; why she didn’t have one. Of course, it was the condensed version - the PG rated one. Eventually Matt would tell her the whole truth. Through the years there would be times she and Matt would talk about things but never anything too deep. Y/n never wanted to bother him.

Y/n was pulled from her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the door to the apartment open and close.

“Y/n/n, I’m home!” Matt called.

Y/n sighed and rolled over on her bed so her back was facing the door.

In the entry hall, Matt paused and tilted his head, confused by the lack of response from his sister. Steady heartbeat in Y/n’s room. She was definitely there. Maybe she was napping? Matt thought.

Laying his suit jacket over a kitchen chair and his glasses on the table, he walked softly to Y/n’s room. He listened closer to her heartbeat and came to the conclusion she was indeed not sleeping.

Matt pursed his lips before tapping his knuckles on her door. “Hey. Can I come in, Starling?” he said gently. 

Y/n closed her eyes for a second before sighing. “Sure.”

Matt pushed the door open a little further and walked in. He sat on the edge of his sister’s bed behind where her back was turned. He rubbed her arm a couple times before speaking. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

Y/n shrugged. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Matt went to respond but caught the scent of flowers. Tilting his head and furrowing his brow, he turned back to Y/n. “Did Peter get you flowers?”

Heartbeat skipped, slightly faster now. They had something to do with why she was upset. 

Y/n knew Matt was probably paying attention to her heartbeat so there was no use even trying to lie. She sighed again. “They’re not from Peter,” she said quietly. 

“Ok…what’re they for then?” Matt prodded gently. 

Y/n turned her face into her pillow, hoping it would impede Matt’s ability to sense her oncoming tears. 

“I got them for dad.” Had anyone else been there, they wouldn’t have been able to hear Y/n. But she knew Matt would. 

Matt bowed his head a bit, feeling his sister’s sadness. “For Father’s Day,” he said, more as a statement than a question. And despite Y/n’s best attempts, Matt could smell the salt from her tears in the air. 

“I feel stupid for missing someone I’ve never met,” Y/n sniffled. “But I can’t help it. And I can’t help but wish he was still here. That I could’ve known him. That I could have a dad, Matt.”

Matt’s heart broke for her. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the same things. But being older now, he wanted them more for Y/n. He remembered being younger and how much worse it felt not having his father in his life. He sighed and pulled Y/n up and into his arms, resting his head against hers, using one hand to card his fingers through her hair. 

“It’s not stupid, Y/n. Don’t ever feel bad about those things. You have every right to feel this way. It’s hard growing up without your parents. I’m thankful I had dad as long as I did. More than anything, I always wished that for you.”

“I barely even know anything about him,” Y/n whispered. “I mean, besides the fighting stuff you told me about and what I’ve read and watched. Sometimes people ask me what he was like and I have no idea what to tell them.”

Matt pulled away a bit and turned his face towards hers. He carefully pushed some hair behind her ear. “I can tell you a few things I haven’t mentioned before,” he said, smiling a bit when he heard her breath catch just the tiniest bit. He imagined the hopeful gaze she probably was giving him. “He loved his kids. So much. Especially you. From the moment you were born it’s like he had a new purpose in life; or at least a stronger drive to provide for us. The adoration in his voice can't even be described. It was like he was in awe when he would describe you to me. And I'd hear other people say how he held so much love in his eyes when he looked at you; how he seemed to have this newfound gentleness when he held you. I know he loved you so much, Y/n. And that he would be so proud of the young woman you’ve become. And that he would’ve given anything to be able to see you grow up.”

Somewhere in the middle of Matt talking, Y/n had begun crying harder. And when he finished, she let out a sob and Matt collected her in his arms again. “I wish he was here, Matt. I-I wish I had a dad,” she sobbed, clutching Matt’s shoulders. “I miss him. I never knew him…but I miss him.”

Matt blinked back his own tears and quietly shushed her, stroking her head and squeezing her tighter. “I know, Starling. I know. I’m proud of you for talking it out loud though. And for thinking about visiting him. You’ve never done it before.”

Y/n sniffled before answering. “It was Pete’s idea,” she admitted. “Said it’s something that’s helped him.”

Matt nodded a bit. “He’s a good kid. Who’s also been through a lot of unfair things in this world. I’m glad he’s in your corner too.”

With Y/n more calmed down, she pulled away from Matt to wipe the tears from her cheeks, smiling a bit when Matt kissed her head. “Matt can…can you…do you think you could come with me?…to-to dad’s grave?” Y/n asked, looking up at him through her lashes. 

Matt smiled at her, placing a loving hand on her cheek and leaning his forehead on hers. “Of course.”

About thirty minutes later, Y/n and Matt were standing in the cemetery. Matt held Y/n’s hand until she took a deep breath, let it out, and let go. She walked up to their father’s grave and placed the flowers she bought standing against the headstone. She straightened up and let out another breath.

“I uh…I don’t know if you’re here or if you see me or anything…if you can see me you probably don’t recognize me…I’ve grown quite a bit since you last saw me,” she chuckled sadly. “But uh…I…I went to the library and looked up some old newspaper articles about you. There weren’t many but I eventually found a short one from a local paper where you used to live. ‘Battling Jack Murdock Welcomes New Addition.’ I’m surprised they even cared…But anyway - I printed it and brought a recent picture…they’re both me. So I uh…thought I’d leave them here with the flowers…dad.” The word felt weird coming out of her mouth when it wasn’t just in conversation with someone. It felt weird using it to address him. 

Y/n placed the picture and article next to the flowers and stood again. She took a shaky breath, prompting Matt to grab her shoulder and run his thumb over it. Y/n placed her hand on his as she continued. “I wish I got to know you before you were killed,” she sniffled. “Wish you had gotten to know me as well. I think about you a lot, especially on days like today…Happy Father’s Day.” Y/n paused a moment to wipe the stray tears from her face. “I just hope you know Matt has always taken good care of me. We’re not normal siblings that fight all the time unless we’re wrestling.” Matt chuckled from behind her at this, making her smile a bit. “We love each other. And I think you’d be proud of that….and we love you.”

The girl finally stepped back into Matt’s waiting arm. He put it around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “I’m proud of you, kiddo,” he said.

Y/n pursed her lips and wrapped one of her arms behind him. “Thanks, Matty.”

“I know he would’ve wanted to be here for you as you grew up. But maybe somewhere he’s been able to watch. Still would’ve wanted to support you, though. However he could.”

This made Y/n pause for a moment. Support me…however he could. She thought back to earlier in the day when she was talking to Peter about her feelings on Father’s Day.

“I don’t get it. It’s like Valentine’s Day - you have the whole year to show your significant other you love them.”

“Y/n, you love Valentine’s Day,” Peter deadpanned, turning to look at her as they walked through the halls.

She turned and gave him a flat look. “Not the point, Peter. It’s the comparison. Father’s Day is like Valentine’s Day. You have the whole year to show dads they’re loved - why does there need to be a holiday? All it does is make-...” Y/n cut herself off as her explanation began to exceed the one for Valentine’s Day. 

“All it does is what?” Peter asked gently. He had a feeling he knew where she was going with her point but knew it’d be better if she let it out herself.

Y/n stopped at one of the hallway corners and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, hoping to keep her tears at bay. “All it does is make people without fathers feel bad about not having one,” she said quietly, not meeting her boyfriend’s eyes. 

Peter pursed his lips. “Hey, if anyone gets it, it’s me. I know how it feels. But you know, there are still some things you can do to celebrate him.”

Y/n finally flicked her eyes up to meet his.

“Maybe get flowers and visit his grave. Try talking to him and let out how you feel. I know it can be hard but I do it sometimes for both my parents. Whether or not you do that, remember you have Matt. Maybe get something for him. I got something for Mr. Stark.”

After they talked, Y/n felt bad about having vented to Peter as if he didn’t feel the same pain that she did. He assured her it was ok but she still silently promised to do something for him this week.

But after that, Y/n indeed got some flowers on her way home to take to her dad’s grave and a blank card for Matt. She even spent time in her room afterwards, using the dull end of a sewing needle to try and make braille-like bumps into the inside of the card so Matt could read it himself, hoping he would like the gesture. 

The card! Y/n thought in realization. She put her hand into her hoodie pocket and grabbed the card that was thankfully still in there. 

“Matty, I…I actually have something for you,” she said meekly, turning towards her brother. Even though she knew he couldn’t see, she still avoided his eyes for a moment before handing the card to him. “The front is just a picture of the sky with some clouds. The inside is more what’s important,” she explained. 

