#but little steps! we will get there eventually :')

[i-dared-myself]

Skirt War

Requested by anonymous: Could I req a fic with the stray kids' ninth member being put in a short dress/skirt (you know those that don't look like it'll ride up if you move but it does and its annoying af??) for a performance with a dance dance - that she has to move around a lot and then she keeps trying to pull the skirt down but that piece of shit just keeps going back up. And she spends the whole performance playing tug of war with a bunch of fabric trying not to be indecent and humiliated. And backstage she feels shit bc she couldn’t dance well and looked pathetic and she's disappointed and frustrated and embarrassed and yk. Idk if this is understandable anymore

“Wow, Felix,” you say, “you look really good! The stylists worked really hard with this new set of outfits.”

Felix hums his agreement, adjusting his gloves. “Where’s yours?”

You glance down at yourself. You’re still in your normal clothes. “Ah, they haven’t called me back yet. I think they’re finishing with Seungmin now.”

Felix makes a small sound of understanding, reaching up to touch his hair. He stops himself and drags his hand back down to his side. “Should I dye my hair soon?”

You shrug. “Do you want to? Is your hair even alive at this point?”

You hear someone softly call your name, and turn before you head Felix’s response. A staff member is waving you over as Seungmin and Jisung walk by.

“Looking good,” you compliment them, smiling brightly. You’re excited for what you’ll be wearing for the performance.

So you’re handed the set of clothes that you change into. You don’t even get a chance to look at yourself in a mirror before you’re whisked away for makeup and hair.

You eventually step out, joining the others. It seems as if everyone else has finished with their own styling, and everyone looks great.

There’s one tiny little problem, though.

Your tiny little skirt.

Your shirt is amazing, and you can’t disagree with the fact that you look hot in it. But the skirt is as small as they get. You’re amazed that you’re even allowed to wear it.

You’re fairly certain it’ll stay in place during thr performance, but you really don’t want to take chances. So you do an experimental twirl, heart sinking when the skirt instantly flies up.

Hyunjin recoils when he sees you. “What the-“

“Watch it!” Chan warns, narrowing his eyes. He faces you, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh boy.”

You tug the material down, fiddling with it anxiously. “Is it that bad?”

Jeongin is averting his eyes, which does absolutely nothing to make you feel better. “Nope. It’s totally fine.”

“Did they ask you about this?” Minho frowns deeply, glancing out at the crowd between the curtains. The sound check is almost complete, so you’re running out of time to deal with this.

“No. I wasn’t aware that I’d be wearing this.” Your hands tremble. You feel sick with how short it is. You half believe you’re at risk of your most intimate areas just being on display.

Seungmin grunts a little. “Want my sweater? To tie around your waist?”

You consider it for a moment before shaking your head. “Maybe later. I don’t want it to look like I’m disrespecting the stylists.”

“But it’s fine!” Jisung assures you. “These aren’t our usual stylists, and they don’t know our boundaries.”

“But we also don’t want to start something with this event,” you point out. They stylists had come with the gig, and you didn’t want to disrespect them if you didn’t usually work with them. It might ruin any other opportunities.

“Positions, everyone,” Chan suddenly says. He gives you a pitying look as everyone files into their assigned places. “You’ve got this.”

You’re not as confident as he is, but you force a smile. You tug the skirt down one last time before bounding out onto stage.

The music starts up and you begin to dance. Every movement that involves legs (pretty much all of them) has the skirt flipping up. Felix is behind you for the beginning, and when you catch a glance of his face it’s bright red.

You miss a hand gesture because you’re adjusting the fabric again, and your stomach tumbles. The media is going to have a field day with this. Everyone is going to be talking about how unprofessional you are.

Positions are swapped, and then you’re next to Changbin. He turns his gaze away to be respectful, but it just reinforces the idea in your head that the outfit is bad. That you’re indecent.

You blink back tears as you stumble over yet another move, too busy holding the skirt down to make it to the next spot in time. You’re falling behind, mind focused on your decency and not the dance.

Then your lines come, and your voice cracks. You’re lucky enough that you don’t have to hold your microphone up, because you honestly don’t have a spare hand.

It comes to an end, and you all bow. You walk off stage, perhaps the most humiliated that you’ve ever been.

Changbin loops his arms around you, tying his sweater around your waist. You mutter your thanks and wrench your headset off. 

“Hey.” Chan gently grabs your arm and steers you back to the group. “Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You keep your head ducked, gaze locked on the floor. Your throat burns and you’re struggling not to cry.

Jeongin comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder. “I think you did great.”

You shove him away. “Well I didn’t! I sucked because of this stupid skirt! I let it get in my head, and now everyone’s going to be talking about it!”

Minho sits on the ground and takes your hands in his. He gently pulls you down to his lap and lets your cry against his chest. “Yeah, it wasn’t your greatest performance.”

“How is that supposed to help?” Jisung hisses out.

“But Stay loves you no matter what. And if they don’t, they can go suck it.” Minho strokes your hair. 

Chan clears his throat. “I might not have said it in those exact words, but he’s right. And from now on, I’ll make it clear to our managers and staff about our boundaries. Including those that we work with for the first time.”

You hiccup between tears, burying your face further against Minho. “Really?”

Chan hums. “Absolutely. And we have time to change before our next song, so why don’t you go to the stylists again?”

You sniffle and push yourself out of Minho’s grip. Seungmin gives you a reassuring smile as you wander off.

“Excuse me?” you hesitantly say as you approach one of the stylists. “Would it be okay if I got a different skirt? Or maybe some pants?”

He tilts his head, nose wrinkling. “Why? Is there a problem with it?”

“Uh, it’s just that-“ You toy with the material as you try and find the correct words. You don’t want to insult the man. “Dancing in this is very difficult. I don’t feel comfortable in this.”

He smiles mockingly. “Oh, really? Well it’s fine. It’s not even that short.”

“I just danced in it and it didn’t go that well.” You’re aware that you’re running out of time. You need to hurry up. “Can you please just direct me to-“

“Have you considered that maybe it’s just your skill?” he interrupts. He sighs and shakes his head, turning away. “But fine. I could find something else.”

You swallow thickly as you follow him.

Is it actually your own fault? Are you just not a talented enough dancer for these clothes? 

“Is this good enough for you?” The stylist holds up a new set of bottoms, and you wince. It’s even smaller than the one you’re currently wearing.

“Ready yet?” Jisung comes sliding in, eyes widening at the skirt being held up. “Wow, that’s small.”

“Uh, almost,” you weakly tell him.

Jisung’s eyes catch on your face and trembling bottom lip. His arms shoot out to wrap around you, and he pats your back. “It’s okay!”

“Are you wearing this or not?” the stylist snaps. 

“No, she’s not.” Jisung tightens Changbin’s sweater on your waist. “She’s wearing this and we have to go now, since we’re on in less than a minute. But I’ll be telling Bang Chan about you.”

The man pales. Having an idol complain about you was pretty much a death sentence, especially when that idol had as much influence as Stray Kids.

Jisung grabs your hand you the two of you dash out onto stage. You burst out and join the rest of the members, just in time for the music to begin.

This time it goes smoother. The sweater gives enough weight to keep the skirt down, and you’re able to focus on the dance. Your movements are fluid and well-executed, and you know even Hyunjin would be proud.

When you go backstage, you feel mildly more confident. You take a swig of your water bottle as Jisung tells Chan about the stylist.

Jeongin huffs, overhearing the conversation. “What an asshole.”

Seungmin hums his agreement. “A real dick.”

Chan holds up his hands. “Let’s watch the language, everyone. We’re professionals at work.”

Changbin snorts. “Right. If he’s a professional, why did he basically humiliate her?”

Felix hooks an arm over your shoulder. “It’s okay, I bet Minho will screw up soon and everyone will forget about today.”

Minho makes a sound of protest, narrowing his eyes. “Why me?”

Hyunjin wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Relax, it’s just an example.”

Chan calls the stylist over, who appears vaguely nauseated as he steps closer. He bows briefly to Chan before his eyes flick to you for a fraction of a second.

“I heard you had a bit of an issue with one of my members?” Chan blandly asks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry. “Were you the one who put her in that skirt? Were you planning for her to humiliate herself and get kicked out of the industry?”

“Yeah!” Jisung cries out. He’s immediately silenced by Minho.

“S-Sorry,” the man mutters. “I just- I’m sorry.”

“No, no, continue.” Chan arches an eyebrow challengingly. “You just what?”

“Bet he just wanted to see her in it,” Seungmin drawls. “Is that it?���

A bead of sweat rolls down the stylist’s forehead. “Well- It wasn’t that short!”

“Would you feel comfortable wearing it?” Felix chimes in. “Because I thought it was pretty short.”

“Guys,” you say. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Poor thing.” Hyunjin pats your head. “Wanna eat a whole bunch of ice cream with me?”

“Maybe,” you slyly say, walking with him to the van. You ignore the sounds of Chan still scolding the man. 

“If you ever need my sweater again, just ask.” Changbin comes up from behind you to poke at the fabric of the borrowed clothes. 

“Are we just stealing these?” Jeongin questions once everyone is in the van. Everyone is also still in the performance clothing. 

Chan frowns. “Oops.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret

[wonderjanga]

Fear

Most magicians are scared of the Champion of Magic. Don’t get them wrong, he’s a giant ball of sunshine and rainbows, but at the same time his mere… aura can cause Homo Magi to tremble just by being around him. As a result, most people have to force themselves to remember that this guy is a human golden retriever.

But you can probably guess, even if they force themselves to remember, it can still be scary. Especially for children.

Mother Witch: “Sweetie, meet the Champion of Magic.” *pulling her daughter along*

Daughter Witch: *trembling*

Marvel: “It’s wonderful to meet you-”

Daughter Witch: *shrieks and literally teleports away*

*silence*

Marvel: *starts sulking*

Mother Witch: *feels bad* “Champion, it’s okay! She didn’t mean anything by it! Honest! She’s just a little… shy, that’s all.”

Marvel: “I appreciate you lying to try and make me feel better, but I still feel bad.”

So yeah, that’s how bad it is. And this is just the times when he’s happy and chilling. We don’t even wanna talk about the times he gets mad, which are thankfully rare but still terrify magic users.

Magicians: *arguing about something stupid*

Marvel: *steps into the room, smiling but pissed the fuck off*

Magicians: *immediately shut up and part like the Red Sea*

Marvel: *walks to one of the magicians at a podium*

Podium Magician: *immediately scurries off*

Marvel: *watches them go, and moves to stand at the podium before clearing his throat* “I am extremely disappointed in all of you.”

Magicians: *feel their hearts drop into their asses*

What followed was the most disappointment-filled and surprisingly condescending speech/scolding of an entire room of magicians. It almost felt like they were being scolded by a parent but even then, they’d never been this regretful because this guy could literally take away their magic with the snap of his fingers.

Meanwhile, Billy gets so upset that everyone’s afraid of him regardless whether or not he’s even talking to them.

Billy: :(

Eventually, he figured out that he was just oozing magic so he just started reining it in and that helped a lot.

Billy: :)

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan When You're Pregnant

I got baby fever rn, some here's some headcanons for when you get pergananant (am I pergot?) with Lo's baby

(breeding kink go brrrrr)(nsfw section below the fluff stuff)

First off, I think we can all agree that no matter what variant Logan it is, whether it's planned or an accident, he's gonna freak out initially when you both find out your pregnant

He'll keep the initial freakout under wraps though.

70s!Dofp Logan, Old man Logan, and Trilogy Logan would probably be the most freaked out

The others, like Origins, Future DOFP, who are a bit more settled in would probably be more ready

Worst Logan? You're gonna need to give him a hug

Moving on

They all step up though, don't worry

Even 70s DOFP, he may be a menace but he sure as hell ain't gonna leave you or his baby alone

ANYWAY

Logan is so supportive of you. He'll constantly be checking on you. He'll be nesting almost immediately so get ready

He will definitely become more protective too. Like a lot. He'll try his best to not be overbearing but he's went lot of his life losing those he loves. He absolutely cannot afford to lose you and ya'lls baby

Lets say for this that you two are in an established relationship, planned or not, I'll leave that to ya'lls lovely imaginations

hes there for every doctors trip, exam, sonogram, etc etc. he doesn't miss a thing and holds your hand the entire time

The first trimester is rough. Mood swings, morning sickness, aches and pain. Logan handles your mood swings like a pro. He always knows just what to say, and he never really can take it personal when you get an attitude with him- mainly bc he likely deserved it with his own sarcasm

He's patient with you when you get snippy at him. He'll give you space when you need it, or will be extra attentive. Whatever you want. He's learned to read your emotions

He'll hold your hair back and rub your back whenever the morning sickness hits. Get you some tea, maybe a little toast if you feel like you can hold it down

One day you just couldn't hold anything down, by evening you're in tears, frustrated with everything. You attempted to eat some saltines and couldn't even hold those down. You're crying on the bathroom floor and Logan sits with you, cradling you in his arms as he says soothing things,

"You're so strong bub. You're gonna be okay. I'm right here."

You'll get backrubs and footrubs anytime you want

The food cravings and constantly being hungry becomes a lot too. It's fortunate that Logan had learned to be a decent cook over time.

He'll insist that you eat only healthy good foods for the baby, but when you look at him with pouty lips and pleading eyes because you REALLY want that extra cheese pizza topped with extra pepperonis and peppers, along with those garlic knots, and chocolate chip peanut butter ice cream, AND caramel sea salt chocolates. He has to give in. he's grabbing his keys and wallet to get what you want

Listen, you totally want to eat healthy for the baby too, and you do! You take your vitamins, you incorporate so much fruit and veggies and whatever else in your meals

But dammit sometimes that baby just wants fries dipped in ice cream and you learned how to sneak those unhealthy snacks under Logans radar

(or so you think, hes' got heightened sense of smell. he DEFINITELY smells the weird junk food you're sneaking)

You're tossing and turning one night, feeling restless and just wanting to eat. You wake him up, chatty as hell and eventually you tell him you want something to eat

"Bub you just had a whole meal 2 hours ago"

"I know just something small. Like a poptart. or a rice krispie"

He sighs. "No more poptarts or rice kripies. I'll make you something."

He closes his eyes, expecting to get another few minutes of sleep before he goes to the kitchen, but he can't feel you staring at him. Hard. He took a breath, pushing the blankets off as he got himself out of bed, heading to the kitchen to make you a good healthy snack

don't worry, he's not mad. he actually finds he loves the pregnancy quirks of yours

when you start getting those random hormone rushes, bursts of energy, running around doing anything and everything he gets so amused. but he loves it too when you also start getting sleepy

he really loves it when you get sleepy because then all you want to do is snuggle with him.

you get borderline violent about cuddling with him. you wrap your entire self around his body and you do not let go. even with his strength it's nearly impossible to peel you off him and if he does (he made the mistake once) you get extremely pissy and teary eyed

He will not let you do anything

and by that i mean you're not carrying groceries, you're not cleaning, you are not allowed to stand on ladders or counters, no picking up heavy things

You and him have a time of night and morning where you snuggle, and he'll designate time to talk to you, give you kisses and say sweet things, and then he'll move to talk to your belly

"Gotta make sure the lil one knows my voice"

He loves resting his ear on your belly, hearing both of your heartbeats.

he'll give you a kiss, then the belly, then you again

You better be ready to be touched a lot. He's always gotta put his hand on you somehow. It's not just about feeling your preggo belly but just you too.

NESTING

yeah, hes gonna drive you insane. He gets the urge to redo everything. the babys room. your room. the entire house/apartment if you're living in one.

He makes your bed the comfiest spot every so that's a perk. tons of pillows, only the fluffiest and warmest blankets

while you make decisions on the babys room together, he really wants to put the stuff together, so you sit in your rocking chair in the room and watch him as he gets angry over the crib instructions

it's really cute when he insists on a more foresty/woodland themed room for your baby.

As you get bigger, he gets more and more protective

he actually growled at someone once for attempting to touch your belly without permission. not a bad thing to have at least

it's a little more embarrassing though when it's your friends that you did say could touch your belly and logans hackles raise over it

he tries to recognize when he's doing too much but he can't help it, instinct.