Matt, shocked, took the card from her and opened it, his blind gaze forward and his hand grazed the hand-done braille inside. For the brother who’s always been a sibling and a father to me. I appreciate you more than words can ever express. You’ve always loved me, supported me, and been there for me. I love you so much. -Y/n

Matt didn’t notice his own tears until he felt Y/n gently wipe them from his cheeks, making him jump a bit in surprise. He wiped a hand down his face and silently pulled her into a hug. As the two embraced in the cemetery, it would set off an almost tradition of going to visit their dad’s grave every Father’s Day and sometimes between that. Supporting each other in what they lost and also what they still had.

Epilogue

A few years later

“Thanks for coming with us, Peter, but you didn’t have to,” Y/n said as they walked up the hill at the cemetery. 

Peter shrugged. “It’s no problem. I was in the area anyway and I know it’s become a special tradition for you.”

Y/n smiled and squeezed his hand that was intertwined with hers, giving him a quick kiss.

“Ok, ok, gross,” Matt chided playfully, making the other two chuckle.

They finally reached Jack’s grave and Matt started by speaking a bit, then let Y/n take her turn. As they were about to leave, Peter turned his head to Matt, knowing he would hear the motion. Matt gave him a discrete nod and Peter tugged Y/n’s hand a bit to get her attention.

“This might sound weird but…would you mind if I said something, Y/n?”

Y/n’s eyes immediately stung with tears - not in sadness, but in shock and feeling overwhelming love for her boyfriend wanting to say something for her father. She smiled and nodded, not having words to say.

Peter let go of her hand and took a step forward. “Mr. Murdock, sir, my name is Peter Parker, I’m uh…I’ve been dating your daughter for some time now. I truthfully didn’t know much about you until she told me everything she knew and after that, I went home and did my own research on you so I could know everything about the man she and her brother looked up to and missed so much.” At this, a couple tears escaped her eyes. She had no idea Peter had done that. “I have a lot of respect for you, sir, and how you lived your life for your kids. I also respect how well you could take a punch,” he continued, making both Murdocks laugh a bit. Peter smiled and turned back to the grave. “Anyway, another thing I wanted to say was that I hope wherever you are you know what great kids you have and what amazing people they’ve grown up to be. Especially your daughter. I know you didn’t get to know her for very long. I know Matt has probably talked to you about her but sir…she’s amazing. She’s smart, mature, kind, funny…just amazing. I love Y/n so much, sir and only want the best for her. And I wish you could’ve been here for this. I got Matt’s approval but I wanted to do this here so you could maybe be able to see.”

Y/n furrowed her brow, not knowing what Peter was talking about. But Peter turned around, smiling at her and holding something in his hands. He bent down on one knee and opened it, revealing a ring inside. “Y/n M/d Murdock, I love you with all that I am. With Matt’s grace and your dad as a witness, I want to ask you: will you marry me?”

In the way of the truest, most common cliche during proposals, Y/n’s hand flew to her mouth as tears ran down her cheeks. Unable to form words, she nodded her head furiously. She let Peter take her left hand and put the engagement ring on her finger. Peter stood and took Y/n in his arms, letting her sob into his shoulder as she hugged him back. ‘Touched’ didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. Sure, there was sadness at being at her dad’s grave but the relief from getting to talk to him, the joy that Peter wanted her dad to be there in some way or at least be involved, the joy and love of him proposing.

Still standing off to the side, Matt had tears in his own eyes. He still held Peter’s phone as it took a video of the event. He knew Peter was a good kid and would take care of his sister. And he was glad to have someone else in their family. Someone who helped make Father’s Days ok for Y/n again.

[tinkerbellini21]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 20

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, fluff, alcohol use, spoilers

Author's Notes: Might be a few days before I update! I have to crack down on these final papers!

Masterlist | Taglist

You’re mid-break the next day when your phone vibrates. You pick it up, seeing your fiance’s name flashing across the screen. 

“Sorry, this is Buck. I’ll be right back.” You excuse yourself from your conversation with Josh, walking out of the breakroom and down the hallway. Soon he is requesting a video call. As you answer, you see him in the Jeep, wearing a white top and his brown jacket. 

“Hi Babe! You caught me at a good time, I’m just taking my break. How are you? Did you end up finding the lunch I left you this morning?”

“Yes, it was delicious, thanks.” His voice is distracted, but he flashes a half-smile at your thoughtfulness. “Were you upset yesterday because of the name tag?”

“Well hello to you too.” You tease, looking away from the camera. You’re quickly thinking on the spot, trying to find a way around this conversation. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I want you to know that this is still my spot. She’s not taking it.”

“Oh, I know that.” You roll your tongue up behind your top lip, letting it slip out of your mouth before you continue. “To answer your question, I wasn’t crying over just that. If it makes you feel better, Eddie let me be his punching bag! It’s been needing to happen for a few months now. He took it like a champ. He’s a really good friend.”

“Wait, what?” His eyes widen. “You punched Eddie? What happened?”

“Buck—”

“Don’t say it doesn’t matter. Did they say something to upset you?”

“No.” You hear him groan, frustrated at your stubborn nature. “It was teasing and I was being sensitive, that’s all. Eddie let me punch him a few times to get my anger out.”

His eyes soften, lashes fluttering, voice hushed. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, too.” You cast your gaze down, finding your loafers much more interesting.

 You tried to protect him. But it didn’t work. You swallow a lump. 

“Hey, I’m not mad. I just- please don’t carry this stuff by yourself. That’s what I’m here for, remember?”

“Yeah.” You’re now kicking your foot back and forth, toes catching with each swing. You didn’t want to have to add onto his load, though.At least, not right now.  “It was just easier to not say anything. You’ve been adjusting so well and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Babe, look at me. You could never ruin it. It’s just a job. Sure, it’s been tough but it’s not more important than you, and it never will be.” He pauses, making eye contact with you. Your eyes have glossed over. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smile as he tilts his head, blowing a kiss. You blow one back, feeling like a teenage girl falling in love all over again.

“That’s what I like to see, that pretty smile. Now tell me about your day. Any interesting calls?”

You laugh, recalling the ridiculous case that you had. He laughs alongside you, attentive to your day, but you can’t help but see a light dimming in his eyes. Your chest squeezes. So you quickly change gears, asking him about his day. The light slowly flickers alive again, and the pressure slowly eases. 

You finish the call, still smiling, glad to have a burst of renewed energy. Yet, by the end of your 12-hour shift, you’re exhausted. You want to go home, eat, and collapse into Buck’s arms. When you get into your car, your head hits the steering wheel. You just need a minute to collect yourself. However, with each passing second, you feel yourself drifting further towards sleep.

You straighten up, placing your phone on the mount to call your boyfriend. It rings, and you get through to his voicemail. You try again. No answer. Your eyebrows turn in. That’s not normal.

You get home safely, thanks to your music blaring. Buck’s Jeep is here. 

Was he really asleep? At 8 PM?

Quietly, you open the door. The lights are off, met with the sounds of the TV. With the flick of the light switch, you enter the kitchen to find something to eat. You don’t find anything satisfying to eat, so you grab an apple to eat with peanut butter, not too hungry. 

Something feels off. You feel nauseous. You haven’t felt this type of pit in your stomach in months. Even when Buck threw the blood clot. 

As you cut the apple into slices, you happen to glance at the TV. Buck lays on his stomach, passed out on the couch. His arm and a leg are hanging off of the piece of furniture. The next thing you observe light reflecting off of a bottle. Then you see two.

Maybe he’d picked up some of the old-fashioned sodas he treats himself to every once in a while. 

You step around the counter, moving closer. A third bottle is on the floor. A hint of barley and hops wafts through the air.

You lean in closer.  Stella Artois. Not his usual beer. You quickly google the ABV. 5.2%. Stronger than a Corona. Three bottles and blood thinners? No wonder he’s out cold.

You twist the ring on your finger, slowly putting the puzzle pieces together. 

Buck has been diligent, watching what he eats, limiting his consumption of alcohol. Something happened. Did the name tag get to him that bad? What happened?

You pull out your phone, dialing Maddie. She picks up after the first ring.

“What’s up? I’m kind of busy.” It’s short, voice hushed. You frown. Did something happen between the two of them? Is everyone feeling off today?

“Hey, sorry. I know you had a hard call today, but— I’m worried about Buck. He’s passed out on the couch with three empty bottles of beer What if it hurts him?”

“Watch him, but I think he’ll be okay. Keep me updated?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

You feel an eye twitch as you pull the phone away from your cheek, looking at the screen. Does she really not have anything to say? Not to ask if you were okay? She didn’t even seem that concerned about her brother. 

“Night.”

You bite your tongue to avoid getting annoyed with her. Maybe she’s just checked out for the night, tired after an emotionally exhausting case. Still… it stings. 

“Night.”