Logan is over the moon when the baby kicks the face time

he just happened to have his hands resting on your belly

when he felt it, you both jumped, staring at your belly and then each other

when you realized it was the baby kicking, you both were like giddy teenagers

logan puts his head against your belly, waiting for it when the baby kicks again- right on his face

he gets slightly offended

but he kisses your belly anyway, promising your baby that he's always going to love them and take care of them

it pulls on your heart strings a bit

you and logan don't care if it's a boy or girl- and decide to leave it a surprise,

arguing over baby names though wasn't fun. you eventually though land on a name if its a girl, and a name if its a boy, names that you both adored

when you start shopping for baby clothes, logans looking at the little girl dresses and you could see the softness on his face, the way he adored the little dresses.

he can't even get embarrassed

it's so cute watching logan sit in the middle of the girly baby aisle, surrounded by pink bows.

he gets equally excited over the boys stuff too.

forever believe logan will just be a great dad in general

when you get big enough where doing things are hard on your own, logan starts definitely not leaving you alone very often

he helps you out of bed

with your shoes

if hes around and you're trying to get up from a couch or chair- even if you aren't struggling he'll still be there to help you up

you ever see those trends where dads hold mommas belly up to provide some relief? logan will insist on doing that.

he just thinks your so damn cute with your round belly

logan will eventually express his nerves about being a father. he'll need reassurance here and there that you think he'll do good.

you think logan would be an absolutely wonderful father of course. look how good he takes care of you

not to mention his non-bio daughters like jubilee, rogue, and kitty

and if lauras around too, it won't be like he never had any experience

logan will definitely stay calm and collected when you go into labor

he supports you every step of the way

if you're going to a local hospital, you bet your ass he'll be speaking for you and protecting you from anything unneccessary

all the while supporting you every way possible. don't worry about squeezing his hand too hard. he literally survived a nuke

despite the amount of things he's seen, it is still hard for him to see you in so much pain. he may even hold back a tear or two. he has to focus on you though

when the baby is here, he's all over you first, making sure you're okay. then his instincts kick in and he's all over the baby

that first cry breaks his heart and he doesn't like how the nurses and doctors seemed pleased by the whole thing. okay sure, it's a good thing. his baby is still crying though and he doesn't appreciate the smiling

you guys ever see that picture of Hugh bottlefeeding his newborn, i think it was during the x-movies filming. that is such a cute picture honestly it makes my utereus clench

he's so proud and supportive of you by the way. He takes wonderful care of you both when you get home

all that worrying for nothing. he was a pro with yours and his baby.

NSFW (mention piv, breastmilk, body worship)

yes i had to include an nsfw part here dont judge me

Logan should have known it would happen eventually. the way he always needs to finish inside you. even if you were using protection, he should have known that it would fail one day

he'll pick up on the hormones quickly, the smell of you triggers something in him and once you both figure out you'll pregnant itll all make sense

at first things are pretty usual with your sex life but the hormones start kicking in

you start gaining a little fat, your breasts get bigger, maybe your ass

you were already irresistable to logan before. now though, pregnant with his baby?

like i said, the mans always touching on you. when youre in private though hes REALLY touching you

don't worry, you feel the same. your hormones start to really kick in and you're aroused 24/7 and he can smell it

"you look so fucking good like this bub." he'll moan when he's thrusting into you, seeing your swollen belly and breasts.

it's not just about you being pregnant but you two just can't keep your hands off each other because you're happy.

your sex life was already very active, now it's even MORE active, like, you cannot keep your hands off him. he's the same way. you look and smell so damn good he can't take it, he HAS to fuck you

logan being a dad to your baby is making him 10 times hotter

logan probably cuts back on being rougher if you both are into that, much to your disdain. your hormones are on fire and you need him to fuck you hard

it takes a little begging and he breaks, giving you what you want

"look at you bub, fucking begging for it. as if i hadn't given you enough already"

logan practically drools anytime he sees you naked

as you get really big, sex becomes less common because you're not really comfortable, and maybe doctors tell yalls to slow it down for a bit.

logan will of course not do anything to risk you or the baby but fuck when you walk around in that tight black dress, tits and belly all swollen. he can barely stand it.

fortunately even if you aren't having penetrative sex, you're still fairly aroused so logan gets to get off to your hand or mouth. he'll return the favor with some light oral

he'll want to help you shower all the time

you're just so beautiful to him.

when you start getting self conscious over your weight gain, logan won't have it. he'll be doing some serious body worship doing your pregnancy, don't worry.

kissing your stretch marks, his hand rubbing soothingly all over your body as he whispers how beautiful you are

when it's closer to your due date, the doctor gives you a list of recommendations to help get things rolling

when logan finds out sex is one of those things, he's over the moon.

you personally, just want to get the mini canadian out of there at this point

it's not the first thing you try, because youre self conscious despite logans affirmations that he thinks you're so sexy

eventually you give in

lets just say you both were on the way to labor and delivery soon after

he adores your body after birth too. like i said. body worship to the maximum. even when you're not banging cause you need to heal first, he's kissing every inch of you to make sure you know he adores you. he sees how you've looked at yourself in the mirror and he isn't gonna have it

oh btw he'll definitely accidentally taste your breast milk straight from the source at some point. he really doesn't do it on purpose, he just got lost in kissing and sucking on you.

lost in the sauce if you may

he wants you to heal and feel good though, so even after the 3 months are up, he'll want to wait a little longer, because he doesn't want to hurt you. he's a big man.

EXTRAS: (random stuff )

the people who are around you are ecstatic over the announcement of your pregnancy

charles is just glad he gets to be a grandpappy (as if he isn't already)

maybe jean and scott are expecting too, or already have their little one, so you guys bond with the couple over parenting as well

wade immediately refers to himself as uncle wade

will also say "our baby" when referring to you and logans baby. logan does not like that.

wade makes a deadpool onesie. you have to stop logan from tearing it apart

okay but a onesie based on logans suit would be so goddamn cute

i said before that logan doesn't like ANYONE touching your belly. even if it's a trusted friend

if someone asks, very politely, you have to make sure logan isn't around before you say yes.

one time hank asked and you said yes, not realizing logan was coming around the corner. it was really embarrassing the way logan ran up so fast, immediately pushing hanks hand off.

hank laughed it off

im sure yall have your own ideas for what yours and logans baby names would be. I think Charlie would be really cute, naming the baby after charles (and it's a gn name!)

rogue, jubilee, and kitty, would be over the moon. they would be so supportive of you and logan

laura would be so excited, a bit curious. you and logan will make sure she doesn't in anyway feel neglected or replaced during the entire pregnancy and when the baby comes

laura is obviously a great big sister.

they would definitely tease logan too btw

you guys don't even need to register. due to the people you love around you- you basically get everything you need before you 3rd trimester even starts

you and logan can be assured that your baby will always be safe and loved no matter what because of the family you both have found. (yes even with origins and old man logan)

[billiesguitar]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

Stalker!billie x innocent!reader || ch.1 ||

warnings - stalking(don't do this plz)

(Billie's pov )

Beautiful.

that's all i could think as i watched her from a distance. she had no idea that i knew every little thing about her, that i studied her every move, her every smile, her every tear. she was so oblivious to the world around her, so lost in her own little bubble, that she never noticed how i was everywhere. to be completely transparent, i don't know what compels me to do this, following her around, taking pictures, obsessing over her, i don't know why i do it, i just do it. it's like some sort of magnetic pull, something inside of me that screams for more of her, something that keeps me coming back for more.

it had been our first week of university, orientation week, where we hung out, met new people, got situated, and whatever else normal people did. i decided to take a... different approach, not by choice, but by necessity. i had noticed her from the moment she stepped into the auditorium for the welcome assembly. she had the kind of aura that drew everyone in, made them question who she was, made them insecure, made them ask her out without knowing her properly. i just sat back and took notes on every little gimmick or bit or habit she had.

her name was y/n. i had followed her from class to class, lurked in the shadows as she went to the library, sat outside her dorm at night as she studied with the light on, and watched her as she slept. i know, it's creepy, but i couldn't help it, i needed her to be safe, needed to make sure she was okay. she was just so... innocent like bambi or something. i had to protect her from all the shit that was out there in the world.

every night i'd go home and write down everything she did, everything she said, every person she talked to, and i'd analyze it all, trying to piece together the puzzle of y/n. i have a whole notebook in my room dedicated to her, filled with pictures and notes and writing. she's 5'0, doesn't drink much out of personal choice, she loves to paint and sing, she likes painting her nails different colors, she loves coffee and shopping and music and has 3 siblings, 2 brothers and a sister. whenever she's nervous she touches her neck or when she's excited she swings on her feet. i know most things about her and she still knows nothing about me.

-

first day of classes, i decided to take a seat next to her in our english lit class. she had no idea who i was, of course, but she gave me a polite smile as she sat down. i took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. this was it, the closest i had ever been to her. the scent of her perfume filled my nose and i couldn't help but lean in slightly to get a better whiff. she smelled like vanilla and coconut, a heavenly combination that i had never smelled before.

"hi," she said softly, her eyes scanning my face for recognition. "i think i've seen you around. i'm y/n."

"oh," i said, playing it cool, trying not to let my excitement show. "i'm billie. it's nice to meet you."

y/n nodded, her eyes flicking back down to the book in her lap. i studied her from the corner of my eye, noting the way she played with the hem of her shirt as she listened to the professor drone on about the syllabus. she was so focused, so intense, that it was hard not to be captivated by her.

the class eventually ended and she began to pack up her things.

"need help with anything?" i offered, hoping she'd say yes.

"no, i'm good," she replied with a smile. "but thanks for asking."

as we walked out of the classroom together, she turned to me.

"do you know where the art building is?" she asked.

i nodded, "yeah, i can show you."

y/n's eyes lit up with relief and she fell into step beside me. we talked about our majors and hometowns, and i found myself getting lost in the sound of her voice, the way she talked with her hands, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about painting. it was like nothing else in the world mattered except for her.

when we got to the art building, she thanked me and went inside. i watched her go, feeling a strange mix of happiness and sadness. happiness because i had just had a real conversation with her, and sadness because i knew i had to let her go, for now.

but i couldn't stay away for long.

that night, i found myself outside her dorm again, watching her through the window. she was singing to herself, her voice a soft melody that floated out into the night air. i leaned closer, trying to make out the words, feeling a warmth spread through me as i did so. it was a strange feeling, one i had never felt before.

the next day, i was sitting outside her dorm when she walked out. she looked surprised to see me.

"hi again," i said, smiling.

"hi billie," she said, looking around nervously. "what are you doing here?"

"reading," i lied, trying to seem casual. "what about you?"

"oh, i'm just going to grab some lunch," she said, looking down at her watch, "i've got class in like 10 minutes so i've gotta rush" she added, looking a bit flustered. "see you around."

"see ya," i said, watching her go.

but i couldn't stay away. i followed her to the cafeteria, watching her from a safe distance as she ate with her friends. she laughed at something one of them said, and i felt a pang in my chest. i wanted to be the one making her laugh like that, the one she confided in, the one she leaned on.

as the days turned into weeks, our interactions became more frequent. we'd run into each other in the halls, at the library, and even at the coffee shop on campus. each time, she'd greet me with a smile, and each time i'd fall a little bit more in love with her.

but i knew i had to keep my distance. if she ever found out what i was doing, she'd be terrified of me. so, i contented myself with watching her from afar, taking in every little detail, every little gesture, and storing it away in the back of my mind.

—————

AU Masterlist

[trustmypoison]

Ateez confessing to their best friend

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘‘Can you please do a headcannon of ateez confessing to their bestfriend that they have a crush on them?‘

Hongjoong

I think there would be an unspoken tension between you two that you’re afraid to address. When you think about it, there always has been. It’s something you dance around for a while until you just can’t. But you’re visiting him late in the studio one night and you both are looking at something together, sitting close, and then suddenly you’re kissing. When it’s time to come up for air, he feels quite a bit of confidence in saying, “I guess we should talk about that.” 

Seonghwa

He’s stunning and you’re not blind. Neither are a lot of other people. The thing is, he turns down people left and right. You don’t think anything about it at first, but when an idol that everyone chases after asks him out and he says, “Oh thank you, but I’m not interested,” you just have to ask. When you bring it up, he initially shrugs it off. When you ask if he’s already interested in someone, he flushes and says “It’s not important.” It’s only after a little arm-twisting that he finally admits he’s interested in you. He’d feel a lot of fear about this moment but would be so, so relieved if you returned his feelings. 

Yunho

You both already act like you’re dating so why are both of you surprised?? (I’m sorry, all I can see is the friends to lovers fic I wrote for him.) This sort of creeps up on him in a way that once he realizes how he’s always looking for and reaching for you, he can’t unsee it. I do think there would have to be an external force that would compel him to confess. Like if you were asked on a date by someone else and you asked his opinion, he would find himself saying, “I’d really rather you not.”

Yeosang

So fucking casual!! So casual in fact that it feels like it came out of left field. He just straight up asks you out and you have this horrible moment of confusion before the panic sets in, because you can’t ask something like that so casually after years of friendship!! But he does and he accepts that it’s a shock for you, but he really just wants to get it off of his chest. He’d totally go back to normal if you didn’t like him like that, but if you did? Not so casual anymore because the relief is obvious!! The casualness was totally fake!!

San

He’s so touchy that this is another one that to strangers you look like you’re dating. But the thing is, he’s touchy even when no one else is around. So imagine cuddling up to him on the couch and he goes in to kiss your cheek like he’s done a million times. Naturally (and stereotypically) you turn your head at just the right time that he ends up kissing the corner of your lips. He likes to see you flustered and acts like he doesn’t understand why. “That was a little close, don’t you think?” You’ll laugh nervously. He’ll shrug in a strong attempt to be casual and ask if that’s a bad thing. If you question if he actually would want to kiss you, he says, “Yes of course,” in an instant. 

Mingi

This is totally an overnight realization. One day, he wakes up and sees you that day and thinks, “Uh when did I become attracted to them??” His attitude will do a 180. He’s totally avoidant, and when he can’t avoid you he’s totally awkward. You actually think you might have done something wrong and one of the group members has to step in. The problem is that he’ll have let this go so long that you’re mad by the time he’s ready to talk. He has to confess and grovel. 

Wooyoung

He confesses so many times in so many ways and you really think he’s joking. It’s funny to him at first because he thinks you’re just a little dense. But over time, the confessions get increasingly more serious and you still aren’t getting it. This will be to the absolute delight of his members to watch him struggle with this. Eventually, he’ll reach a breaking point and just pull you into a kiss because it seems words just aren’t working. His head might explode when you ask, “Wait, are you into me???” and he’s just like, “Yes!!! I kept trying to tell you!!!”

Jongho

Another stereotypical moment, but bear with me. You have a bad partner that just isn’t treating you right and you’re upset for the millionth time. He’s almost scolding you when he says you shouldn’t put up with that sort of treatment and you can do worlds better. But you might be a little jaded that all relationships are like this. If you express this, he’ll just snap and say, “I wouldn’t be like that.” That’s most certainly something that he can’t back out of now. Not that he wants to because bitterness about watching you suffer in your current relationship has been building for a while and he has a lot to say. 

[quarterlifekitty]

wifey here again with stepdad!Nik, so I think SD would insist on finishing college since she only has like a year left anyway and because she feels like she'll be able to get a job easier with a degree, she doesn't wanna be a burden. Nikolai ofc lets her finish college, it keeps her busy while at home, settling in nicely to their house. He takes care of her every need, and slowly starts to convince her that she doesn't owe him anything, she's his wife now, or soon to be at the very least. All she needs to do is stay home and worry about their little one. Anytime she has doubts about how much he wants her and wants to provide for her she gets reminded thoroughly. It's when SD's bump is getting noticeable that Nik really steps it up. "What if we both miss the important moments?" and SD eventually is like "yeah, okay, but if it ever becomes a burden I'll get a job" and Nik is real proud of himself. SD also becomes very needy, in just the way Nik loves, she wants to be with him as much as possible and needs help a lot because hormones are fucking with her. And she definitely thanks him plenty for his help whenever she can. Bonus NikPrice x SD reader John decides to visit Nik and his new bird since on their last mission Nikolai wouldn't shut up about her and he immediately gets why when he sees SD, she's so sweet and nurturing and she looks gorgeous all round with Nik's kid, stays a few nights and gets drunk one night and jokingly (sorta) tells Nik he'd love to put the next one in her and Nikolai just hums with a smile "why not?" and reader is suddenly being flirted with by her fiance/husband's friend. Is real worried about it cause she likes it and guility goes to Nik who is 1. Very pleased by her honesty and 2. reassures her and tells her that he's okay with it if she is. (Totally wasn't his plan to get his two favorite people together so he could have them both, nope, that's totally not why he raved about her to John and not one other soul. Mmhm)

Also im really sorry if once again this doesn't make sense, stress has got me by a chokehold lately and its making my brain bad lol

Ooooooh wifey you are killing me. Isn’t that the perfect solution, though? You’re so worried about being a burden, let’s bring in another source of income!!

You know. Maybe it’s kinda degrading. But I totally imagine Nik comes up with little tasks for her. Let’s be real, it’s so easy— he saw what her mother was like, he can see how starved she is for approval, it practically blinds her. Things like “I want us to get a new car with some more space before the baby comes— can you research what models are best for family? You have a better mind for things like that than me,” he says with an almost sheepish smile. You’re practically wagging your tail with excitement— and you just look so happy when you present all of your work and he seems so pleased with you.

Also, in a bit of darker move, I can imagine if you’re not as into John as all that— they come up with a story. They say that John wants to have a baby of his own, but he’s not married, and he wants to have a kid before he’s too old and his career gets in the way of romance. So he would love for you to be like a surrogate for him. You’ve done so well with this first pregnancy, and you’re still so young— plus! John would be willing to pay, so it’d be like you’ve got your own income to help out!

The only thing is that John believes in natural conception. And he wants to live with you both during the pregnancy to help out. And he doesn’t actually plan on leaving once you have his kid. And Nik knows how sensitive and caring you are— when you confess to him your doubts about giving the baby up for good once it’s born, he comforts you. Of course he’ll talk to John about it, milaya, he’s sure they can come to an agreement.

[lovelyjj]

I have a Rudy request. It’s fluffy, not smutty. The reader is a famous singer and she’s dating Rudy. She has a YouTube channel. One day, she makes a YouTube video of her reading thirst tweets people made about her and Rudy is in the video with her and he’s laughing the whole time.

Thirst Tweets

Rudy Pankow x Reader

The story of how you and Rudy met was cute really. You were both on a plane. You were traveling because you were on tour as a singer. Rudy was traveling for work as he was an actor on the show Outer Banks. You just so happen to sit next to each other on the plane.

Rudy listened to your music so he knew who you were. He always thought you were gorgeous but he figured you were out of his league. You had the window seat and then Rudy sat next to you. Rudy decided he wanted to get to know you so even though he was a little nervous, he went for it.

“Hey, you’re Y/N Y/L/N, right? The famous singer?” Rudy started.

“Oh hi, yeah I am, nice to meet you,” you turned towards him

“I’m Rudy, Rudy Pankow.”

“Hi why are you going to Charleston?” you tried to make good conversation.

“Oh I’m shooting my TV show there. I’m an actor,” Rudy scratched the back of his neck.

“Wow what TV show is it may I ask?”

“It’s called Outer Banks.”

“I’ll have to watch it then,” you winked.

The rest of the conversation flowed naturally. You both had a great flight talking to and getting to know each other. When the flight was over you exchanged numbers and started texting about when you can see each other again. Both your schedules were busy but you made time for one another.

Eventually Rudy asked you out and you’ve been dating ever since. Rudy went to a couple of your shows and you went on the set of outer banks to see them filming in action. You’ve never felt this way with anyone before the way you feel with Rudy. It was like you were destined to be together.

You and Rudy were always doing fun things. You were both nervous to tell the world you were dating, well because, you were both famous. But your fans took it really well. The internet loved you when you finally made it public. It was a big step.

“Ya know I think it’s finally time I introduce you to my youtube channel,” you told Rudy in the living room of your shared apartment.

“You think so?” Rudy responded.

“Yeah my manager sent me an idea. She suggested I read thirst tweets.”

“Thirst tweets? I’d be down to be in it, sounds fun,” Rudy commented.

“Ok let’s do it.”

Your manager sent you a list of thirst tweets so all you had to do was read them. You set up your camera in the living room and Rudy got comfortable. “I’m excited,” you announced.

“This is gonna be fun,” Rudy exclaimed.

You made sure you and Rudy were in frame and hit record. You sat down next to Rudy and pulled out your phone. “Hi guys I’m Y/N and this is my boyfriend Rudy Pankow.” Rudy waved and said hello.

“Today I’m gonna be reading your thirst tweets.”

“Okay first one. Y/N Y/L/N is so fine she can run me over with a truck.” You laughed.

Rudy glanced at the tweet over your shoulder and snickered.

“Thank you I think,” you giggled.

“I mean they are right,” Rudy commented.

“Next this one says I want to get railed by Y/N.”

Rudy laughed loudly. “I don’t know how that would work but okay,” you shrugged.

“This one has a picture of me and it says “raw, next question.”

Rudy busted out laughing. “That one is my favorite so far,” Rudy admitted.

“Okay okay here’s another one, Can we talk about how gorgeous Y/N Y/L/N is? She is fucking beautiful.”

“I agree,” Rudy commented.

“Want Y/N Y/L/N to spit in my mouth!” you read the tweet.

“Oh god,” Rudy laughed.

“Alright let’s keep going. Y/N Y/L/N is mother,” you read another.

“Mother?” Rudy questioned with a laugh.

“I’m flattered,” you smiled.

“Y/N Y/L/N makes me go feral,” you kept reading tweets.

“Feral? like a wild animal?” Rudy chuckled.

“I guess.”

“Y/N Y/L/N was my biggest sexual awakening,” you looked at your phone.

“Again I’m flattered.”

“I’m a SLUT for Y/N,” you read another tweet.

“I want Y/N Y/L/N to [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] me so hard that I [redacted] [redacted] [redacted].”

“Wait let me see,” Rudy looked at your phone.

“That’s so funny,” Rudy laughed.

“I would rail the shit out of Y/N.”

“Me too oh wait I already do,” Rudy whispered.

“Rudy!”

“Ok ok next one says “Y/N Y/L/N can punch me in the face and i’d say thank you.”

“Oh my,” Rudy giggled.

“making out with Y/N would fix me,” you read.

“Let me tell you it’s amazing,” Rudy spoke.

“Thanks,” you laughed.

“On my knees for Y/N!”

“Interesting,” you raise your eyebrows.

“Well that was fun, thank you everyone for your support I’ll see you in the next one.”

“Bye guys!” Rudy waved goodbye.

You got up and turned off the camera. “You know I’m so lucky to have you,” Rudy told you.

“Aww,” you cooed and gave Rudy a kiss on his lips.

Rudy was your person. The two of you were perfect together. You knew you were gonna be together for a long time. You both supported each other in everything you do. Rudy was your soulmate and you were his.

[nameless-jamie]

MY OUR HOUSE

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

A/N: AHHHH! First one of this series! Let's gooo. Please read the PA x Jamie Tartt series first, so you'll get it! I hope you love it, hardcore fluff!

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Yup, they finally did it. Jamie Tartt and Y/N, his trusty assistant have been together for over a year now. They’ve been through the awkward stages—the miscommunications, the unresolved tension, the late-night talks about feelings they hadn’t yet fully admitted. But they were solid now. The days of pretending they were just an assistant and her prickish football player boss are over. As a couple, they’d found their rhythm and pulse together. How, you ask? Well, that happened a year ago and it's a totally different story. Now they are the happy couple, that everyone predicted they would be. And though they didn’t have it all figured out all the time—Who did?—there was a certainty now. A warmth in knowing that they were on this wild ride together. No matter what.

Currently, they have one problem, though. Jamie and Y/N were tired. Tired of commuting between Jamie's huge bachelor mansion and Y/N's small flat. So, today, they were taking a massive step. After weeks of debating where to live, they were finally choosing a place to call their own.

And it all started like this: Y/N stood in the middle of Jamie’s house, looking around with a mixture of disbelief and a lack of affection. She could see the effort Jamie had put into this space, making it the perfect bachelor pad—though she wouldn’t call his million-dollar mansion "homey," it was very much his—but there was something about it that felt cold, empty even. A place that might look good in a magazine but never felt lived in.

"Honey, I love you, but your place is a fucking nightmare," she said, her voice a little softer than usual. It wasn’t criticism—just an honest statement. She loved him more than anything, but the house… not so much.

Jamie, dramatically clutching his chest like she’d just insulted the very foundation of his existence, gasped. “Babe, you take that back. My place is well nice!” His grin was infectious, but it didn’t quite convince her.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, an exhale slipping from her lips as she glanced around. "Jamie, it looks like a footballer’s bachelor pad exploded and no one cleaned it up."

Jamie scoffed. "It’s modern. S’called style."

Y/N crossed her arms, her lips forming a playful but pointed frown. “It’s sterile, and way too big for one person. How do you even live here?” She gave the room another glance. “It’s like a showroom for nothing.”

“Modern,” Jamie repeated, more to himself than to her, before shrugging with a little smile. “And, it’s... practical.”

Y/N chuckled, her shoulders softening. “Yeah, for someone who’s single and ready to mingle.”

That made Jamie smirk...the perverted kind. "Nah, I'm taken...still ready to mingle, though...If you're up for it." He said with wiggling brows.

"Nope, not until we fix this commuting situation or this Playboy mansion..."

Jamie grinned. "S’pose I should get someone to move in, then."

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Well yes maybe. D'you have someone in mind, yet?”

They both paused the air between them thick with the unspoken. Moving in or not? She knew he wasn’t wrong; they’d spent months now navigating their relationship—learning each other’s quirks, arguing and laughing, and eventually learning how to move forward from it all. They've known each other long before that, even lived together for like a week (scratch that, that was a nightmare). But this? This was a bigger step.

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Jamie, we’ve been dating for a year," she continued, her voice a little quieter now, but firm. “We spend almost every night together, but neither of us wants to live in the other’s place. What does that tell you?”

Jamie blinked. "That you should stop bein’ stubborn and move in with me?"

Y/N groaned. "Jamie!"

"What?!"

Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes. "It means we should get a place together. Something that actually feels like ours. Not just a place that’s convenient. Not just your empty bachelor pad."

Jamie’s grin faltered slightly, just for a second, as if he was still trying to figure out how to reconcile her vision with his own. And then, slowly, a warmth spread across his face. She wants to go all in, he thought. It wasn’t just the cheeky grin she knew so well of him; it was something more vulnerable, something real.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly, his voice taking on a quieter, more sincere tone, his heart full. “Yeah, we should. I would love that, baby.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, surprised at how deeply those words resonated. This wasn’t about the perfect space, the perfect decor, or the perfect house—it was about the two of them finally deciding to make a space for themselves. Something that belonged to both of them, something that could hold their life and their future together.

The house-hunting process was… a disaster at first.

Jamie hated anything that didn’t have state-of-the-art amenities.

“Babe, the shower pressure is shite,” Jamie had groaned when they toured a particularly swanky house, clearly unimpressed with the plumbing.

Y/N wanted a place that felt warm, lived in, and a home that would make them feel grounded. Jamie? He had other priorities.

Y/N hadn’t even blinked while looking through another very steril, very fancy home. “Jamie, this house has zero personality.”

Jamie had flashed her a sheepish grin, clearly not understanding what she meant. “It’s got everything, baby.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “It’s a showroom, not a home. Where’s the character?”

They had almost given up.

And then, as if by fate, they stumbled across a house just outside the city. A little larger than what Y/N had imagined, but perfect in every other way. The second they walked in, there was an overwhelming feeling of comfort. The high ceilings, the natural light that poured in through every window, the spacious kitchen that was begging to be used—it felt like the kind of place where their lives could unfold, messy but beautiful.

They stood in the living room, not speaking for a few seconds, just taking in the space.

It was perfect.

Big, but not ridiculous. Warm, and welcoming. It even has a freakin' garden.

“Sooo,” Y/N finally said, voice soft and a little teary-eyed. “This one, yeah?”

Jamie wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he looked around, letting out a long breath. Finally, their home. “Yeah. I think so. That's the one.”

And for the first time, Y/N realized they weren't just talking about the house. They were talking about the future they were building together.

Jamie’s voice broke the silence, low and teasing as his fingers traced patterns over her waist. “Loads of space,” he murmured, looking around at the open floor plan. “For all your books. For all our shoes. For me trophies.”

Y/N laughed, but it wasn’t just the usual teasing. There was something more in her heart, something deeper. She was happy. She shot him a knowing glance. “You mean your one trophy?”

Jamie gasped in mock disbelief, hand dramatically placed over his chest. “Babe. Unbelievable.”

Y/N grinned. "Anything else?"

Jamie grinned devilishly, eyes glinting. “Loads of space for babies.”

Y/N paused. Her heart skipped, but she kept her voice steady, not letting her emotions fully spill out just yet. “Jamie…”

“Oi, I’m just sayin’,” he teased, stepping closer, his hand brushing her side. “Reckon we could have a whole little team, yeah? Tartt FC.”

Y/N smiled softly, the weight of his words settling over her like a promise. "Let’s move in first before you start planning a whole squad, alright?"

Jamie smiled back, but there was something so warm in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t help but feel everything fall into place.

“Deal.”

The first night in their new house was chaos.

Jamie had insisted on carrying Y/N over the threshold in some grand romantic gesture, but it was more of a comedy show than a scene from a fairytale. He’d almost dropped her because he misjudged the step, and they both ended up laughing, tangled up in each other in the doorway.

“Babe, you’re movin’ too much!” Jamie said, panicked, as they teetered dangerously on the edge of disaster.

“Jamie, put me down before we both die!” Y/N gasped, laughing through the ridiculousness of it all.

But eventually, they made it inside, safe and sound, only to find that the unpacking wasn’t much less chaotic. Jamie was distracted by his attempt to get the TV working, while Y/N took on the bulk of the unpacking.

“Jamie, love of my life, what are you doing there?” Y/N called over to him, already knowing the answer, but indulging him anyway.

“Setting up Sky Sports,” Jamie muttered, eyes glued to the TV. “Priorities, babe.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself. “Your priorities should be helping me unpack so we can actually sleep in a bed tonight.”

Jamie shrugged, looking at her from over his shoulder. “We could just sleep on the couch. Wouldn’t be the first time we did it on a couch.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Jamie Tartt, if you think we’re spending our first night in our new house on the couch, you’ve lost your mind.”

Jamie grinned mischievously. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea. S’not like we’d be sleeping much anyway.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was affection behind the sarcasm. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamie teased, stepping toward her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “You love it. Babe, we gotta break in the new bed, yeah?”

Y/N sighed dramatically, but her voice was laced with nothing but affection. “Unbelievable.”

Jamie laughed softly, leaning in to kiss the top of her head, a gentle smile resting on his lips.

By the time they finally got everything done, bed built, things unpacked, it was late as hell.

They collapsed into bed—their bed, in their house—and just lay there, soaking it all in.

Jamie turned his head, watching Y/N’s beautiful face in the dim light.

"We did it, baby," he murmured.

Y/N smiled, reaching over to lace her fingers with his. "Yeah. We did."

Jamie squeezed her hand. "We’re gonna have a good life here, I promise. I love you so much."

"I love you more, honey." Y/N hummed, then turned her head. "You still thinking about your very own Tartt FC, huh?"

Jamie smirked. "'Course I am."

Y/N rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. "You really want a bunch of little Baby Tartts running around?"

Jamie smirked. "Babe, who wouldn’t want that?"

Y/N snorted. "The world isn’t ready."

Jamie laughed, tugging her down so she was flush against his chest. "Reckon we should start practicin’ then, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, swatting his arm. "Go to sleep, Jamie."

Jamie kissed the top of her head, grinning against her hair.

"Yeah, alright. But tomorrow," he murmured, "we’ll start scouting for the team."

Yes, Y/N knew exactly what he meant by that...

[daddyissuesbecauseofhotch]

Daddy issues || #2

{masterlist}

The second time you meet the mysterious man is during your walk of shame home after spending the night with some guy you met in the club you frequently visited with your friends. The best. Fucking. Time. Stilettos in hand, the skin tight short dress barely covers your ass, your hair's a mess, but at least your boobs are relatively hidden from his view.

Which is good, considering he just came home from a soccer match with his son. The boy doesn’t seem to notice despite being the perfect height to be on eye level with your ass, he just talks about the game, and while his father keeps up the conversation, you don’t miss the way his brown eyes are shamelessly scanning your body.

You want to crawl into a hole and die, but there’s no escape. You sure as hell won’t take the stairs with this terrible hangover, and they won’t either, so in a matter of seconds, the three of you will be in the elevator that’s a little too small for your liking. While you wait, you keep telling yourself that it’s just a few minutes, then you’ll both go to your own homes and hopefully forget about the encounter for good.

“Put this on,” you hear from next to you, and a moment later you see his hoodie in front of you.