After finishing your apple, you head upstairs for a shower. You need to clear your head, to make a plan before approaching Buck. 

Your shower thoughts are invaded by worries. What tipped Buck over the edge? Did the 118 say something? Did he overhear them? Was he frustrated after a long day?

With one of his shirts and a pair of panties, you pad downstairs. You squat down next to him, laying your hand on his back. You rub in circles, gently shaking him. Warmth radiates off of him, his shirt stuck to his skin by sweat. 

“Buck. Babe.” You say firmly. It takes a few more attempts before he becomes somewhat alert.

“Hmm.”

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Don’ wanna talk abou’it.”

“Okay. Did you eat?”

“Yeaah.”

You kneel on your knees, placing a hand on Buck’s face. Stubble pokes your skin as your fingers glide across his jaw.

“Alright, good. Can we get you upstairs for bed?”

“Comfy ‘ere.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. The muscles of his face turn into a smile.

“I’m sure you are, buuut, I don’t want you to be sore in the morning.”

“‘M’fine,” he mumbles again, words sloshed together. 

You sigh, exasperated. With a roll of your eyes, you tilt his head to look at you. His eyes are glossy, red. The redness inhis eyes wasn’t just from the alcohol- it was grief. That pit in your stomach? It was the same ache in his chest, bubbling until it broke loose. 

“You know, as your fiance, I cannot do that. I won’t sleep well if you’re on the couch.”

“Can’t move.” 

“That’s okay. Do you want me to call Eddie?”

“Noo.” He draws out with a groan, and you bite back a laugh as he struggles to get up.

After a few attempts, you decide that you had your entertainment, and now was the time to offer him a hand. 

You had never experienced a drunk Buck before. After not drinking much in the past year, combined with his medication, it’s no wonder that he’s really feeling the effects of three beers. 

Getting Buck to stand on his feet is a feat on its own. Once he’s up, your arm steadies him. He trips, leaning most of his weight on you. You fight hard to keep yourself up right, laughing as you slowly move the man across the floor. 

Looking up the stairs, you turn your attention back to the man. He’s staring back down at you, eyes shining with love. It’s the same look he gave you hours ago. Now he’s out of it, hurting on the inside. 

“You’re amazing. I looove you.”

“I looove you too. Now hold onto that railing and work with me, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You manage to make it upstairs, both of you giggling as you sway in sync. You consider collapsing beside him in bed, but first, you have to find out what’s going on. 

Once his head hits the pillow and you get him out of his clothes, he’s out like a light. You linger, pushing your fingers through his hair. He starts to snore into the pillow, and you gently turn his head to the side so he can get some air. 

You move to turn the light off in the bathroom. You look back, the light casting a shadow on the wall. Buck’s back is rising and falling equally. For a moment, you pretend that everything is fine. He’s safe, and that’s all that matters. 

Then reality creeps its way back in. 

You sneak downstairs to tidy up. It’s your job to find out what put Buck in this state. To get ahead on damage control. 

Your first instinct is to call Eddie, to see if he has talked to him recently. 

“Hey! I’m on shift. Is everything okay?”

“Hey! I don’t want to bother you, but do you know why Buck would’ve been drinking tonight? He didn’t want to talk about it, and he’s pretty messed up. I had to help him up the stairs, Eddie.”

Your fingers wrap around the necks of the three bottles. Now that you’re not worried about Buck, you realize that the floor underneath your feet is cold. 

“Uhm, no I don't. That’s surprising, actually, with his blood thinners and all.”

“Yeah—I don’t want to invade his privacy, but I’m about to open his phone.” The bottles clink against each other as you stand above the trash can, foot pushing the pedal. “Tell me it’s a bad idea.”

“Actually, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. This is uncharacteristic of him, and I think that if you can find out what went wrong, it might be easier to approach it in the morning.”

“You know what, you’re so right.” You drop the bottles in the trash can, switching the device to your other ear. You quietly navigate across the loft, not wanting to be heard by Buck- even though there’s no way he’s waking up anytime soon. 

Sitting down on the couch, you place your phone on your lap. 

“I’m in.” You feel giddy, like you’re a part of a secret mission. You should feel bad, but you remember that this is for Buck’s health. You navigate to his texts, skimming previous without opening them. “Eddie, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything.”

“Check his call log. Maybe Cap talked to him.”

You start at the top of the call log. Your two missed calls. A call to Maddie, which she didn’t answer, and then-

“Oh, look! He got a call from Athena about two hours ago.”

“Great. Sooo, follow up with her and let me know what you find out.”

“Okay. Thanks, Eds.”

“No problem. Good luck! Speak soon, Sunshine.”

You put Buck’s phone down, switching to yours as you stand up. You type in Athena, finger hovering over the call button. You start to pace between the living room and the dining area. 

Part of you thinks you should let this be, wait for Buck to tell you when you’re ready. But now you’re curious. With a deep breath, you dial the number, holding your breath anxiously. Maybe you should hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hey Athena! I’m so sorry to be calling this late at night. I just got home from work and Buck was drunk on the couch. He had three beers and I’m trying to figure out why. With his blood thinners— I’m just concerned.”

“Are you sitting down for this?”

You stop in your tracks, body tensing. What does she mean, are you sitting down? Is it that bad?

“Why?”

“I invited Buck over for dinner. Things didn’t go over too smoothly.”

You move towards the island, running your fingers across the countertop. 

“What happened?”

“Buck was ranting about not being back and Bobby told him that it was his choice.”

“Oh.”

“He got upset, said it wasn’t fair. Bobby told him it was the blood thinners, and… he spiraled. I tried to talk him down, but he left before I could.”

You tap your ring on the surface, hearing small clinks with each hit. Just another hit to Buck’s progress. 

“Are you okay?” 

You tap your foot anxiously, gripping the edge of the counter. You don’t feel okay.

“Yeah, I uh, I trust Bobby’s judgement. I have to, uh, figure out how to be neutral.”

“Well it’ll work itself out. He’ll get over it.” 

Her voice softens, silent for a beat. You fight back a snarky comment in response to ‘he’ll get over it’. But that’s just how Athena is—she means no harm. 

“But in the meantime, if you need anything, let us know. We’re always here for you. And Buck.”

“Thanks Athena.”

You toss your phone down with a loud clunk, hearing it slide across the counter and crash onto the floor. You'll get it in a minute.

You lean forward to rest on your elbows. You stretch your hamstrings as you push back on your legs. Carding your fingers through your hair, you tug at the root. 

This is bad. You had just gotten him out of his recent depressive episode. 

And with one step forward, you’re pushed two steps backwards.

Again. 

But as you collect yourself, untangling your fingers from your hair, you glance at the ring on your hand. You smile lovingly.

This is your person, your forever and always. You’ll get through this. You just have to have faith that soon this will be back to normal. Buck will be back to full duty- for his and your own sanity. 

But for now, he can lean on you. You’ll hold him together, because that’s what you do for someone you love. 

You’ll talk to Buck tomorrow. You’ll face this with him- whatever it is. But for now, you go collapse into Buck’s arms, pushing away the worries for the night. Each snore in your ear, surprisingly comforting, as you lay back against his chest, his arm finding its way home. You softly whisper a love you, letting your eyes drift shut. 

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🔥 taglist: @nickie-amore, @mimisweetz, @queen-o-castle, @dipdeedoda, @rintheemolion, @iluvvcaats, @maryyy-8 , @strabarrybat, @unholycheesesnack, @formula1-motogpfan, @booklover2503, @strawb3rrywh0r3, @itsthebookqueenthings, @mmkkzz, @teenwolfbitches28, @mynameis-alexa, @sophham, @bellsbomb

[jettison-my-gift]

It came to my attention that I’d archived a bunch of chats on WhatsApp because I thought archiving meant deleting old messages to save memory and assumed that if a new message came in I’d get a notification and see it!

NOPE! That’s not what happens

And I went into my archived chats and I had a message from my (cishet Christian) aunt from early December asking me if I could donate any items for an art exhibition her university is doing for queer history month (which is February)

I did not see this message.

So she didn’t get a response.

She then sent me another message worried that she had offended me, apologising, and saying that she wants to be a good supportive aunt and asking if there’s anyway she can do that.

I did not see this message.

So she didn’t get a response.

She then sent me another message saying she was upset she didn’t get to see me round Christmas and hopes I’m well. (She visited the family but I had to work that day)

Again. Did not see it

Did not respond

…

I’m so devastated! I want to help her with this queer art exhibition but it’s probably too late now. And this poor woman was trying to reach out to me in a loving manner, accepting me as a queer trans person (the whole family is very religious so it was a little bit rocky to begin with but this particular aunt has always been lovely) and from her point of view I just ignored her! For over a month! Just said nothing. And she was worrying that she’d offended me by asking to be involved in art!! I love art! I always wanna be involved in art!