Why is he so nice? Why does he have to be insanely handsome, attentive, and nice too? It’s the whole package, the definition of the perfect man. Gulping, you take a better look at the piece of clothing, your brain in overdrive to decide if it would be a good idea to accept his offer. He means well, right? He’s working for the FBI, what are the chances of him being some creep in private?

Hesitantly, you reach for the hoodie and nod to thank him for his kindness, but that’s all, no words leave your throat. You can’t speak, not when he’s looking at you like this, seeming worried with a playful smirk on his lips. The duality of this man is insane. Before you know it, he returns his attention to his son, who seems interested in why he gave his hoodie to a stranger.

You put the piece of clothing on while paying attention to the conversation next to you, and your nose is instantly filled with a comforting scent, a mixture of his cologne and something else, something that must be uniquely him. It’s nice. You could honestly get used to being wrapped in it all the time. But wait. Why are you thinking about this? Are you crazy?

To your surprise, as you finally enter the elevator, he says, “She seems to be cold. And she’s our new neighbor, you just haven’t met her yet.”

“What’s your name? I’m Jack,” the boy introduces himself with a beaming smile.

You return his smile and offer to shake his hand. “Hello Jack,” you begin before telling him your name. “Were you playing soccer on this fine morning?”

He nods several times with a proud grin. “Yes, and we won!”

“Congratulations then,” you tell him with a small laugh.

“Dad’s our coach,” Jack notes casually as he glances up at the man.

So, he’s not only a single father and an FBI agent who travels a lot, he also takes the time to coach his son’s team? Why can’t he make things easy by being some weirdo, or a loser, or anything other than the perfect man? And why, why does he have to be so good looking? Alright, you seriously need a cold shower asap, otherwise you’ll end up lying in bed with your hand between your thighs as you think about him. The unholy thoughts in your head right now are bad enough already.

The elevator stops, the door opens, and the three of you step out without a word. When you come to a halt in front of your door, you reach down to pull the hoodie off in order to give it back, but he gently puts a hand on yours to stop you. “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” he points out with a boyish smile.

You hesitate. For one, his touch short-circuited your brain. And two, it’s just… it’s weird and it doesn’t make sense. But, eventually, you gather the strength to open your mouth. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then thank you,” you say with a smile. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Jack. And you…” you begin, turning to the boy's father whose name you still don’t know.

“Aaron,” he introduces himself. “See you later, I guess. And drink a lot of water, it will help.”

All you can do is nod. Every time he opens his mouth, you find something new to like about him.

The pair moves over to the door next to yours, and you can hear Jack as he looks up at his father and goes, “Dad, that’s your favorite hoodie, why did you give it to her?”

Aaron smiles down at him while he turns the key in the lock. “Maybe I’ll have a new favorite soon,” he replies, then opens the door and they disappear inside.

You blow out the air you’ve been holding back, finding it hard to believe. This man will be the death of you one day.

[28harryssunflower]

It was always you

“You know, I think I’m actually cursed.”

Harry barely looked up from his phone as you flopped onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, burying your face in his pillow. “Yeah?” he said lazily. “What kind of curse we talking about? Eternal clumsiness? Never getting the last slice of pizza?”

You groaned and threw a pillow at him, which he dodged effortlessly. “No, you idiot. A love curse.”

That got his attention. He smirked, locking his phone and tossing it onto his nightstand. “Oh, this could be good. Go on, then. Tell me about your tragic, love-deprived existence.”

“I’m serious, Harry!” You sat up, hugging the pillow to your chest. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Never even had my first kiss. Meanwhile, you’re out here hooking up with a new girl every week like it’s your part-time job.”

“Full-time, actually,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes but continued. “I just… I want someone to love me, you know? Someone who looks at me and thinks, ‘Yeah, she’s the one I want.’”

Harry watched you for a moment, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. Then, with his usual smugness, he leaned back against the headboard and stretched out his arms. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve already got me. No need to search any further.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious!” he grinned, opening his arms invitingly. “Come on, I’ll even cuddle you, since you’re always so lonely.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are, still talking to me.”

You flipped him off but, despite your protests, you eventually curled up against his side, sighing softly as his warmth surrounded you. It was familiar. Comforting. Safe.

But safety wasn’t love.

And that was the problem.

So when you finally got a boyfriend, you were ecstatic.

Harry had been just as excited for you at first, grinning as you rambled on about your dates, about how sweet your boyfriend was, about how it felt to finally be wanted.

But slowly, things started changing.

It started with little things - canceling plans last-minute, leaving his messages on read. Then, you started avoiding him altogether, barely sparing him a glance in the halls. When he tried to talk to you, your boyfriend would pull you away, whispering something in your ear that made you frown but ultimately follow him without a second thought.

The worst part was, you didn’t even seem to realize what was happening.

And then you forgot his birthday.

Harry spent the entire day pretending not to care, but he did. God, he did. His mum had even asked why you weren’t there - because you were always there. But he just muttered something about you being busy, shrugged off her concerned look, and spent the rest of the day staring at his phone, waiting for a text that never came.

But he didn’t go to your house to confront you. He didn’t text you. He didn’t call you.

This time, he just let it go.

By Monday, he didn’t even bother trying anymore.

You were his only friend - had always been his only friend. Without you, he was alone.

So he leaned into it.

He walked through the halls with his hood up, earphones in, ignoring everything and everyone. He leaned against his locker alone, scrolling through his phone. He was just another body in the hallways now, and maybe that was fine.

Until he heard the laughter.

Harry didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

Your boyfriend and his friends stood at the other end of the hallway, their laughter carrying over the dull roar of students. He was pointing at Harry, smirking as he whispered something to his friends.

Harry clenched his jaw and slammed his locker shut. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

But, of course, your boyfriend had other plans.

“Oi, loser!”

Harry exhaled slowly through his nose but didn’t respond.

“You deaf too?” Another voice chimed in - one of his friends, probably. “Or just fucking pathetic?”

Harry gritted his teeth, gripping the strap of his bag. Just walk away.

But then your boyfriend stepped in front of him.

“You know, it’s sad, really,” he sneered. “You following her around all these years like a lost puppy. Guess she finally got tired of your pathetic ass.”

Harry’s fists curled.

“What?” Your boyfriend smirked. “Nothing to say?” He shoved Harry’s shoulder, making him stumble back a step. “No comeback, huh? Figures. You were always just a waste of space-“

Harry swung.

His fist connected with your boyfriend’s jaw, sending him staggering back. But before Harry could do anything else, hands grabbed him from behind, shoving him hard against the lockers.

And then the punches started.

One to his stomach. Another to his ribs.

A fist slammed into his jaw, snapping his head to the side.

A knee to his gut knocked the air from his lungs, and suddenly, he was on the ground.

More kicks. More fists.

Blood filled his mouth. His vision blurred. His head spun.

And then he heard your voice.

“Harry?!”

The beating stopped instantly.

You pushed through the crowd, your heart stopping when you saw him.

Harry was barely breathing, blood smeared across his face, his lip split, bruises already forming along his jaw. His arms trembled as he tried, and failed, to push himself up.

Your chest tightened, tears blurring your vision as you shoved your boyfriend out of the way and dropped to your knees beside Harry.

“Oh my god,” you choked out, cradling his face in your hands. “Harry, stay with me, okay? Don’t fall asleep. Just- just keep your eyes open.”

He groaned, barely conscious.

You snapped your head up, looking at the crowd. “Someone call a fucking ambulance!”

No one moved.

“Now!”

Finally, someone fumbled for their phone.

Your boyfriend scoffed behind you. “Why are you wasting your time? He’s a loser.”

Then he reached for you.

The second his hand touched your arm, you whipped around, eyes blazing.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me, you prick.”

He blinked. “What?”

You shot up to your feet, shoving him back. “It’s over.”

He laughed. “Oh, come on. Don’t be dramatic-“

“Piss off!” you screamed, voice breaking. “Get the fuck away from me!”

A few teachers finally arrived, pushing through the crowd. Someone pulled your boyfriend back, while another crouched next to Harry, checking his breathing.

Minutes later, sirens blared outside.

You held Harry’s hand the entire way to the hospital, whispering apologies through your tears, telling him to just stay awake, that you were so, so sorry.

He squeezed your hand weakly. “Told you… you don’t need… anyone else.”

A broken sob left your lips. “Shut up, idiot.”

When his parents arrived, you barely got the words out before breaking down entirely, burying your face in Anne’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. “It’s all my fault.”

Anne just held you tighter. “Oh, sweetheart.”

You didn’t leave Harry’s side. Not for a second.

Because maybe love had been right in front of you all along.

The hospital room was too bright, too sterile, too quiet except for the steady beep of Harry’s heart monitor.

You sat beside his bed, gripping his hand tightly, even though he was barely conscious. The sight of him like this - bruised, battered, barely able to open his eyes - made your chest ache with guilt.

You had let this happen.

And you weren’t leaving him again.

“I want a second bed in his room.”

The nurse blinked at you, glancing between you and Harry’s sleeping form. “I’m sorry, but only family members-“

“I don’t care,” you cut in, voice shaking but firm. “I’m not leaving him.”

The nurse hesitated, clearly torn, but then she sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

That night, they wheeled in a second bed for you.

It was small, uncomfortable, and cold, but you didn’t care. It was close enough to Harry. That’s all that mattered.

You barely slept.

Every time he shifted, every time he let out the faintest groan of pain, you were up, adjusting his pillows, checking his IV, making sure he had everything he needed.

Sometime in the middle of the night, his hand found yours.

“You’re still here?” he mumbled, voice hoarse, eyes barely open.

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips quirked up just slightly, the ghost of a smile. “Good.”

And then he fell back asleep, his fingers still loosely wrapped around yours.

The hospital stay lasted a week.

A week of helping him sit up when his ribs hurt too much. A week of spoon-feeding him shitty hospital food because he was too drugged-up to do it himself. A week of pretending not to cry when the doctors explained how much pain he’d be in for the next few months.

A week of never leaving his side.

By the time he was discharged, you had practically memorized his breathing patterns, the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was uncomfortable, the way he clung to your hand every time he fell asleep.

And despite everything, despite the pain, despite the bruises, despite the way you had abandoned him for so long - he still wanted you there.

You didn’t understand it.

But you weren’t about to question it.

The first night at his house was rough.

He could barely move, every breath sending a sharp pain through his ribs. You helped him get into bed, carefully adjusting his pillows, setting his pain meds and water on the nightstand.

“You really don’t have to-“

“Yes, I do.”

He looked at you for a long moment, then sighed. “Alright, Nurse Bossy.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Shut up and take your meds.”

He did. But when he winced, shifting slightly, you immediately reached for him, helping him lean back.

His gaze softened. “You’re gonna take care of me, huh?”

You swallowed. “Of course I am.”

Harry studied your face, something unreadable in his expression. “Even after everything?”

Guilt twisted in your chest. “I don’t understand how you can even look at me after what I did,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing against yours. “Because you’re you.”

You blinked at him, eyes stinging. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

Harry tilted his head slightly. “That’s not for you to decide, is it?”

Your breath hitched.

After a moment, you sighed and carefully curled up beside him, resting your head on his good shoulder.

“I’m still sorry,” you murmured.

“I know,” he whispered. “But you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

The next few weeks changed everything.

You never left his side. Every morning, you helped him sit up, made him food, made sure he took his meds. You helped him shower, helped him dress, even sat through hours of shitty reality TV just to keep him entertained.

And through it all, Harry changed too.

Gone was the playboy who hooked up with someone new every weekend. Gone was the smug flirt who never took anything seriously.

He still joked around, still teased you endlessly, still acted like the Harry you had known your whole life. But something was different.

He wasn’t looking for anyone else anymore.

Because he already had you.

Neither of you spent a single night alone after that.

If he wasn’t staying over at your place, you were at his. You always shared a bed, sometimes he stayed up late watching movies while you fell asleep against his shoulder.

But no matter what, you were together.

Always.

One night, weeks after everything, he traced lazy patterns on your arm as you lay curled up beside him.

“You’re really never leaving me again, huh?”

You swallowed. “Never.”

He exhaled, pulling you a little closer.

“Good.”

If anyone had told you a year ago that you and Harry would end up like this - tangled together every night, inseparable, happy - you would have laughed in their face.

But now, lying in his bed with his arms wrapped around you, his lips brushing lazily over the top of your head as he mumbled half-asleep nonsense, you couldn’t imagine life any other way.

Everything was just… good.

Better than good.

Perfect.

School was different now.

Where Harry used to be surrounded by girls hanging off his every word, he was now only ever with you. He still had his cocky smirk, still joked around with his old friends, but when it came down to it, he only had eyes for you.

And he made sure everyone knew it.

Whether it was his arm slung over your shoulder in the halls, the way he pulled you into his lap when you sat with him at lunch, or the way he casually shut down any girl who so much as batted her eyelashes at him - it was clear.

Harry Styles was taken.

And he wouldn’t shut up about it.

“My girlfriend’s actually the smartest person in this school,” he’d brag to your teachers when you aced a test.

“My girl made the best fucking pancakes this morning,” he’d tell his friends, even though he had literally helped you burn them.

“My girl,” he called you. All the time. And you secretly loved it.

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but every time, you’d find yourself blushing, hiding your smile as he grinned at you like you were his entire world.

Because, well… you were.

Your families were just as obsessed with your relationship as Harry was.

Anne had always loved you like a second daughter, but now that you were officially dating her son, she took it to a whole new level.

“I knew it,” she’d say every time she saw you two cuddled up on the couch. “Knew you’d end up together. Should’ve placed a bet.”

Harry groaned. “Mum-“

“You two were practically married as kids anyway,” she continued, waving him off. “Might as well make it official.”

You laughed. “We’re still in high school, Anne.”

She just shrugged. “You’ll get there.”

Your own parents weren’t any better.

Your mom practically beamed every time Harry walked through the door, already treating him like a son. Your dad had been a little skeptical at first (probably remembering Harry’s less-than-stellar reputation), but after seeing how much he adored you, he came around quickly.

“Just take care of her,” your dad had told him one evening, clapping a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry had looked him dead in the eye and said, “Always.”

That had been the moment your dad fully accepted him.

From then on, family dinners turned into “future planning sessions,” where your parents and his would casually drop comments like, “When you two get married,” and “Your future kids are going to be adorable.”

You’d groan and hide your face in your hands while Harry just smirked, clearly enjoying it.

“You hear that, love?” he teased one night as you lay in his bed, scrolling through your phone while he played with your fingers. “They want grandkids.”

You shot him a look. “You’re literally seventeen.”

He shrugged. “So? You think they’re wrong?”

You sighed, setting your phone down to look at him properly. “Do you?”

Harry didn’t answer right away. He just studied your face, eyes soft, thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

Then he smirked. “Nah, they’re definitely right.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder. “Idiot.”

He just laughed and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You love me.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

But he knew the truth.

And so did you.

Being with Harry felt like breathing - natural, effortless, something you didn’t even have to think about.

When you were alone with him, the rest of the world disappeared.

No teasing from your families about marriage and grandkids. No whispers at school about how Harry Styles finally settled down. No past mistakes, no guilt, no fears.

Just him. Just you. Just this.

Nights at his house were your favorite.

It usually started with a lazy movie night, where Harry would let you pick something - though he always found a way to distract you before the ending. Sometimes with kisses pressed against your jaw, other times by burying his face in your neck and mumbling about how you smell so good, love, what is that? until you finally gave in and let him pull you into his arms.

You always ended up in his bed, tangled together, legs hooked over his, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced slow circles on your back.

Harry loved to touch you.

Not in a desperate, needy way - though, let’s be honest, sometimes it was that too - but in a constant way.

His hands were always on you, even in the smallest ways. His fingers brushing over your knuckles when you walked side by side. His palm resting on your thigh when you sat next to him. His lips pressing against your temple whenever you leaned against him.

And when you were alone, when it was just the two of you wrapped up in his sheets, his touch was even softer.

He’d run his fingers through your hair, whispering little nothings, sometimes teasing, sometimes serious.

“Gonna marry you one day,” he murmured one night, voice heavy with sleep.

You huffed, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his stomach. “You’re obsessed with me.”

Harry chuckled, shifting so he could press a kiss to your forehead. “Obviously.”

You smiled against his skin, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

This was home.

Mornings slow and filled with warmth.

Harry was not a morning person. He liked to stay in bed as long as possible, groaning dramatically whenever you tried to move.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled one morning, voice muffled against your shoulder.

“I have to pee.”

“Pee later.”

“That’s not how it works, idiot.”

Harry groaned, tightening his grip on you. “Fine. But you’re coming back.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, kissing his cheek before slipping out of bed.

When you returned, he had stolen your pillow, hugging it to his chest like some sort of oversized teddy bear.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, crawling back in beside him.

“Mm.” He tossed the pillow aside, pulling you into his arms instead. “Better.”

You let him be clingy, let him tuck his face into your neck, let him hold you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

Afternoons spent doing absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

Some days, you stayed in bed all day, wrapped up in each other, talking about everything.

Harry loved to ask questions.

What’s your happiest memory?

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?

If we were stranded on an island, would you eat me or let me eat you first?

(You didn’t dignify that last one with a response.)

Other days, he’d convince you to go on little adventures with him - late-night drives with the windows down, ice cream runs even when it was freezing outside, sneaking into the neighborhood pool just to float on your backs and stare at the stars.

Everything was better with him.

Even the boring, ordinary moments.

Some nights, you didn’t sleep at all.

You’d stay up talking, whispering under the covers like kids sharing secrets.

One night, after hours of just being with each other, Harry tilted your chin up, eyes soft in the dim light of his bedroom.

“I never really knew what love was,” he admitted. “Not before you.”

Your breath caught. “Harry…”

He swallowed, his fingers brushing over your cheek. “I know I’ve said a lot of stupid shit in the past, and I know I was a dick before, but I-“ He exhaled sharply. “I love you. You know that?”

You stared at him, heart swelling in your chest.

“I know.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Good.”

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. “I love you too.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh, like he still couldn’t believe this was real.

And then he kissed you.

Slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. Like he was never letting you go.

And he never did.

You and Harry barely fought.

Sure, you bickered all the time - about who got the last slice of pizza, about his terrible taste in reality TV, about the way he always stole the covers at night. But it was never serious.

Until tonight.

And it was stupid.

It started with Harry forgetting to pick you up from school when he had a day off and you weren’t driving home together.

You waited outside for over an hour, your phone battery slowly draining as you sent unanswered texts, your frustration growing with every passing minute.

By the time you walked home - freezing, exhausted, and pissed off - Harry was sprawled out on his bed, completely oblivious.

“Oh, hey, love,” he greeted casually, grinning. “Didn’t hear you come in-“

“You forgot me.”

Harry’s grin faded, eyebrows furrowing. “Shit.” He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “I- I didn’t mean to, I just-“

“Oh, you just what?” you snapped, throwing your bag on the floor. “Got too distracted being lazy to remember your girlfriend?”

Harry scowled. “I wasn’t being lazy! I was studying.”

You scoffed. “Studying what, Harry? The inside of your eyelids?”

His jaw clenched. “I said I didn’t mean to. What more do you want?”

“I want you to care!”

“I do care-“

“Not enough.”

Harry stood up then, his expression darkening. “Don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I don’t love you just because I made one mistake.”

Your nostrils flared as you glared at him. “It’s not just one mistake, Harry. You never take things seriously. You’re always so fucking carefree-“

“Oh, I’m so sorry for not being miserable all the time,” he shot back sarcastically.

Your hands balled into fists. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a pain in my ass,” he snapped, stepping closer.

You stepped closer too. “I hate you.”

His chest was heaving now, eyes burning into yours. “Yeah? I hate you more.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t soft. It was desperate, angry, all teeth and heat and hands gripping a little too tight.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, his body pressing yours against the wall.

You gasped into his mouth, nails raking down his back.

He bit your bottom lip in retaliation, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered, “So fucking annoying.”

You dug your nails in deeper. “You love it.”

His response was a growl, his lips crashing back into yours, his hands grabbing, pulling, taking.

You didn’t stop. Not when he lifted you onto the bed. Not when he hovered over you, his hands gripping your wrists. Not even when he smirked and whispered, “Still hate me?”

Afterward, you lay beside him, panting, your limbs tangled together, skin still burning from his touch.

The room was silent for a long time.

“I hate you,” you muttered, turning your head to glare at him.

Harry chuckled breathlessly, rolling onto his side. “I hate you more.”

You both stared at each other, eyes narrowing - until, suddenly, you both cracked.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, and before you knew it, you were giggling, your forehead dropping against his shoulder.

Harry grinned, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. “We’re so fucking stupid.”

You nodded, still laughing softly. “Yeah.”

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. “But you still love me.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

Harry smirked. “Guess you’re stuck with me, then.”

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were warm now, soft, all the anger from before completely melted away.

You leaned in, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to his lips.

He sighed against your mouth, his fingers threading through your hair.

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to murmur, “Still hate me?”

You smiled, “Yeah.”

He grinned, kissing you again.

[malsmind]

more than we thought

a bsf!mat xbsf!reader series by @ 𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹

chapter 1

warnings: swearing, slight flirting

wc: 1.5k

english is not my first language!

unexpectedly, you and matt met on the east coast, where you both lived a few years back, making your first actual and geniuine bond of friendship with the triplets when you were fifteen and they were seventeen. you got along with his brothers, then they inroduced you to matt. it just clicked. the both of you got along instantly, the same interests you shared along with your and matts mental health, dealing with similar problems just made you feel understood, and he felt the same.

who would have thought that about four years later, you guys would share a bond thats even stronger, a friendship that you'd never want to lose.

creating content on the internet, making youtube videos.. it was a job that wasn't your cup of tea, but your closest friends loved it. you always supported them, every step of the way til this day, you were happy for them, it made you happy to see them so happy about it.

even when in 2022, when you were seventeen, and they were nineteen, they moved to Los Angeles.

they came to visit, obviously because of their family and friends. it was weird at first, not hanging out with them during the summer, not getting to go for late night drives with matt when school was draining you again, but it wasn't the worst. you knew you'd join them soon after you graduated, that's how you always planned it to be. when that day finally came, you were beyond excited, and so were nick, matt and chris. eventually, you did find your passion in making content on social media. not fully commited to it, but you still did your occaisonal little vlog, posted tiktoks, instagram dumps and appeared on your friends youtube channel every now and then. it was safe to say, you were happy in life. highschool sucked for you, you had friends, sure, but none that you'd actually feel happy around. no real friends, no friends that'd actually have you feeling like you had someone you could trust, laugh with, share memories with. so moving to LA to where your real friends were, getting your first own apartment, growing independent felt like a dream come true.

you were currently sat on matt's bed, looking for some decoration and furniture for your apartment. you moved in almost a year ago but you didn't get the chance to fully furnish and decorate your apartment yet. decisions on what you want and the various options making it harder than it needed to be.

"i can't find a good coffee table. they all just look the same." you sighed, throwing your phone aside and flopping down into matt's pile of pillows.

he turned around from where he was sat at his desk, playing fortnite with chris, taking a look at your phone display layed out with pictures of coffee tables. they indeed all looked the same. "well, you got any idea what you want specifically?" matt asked you, turning back around to face is screen. "anything that doesn't look like those right there. they look too modern and it's just not for me." you picked up your phone again, trying your luck on facebook marketplace, vinted, and other second hand places. vintage was always your way to go. the aesthetic fitting your personality just right. at the end of the day, your apartment was like your safe space, so your goal was to make it look cozy and feel like it too.

noticing you were now back into focusing on your deep dive on furniture, matt didn't say anything more. you scrolled for what felt like ages until you finally found your dream coffee table for your living room, a perfect match for the couch you had bought two months ago. you apbrubtly got up from matt's bed, holding your phone for him to look at your find. "oh my god. tell me this isn't the most PERFECT coffee table you've ever seen" matt turned his head, shoving his headset off on one side to be able to pay you more attention, his eyes squiting at the picture in front of him. "how much is that?"

"$200" you smiled, happy with your find.

"$200 for that old thing??" matt frowned at you as if trying to ask you if you were seriously going to spend that much money on it. "it's a fair price, dude." you returned his expression, turning your phone off and shoving it into your pocket. matt shrugged "you gonna go pick it up?"

"yup, you wanna come along?" you asked him, fixing your hair from laying on it for the past two hours. "yeah, lemme just finish this game" matt said, putting his headset back on, letting chris know too. you made your way out of matt's room, sitting down on the couch next to nick while waiting.

"nick look" you squealed, proud and happy of what you're about to pick up. nick looked up from his laptop, grabbing your phone and swiping trough the pictures. "oh my god, that's PERFECT for your living room!" nick exclaimed, matching your excitement. "literally what i said. i think plants by the wall next to the couch would look SO good with that coffee table in the room." you said, picturing it. nick agreed, handing you your phone back. "you wanna come along with me and matt and pick it up?" you asked nick, typing out a message for the seller to let him know you'll be on your way soon. "i gotta edit our friday video, sorry. but i'll come by when you got it!" nick offered and you nodded. "no worries."

matt's door opened and he walked up to you and nick, stretching. "you ready to head out?" he asked, nodding his head at you. you got up with a yes, waving goodbye to nick and making your way downstairs, matt following close. matt had picked you up earlier today, so your car was back at your place. he drove to the location put into the gps of the car, bobbing his head along to whatever song you put on aux. you were restless with excitement, admiring the pictures of the piece of furtniture that you were soon to call your own.

you arrived at the sellers place after about 15 minutes of driving, getting out of the car with a slight jump of happiness. matt shook his head with a chuckle, locking the car and following you. the coffee table looked just like it did on the photos, just perfect. after getting it into the car and driving to your place, you and matt carried it up into your apartment, placing it down on the rug in your living room. just how you imagined it, it looked perfect. you loved it. "it's so fucking perfect i'm gonna cry!" you chirped excitedly, hugging matt's side tightly. he hugged you back, matching your happiness. "still can't believe you spent $200 on it though."

"one hundred precent worth it and you know it" you smiled, proudly looking at your finally fully furnished living room area.

...

the soft sound of your spotify playlist coming from the TV filled the room, along with conversation between you and your friends. you were laying between matt's legs on the couch, the back of your head resting against his chest while talking to nick and chris. "i mean, it's technically the same fuckin' thing, no?" matt huffed, shrugging. "kid, no. a TV show takes so much more effort to like, get trough." chris spoke. "not really to be honest. if you fuck with it it's not gonna feel as dragging like it would when you don't, obviously."

"nah but still, i'd rather just watch a movie than dedicate a whole day to grinding episodes. like you fully plan your day out around watching a whole season of a TV show" chris argued.

you and nick both exchanged looks, trying to hold your laughter at the meaningless conversation between the other two. the argument about what's better to watch kept going on for a little while longer until it eventually died down.

for the late evening, all of you decided on doordashing some food, eating it while watching a movie. when the movie finished, everyone got up, matt tapped your shoulders that his hands were rested on, urging you to get up so he could too. you got up, stretching, matt matched your movements. "i'll probably be out tomorrow but i can swing by later on." you let them know and they nodded, making their way to the front door of your apartment. hugging you goodbye, nick and chris made their way to the car. matt hugged you, "text me when you guys get home" you mumbled into his hoodie, hugging him back.

you said your goodbyes to matt for the night, closing the door and making your way into the living room, cleaning up the empty cartons of pizza and cans of sodas.

finished with your nightly routine, wiping off your makeup and doing some skincare, you got into bed, picking up your phone.

series link (everything you need to know)

taglist

@grace-sturnz @rcklessheavn @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @chrissturniolossidebitch

[wickerwax]

Out of the mouths of Generals (Codywan First Kiss Bingo 2)

When Cody ducked through the privacy curtain, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. General Kenobi, white-faced and breathless with pain, perhaps. That was, unfortunately, a sight he’d been privy to a few times by now, the way the corners of his mouth vanished into his beard like he was biting at his cheeks, the pallor under the freckles and mussed hair. The tightness around his eyes that made even his most comforting smiles do something a little sharp and cored-out to Cody’s chest.

The way Helix had said, “We’re analysing the gas the squad was sprayed with and every one of them is staying for observation – some of it was clearly fine enough or concentrated enough to have an effect, but mostly they’re just a little more tired – slower reaction speeds – than they ought to be. We got them out fast...Only the General’s rebreather took a moment to attach. We don’t think he took even a full breath – you know his reaction times. Whatever it is, it’s strong though. He’s not – himself.”

Instead, his General was supine on the medbay cot like he’d forgotten he had bones. The flop of his fringe glowed warmly under the harsh white lighting, his cheeks were flushed warm but not quite feverish. Cody made some kind of noise. A question that never made it past teeth and tongue.

Kenobi lolled his head on the pillow towards him. He smiled, a slow, pleased, drawing up of his lips that made Cody far, far too aware of how soft they looked, and then he blinked his eyes languorously open. His eyelashes fluttered copper.

Cody felt his pulse trip at his General’s moon-sized pupils fixing on him. The smile, the flush, the focus – it was a little too like some thoughts he would never admit to. A glimpse into something forbidden.

Only it wasn’t. General Kenobi was unwell. Intoxicated on an unknown and possibly dangerous substance. Drugged.

The shame almost drowned the relief.

“Co-o-o-dy,” Kenobi said, his crisp accent swamped by a sigh, or a yawn, or- It didn’t matter. “Co-dy, you came?”

He sounded drunk, if Cody hadn’t seen Kenobi drunk, and was well aware how it didn’t do this to him. “Of course, sir. How – how are you feeling?”

Kenobi waved a hand and Cody obediently stepped next to the bed while he searched for the words he usually kept so readily at hand. “The cot is sad.” he said, eventually. “Like...another village.”

Cody blinked down at him. Kenobi blinked right back, eyes absolutely enormous with the blue so swallowed in the black. “...Right. Can we cheer the cot up?”

He kept himself in place by the sternest exhortations of will alone when this caused a beaming grin to take over his very drug-addled superior officer. Who he did not have inappropriate feelings for and who -

Who had reached up and dragged him down by the arm with surprising strength considering the way he was sprawled out like a tooka in the sun. “Cody, we need blankets with good mem- ah, memories.”

Cody had managed to just barely brace himself on the far side of the bed and not get hauled flat into his General’s chest -he honestly might never recover from that one- and he didn’t have a lot of defences in the face of a Kenobi looking quite so unequivocally pleased, especially not this close up. “I can try to find some happy blankets, sir?”

“The crèche will have some.” he said, matter-of-fact. His eyes were trying to focus on Cody’s face but clearly struggling with whatever had overwhelmed his system. “They knit them just - just- for this – ki -i-i-nd of thing.”

Which would be great, were they in-Temple. On Coruscant. Near Coruscant.

He was sure his expression didn’t change but something like horror curled onto Kenobi’s face like smoke from a signal fire. The hand on his arm went panic-tight. “Co- Why can’t I feel the crèche?”

“Gen-” Kenobi started trying to scramble out of the cot but his muscles clearly weren’t up to that level of coordination. The light overhead buzzed and flickered. Cody sucked in a breath and wrapped his arms around his squirming General, tucking the man against his chest.

Kenobi resisted until he seemed suddenly to register that Cody was saying, “All clear, we’re on The Negotiator, not on Coruscant. The crèche is fine. The crèche is safe.” on repeat. He slumped into Cody, face against his throat.

Cody would have to live knowing what it felt like to have General Kenobi’s nose pressed to his jawline, his beard tickling his neck. The damp warmth of his breath coming too fast. “Cody,” he mumbled, and Cody added that to the list of things he could never un-experience. “Cody, I think something’s wrong with me.”

“It’s going to be okay, sir.” Cody said, in the best reassuring-the-shinies voice he had. “You got dosed with something, we’re figuring it out.”

Kenobi’s breath shuddered. He pulled back to look Cody in the eye, head far too loose on his neck, and he almost bottled it then and there, because he’d seen his General determined, frustrated, flat-eyed and serious, pale and exhausted – but right now his eyes gleamed wetly. His eyelashes had clumped. “Ap-apologies, Cody. I can’t – it seems that I-” Kenobi closed his eyes and inhaled with painful deliberation. “Focus is. Difficult. I – Things are magnified. I haven’t felt this – out of control – since I was a teen.”

The admission itself bore all the hallmarks of a confession like pulled teeth. Cody sighed through his nose and rubbed at his General’s back with one hand, trying to project comfort. “No apologies needed, Kenobi. I promise. It’s going to be fine.” If it was some kind of inhibition-loosener, then General Kenobi was probably the safest man to be caught in it. His version of over-emoting was safe enough – even panicking he hadn’t so much as shattered a halo-bulb. Rattled it, at most. For Kenobi’s sake, he hoped his over-active circulation ran it through fast, but he trusted fewer things more totally than his General’s control. Whatever this situation was doing for his future fantasies and heartache very much aside.