Ive just sent her a bunch of messages apologising and suggesting things I can donate if it’s not too late but she hasn’t responded yet (she’s probably asleep cos it’s quite late) and I’m stressing cos I’ve probably ruined her chance to be involved in this exhibition because I’m a fool who doesn’t know how WhatsApp works 😭

I need to sleep but I’m so upset about this situation I can’t. I just want her to message me back like:

“oh don’t worry! It’s not too late! I can create a work of art in 3 days and the exhibition still has lots of space and is taking pieces literally the day before it opens! It’s all good!”

*Edit*

Update!

Oh thank funk.

[soni-dragon]

Never ever EVER buy household appliances with ai in them. Most ridiculous things I’ve ever encountered

[hellonoblesky]

Fuck.

[neixins]

just had a meltdown at work but at least my makeup didn’t smudge at all…..small victories or whatever

[vxmpdxllie]

I kinda miss getting good morning messages n like consistent conversations but it’s fine ig. Like a part of me gets all worked up over it and then the other is just like okay whatever I can’t control anything so just move on

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Housewardens

Other Parts: Vice-Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Riddle Rosehearts

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the rustle of fabric as you flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a cat forcibly denied its favorite sunny spot.

The argument still hung in the air, an unspoken tension that neither you nor Riddle were willing to breach—at least not yet. He wasn’t wrong, not entirely, but he wasn’t right either. The impasse was as thick as the silence between you.

Determined to make a statement, you yanked the blanket off the couch arm and cocooned yourself in it, defiantly turning your back to the door. No way were you crawling back to bed tonight. Your pride wouldn’t let you. Let him stew in his perfectly fluffed, oversized bed.

Meanwhile, in his room, Riddle’s impeccable composure was fraying at the edges. He lay stiff as a board under his duvet, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all his mistakes. His pillows seemed unusually hard, the blankets too suffocating, and no matter how he adjusted, something felt... wrong.

It didn’t take him long to figure out the culprit: you weren’t there.

He groaned softly into the darkness. Guilt clawed at his insides, sharp and relentless, each tick of the clock making it harder to bear. He’d handled things poorly—he could admit that, now that the heat of the argument had ebbed. And worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being upset, out there on the couch, all because of his stubbornness.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he threw off his blanket and shuffled into the living room. His breath caught when he saw you.

There you were, fast asleep, your cheek smushed against the arm of the couch, one arm dangling off the side. The sight was far too adorable for the emotional train wreck he’d become. His guilt doubled.

Riddle knelt by the couch quietly, determined not to wake you. But as he crouched there, the exhaustion hit him—of the argument, the guilt, the restless tossing and turning. Maybe just sitting here would suffice. He wouldn’t disturb you.

A few minutes turned into an hour. Before he knew it, he’d slumped sideways against the couch, head lolling onto his arms, fast asleep in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable.

When you stirred awake, the morning light was peeking through the curtains. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes, the previous night’s anger feeling like a distant shadow. That was when you noticed him—his normally pristine figure curled up on the floor, head resting uncomfortably close to your dangling hand.

Your chest ached at the sight. The idiot. The sweet, guilty idiot.

You reached out, brushing your fingers lightly against his hair. “Riddle,” you whispered. “Hey… wake up.”

He stirred, blinking up at you with sleep-clouded eyes, disoriented but instantly softening when he saw your face. Without a word, he shifted closer, arms wrapping around your middle as he buried his face against your stomach.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, voice thick and quiet.

You freeze but quickly recover, leaning into his embrace. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your blanket. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.”

Your throat tightened, and you found yourself carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “Let’s not fight like that again.”

For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in quiet forgiveness. When he finally looked up at you, there was a hesitant, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Will you come back to bed now?” he asked softly.

“Only if you promise to use it too. No more couch-floor accommodations,” you teased, pinching his cheek lightly.

“Deal,” he murmured, and together, you made your way back—closer than before, warmth filling the space where anger once was.

Leona Kingscholar

The argument had been sharp, biting, and the kind of fight where you both refused to back down. Storming out of the bedroom felt dramatic enough to match the vibe, so you grabbed a blanket, stomped to the living room, and threw yourself onto the couch with the weight of your indignation. “Fine,” you muttered into the cushions. “Let him have the stupid bed. I don’t care.”

And at the time, you didn't. You were replaying his snarky remarks and cursing his stubborn attitude. But the couch was lumpy, the blanket too short, and sleep came grudgingly after what felt like hours of stewing.

When you finally woke, disoriented and achy, something felt...off. For starters, you weren’t on the couch anymore. You were in the bed, wrapped snugly in the comforter that still carried Leona’s scent.

Blinking against the sunlight, you sat up, confusion clouding your thoughts. At the foot of the bed was the blanket you’d dragged out last night, now neatly folded like some taunting symbol of Leona’s existence.

And Leona himself? Missing.

You slid out of bed and wandered to the living room, where the answer to your mystery lay sprawled across the couch. The sight of him, however, made your irritation waver.

Leona was far too large for the couch. His long legs hung over the edge at weird angles, and one arm was slung over his face to block the light filtering through the curtains. He looked wildly uncomfortable, but his usual arrogance softened in sleep, his face peaceful and unguarded.

It didn’t take a genius to piece it together. He must have carried you to bed sometime in the night, only to exile himself to the lumpy couch. The guy could be maddeningly stubborn, but this... this unexpected gesture had you torn between wanting to yell at him or simply kissing him awake.

Ultimately, you decided to settle for the middle ground.

Crouching next to the couch, you reached out and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. Before you could withdraw, one eye cracked open, and a lazy grin spread across his lips.

“Caught ya,” he drawled, voice rough from sleep.

You raised an eyebrow. “You moved me to the bed, didn’t you?”

He huffed, clearly uninterested in owning up to the sentimentality of it. “Couldn’t leave you out there whining in your sleep.”

“I wasn’t whining!” you protested, even though your cheeks were burning.

“Sure you weren’t,” he replied smoothly, grabbing your wrist before you could retreat. With a sharp tug, he pulled you down, practically pinning you against him. “Don’t see the big deal. You’re mine, aren’t ya? ‘Course I’m gonna take care of you.”

The casual way he said it didn’t make it any less sincere.

You sighed, melting into his warmth despite yourself. “I hate how sweet you can be when I’m trying to stay mad at you.”

His smirk widened, and he tucked you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Didn’t mean to piss you off,” he murmured against your temple. “But you’re not leaving this couch till we make up. Deal?”

You rolled your eyes, but your voice softened. “Deal.”

As the tension melted away and his arms tightened around you, the couch didn’t seem quite so lumpy anymore. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place to be.

Azul Ashengrotto

The argument had been tense, the kind where you both said things you probably shouldn’t have. Frustrated and too stubborn to stay in the same space as Azul, you grabbed a pillow and marched out to the couch. He’d barely tried to stop you, his pride seemingly keeping him rooted in the bedroom.

But pride was a fickle thing, and now you were left trying to fall asleep on the stiff cushions. Every creak of the floorboards made you feel a little guilty, knowing exactly who it was.

You didn’t even need to look; you could feel Azul’s presence lingering in the doorway, his usual composure clearly absent. The sound of shuffling footsteps returned to the bedroom, and you thought maybe he’d finally leave you alone—only to hear those same footsteps inch closer again a minute later.

"Azul, I know you're there," you muttered, cracking an eye open and turning toward the doorway. Sure enough, there he was, peeking out. His glasses caught the faint glow of the hallway light, and he immediately froze like he’d been caught stealing treasure.

“I-I wasn’t...” he started, before trailing off, clearly scrambling for an excuse.

You sighed and sat up, your frustration ebbing in the face of how uncharacteristically sheepish he looked. This was Azul Ashengrotto, the calculating businessman who could sell ice to Yetis—and yet he couldn’t even apologize without peering at you like a child who’d been scolded.

“If you’re just going to lurk there all night, we’re both going to lose sleep,” you said, finally beckoning him over with a wave.

Azul hesitated for a fraction of a second before his composure cracked, and he shuffled toward the couch. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate...” he started, sitting next to you, his head ducked low, voice soft.

You smirked despite yourself. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

He bristled, his dignity rallying as he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “I am not—”

“You’re very cute,” you interrupted, and the smallest flicker of a pout crossed his lips.

Azul looked away, a hint of color dusting his pale cheeks. “You’re the worst.”

“And you still love me,” you countered, pulling him down beside you. “Truce?”

He glanced at you, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “Truce.”