Kenobi made a funny little sound – a sound around a sound – and went boneless again, flopping back into the arm around him. It jolted Cody off-balance enough that his General sprawled into the cot again with Cody’s arms trapped beneath him. He froze – foolishly, because it gave his General the time to peer up at him through the lowered fan of his eyelashes and mumble, “’s nice.”

Ah, so this is what a heart attack felt like. More dissociative than he’d expected.

“Nice?” he asked, calmly.

Kenobi’s eyes finished closing again. “’S nice.” he repeated, wiggling in place like he was trying to scratch his back-

-against Cody’s arm, his open palm caught flat between his shoulder blades.

He arched like an impatient tooka. Squinted one eye back open. “’S nice.” he said, accusatory.

From far across the galaxy, and also about six inches from a face he’d been thinking about in his off-hours for too long to admit to, Cody errored out entirely. “You want a back rub?”

“How are we doing, sir?” Helix asked as he ducked past the curtain. “We- oh. Looking a little wild around the eyes there, Commander.”

“Insubordination.” Cody returned.

“Medic.” Helix said with all his teeth showing. “Now, General, I see you’re using a non-standard mattress additive there.”

“’s not General.” Kenobi said plaintively, rolling his head to the side to aim that kite-high expression at his CMO. “’m just Obi-Wan. I couldn’t find my legs to go to the crèche.”

“News?” he said flatly, ignoring his General for his own sanity.

Helix smirked at him and something relaxed. He wouldn’t look like that if General Kenobi were in real danger.

“Initial analysis – and symptoms agree – that it’s some derivative of spetamine.” he said, then leaned down to be more on Kenobi’s level. “We’ll have you right as rain in no time, sir. Just need to keep your fluids up and get some rest, alright?”

He got a narrow-eyed, suspicious look for his trouble. “I know what- what that means, Helix.”

Helix smiled. “I get to see you well-rested and not attached to a datapadd.”

Cody looked back down at the man still lying on his arms (quickly losing sensation). His frown was already relaxing back into dreamy-eyed looseness as another wave seemed to hit. His fingers were starting to tingle from loss of blood instead of just the situation. “’lix, there’s things that need – checking on-”

“Don’t you trust your Commander?” Helix asked gently, as Cody carefully wormed his arms free, ignoring the way he wanted to draw him back in close and cling. His General tried to give them an alarmed expression and only made it as far as vaguely puzzled. Slumped properly a moment later, heavy eyelids losing the fight.

Cody dragged his gaze away and found Helix chewing on his lip just the way he told everyone else off for. “The worst we’ll likely see is some hallucinating, from what I can tell. The hangover might be pretty impressively miserable though – I wasn’t kidding about the fluids.” he paused and Cody just gestured at him. “I’m keeping everyone under watch ‘til I can confirm their systems have cleared it out.”

“Is that the good news, or the bad news?” Cody asked.

Helix sighed. “It’s both. It’s not nearly as bad as it could be, he’s encountered it before – or close variants – and also he’s going to be out of it and then likely very nauseous for a bit. Also, given his -” Helix gestured vaguely and Cody hated that he understood exactly. General Kenobi was already going to be mortified. “People he wouldn’t mind as much watching over him means the roster is pretty small. You and I, and a handful of Ghost, those who’ve already seen him as a person over being a General. A Jedi.”

Kenobi had tried to tuck his hands into his sleeves and missed. He was clutching at his elbows instead. His mouth was slightly open, the corner of his mouth twitching occasionally. A quiet snore drifted up. Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, at least he’ll get some sleep first, I guess.”

Helix made a commiserating noise – the General’s worsening insomnia was a bonding topic. They watched him sleep for a moment. “There’s a lot of restlessness under the muscle relaxant, unfortunately,” he mused. “I don’t think he’ll stay under for long. I’m going to get a stash of hydro-packs for him, I’d rather not IV if I don’t have to.”

“He said the cot was sad and needed a happy blanket, and then panicked that he couldn’t feel the crèche nearby.” And he wanted very much to give him a happy blanket if only he could. A ship full of soldiers going from battlefront to battlefront wasn’t the best place to find undiluted happiness. “But he believed me when I said that we were just away from Coruscant and the crèche was fine, so-”

Humming thoughtfully, Helix said, “I don’t know how to distinguish Force readings from hallucinatory experiences. Maybe one of his robes would be a happier blanket?”

“More familiar.” Cody agreed. “I can go-”

“Oh, sit down, Commander. Do your flimsiwork in a chair for once. I’ll send Wooley, he’s been haunting the hallway.” Helix waved a hand at him and the skinny bedside chair. “It’s better’n nothing, sir. You’ve done nothing but pace all day, and the General isn’t the only one with shit sleeping habits.”

Yes, well, Cody thought sarcastically at him, Someone keeps recommending my General do dumb shit without me.

Helix swished his way back out and Cody stood for a long moment before he lowered himself into the seat, watching General Kenobi’s relaxed face. He may have focused too hard, as after a minute, his nose wrinkled and he rolled onto his side in a cascade of limbs and frowned directly into Cody’s face without opening his eyes.

“You’re...staring, my dear.”

“Yes, well, this is the first time I thought you might be properly asleep,” Cody said, and it was altogether too soft, too fond, but he couldn’t change it. “I was marvelling at the miracle.”

Kenobi managed to lift one lead-filled eyelid slightly. “You’re the...miracle – Cody, love.” His blown-out hazy gaze met Cody’s shocked one. He couldn’t – he didn’t – Cody-love?

While lost in his ever-piling list of Things He Would Be Unable to Forget and Which Would Haunt Him Later, his General managed to corral his elbow into taking his weight enough to lean up and over. He sank back into his body just in time for General Kenobi, smiling peaceably, to drop a kiss on Cody’s nose.

Cody.exe had encountered an irreconcilable error.

Kenobi dropped back to his cot, rolled onto his front, and mumbled in a tiny, hopeful voice, “Head pat?”

“Head pat?” he echoed distantly. There was another little not-word, like a tooka waking up. Cody was vaguely concerned he would suffocate himself in the paper-thin pillow like that. He watched his own hand reach out like it was on a holoscreen.

He sank his fingers in soft, warm-copper hair and stroked gently. Kenobi let out a breathy sigh and melted further into the cot, no matter how sad it felt. Although, if that was something he was picking up – with the Force, somehow, because he imagined that a medbay cot in particular probably wasn’t happy – and the idea that, perhaps, he was feeling...positive things in a way that overrode the sad?

Would General Skywalker or Commander Tano be able to feel that this cot now felt happy?

Sometimes Cody cursed the speed of his own neurons.

“Mnh- just like – that, Cody.” He cursed the squirrelly bastard all but moaning into his pillow. Do you hear yourself, he wanted to ask. Is this a joke? Am I on Space Punk’d? Could you not have done this while not high as a kite so I could at least entertain the thought of -

He cut himself off firmly. Focused on running his nails lightly over Kenobi’s scalp, kept the strokes of his hand gentle and even. Come on, Commander, I should think you might use my name now, he could almost hear the Jedi scoffing. He refused it, as he did his best to block out the breathy, progressively-sleepier noises he was eliciting with his attentions.

Which is to say with incredible, some would say actually insurmountable, difficulty.

It would have been harder if he weren’t replaying Cody-love, and that fleeting brush of a kiss.

*

When Wooley arrived some minutes later, he found the Commander standing at the foot of the General’s cot, at attention and facing the curtain rather than the bed. General Kenobi himself appeared to be asleep. Commander Cody looked a bit ...tense, or twitchy, or restless somehow. He’d bitten his lip through – Helix would be scolding again.

But then, Wooley considered as he offered the General’s robe, the Commander never liked it when the General went out in the field without him. Especially when it went wrong.

No wonder he was a bit stressed.

@codywanfirstkissbingo Number two! This one is nose kiss ^^

[sherewrytes]

Love and Gunshots, Eren x Black Reader 9

Gang member Eren x Introvert black reader

Summary: In a dangerous urban landscape, y/n, an introverted Criminal Law student, finds herself drawn into the violent world of the Sixx Gang through her protective cousin, Onyankopon. When she locks eyes with Eren Yeager, a hot-headed gang member, a twisted game of desire and danger begins.

As Eren becomes obsessed with y/n, he threatens to unravel the fragile balance Ony has maintained to shield her from their brutal lifestyle. With loyalty tested and violence lurking at every turn, the lines between love and danger blur, leading to a dark climax where the heart proves just as lethal as a gun.

Genre: Dark Romance/Crime Modern au

Warnings: Graphic violence, drug use, smut, obsession

@msjaeger @hidd3nbimbo @vampimilikis @nova2kss @honeydrzzldpeaches @faerie-soirxx @topshotdivaa @prettypink-princesss @burpzz @niaizzy1623 @jcoleisbetter

comment to join taglist

Previous

{Since I haven't updated in 3 weeks I wanted to make this long as possible}

Chapter 9: Psychosis

I was dropped off at home, but the unease gnawed at me. My body throbbed with the pain of the beating I’d endured earlier, but it was your face, your memory, that burned in my mind. I needed to see you. To feel that pull again.

My Hellcat was still back with Levi, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was seeing you. I wasn’t sure if it was a need for control or something darker, but either way, my obsession had only deepened.

I dialed Armin’s number, my voice tight as I spoke. “Armin, take me to her place. Now.”

He didn’t question it. He knew better than to argue when I had that tone. We drove in silence, the only sound the low hum of the engine as we sped through the streets. My thoughts raced, each one darker than the last. Your face was all I could see.

Armin slowed the car as we neared the block. I didn’t speak, my gaze locked forward, eyes scanning the quiet streets. The tension in my chest only grew.

When Armin parked a few blocks away, he glanced at me. “You sure about this, man?”

I didn’t answer. My eyes were already fixed on the building in front of me. Without another word, I threw the door open, slamming it shut behind me as I stepped out onto the cracked pavement. My boots echoed in the still night as I made my way toward the building.

The street was mostly quiet. A few lights flickered from windows, casting long shadows on the sidewalk. The further I walked, the tighter the knot in my chest became. I wasn’t just here to talk. This wasn’t about some casual conversation. I was here because I needed you—because you were mine.

I didn’t care about the environment, the smell of old cigarettes, or the distant chatter of neighbors. I didn’t care about anything else right now. What mattered was getting to you.

Eventually, we reached the spot. I didn’t need to say anything more. My eyes never left the spot ahead as I reached for my phone. I typed a quick message to you:

"Come outside. I need to see you."

I hit send and leaned back in my seat, staring at the phone screen, waiting for your response. My heart pounded with anticipation.

I sat back in the seat, my fingers clutching the phone a little too tightly. The cold metal of the car pressed against my back, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was her—YN. My mind kept going back to the way she looked at me, the way she seemed to care, even when I didn’t deserve it.

She’s different.

I glanced at the screen, waiting for the three dots that signaled you were typing. It felt like hours before my phone buzzed.

Her reply was short: "Coming out."

I almost smirked. She wasn’t as naive as I’d originally thought. She knew what she was dealing with, but she was still walking right into it. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. I had her attention, and now it was time to make sure it stayed that way.

The seconds ticked by slowly, painfully. I could feel the pull to get out of the car already, to be near her. It was like a thirst I couldn't quench. My chest tightened just thinking about it.

I won’t lose control this time. I won’t scare her away.

But deep down, I knew the truth. I was lying to myself. Control was the last thing I had, and it scared me more than I cared to admit.

As the car door clicked open, I stepped out, the cool night air brushing against my skin. My eyes scanned the area, waiting for her to step into view. I leaned against the car, trying to keep my composure, but the anticipation was crawling up my spine.

Then I saw her.

She stepped out from the shadows, the soft glow of the streetlights illuminating her face. My breath caught. She looked... untouchable, yet within reach. She was still the same, yet everything had changed between us.

She's mine,

 I thought, and a dark, possessive smile tugged at my lips. 

She just doesn’t know it yet.

I pushed myself off the car and walked toward her slowly, each step bringing me closer to the chaos I knew I was about to create. But I didn’t care. I needed this. I needed her.

 reached her, and the moment I did, I felt her eyes on me. She was looking at my face like she was trying to read me, trying to figure out what was behind the facade. I could feel the weight of her gaze, the intensity, but I wasn’t going to let her get to me.

"I'm good," I said, my voice steady, despite the way my chest felt tight. "I just needed to see you."

I could feel the space between us. Her hesitation, like she was still trying to make sense of everything, trying to decide if she could trust me. She doesn’t know, does she? The way she looked at me, the uncertainty—it only made me want to pull her in closer.

But I didn’t. Not yet. Not until I knew exactly what I was going to do with her.

I pulled her close to me, wrapping my aching hands around her hips, feeling her warmth seep into my skin. The way she fit against me—her body soft, her breath quick and shallow—stirred something in me. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge. But it didn’t stop the chaos in my mind. My thoughts were spiraling, my heart racing, and my body ached in ways I couldn’t explain. I tried to steady myself, but it was harder than I thought.

I gripped her waist, my fingers digging into her sides, holding her there, grounding myself in her presence. I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers, my voice low and strained. "I'm sorry, YN. For dragging you into this."

I said it like I meant it, but somewhere deep down, I knew it wasn’t entirely true. I don’t give a fuck about anyone or anything but myself, I thought bitterly, even as I looked into her eyes, trying to keep my voice steady. I knew she wanted reassurance, the kind words. It was easier to lie to her than let her see the monster I had become. But at the same time, I couldn't let her go. I need her close... for me.

She stiffened slightly in my arms, but I didn’t let her pull away, tightening my hold around her. She’s scared. She should be. She has no idea what she’s getting into. But I couldn't let her think she was alone. No matter how messed up everything was, I had to make her believe I was still in control. Still the person she could trust.

Her breath caught, and I felt it, the tiny tremble of uncertainty running through her body. She didn’t say anything, just stayed there, her chest rising and falling against mine. 

God, I hate seeing her like this—so vulnerable, so unsure. She shouldn’t be here. But she’s already in it, whether she likes it or not.

I leaned in, brushing my lips gently against her cheek, feeling the soft curve of her skin under the pressure. "You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into," I murmured, my voice almost too quiet, too raw. "But I won’t let anything happen to you. Not if I can help it." The words left my mouth before I could think, and they rang with a finality that I wasn’t sure I truly believed.

I pulled back slightly, enough to see her face, to catch the flicker of doubt in her eyes. I didn’t blame her for it. I’ve dragged her through hell already. Why the fuck would she trust me now?

I was still holding her, still keeping her close, but my mind was racing. I can't let her go. Not now. Not ever.

leaned back, staring at her, my eyes tracing every inch of her face. The dim light from the streetlamp outside cast soft shadows over her features, making her look even more delicate—too delicate for this world I’d pulled her into. My hand moved on its own, trailing against her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under my bruised knuckles.

Her eyes searched mine, like she was looking for something—maybe an explanation, maybe a way out. But I didn’t have answers for her. I didn’t even have them for myself. What the hell am I doing?

My thumb brushed over her bottom lip, and I felt the slightest tremble in her breath. I didn’t know if it was fear or something else, but it didn’t matter. I needed her to stay right here with me, needed to feel her close. My chest tightened at the thought of her slipping away, of losing the one thing that still felt... whole.

"I don't deserve you," I muttered under my breath, my voice rough, almost bitter. But I want you anyway.

She didn’t pull away, and that made it worse. She should push me off, tell me to get the hell out of her life before I destroyed it completely. But she didn’t. Instead, she stood there, letting me touch her, letting me hold her like I wasn’t the reason her whole world was spinning out of control.

My fingers traced the curve of her jaw, slow and deliberate. "You’re too good for this," I said, staring into her eyes, letting the weight of my words settle between us. "Too good for me."

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but I shook my head. I couldn’t hear it—not right now. I just wanted to stay in this moment, just for a little longer. Where it was quiet, where the outside world didn’t exist, where she was still mine—at least for now.

pulled YN closer, my hands settling on her waist as I leaned in, my lips grazing her ear. "Can I crash here tonight?" My voice was low, laced with exhaustion, but there was something else there too—something I knew she’d catch.

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with hesitation. I could see the gears turning in her head, the doubt creeping in. She should say no. She should tell me to leave. But she won’t.

Her silence was enough of an answer, and I took it as permission, guiding her toward her room with a quiet urgency. My body ached with every step, bruises screaming under my skin, but I didn’t care. Being here, being with her—it dulled everything else.

As we stepped inside, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, looking around her room. It smelled like her, soft and warm, the kind of comfort I didn’t deserve but took anyway. I turned to her, my hands still on her hips, holding her there like she might slip away at any moment.

"I won’t be in your way," I muttered, but we both knew that was a lie. I was always in her way, in her life, in her head—just like she was in mine.

She bit her lip, and for a second, I thought she might tell me to leave. Instead, she sighed, stepping back just enough to close the door behind us. That was all I needed.

I sat on the edge of her bed, running a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of everything settle onto my shoulders. "Thanks," I said, meeting her gaze.

But what I really meant was, 

You shouldn’t have let me in.

YN stood there for a moment, watching me, her arms crossed like she was holding herself together. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the part of her that wanted to ask me why I was really here, what I wasn’t saying. But she didn’t. She never did. That’s what I liked about her—she let me in without demanding too much in return.

She finally moved, sitting down beside me on the bed, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Eren... you look like hell," she whispered.

I smirked, leaning back on my hands, the ache in my ribs flaring up. "Yeah? You should see the other guy."

She didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile. Instead, she reached out, brushing a thumb over the cut on my cheek. It stung, but I didn’t flinch. I just watched her, letting her touch me, letting her pretend like she could fix me.

God, she's too soft for this.

"You shouldn’t be here," she murmured, finally pulling her hand away.

I caught her wrist before she could put too much distance between us, my grip gentle but firm. "I had to see you," I said, and for once, it wasn’t a lie.

She looked down, and I could tell she was trying to convince herself that I meant it in the way she wanted to believe. That I needed her, not just a place to hide. But I did need her—just not in the way she thought.

"Just tonight," she said softly, and it sounded more like she was convincing herself than setting a boundary.

I nodded, letting go of her wrist and tugging her down beside me. She sighed but didn’t resist, resting her head against my shoulder. I could feel the way she breathed, slow and steady, like she was trying to calm herself down.

"I don’t want you getting hurt because of me," she whispered after a long silence.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting my lips linger there for a second too long. "I can handle it, YN."

But the truth was, I couldn’t. Not this time.

Not with Levi breathing down my neck. Not with Ony ready to kill me.

And definitely not with the way I wanted to tear apart everything good in my life—starting with her.

I closed my eyes, letting the weight of it all settle in. Just tonight. That’s what she said.

But we both know it’s never just tonight.

I watched YN leave the room, her footsteps soft against the floor. My head leaned back against the wall, eyes drifting shut for a second. The ache in my ribs pulsed in time with my heartbeat, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing down on my chest.

When she came back, I cracked an eye open to see her holding a first aid kit, lips pressed together in that worried little pout she always had when she was trying not to ask too many questions. She sat beside me on the bed, fingers gentle as she tugged at my shirt. I let her pull it over my head, not missing the way her breath hitched when she saw the bruises painting my skin in ugly shades of purple and red.

She didn't say anything, just started working—cleaning up the cuts, dabbing at the worst of them with careful hands. I watched her through heavy eyes, my lips twitching into a smirk despite the pain. "You shoulda been a nurse," I muttered.

She shot me a look, one that said don’t start, but she didn’t say anything. Just kept working, her touch softer than it should be for someone like me. I wasn’t used to softness, but I didn’t pull away either.

When she left again, I reached for my phone, the screen lighting up with a text from Connie.

"Where u at? I came to drop off your hellcat and you ain’t home. You out there on shit already?"

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. Always in my business. I typed out a quick reply:

"Relax. I’ll be there soon."

YN came back with a bag of ice, pressing it carefully against my ribs. I sucked in a sharp breath, and she whispered, “Sorry,” like she actually thought it mattered.

I looked at her then, really looked at her. The way she bit her lip, the way her fingers trembled just a little when she touched me. She cared too much—more than I deserved.

"You don’t have to do all this," I said, my voice low.

She gave me a tired smile. "I know."

But she did it anyway.

And that’s what scared me the most.

I glanced around her room, taking it all in. It was so her—soft, warm, full of love. The kind of love I didn’t know what to do with.

Fairy lights draped across the walls, casting a gentle glow over everything. Little trinkets sat on the shelves, each one probably holding some kind of memory, some kind of meaning I’d never understand. Her bed was covered in plush blankets, pillows stacked like she needed to feel safe even in her own space.

This ain't me. I thought, running my fingers over the edge of one of the pillows. Everything about this place was the opposite of me—soft where I was rough, warm where I was cold, full of love when all I knew was destruction. I didn’t belong here.

But I wanted to.

I watched YN fuss over the ice pack, her brows furrowed in concentration, like fixing me up was the most important thing in the world. My chest tightened, but I swallowed it down.

“You always keep your room like this?” I asked, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

She looked up, a little surprised, then shrugged. “Yeah. It helps me feel... I don’t know. At peace, I guess.”

Peace. The word tasted foreign on my tongue.

I leaned back against the pillows, letting the warmth of her space sink into my skin. Maybe just for tonight, I could pretend like I belonged here. Like I wasn’t gonna ruin everything I touched.

I reached out, grabbing her hand as she turned to set the ice pack down. She froze, her eyes meeting mine, wide with surprise. Without thinking, I pulled her close, my heart pounding harder than it had any right to.

Before she could say a word, I leaned in and planted a swift kiss on her lips.

It wasn’t calculated, not something I’d planned—it just happened. Her lips were soft, warm, and for a moment, the chaos in my head silenced. Everything narrowed to just this: her, me, and the way she tasted like something sweet, something pure.

I pulled back just enough to look at her face. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted slightly like she couldn’t decide whether to breathe or say something.

“YN,” I said softly, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m... sorry if that was too much.”

Sorry? The word felt foreign, but I needed her to stay in this bubble with me for a little longer. I needed her to think that, for once, I wasn’t all sharp edges and destruction.

Her gaze searched mine, like she was trying to figure out what just happened. I didn’t let go of her hand, though. I couldn’t. It was like she was the only thing keeping me anchored.

I pulled her back to me again, my grip firm but careful, like I was afraid she’d slip away if I held on too tight. My lips hovered just over her ear, and I whispered, “I want you, YN... like, for real.”

Her breath hitched, and I could feel the way her body tensed against mine. My fingers traced lazy circles against her lower back, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt.

I leaned in closer, letting the weight of my words settle between us. I meant it, or at least, I wanted to. There was something about her—something soft, something real—that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could want more than the usual chaos I thrived in.

She didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, her hands resting lightly on my chest, over the bruises and fading cuts she’d just patched up. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts and unanswered questions.

“Eren…” she finally murmured, pulling back slightly to search my face, her eyes full of something I couldn’t quite place. Doubt? Hope? Hell if I knew.

I cupped her chin gently, forcing her gaze to stay locked with mine. “I mean it,” I said, my voice a little rougher this time. “I don’t just want you around when it’s easy. I want all of it, all of you.”

And maybe that’s selfish,

 I thought, but I wasn’t about to let go just yet. Not tonight.

YN stared at me, her eyes flickering with hesitation, and I could practically hear the war in her head. She wants to believe me. She really fucking does. That sweet little hope in her eyes? It was almost pathetic. Almost.

I let my fingers trail up her arm, slow and deliberate, like I was memorizing the feel of her. Her breath hitched just slightly, and I knew I had her.

Poor girl,

 I thought, biting back a smirk. She had no clue, did she? No clue that what I said was true and false all at once. I did want her—just not in the way she probably hoped. I didn’t want soft love or whispered promises. I wanted to pull her apart, to break that careful little world she wrapped herself in. To make her mine.

“YN…” I said her name like a prayer, like something sacred, tilting my head slightly as I watched her wrestle with herself. “I can feel it, you know. The way you hold back. Like you’re scared of what happens if you let go.”

She swallowed, and my lips curled at the tiny movement of her throat. 

Got you.

I leaned in, so close that my lips barely ghosted over her skin, and whispered, “What are you so afraid of, huh? That I might actually mean it? That I might actually want you?” I let the words hang, watching the way they seeped into her mind.

I felt her body tense. I could almost see her trying to sort through it, trying to convince herself that I was just some fucked-up, damaged boy who needed saving.

But that’s the thing, sweetheart, I thought. I don’t need saving. I need owning. And if you won’t do it, I’ll make damn sure I own you first.

I pulled back just slightly, just enough to look her dead in the eyes, my fingers still resting lightly on her hip. “Tell me to go,” I murmured. “If you don’t want this—me—tell me to fucking leave.”

She parted her lips, and for a second, I thought she might actually say it. But she didn’t.

Instead, she just stood there, looking at me like she was trying to convince herself that I was worth the risk.

Poor, sweet girl.

I smiled, slow and knowing, before pulling her in again. “That’s what I thought.”

Her breath hitched when I closed the space between us again, my fingers pressing just a little firmer against her waist. She was so warm—so soft—so different from everything I knew. From everything I was.

I brushed my nose against hers, keeping her right there, on the edge of something she couldn’t name. Something I could name.

Obsession.

Control.

Mine.

Her fingers twitched against my chest, hesitant but there. I could feel her pulse racing underneath my touch, betraying her, giving her away.

"You trust me, don’t you?" I murmured, dragging my lips along her jaw just enough for her to feel it. My voice was gentle, smooth, but the weight behind it wasn’t. I wasn’t asking. I was telling.

She hesitated.

I leaned back slightly, tilting my head as I studied her face. Her big, searching eyes, that little crease in her forehead, the way her lips parted like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get it out.

I smirked. "You do," I answered for her. "Even when you shouldn’t."

She swallowed hard, and I could see her trying to fight against whatever this was, whatever I was doing to her. But she wasn’t pulling away. 

She was still here.

My grip on her waist tightened just slightly, enough to make her aware of it.

"You don’t have to fight it, YN," I said, softer this time. "I want you. And you want me too, don’t you?"

She blinked up at me, and for a second, I thought she was going to deny it. But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

I grinned, slow and dark, letting my fingers trace slow, lazy circles against her lower back. "Say it," I urged. "Say you want me."

She shivered, her breath shaky as she tried to compose herself. Tried to act like she wasn’t already sinking into me, into this.

"I…" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

I lifted her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look at me.

"You what, baby?" I leaned in, my lips just inches from hers, my eyes locked onto hers like I could see every thought running through her head.

She was teetering. 

Almost there.

And then—

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

The sound broke whatever spell I had her under, and she stepped back, blinking rapidly like she was trying to clear her head.

I clenched my jaw, glancing at the phone lighting up beside us.

Of course.

I ran a hand through my hair, forcing down the irritation bubbling in my chest.

YN rubbed her arms like she was cold, avoiding my gaze. "I should, um… I should check that."

I exhaled slowly, nodding once, watching as she grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen.

Her whole face changed.

Her body stiffened, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

I narrowed my eyes. What the fuck is that look for?

"Who is it?" I asked, my voice calm, measured.

She hesitated.

I reached out, running my fingers along the inside of her wrist, coaxing. "Come on, pretty girl. Don’t start keeping secrets now."

She looked up at me, something unreadable flickering across her face. Then she exhaled sharply and whispered,

"It’s Ony."

She looked at me, clearly uneasy, but I just smiled, leaning back against her bed like I had all the time in the world.

Of course I shouldn’t be here, YN. But who cares?

I wasn’t about to let her guilt-trip me out of this room, out of her.

Her fingers clenched around her phone. "Eren, you don’t understand—"

"I do," I cut her off smoothly, tilting my head. "Ony’s your family, right? You don’t want him seeing me here." I shrugged, completely unbothered. "That’s fine. When he pulls up, meet him outside. I’ll stay in here."

She still looked unsure.

I reached for her again, wrapping my fingers around her wrist, rubbing slow circles against her skin. "Relax, YN," I murmured, my voice dropping to that soft, hypnotic tone I knew got to her. "It’s not a big deal. You talk to him, keep him happy, then come back inside and let me stay here with you tonight."

I could see the war waging in her head. She wanted to argue, to tell me I needed to go. But she also didn’t want to push me.

She didn’t want to lose me.

And that was all I needed.

She exhaled heavily, nodding. "Fine. But stay in here, Eren. I mean it."

I smirked, holding up a hand in fake surrender. "Scout’s honor."

She rolled her eyes but turned away, heading for the door.

As soon as she stepped out, my smile faded.

I let my head drop back against her pillow, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

Ony’s coming.

This could be interesting.

I glanced at her nightstand, at the framed photos sitting there. One of her with her family, one of her at some graduation ceremony, and one… with Ony.

I picked it up, studying it.

They looked happy.

Like family.

Like something real.

I scoffed, setting it back down with a little more force than necessary.

That’s cute.

But what she didn’t realize yet—what Ony didn’t realize yet—was that she wasn’t his responsibility anymore.

She was mine.

Ony jumped out of the G-Wagon, his usual nonchalant vibe intact, but the moment his eyes landed on me, I saw something shift. He scanned my face, taking in the way I held myself, how stiff my body was, the slight hesitation in my greeting. He didn’t say anything about it, though. Didn’t push. Instead, he just gave me a small nod.

"How you been since earlier?" he asked, his voice steady.

I forced a little shrug. "Cool." It was a lie, but what else was I supposed to say?

Ony exhaled through his nose, clearly not buying it, but again, he let it slide. His eyes flickered over to the house before landing back on me. "Unc Reggie’s back around, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Figures."

I hesitated for a second before adding, "It was my mom that called him."

That made him pause. His jaw tensed slightly, but before he could respond, the front door swung open.

"YN!"

My aunt’s sharp voice cut through the air, making my stomach drop. I turned to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her face tight with disapproval. Her eyes flicked between me and Ony before they settled on him with an icy glare.

"Get back inside the house," she snapped at me, but she wasn’t done. She stepped out, her attention now fully on Ony as she stormed over.

"You," she spat, pointing a finger at him. "You are not welcome here anymore."

I saw the way Ony’s expression faltered, just for a second. The way that pain flickered across his face before he locked it away behind a mask of indifference. But I knew better. I knew it cut deep.

"Ma, come on," Ony said, keeping his voice level, trying to calm her down. "It ain’t even like that—"

"You think I don’t see what’s happening?" she interrupted, her voice rising. "You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? Your father’s in jail, Onyankopon. And now look at you! Out here running with them, getting caught up in the same damn mess. You ain’t welcome here. Not anymore."

"Ma—"

"Don’t Ma me!" she snapped.

The air was thick with tension, heavy and suffocating. I felt my chest tighten watching the way Ony tried—really tried—to reason with her, but she wasn’t having it. She had already made up her mind.

The car door opened again, and Connie hopped out of the G-Wagon, stretching like he hadn’t just been sitting in silence watching the whole thing unfold. "Yo," he said casually, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "He just needs his stuff from his room. We’ll be out after that."

Ony’s mom turned her glare onto Connie, her lips curling in distaste as she looked him up and down.

"Well, go get it for him," she said coldly. "He ain’t welcome here."

Ony stood there, his gaze fixed on Connie as he spoke, his voice calm but with a sense of finality. "You know what to get for me. My bags, my shit’s under my bed."

Connie gave him a small nod and walked past, heading inside with that familiar, relaxed swagger of his, like this whole thing wasn’t as heavy as it felt. But the tension in the air was palpable.

As soon as Connie crossed the threshold, Ony’s mom turned her fury back to him, her voice rising as she got louder and more irate with every word. "I raised you better than this, Onyankopon! Look at what you’ve become. You think I don’t see what you're involved in? Your father’s in jail, and now you're out here getting mixed up in shit over and over. Do you think this is what I want for you? Huh?"

Her words cut through the air like knives, and I could see Ony’s body tense, his fists clenching at his sides, fighting the urge to snap back at her. But he held his ground.

"Ma," he said, his voice low, almost pleading. "You don’t get it. I’m doing what I gotta do to survive."

His mom scoffed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Survive? Survive what, Ony? A war you ain’t even supposed to be in? Don’t you think I’ve been through enough? What about me, huh? What about the rest of the family? You think I can just keep cleaning up after you?"

The words hung in the air like poison, and I could see how badly it hurt him, how his walls were starting to crack. He wasn’t the kind of guy to show vulnerability, but in that moment, I could tell how much it tore him apart to see his mom like this—hurting, angry, disappointed.

He stayed silent, his jaw clenched tight, not willing to give her the satisfaction of seeing him break. But his mother wasn’t finished. She took a step closer, her voice venomous.

"You’ve chosen your path, Onyankopon. And I’m done supporting you. Don’t come back here unless you’ve made a damn change. Until then, get your things and get out."

Ony’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but he didn’t say a word. He just watched his mom, the weight of it all pressing down on him like a heavy weight.