Apologies came in murmured exchanges after that, both of you acknowledging where you’d gone wrong. You knew you’d both let pride get in the way—typical for two people as headstrong as yourselves.

Eventually, Azul’s head rested on your shoulder, his warm weight grounding you. You leaned back against the couch, and despite its discomfort, it felt perfect with him there.

“You know,” you whispered, running a hand gently through his hair, “for a guy who’s made half of Twisted Wonderland sign contracts, you really can’t stand your ground for the life of you.”

Azul huffed, turning his face into your shoulder to hide. “Do you want me to apologize again?”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Nope. I think I’ll just enjoy this.”

And with that, the two of you finally let the tension of the argument melt away, falling asleep together on the couch in an imperfect, perfectly “you and Azul” sort of peace.

Kalim Al-Asim

The argument had been uncharacteristically heated—rare for someone as sunny and easygoing as Kalim—but even he had limits, and so did you. When your stubborn streak flared, it ended with you grabbing a blanket and storming off to the couch.

“No, Kalim, I’m fine. You sleep in the bed, I’ll sleep here,” you snapped, cutting off his attempts to follow you. His face fell, but for once, he didn’t argue, retreating to the bedroom with a defeated slump of his shoulders.

You burrowed into the couch cushions, determined to stay mad, but as sleep started to claim you, the anger dulled into annoyance. It didn’t matter. He started it, you thought stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter.

A soft rustle of fabric woke you, tugging you from the edges of sleep. Blinking groggily, you turned your head to see Kalim crouched beside the couch, carefully tucking another blanket over you. He had his tongue poking out slightly in concentration, his touch so gentle that it was clear he didn’t want to wake you.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep.

Kalim flinched, looking at you like a startled puppy caught raiding the kitchen. “Oh, I—uh—I just thought you might be cold, so I…”

He trailed off, clearly expecting you to brush him off again. Instead, you sighed, your irritation melting as you realized just how ridiculous he looked, trying to coddle you even while you were angry at him.

“Come here,” you said, sitting up and pulling the blanket back a bit.

“What? No, I don’t want to—”

“Kalim.”

His protest crumbled immediately, and he slid onto the couch beside you, tucking his legs up awkwardly. You wrapped the blanket over both of you, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Kalim relaxed into the embrace, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice small and earnest. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You sighed, tilting your head to rest on his. “I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”

He perked up slightly at that, his usual cheer trying to peek through. “So… does this mean you won’t sleep out here alone again?”

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you under this blanket, Asim,” you teased, though your smile softened the words.

Kalim beamed, his arms wrapping snugly around your middle. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me forever!”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning back into the cushions. The couch wasn’t exactly built for two people, but the warmth of his presence made it easy to ignore. Slowly, you both drifted to sleep, Kalim murmuring sweet nothings even as his breaths evened out.

Maybe next time, you thought sleepily, you’d just let him win.

“You can have your perfectly fluffed pillows and skincare routine in peace,” you muttered, tucking yourself in with a spiteful sense of triumph.

Vil Schoenheit

The argument left both of you simmering in silence, which for Vil was a rarity. Instead of his usual icy composure, he seemed genuinely rattled. You, however, weren’t in the mood to care. Grabbing a blanket with theatrical flair, you stomped to the couch.

Once comfortably cocooned, you scrolled on your phone, trying to drown out the lingering annoyance. That’s when you heard it—sharp, purposeful footsteps marching toward you.

Before you could react, Vil appeared like a vengeful storm god, looking every bit as flawless as a deity would while furious. With a huff that could make kingdoms tremble, he reached for your arm and began dragging you back to the bedroom.

“Vil, what are you—let me go! I’m fine out here!” you protested, but his grip was firm, his annoyance palpable.

Once you were unceremoniously deposited by the bed, he turned to you, pointing at your neatly made side. “You are sleeping there,” he declared.

You folded your arms. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Deal with it.”

He tilted his head, his expression a dangerous blend of frustration and disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’ve ruined my entire evening, and now you expect me to suffer further by sleeping alone?”

“Ruined? Seriously?” you shot back.

“Yes! I require my beauty sleep, and I can’t possibly get it knowing you’re out there, sulking on a couch. It’s impossible to relax without you next to me—so you, are going to have to take responsibility!”

The sheer audacity of his statement left you blinking. It was so dramatic and entirely Vil that you couldn’t help it—you laughed. Not a little chuckle, but a full-bodied, slightly wheezing laugh that made you clutch your sides.

Vil crossed his arms, arching an offended brow. “I fail to see what’s funny.”

“You,” you said between giggles. “This whole ‘it’s your fault I can’t sleep because I love you’ nonsense. You’re ridiculous.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed, and once your laughter subsided, he gestured to the bed again, this time more softly. “Please. Don’t make me sleep without you.”

You relented, sliding under the blankets. As you settled in, Vil switched off the lights, the room going still.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment. His tone was sincere, lacking the sharp edges from earlier.

You shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him gently against you. “I’m sorry too.”

Vil let out a contented hum, nestling into your hold. With your body heat mingling and the earlier tension dissipating, it didn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep—together, as it should be.

Sleep came in patches, your mind replaying the fight in a loop. At some point, the dull ache in your bladder forced you to stumble toward the bathroom. On your way back, you froze, hearing quiet, panicked murmurs drifting from Idia’s room.

Idia Shroud

The argument had been rough—sharp words, bitter edges, the kind of fight that left your chest heavy. It didn’t matter how much Idia stammered his way through an apology or tried to explain his side; you weren’t ready to hear it yet. So, in an act of frustrated finality, you grabbed a blanket and retreated to the couch, refusing to spare him another glance.

“Ortho, what do I do? I think I really messed up this time,” his voice wavered, thick with worry. “They probably hate me now. Like, actual hate—no respawn, no restart. I mean, who else would put up with me? I’ve completely blown it.”

You sighed, anger ebbing as guilt trickled in. You hadn’t meant to push him that far, and his usual self-deprecating spiral sounded more frayed than usual.

Pushing the door open, you caught the tail end of Ortho’s voice. “Big Brother, you should—oh!” His robotic eyes darted to you, scanning the scene. A moment later, he gave a tiny thumbs-up and practically zoomed out of the room, leaving you and Idia alone.

Idia froze when he noticed you. His shoulders hunched as if he could shrink his already wiry frame. “I-I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Sorry for being pathetic. Again.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you stepped forward and opened your arms. “Come here, you dramatic dork.”

His eyes widened, hesitation etched into every inch of his posture. When you didn’t move or drop your arms, he finally shuffled over, nervously slipping into your embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him securely, and his entire body seemed to deflate as tension drained out of him.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder.

You huffed softly, rubbing his back. “Idia, I wasn’t leaving. Just... needed space to cool off. And honestly, hearing you lose your mind over it made it hard to stay mad.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” he mumbled, the words tumbling in an embarrassed rush. “Um, does this mean...?”

“It means I still love you,” you interrupted gently.

His grip on you tightened for a moment before he pulled back, pink dusting his cheeks and his hair glowing pink at the ends. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

“I’m sorry too,” you replied, kissing his cheek and earning a startled squeak.

Together, you made your way back to bed. As you settled under the blankets, his fingers tangled hesitantly with yours. The argument seemed miles away now, replaced by the steady warmth of simply being with him.

“I’ll try to be better,” he murmured into the quiet.

“You’re already enough, Idia,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you felt his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles, grounding both of you in the quiet comfort of reconciliation.

Malleus stood frozen for a moment, processing your declaration, and you could feel his pout even with your back turned. "You do not need to sleep on the couch," he finally said.

Malleus Draconia

The argument left both of you tense, and you were too mad to deal with Malleus' brooding silence. Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off toward the couch, refusing to even glance at him. "I'm sleeping on the couch," you announced. "Goodnight."

"I'm not changing my mind," you shot back, tossing the blanket onto the couch for emphasis.

There was a brief, sulking pause. Then, he went quiet—suspiciously quiet. You peeked over your shoulder just in time to catch him crossing his arms with a look of smug triumph spreading across his face.

“Malleus—”

Before you could finish the thought, a flash of green lightning struck the couch, reducing it to a pile of ash with alarming precision. You stood there, jaw dropping as the faint smell of charred upholstery wafted in the air.

"Well," Malleus said, ever so matter-of-factly, "it seems the couch is… out of commission. A most unfortunate turn of events."

You turned to him, dumbfounded. "Did you seriously just smite your own couch?"

He looked at you expectantly, his lips pressed into an overly calm smile. "The bed is still available," he offered, gesturing toward the bedroom as though that solved everything.

Your anger reignited—if that was even possible after witnessing such sheer audacity. Without a word, you dropped your blanket onto the floor, flopping down dramatically as if making it your personal mission to out-stubborn a dragon fae.

He stared at you in bewilderment, clearly expecting a different outcome. For a long moment, he didn’t move, as though trying to process your act of defiance. Then, with an audible sigh, he finally caved.

“Alright,” he said softly, crouching to your level. His eyes held a rare vulnerability. “I… overreacted. I apologize for upsetting you.”

You bit back a smirk, pretending to be unimpressed even as you felt your resolve softening. "I wasn’t thrilled about it, yeah."

Malleus tilted his head, something of a pout returning to his expression. “Will you come back to bed, then? The floor hardly befits someone so precious to me.”

“Only if you promise not to zap anything else," you teased, finally relenting as you reached out to take his offered hand.

He helped you up gently, his grip firm but careful, as though he feared breaking you. “I cannot promise to never act rashly in defense of my love,” he murmured, leading you back to the room.

Settling into the bed together, you couldn’t resist poking at him one last time. “You really destroyed your own couch just to keep me near you, huh? You know they make couple’s therapy for this, right?”

He chuckled softly, pulling you close. “I would smite an entire castle if it meant you stayed by my side.”

“Noted,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your chest. As you both drifted off, tangled in the sheets, you couldn’t help but think how absurdly lucky you were to be loved by someone so dramatic—and so utterly devoted.

Masterlist

[goddamnitmahtin]

Wait for Me

Ok so AU where Jason remembers being dead and remembers what he did while he was dead. And now that he’s back? He’s fucking pissed. He doesn’t actually pay attention to anything while he’s with the league. All of his self preservation? Gone. He just wants to die again and be with his Ghost King boyfriend. That’s all!

…

Jason huffed as Robin pushed him out of the way of the bus. Goddamn it. He was so close that time. The stupid kid. Ruining his chances.

Jason didn’t even really care that he had been replaced. He had expected it. B was never sentimental and Jason was never anything more than a sidekick anyways. He was replaceable. That was already proven. Batman always had a Robin. It didn’t really matter who Robin was. It was a title, not a person.

After pretending to be thankful for the save, Jason decided to go back to the league. Ra’s was like super evil but he was also a dumbass. It wasn’t hard to set him off. Maybe he could get Ra’s to kill him if he was lucky. Probably not. Since Talia and Damian were there. Ra’s wasn’t really much of a man. Nothing more than an idiot who didn’t want to die. The complete opposite of Jason.

He knew Talia and Damian were concerned with his behavior. The only reason he was dipped in the pit in the first place was to spite the Batman. Hoping he would be out for blood. He wasn’t stupid. But instead of getting a broken boy urging for revenge, what they had gotten was a very annoyed teen with suicidal tendencies. And very strange interests.

Jason went into his room of sorts. It was the area they let him live in. He didn’t have much, just a bed and a dresser. The only reason he even lived with them at this point was because they gave him food. He had made it clear when he was brought back that he had no interest in revenge. He just wanted to be dead. It was where he belonged after all. It had upset Talia so much that she had set up a small are for him to live in right where she could always see him. Almost like League of Assassins’ version of suicide watch. It didn’t stop Jason from sneaking out and trying anyways.

He grabbed a book he stole from Ra’s a week ago. He left his little sleeping area and went to find the old bastard. He threw the book at him, hitting him in the face. He could hear it as the book broke Ra’s nose. Good.

“Do you have a death wish?” he asked.

“YES!” Jason screamed, “If I don’t die soon, I’ll be too old for my boyfriend! If I die and I can’t date Danny anymore because I’m too old, I’ll haunt your death cheating ass until the timeline implodes!”

“You have some serious issues Todd,” said Damian.

Jason didn’t care, he just hoped Danny was still waiting for him like he promised. He had to get home. He HAD to die.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi Pookie

I wanted to request A Max daughter one like Max and Kelly had the baby and the reader is like 16-17 (she can drive) and she gets into a really really bad car accident (like so bad she was in a coma or something) and the hospital calls both but they don't answer since they're busy with the baby. they have been neglecting her. Until they called another driver and they went to her and like they lecture Max and Kelly.

Unanswered Calls

Yn gripped the steering wheel with shaky hands, her breathing uneven as she blinked back the sting of exhaustion. The streetlights blurred as rain splattered against the windshield, the rhythmic thudding of wipers doing little to clear her vision.

She was used to being on her own.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t asked. Earlier that afternoon, she had stood at the kitchen counter, bag in hand, waiting.

“Mom, Dad, I have ballet at six,” she had said, shifting her weight awkwardly as Kelly rocked the baby in her arms and Max tried to calm Penelope, who was throwing a fit about something.

Neither of them had even turned toward her.

“I can’t right now, sweetie,” Kelly had murmured distractedly, adjusting the baby’s tiny blanket.

“Ask your mom, I—Penelope, please, stop screaming,” Max had muttered, rubbing his temple as he tried to negotiate with his six-year-old daughter.

Yn had nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She didn’t ask again. She was used to this—being the afterthought, the independent one, the one who didn’t need attention because she never demanded it. So she had grabbed her car keys, not trusting herself to be upset.

Now, barely an hour later, everything was going wrong.

Her tires hit a patch of water, hydroplaning before she could react. The world spun. A blaring horn. The sharp, crunching sound of metal on metal. A shock of pain. Then, blackness.

Daniel was halfway through dinner when his phone buzzed. He almost ignored it, expecting it to be some stupid spam call, but something made him glance down.

Unknown Number.

Frowning, he wiped his hands on a napkin before answering. “Hello?”

“Is this Daniel?” A woman's voice, professional but urgent. “Daniel Ric—”

“Yes, yes, who is this?” He sat up straight, suddenly alert.

“This is St. James Hospital. Your goddaughter, Yn Verstappen, was in a severe car accident. You were listed as an emergency contact. We’ve been trying to reach her parents, but—”

Daniel was already on his feet, chair scraping against the floor. “Where is she? What happened?”

“She sustained significant injuries, including lung trauma. We had to place a chest tube to assist her breathing. The doctors have decided to keep her in a medically induced sleep for a few days to help her body recover.”

His stomach twisted. “And Max and Kelly? Her parents?”

“We’ve called multiple times. No answer.”

Daniel clenched his jaw. “I’ll be there in ten.”

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and something too clean to be comforting. Daniel rushed through the corridors, his pulse hammering in his throat as he found Yn’s room.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight.

She lay there, pale against the hospital sheets, her face bruised, her arm wrapped in gauze. Tubes ran from her chest, connected to a machine that beeped steadily.

A nurse—young, with kind eyes—stood by the bedside, adjusting the IV. She looked up as he entered. “Are you Daniel?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“I’m Nurse Emily. She’s stable for now.”

He approached the bed slowly, his heart aching. “Jesus, kid…” He ran a shaky hand through his hair before sitting beside her.

For a moment, he just stared at her. Yn, who had always been so full of life, so determined to carve her own space in a world that never seemed to make room for her. Now she lay still, fragile in a way he had never seen before.

He reached out, brushing her hair from her forehead. “I’m here, Yn,” he whispered.

Emily hesitated before speaking. “You’re the first person who answered.”

Daniel frowned. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “We called her parents over and over. No answer. No call back.”

Daniel’s hands curled into fists. “They didn’t even pick up?”

Emily shook her head. “Not once.”

Daniel let out a slow, furious breath. Then he pulled out his phone and called Max.

Voicemail.

He tried Kelly.

Voicemail.

Grinding his teeth, he left a message. “Max. Kelly. Your daughter is in the hospital. She was in a bad car accident. Call me back. Now.”

An hour passed. Nothing.

Two hours.

Three.

Four.

Yn remained unconscious, her chest rising and falling with the help of the machines. Daniel stayed at her side, his anger growing hotter with every minute.

When Max and Kelly finally walked through the door, he was ready.

Kelly looked tired. Max looked confused.

“Daniel, what’s going on?” Max asked, frowning.

Daniel stood up slowly. “What’s going on?” His voice was too calm. “You tell me, Max. Kelly. Where the hell have you been?”

Kelly blinked. “At home, we—”

“At home?” Daniel let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Your daughter has been lying in this hospital bed for hours, and you were at home?”

Max’s expression darkened. “We didn’t get any calls.”

“Bullshit.” Daniel pulled out his phone and waved it. “I called you. The hospital called you. They tried for hours. But I guess you were too busy to notice your own daughter almost died.”

Kelly paled. “Died?” Her voice wavered as she looked at Yn. “Oh my God.”

Max took a step forward, but Daniel blocked him. “Don’t.” His voice was steel. “You don’t get to come in here now and pretend you care.”

Max’s jaw clenched. “Of course we care.”

Daniel scoffed. “Do you? Because she drove herself to ballet since neither of you could be bothered. She’s seventeen, Max. A kid. But she didn’t even ask twice because she already knew the answer.”

Kelly looked away, shame creeping into her features.

Daniel continued, voice shaking with anger. “She was alone when the accident happened. Alone when they brought her here. And when the doctors needed her parents, where were you?”

Silence.

Daniel exhaled sharply. “She’s used to this, you know?” His voice was quiet now, but no less furious. “She’s used to being second to Penelope, to the baby, to everything else in your lives. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t make a fuss. She just… deals with it.” He swallowed hard. “But this? This she couldn’t deal with alone.”

Max ran a hand down his face, guilt creeping in. “I—”

“I don’t want excuses,” Daniel snapped. “I want you to do better.”

Kelly’s eyes filled with tears. “Can we see her?”

Daniel stepped aside. “She’s been waiting long enough.”

Max walked to the bed, his hands trembling as he reached for Yn’s fingers. “Oh, sweetheart…” His voice broke.

Kelly sat on the other side, her hand covering her mouth as silent tears slipped down her face.

Daniel crossed his arms, watching.

They could cry all they wanted. But the real question was—would they change?

And for Yn’s sake, they damn well better.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you. No Part 2 requests, please.

-🩷🎀

[sttoru]

your boyfriend sleeps on the couch after an argument you both had earlier that day. after calming your nerves and taking time for yourself, you realise that you might have been a bit too harsh on him.

☀︎｜tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff / angst / hurt + comfort. age gap (reader early 20’s & satoru early 30’s). nicknames used; ‘(little) baby’. he’s honestly just the perfect combination of gentle and teasing. subtle mentions of size difference.

satoru shifts on the couch whilst letting out an inaudible yawn. he was tired after an entire day at work and finally had the chance to settle down in the comfort of his apartment.

though, he couldn’t really relax just yet. the reason why being the undeniable tension hanging in the air. he was in fact home, but it didn’t feel like it. not when you were missing.

you had holed yourself up in the master bedroom after an earlier argument the two of you had. it wasn’t a big fight — just a little squabble between lovers. satoru didn’t rush after you when you had decided to walk away midst argument. you clearly weren’t in the right headspace to properly articulate nor communicate your feelings.

he figured that you just needed some time alone and thus decided to leave you be. he didn’t want to risk losing you by annoying you any further.

satoru scrolls on his phone out of boredom. the light radiating off the screen starts to bother his already sensitive eyes. with a sigh, he shuts off the device and puts it down on the coffee table.

it was dead silent in the apartment that was usually filled with your lively chatter. the sorcerer wants nothing more than to cuddle up with you under the covers and fall asleep. but, you needed space and he wasn’t going to disturb you.

he drapes an arm over his eyes and pulls the thin blanket over his chest. his breaths were steady and his thoughts were surprisingly calm. satoru almost drifts off to sleep, however his body lightly jolts awake once he hears the creaking of a door.

careful footsteps echo throughout the hallway and stop right at the doorstep of the living room.

satoru moves his arm to the side so his vision wouldn’t be obstructed. his eyes land on the figure standing at the doorframe — one he could recognise instantly.

it was you, standing there with your head held low and your fingers curled around the hem of your nightgown. you didn’t take another step forwards and just lingered in your spot for a few seconds without saying anything.

“hey, baby.” satoru breaks the silence. his voice was as soft as it could be, not an ounce of annoyance or frustration in it. even if he had all the reason to be upset according to you.

you remember just how childish you acted earlier; you had lost all rationality, shouted at your boyfriend out of frustration and ran off mid sentence instead of properly addressing the issue at hand. the way you handled that situation was wrong and immature.

in contrast to your immature behaviour, satoru had stayed calm and collected throughout the entirety of your argument. he hadn’t raised his voice at you even once nor did he blame you for anything. you felt bad for acting like a bratty kid who didn’t get her way.

you eventually move towards the couch, still not making eye contact with your boyfriend. he sits up and simply watches you with a raised eyebrow—curious as to what you were about to do.

you knew you had to apologise for your behaviour, but what you needed first was his validation. you wordlessly climb onto the couch and under the blanket satoru was using.

your arms wrap around his torso and you hug him tightly to your body, face buried in his shirt to cover your embarrassed and remorseful expression.

satoru’s eyes widen a bit at the sudden show of affection, though he wasn’t complaining. he reciprocates the gesture and nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head.

“my little baby.” he chuckles, hands rubbing your back in attempt to reassure you that everything was and will be fine, “i’m happy you decided to come back to me — thank you.”

again. that tender tone satoru uses only with you and for you. the guilt from earlier hits you like a truck and your eyes well up with tears before you could stop the process.

“sorry,” your voice cracks once you finally muster out an apology. the warmth engulfing your cold body was enough to make you sob in his comforting embrace. satoru sighs and closes his eyes. he rests his chin on top of your head whilst holding you like his life depended on it.

no words were exchanged between you two for a good minute. satoru silently encourages you to cry it out and so you do. after calming down, you sniffle and pull your head away from his chest. your eyes were watery and a bit red.

the pad of his thumb sweeps the stray tears away from your cheeks, his touch precise and careful. he smiles softly at the sight of his teary-eyed girlfriend. you were so adorable and precious to him. even when you looked like a mess — a pretty mess.

“i just..” you start off, small hiccups interrupting your sentence, “i wanted to apologise for acting so childish. i shouldn’t have said nor did any of those hurtful things. i apologise for that as well.”

your lover nods along to your words. he hums in delight and kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for longer than intended, “don’t worry, baby. i understand. thank you for apologising, though.”

you mutter a small ‘of course’ in-between sniffles. that was all the reassurance you had needed to hear from your boyfriend. though, you still felt bad and the guilt of your immature actions seemed to linger in the back of your mind.

you lay your head back on satoru’s chest and listen to his heartbeat — hoping that the constant sound would drown out any other thoughts. your lover lays on his back and pulls you down on top of him. his hands rub your sides, slender fingers toying with the silky material of your nightgown.

“i’m sorry for being immature sometimes. i’m sure it must be troubling to deal with.” you whisper as you enjoy the feeling of being back in satoru’s arms.

he grins and shakes his head in response. he loves every side of yours — even your immature one. if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here right now. he truly loves all of you.

the older man places another soft kiss on top of your head and closes his eyes afterwards, “heh, i’d be lying if i said that you trying to act all tough earlier wasn’t cute.”

satoru snickers at the memory. he remembers how you pointed that little finger of yours in front of his face and how you tried to subtly stand on the tips of your toes so you could look him in the eyes properly. your attempts at looking intimidating were quite endearing.

it’s not like he was invalidating your feelings with that comment — he was genuinely trying to lighten your mood. and it wasn’t like it didn’t work.

“whatever.” you huff, playfully swatting his biceps and gaining an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ in response. you’re glad that things have gone back to normal between you two. if the situation had continued for any longer, you’d have lost your mind.

you aren’t the only one who is extremely relieved. satoru is beaming with joy because he gets to hold and talk to you again. that small period of silence between the both of you felt like an eternity to him.

no matter how many times you have those little arguments, satoru will still love you all the same.

[kingkonoha]

“You Want to Adopt Me?”

♡ — SUMMARY: You & GOJO decide to adopt Yuji & Megumi.

♡ — A/N: This is a continuation of my dad!gojo au, but reading the other parts isn’t necessary.

♡ — WC: 2k

Four hours had passed since the glorious moment in which Yuji discovered that his beloved teacher had a wife and daughter.

And, after having dinner with all of you that evening, he never wanted to leave.

Walking home that night — all alone, with no family around who would care whether or not he was safe — was one of the most difficult things he had to do. It made curse fighting seem like child’s play.

It was so utterly painful; he fought to hold back a tear as he walked down the sidewalk, staring at his shoes, which he could only see thanks to the dim streetlights.

Truth be told, he hated himself for getting so emotional over this.

Most, if not all of his friends were just as lonely as he was. Most of them didn’t sit at a dinner table and gobble down a nice warm meal with a loving family.

Most of them didn’t have a mother to hug them, or a father to cheer them up. And, if their parents were still around, they were probably distant and unloving.

Even so, it didn’t change the fact that having a family was, perhaps, the one thing Yuji truly wanted.

He just wanted to be loved.

The ache in his heart was so incredibly strong. The pain shot throughout his chest, through his veins, and down to his fingertips.

“Why am I so emotional? I can’t cry over this,” Yuji thought. “This isn’t something worth crying over.”

An unwavering lump in his throat formed from his attempts at holding back a cry.

That was when his footsteps came to a halt.

What was the point in rushing back to his lonely, isolating room at the school?

No one was waiting for him. He could go anywhere he wanted, and no one would truly miss him.

People would look for him, but mainly because of their obligation as sorcerers to track down Sukuna’s vessel. Nothing more.

Some people would actually prefer it if Yuji did disappear. And a few people were honest enough to tell him that to his face.

As he stood there, in the dark, alone on the sidewalk on such a cold night, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friends would secretly be happy if he did somehow vanish into thin air.

Maybe loneliness was destined for him. Maybe everyone would feel safer if he didn’t return to the school. Maybe-

“Hey, Yuji!”

Gojo’s voice startled the young boy, who instantly turned around to see his teacher approaching him, his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t make it too far — good.”

“Is everything okay?” Yuji asked.

Gojo could hear the sadness in his voice, but he decided not to comment on it. After all, he knew exactly why his student was upset. He didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out.

“Yeah, listen,” Gojo paused, “it’s pretty cold and dark out here. Why don’t you come back to my house and stay the night? We can both head back to the school in the morning.”

For a moment, Yuji felt a spark of happiness, but that spark quickly fizzled out.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Yuji frowned. “I’m a vessel. I’m dangerous. Having me sleep in the same house as your wife and kid would be-”

“Would be fine,” Gojo interrupted. “Nothing bad is going to happen, Yuji. Me and Y/N both know that you’re a vessel, and we want you to come anyway.”

Yuji didn’t respond. Nor did he move an inch. Gojo spoke once again.

“She wants to make you pancakes in the morning,” he said in a tempting tone. “Homemade too. The kind that has the crispy edges, but are very soft and fluffy at the same time? We have syrup and butter — orange juice as well. Or do you prefer apple juice? We have both, either way. Not to mention, the bed in our guest bedroom is bigger and way more comfortable than the one at the school-“

“Okay!” Yuji suddenly smiled happily, and it was a real, genuine grin.

He quickly rushed past Gojo, making his way back to your warm, cozy home eagerly.

—

Seven months later, Yuji visited your home as often as he could. Sometimes, Megumi would tag along with him, as the dark-haired boy secretly craved a connection with a loving family too, even if he’d never admit it.

On this particular day, Megumi was lying on the couch, covered in blankets as he watched a movie about two princesses going on some sort of adventure.

Megumi was injured during his last mission, and thanks to the chilly weather, he was also catching a bit of a cold as well. You insisted upon taking care of him, but your daughter insisted that making him watch Barbie movies all afternoon would make him feel better.

As the two of them watched the movie together, you were in the kitchen, standing over your wooden cutting board as you chopped up carrots, onions, and celery.

Yuji hovered over the sink, washing the dishes.

“I want you to have some soup as well, Yuji. You could catch a cold any day now.”

“Yes ma’am,” Yuji said, scrubbing a plate as he smiled softly. “I really appreciate it.”

Suddenly, the front door opened, and Gojo walked in, shouting casually, “I’m home, everyone!”

Quick, soft footsteps could be heard pattering against the floor as your daughter ran up to Gojo, holding her arms out.

“Daddy! You’re home!” She giggled as he lifted her.

“I’ve missed my little muffin so much,” tickling her, he said, “did you have a good day? I think my little girl has grown a couple of inches since I last saw her this morning! Did she grow? Hm?”

The sound of your daughter’s laughter made Gojo smile brightly.

As he held her, he walked into the living room and ruffled Megumi’s hair.

“Cut it out,” the teenager frowned.

“Good to see you too,” Gojo paused, pressing the back of his hand against Megumi’s forehead. “You’ve cooled down a little since this morning, that’s good. I’ll give you some more medicine later on, okay?”

“Okay,” Megumi mumbled.

Gojo slowly put his daughter down. “I’m gonna go say hi to Mom, okay? Keep an eye on Megumi for me.”

“Okay!” Your daughter happily replied. “I can keep an eye on Meg-mi!”

When Gojo made his way into the kitchen, ruffling Yuji’s hair as the boy walked passed him on his way to join Megumi and your daughter in the living room, you instantly stopped chopping your vegetables.

You wrapped your arms around your husband’s neck.

“Hi baby,” he greeted, kissing your lips softly. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” with a smile, you looked into his eyes. “Did you have a good day? Kill any curses?”

“I had a great day. Didn’t kill any curses, though. I was just stuck in a bunch of meetings with the higher-ups,” Gojo said softly, his face only inches from yours, his hands on your hips. “What’s on your mind? You have that look in your eyes.”

“Well,” you paused. “I know they’re teenagers, and they’re very strong and independent, but . . . I can’t help but feel protective over those boys. I love them both like they’re my own. Last week, Yuji accidentally called me mom. He was just so excited when he saw the new clothes I got him for winter, and it slipped out. And it just made me think that, well . . . Maybe he should be able to call me mom. Both he and Megumi. I wanna adopt them.”

Gojo was silent for a moment, which made you frown a bit in worry. Suddenly, he kissed your pouty lips. It was a soft, passionate kiss — one that told you just how much he loved you.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he mumbled against your lips once he pulled away.

“I just think that those boys deserve a place to call home, and that school certainly isn’t it, especially when the people who run it don’t care about their lives at all. It’s just horrible.” Your frown deepened. “And we have more than enough room here, too. We can keep them safe and happy.”

“Let’s go tell them.”

—

Yuji, Megumi, and your daughter were all sitting in the living room, enjoying each other’s company.

The sight of it only confirmed that you and Gojo were making the right decision.

“Hey, we need to talk to you three,” Gojo said.

Megumi grabbed the remote, switching off the television as he struggled to sit upright.

“What’s going on?” Yuji asked, sitting on the floor as your daughter sat down beside him.

“Well, we noticed that you and Megumi have been spending a lot of time here recently.”

Gojo’s words sent an all too familiar heartache through Yuji’s chest. He frowned sadly.

“They’re about to tell me to go away,” Yuji thought. “I knew this wouldn’t last.”

“Me and Gojo decided that it would be best for-”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I get it. I can leave.” Yuji suddenly cut you off, trying his best to hide his pain behind a smile. Slowly, he started to get up, and your daughter grabbed ahold of his pants leg, looking up at him sadly. “I’m sorry if I was a bother. Thanks for everything.”

“Woah, Yuji, where are you going?” You called out, watching the teenager head for the front door.

“Yuji, stop,” Gojo stood up from his seat.

Yuji, who was almost out of the living room, instantly stopped walking. But he didn’t turn back around.

Quiet sniffles could be heard. No matter how hard he fought, or how much he had been through, he wasn’t strong enough to hold back his tears.

The pain of feeling unwanted was simply too great.

He tried to wipe his tears away quickly and silence his little sobs, as he didn’t want to make you and Gojo feel guilty for not wanting a dangerous vessel like him around.

Slowly, Gojo approached his crying student. “Yuji, you have it all wrong. We don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Yuji didn’t respond.

Gojo placed a comforting hand on the crying boy’s head.

“Me and Y/N are going to adopt you,” Gojo smiled. “Looks like you’re my son now.”

“We wanna adopt you too, Megumi,” you said, smiling at the stunned teenager. “We want you to be our son too.”

“I don’t get it — why?” Megumi asked rather sadly. The pain of being unwanted.

“Because we love and care about both of you, so why not?” You said.

“You guys . . . You want to adopt me?” Yuji turned around, his wide, glassy eyes shiny with utter shock. “This isn’t some sort of prank, is it?”

“Of course not,” Gojo grinned at Yuji, before turning his attention towards his daughter, who was starting to tear up when she saw that Yuji was about to leave. “You’re going to have two new brothers, muffin!”

Your daughter smiled brightly, standing up and she ran over to the couch, throwing her arms across Megumi to hug him. Then, she ran up to Yuji with open arms, and he bent down and hugged his future little sister.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Yuji said, flickering his eyes between you and Gojo. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise that I’ll be the greatest son ever!”

Megumi, who stared at his lap as he tried to process everything, suddenly spoke up.

“Thank you for everything,” he mumbled. “I really . . . Thank you.”

“Let’s have a group hug!” Yuji happily suggested.

“Great idea,” Gojo added on just as excitedly. “Everyone pile on top of Megumi since he can’t come to us.”

“Wait, wait, wait-“

Megumi’s new family instantly rushed over to the couch, hugging him and giving him more love than he could handle.

Truthfully, he had no idea how to begin processing this level of happiness, but he looked forward to learning what joy was like.

When Yuji cried this time, he didn’t bother stopping the tears. The warm and silly embrace was healing his soul in ways he didn’t know were possible.

His dream had come true — everything he ever wanted.

Yuji sighed in contentment as the hugging continued, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Finally,” he said with relief.

He finally had a family.

Next part.