I wanted to say something, to step in, but this was their fight, not mine. Still, it was hard to watch the way his mom just kept digging in, like she wanted to rip him apart piece by piece.

I glanced over at the door to see if Connie was done, but I didn’t want to interrupt. The last thing I wanted was to make things worse for Ony. I just hoped he’d get his stuff soon, and maybe—just maybe—he could find some peace, even if just for a moment.

Ony’s jaw tightened as he took another drag from his joint, but before he could exhale, his mom snatched it right out of his mouth, her face twisted with disgust.

"Really?" she spat, holding it between her fingers like it was something filthy. "This is how you treat your life now, huh? You think I’m gonna sit here and watch you throw everything away for some stupid habit?"

Ony stared at her for a moment, his eyes cold, the anger boiling up inside him. He wasn’t going to let her keep pushing him like this. He took a deep breath and leaned in closer, the hurt he’d been carrying suddenly spilling out.

"What's really your problem with me, Ma?" he asked, his voice low but sharp, a dangerous edge cutting through. "You think you know everything, but you don’t know shit. I’m doing what I can to survive, what the fuck else do you want from me? You want me to be some clean-cut dude who doesn’t make mistakes? Who doesn’t get dirty? I’m not him, and you need to accept that."

His words hung in the air between them, thick and heavy. His mom stood frozen for a moment, her hand still holding the joint, her eyes burning with frustration.

"You think I haven’t accepted you?!" she snapped back. "I’ve been putting up with your shit for years, Onyankopon. I’ve tried to help you, tried to keep you from falling, but you won’t listen. You refuse to listen. You think you can keep doing this and that I’m just gonna sit here and pretend like it doesn’t break my heart every goddamn day?!"

She threw the joint to the ground, grinding it under her shoe like she was trying to erase it—and everything it represented—from her life.

Ony let out a long sigh, frustration clearly seeping into his tone. “I don’t need you to fix me, Ma. I’m not some damn project for you to play with."

She shook her head, the tears now mixing with the rage on her face. "This isn’t about fixing you, Ony. It’s about caring for you. It’s about not wanting to see you destroy yourself. But you don’t care. You just want to keep pushing me away."

His face softened for a brief moment, but the stubbornness crept back in, and he pulled away from her, almost as if he couldn’t bear to feel what he was feeling.

“Yeah, I don’t care. Not if it means I’m gonna keep getting treated like I’m a failure,” he muttered, walking away to grab his things, leaving his mom standing there, her anger dissipating for a moment as her disappointment washed over her.

I stood back, not saying a word, letting them work through this tangled mess of emotions. There was nothing I could do to fix it—not now, not ever. But I could feel the weight of it all, heavy in the air.

Connie walked out with two large bags on either shoulder, clearly loaded with Ony’s stuff, and a few stacks of cash in his hand. As he approached, Ony’s mom’s gaze immediately locked onto the money. Her eyes narrowed, her voice rising in anger as she pointed toward it.

“You were hiding your drug money in my house, Ony?” she demanded, her tone sharp and accusing.

Ony didn’t flinch. He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by the same old argument.

“It’s the same damn drug money I used to pay the bills in that bitch, Ma,” he said, his voice flat and uncaring. “Don’t act dumb like you didn’t know what the fuck was going on. I wasn’t hiding shit.”

His words didn’t sit well with her, though. In a blur of motion, she slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing in the night air. Ony’s head snapped to the side, his jaw tightening in response to the sting. He slowly turned back to face her, eyes burning with restrained anger.

“You really lucky you my ma,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low but laced with venom. The words felt like a warning.

But she wasn’t backing down. Her face was twisted with fury, and without missing a beat, she shot back, “Or else what, Onyankopon? You gonna threaten me now? Huh? You gonna try and act tough with your old mother?”

The words hung in the air, the tension thick between them. Ony's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t lash out. He just stood there, breathing heavily, staring her down, the pain and frustration in his eyes clear.

He was tired of the same damn cycle. Tired of being treated like he was the problem when he was just trying to get by. Tired of fighting battles that weren’t his to fight anymore.

But he knew. Deep down, he knew that his mother wasn’t just angry about the money, about the drugs, or the lifestyle. It was about everything else. The things he couldn’t fix. The things that were always broken between them.

Ony didn't answer her. He just turned his back, grabbed his bags, and started walking toward the Jeep, his movements heavy, like he was carrying the weight of everything in the world on his shoulders.

Ony stopped in his tracks as Connie handed him the money. He didn’t hesitate; he took the stacks from Connie, then turned to face Yn. His eyes softened for a brief moment, the weight of the situation settling in. He held out the money to her, his hand steady.

“Here,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Text me if you ever need anything. That’s like 15K... it should keep you guys afloat for a while.”

He watched her for a moment, making sure she took the money before his gaze shifted back to his mother, who still stood fuming in the doorway.

With a deep sigh, Ony spoke again, his words carrying a dark, resigned weight. “Don’t worry, Ma. When I’m in jail next to Pa, I’mma tell him what’s really been going on here. You think this shit’s gonna change? Nah, it’s only gonna get worse.”

His voice wasn’t angry now—just cold, almost indifferent. There was no point in pretending anymore, not with her.

He turned to face his mom one last time before he reached for the handle of the Jeep. “Anyway... you keep good, Ma.”

There was nothing else to say. No more anger, no more promises. Just the cold reality of the life he was tied to.

I jumped in the Jeep with Connie, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The air inside the car was thick with tension. My hands were clenched, and I could feel the familiar burn in my chest. My own spot’s quiet, but it’s not the same as being around family. Staying at home was easier—kept me grounded, kept me sane. But now? That shit’s gone.

I leaned my head back against the headrest, staring out the window. The city lights blurred past, but all I could see was my mom’s face, that look of disgust. That slap. It hit harder than any of the fights we had when I was younger.

Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve worked for, for what? I get the cash, I try to handle shit. And what do I get in return? A mother who couldn’t care less. She’ll never get it. She’ll never see how hard I’ve worked, how much I’ve sacrificed for this family. All she sees is what I’m doing wrong.

Connie glanced over at me, trying to gauge my mood. “You good?” he asked, his voice low.

I didn't even answer at first. I wasn’t good, wasn’t close to it. But I wasn’t gonna burden him with that. He’s just along for the ride, and if I let him in too much, he’d start seeing the cracks in me.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling the weight of everything that went down tonight, and then I finally spoke. “I thought… I thought I could make it right, y’know? But it doesn’t matter what I do. Nothing’s gonna change. I don’t have shit left but my pride.”

I shook my head, bitterness creeping into my voice. “I’m tired of fighting with her. Tired of trying to fix things that can’t be fixed.”

Connie didn’t say anything at first. He just kept driving, the silence stretching between us, heavy and thick. He knew better than to try and make me talk when I wasn’t ready.

But I could hear my mom’s voice in my head. “You ain’t welcome here no more.” Those words echoing, cutting deeper than anything she’s ever said before.

We made a few more turns, but all I could think about was how fucking alone I was now. The city had never seemed so big, so cold.

Connie finally pulled up to my spot. It was better than where I grew up, no doubt—cleaner, quieter, more space. But none of that mattered. It was empty. Just walls and furniture, nothing that made it feel like home. I hopped out, snatching my bags from the trunk, the weight of my whole fucking life packed up in them.

Connie jumped out too, stretching, then leaned against the Jeep. “Yo, I can come up, roll something, throw on some 2K?” His voice was casual, but I could tell he was watching me too closely, reading the tension in my shoulders.

I shook my head. “Nah, not tonight.”

He frowned but didn’t push it. He knew me well enough to know when I wanted space. I could see him debating whether to say something else, but in the end, he just nodded. “Aight, man. But hit me up if you change your mind.”

I gave him a chin nod, then turned for the stairs, my bags weighing heavier with each step.

Once inside, I dropped everything in the middle of the living room and stood there for a second, staring at the silence. No yelling, no tension in the air, no reminders of everything I was supposed to be doing for people who ain’t even want me around anymore. Just me. Alone.

I ran a hand down my face, exhaling hard. Times like this, I wish I wasn’t beefing with Eren. He’d get this shit…

He was the only one who knew what it was like to have family turn on you in ways you never expected. To give everything, and still be treated like you weren’t enough.

I let out a bitter chuckle. Funny how life works, huh?

Shaking my head, I went to grab a blunt from the stash in my drawer. If nothing else, at least the high would keep my mind quiet for a while.

I unzipped my bag and started pulling shit out, stacking clothes in messy piles. Connie, nosy as ever, had taken the time to disassemble my SR-15 from where I had it tucked next to my closet. Of course he did. I picked up the pieces, running my fingers over the metal, contemplating mounting it back up just for fun. But I wasn’t in the mood. My head was already crowded enough.

Tossing the rifle parts back into the bag, I grabbed my phone, plugged it in, and let the screen light up. The other phone was already buzzing with notifications. I tapped in, scrolling through texts.

Levi: Run next week. You, Reiner, Jean. You’re off duty till then. Don’t do nothing stupid.

I huffed out a laugh. Like I gave a fuck.

“Off duty” didn’t mean shit. Not when my own house didn’t even feel like mine anymore. Not when the only people I ever called family wanted nothing to do with me.

I locked my phone and leaned back on the couch, rubbing a hand over my face. The weight of everything settled in my chest, but I forced myself to push it down.

Ain’t no use sitting here feeling sorry for myself. I still had moves to make

exhaled sharply, pushing myself up off the couch. Ain’t no point sitting around. I had shit to bag—coke don’t sell itself, and neither do pills.

I moved to the kitchen, grabbing the duffel I kept stashed under the sink. Unzipped it. Scales, baggies, gloves—all there, just like I left it. I reached into the cabinet, pulling out the first brick, peeling back the packaging. The scent hit me instantly—sharp, chemical, familiar.

Same shit, different day.

I set up at the counter, moving on autopilot. Weigh, cut, bag. Weigh, cut, bag. The only sound in my apartment was the plastic crinkling and the low hum of the fridge. My hands worked fast—muscle memory, no thought needed.

Connie was probably gonna blow my phone up later, asking what I was on. He knew me well enough to tell when I was in my head too much. But I wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Didn’t need to talk. Didn’t need to think. Just needed to move weight and make sure my money was right.

That was the only thing I could count on.

 stopped mid-motion, the small bag of coke still in my hand. My phone screen lit up again.

Connie: Went to check Eren. He ain’t at his spot.

My grip tightened around the baggie. Fuck.

I knew something was off with YN. She was moving weird—too quiet, too tense. And now Eren’s ghosting? Nah. That ain’t a coincidence.

I dropped the bag, wiped my hands on my jeans, and grabbed my other phone.

Me: Check his location. He got his phone on him?

A few seconds passed. Then, another message.

Jean: Man’s off the grid. Last ping was hours ago.

My jaw clenched. If Eren was missing, and YN was acting strange, I already had a bad feeling about where he might be.

I grabbed my hoodie and my gun. No way in hell was I aint letting him  get comfortable around my family.

Connie: Easy, Ony. You off duty. You forgot what Levi did earlier? You ain’t in no position to be outside. Relax, I’ll take care of it and see where he’s at.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand down my face. Connie had a point. My body still ached from Levi’s little “lesson,” and I wasn’t trying to get caught slipping again.

 But Eren? he was unpredictable, and I wasn’t about to let him move unchecked around my cousin.

Me: Handle that, bro. Let me know where he at.

I tossed my phone onto the counter, letting it slide next to the half-packed duffel of product. My fingers tapped against my knee as I sat back, exhaling through my nose. The whole night had been fucked from the moment Levi started acting up, but this? This was sitting wrong in my chest.

Eren was reckless, selfish, and manipulative as fuck. I knew that firsthand. He had this way of twisting shit, making people believe his words were gospel even when they were laced with poison. And YN? Man, she wasn’t built for this. She thought she was, but she wasn’t. I knew her since we were kids—she was sharp, but her heart was too good, too soft for the kind of game Eren played.

I leaned forward, pressing my elbows to my knees, staring at my phone like it held the answers. I should’ve pressed her more. I saw it in her face earlier. Something was off. She was too stiff, too quiet.

My jaw clenched.

If she was with Eren right now—if he had his hands on her, spitting whatever manipulative bullshit he thought up—she was in trouble, whether she realized it or not.

The phone screen lit up. Connie.

Connie: Still checking. Nobody’s seen him at his usual spots. U want me to pull up on her?

I hesitated, dragging a hand down my face. I wanted to say yeah, but I also knew YN. If I sent someone after her, especially Connie, she’d dig her heels in. She didn’t like feeling controlled, even if it was for her own good.

Me: Nah, hold off for now. Just find him.

I pushed up from the couch, pacing. My ribs ached from earlier, but the irritation buzzing under my skin overpowered the pain. This nigga Eren is really testing me.

If he was with YN right now, that meant one thing—he had no plans of letting her go.

[stardustrebels]

More of You- Chapter 8

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

WC: 2.3k Rating: 18+ for eventual smut, MDNI Series Masterlist | Blog Masterlist Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: No outbreak!AU. Coffee shop meet-cute with a slow-ish burn. Sickly sweet fluff, some angst and eventual smut. Joel is 42, reader is mid 30s. Sarah is 19. No use of Y/N, minimal descriptions of reader. She has hair long enough to tie back, wears skirts and dresses, blushes and wears makeup.

A/N: Soft, sweet, domesticated girl dad Joel is my favourite type of Joel. This chapter gave me the warm fuzzies, and was so much fun to write, despite life really getting in the way while I was trying to write it. I hope you enjoy!

You’d barely made it through the door that day when your phone had buzzed; Joel making sure you made it home okay. You texted on and off that first day, insides swooping whenever his name popped up on the screen, biting your lip to keep from grinning too hard. 

The smile that filled his face the next morning when he saw you waiting for him outside Harrison’s made your stomach flip. He greeted you with a low “hey, darlin’”, and a gentle touch to your arm before he opened the door for you to walk through. When you suggested taking your coffees to go for a walk, he agreed on the condition that you let him pay for them. 

You caught a glimpse of a photo of a little girl pasted inside his wallet. She looked no older than seven, little face grinning from the middle of a mass of wild curls, clutching the stick of a huge toffee apple between mittens shaped like cats. 

“Cute kid,” you said with a smile, pointing to the photo. Joel glanced down at his wallet and smiled back at you. 

“My daughter, Sarah,” he said. Your surprise must have shown on your face- a sheepish look crossed his features and he snapped his wallet shut and shoved it in to his pocket. 

“She’s nineteen now. Off at college, all grown up.” 

“Oh wow,” you countered, tilting your head and eyeing him curiously. It suddenly struck you that you had no idea how old he was. “You must have had her pretty young?” 

Joel nodded, plucking both coffees from the counter and handing you one. 

When you were back out on the street you both fell in to step together. You thought for a moment that he would change the subject. It would have been easy now that you were outside, but after a sip of coffee and a deep exhale he cleared his throat. 

“I was pretty young when Sarah was born,” he said, fingers tapping against the side of his cup. “Too young to really know what the hell I was doing. Her mom and I… We, um.” He glanced to the sky, as if asking for help from the almighty to explain. He paused and eventually settled on “it’s just been me and Sarah since she was eight.”

You made a ‘hm’ sound and nodded, waiting to see if he would offer up any further information, but he didn’t. You hadn’t expected him to share something so personal so soon, and it seemed like he hadn’t expected it either. 

Since she was eight. You let the words settle between you. Joel had been a single dad for eleven years. That meant eleven years of school runs, birthday parties, scraped knees and tantrums. It meant being the only one to check under the bed for monsters, being the only one she came to when she was sad or scared or angry, late nights when she was sick and there was no one else to take turns with to care for her. Eleven years of making every single decision, and being the one she relied on completely for everything. 

You tilted your head to study him, and fully understood the reason behind the underlying exhaustion on his face for the first time. It was the kind of tired that never really went away, the kind that came from years of putting someone else first. On top of all of that, he looked worried. Worried that now he’d admitted his past, you’d reject anything to do with him because of it. You were surprised, but it wasn’t in a bad way. Something deep in your chest ached for him, but he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would want your pity. 

“What’s she studying?” You said casually, before taking a sip of coffee. 

“Huh?” 

“Sarah,” you clarified, “at college. What’s she studying?”

Relief changed Joel’s whole demeanour in an instant; he lifted his head and straightened his shoulders. The way his face lit up was so endearing.

He told you all about Sarah’s sports scholarship in Dallas, that she wants to be a physiotherapist, has been dead-set on it since she was little, that she knew she couldn’t play soccer forever, but still wanted to be around it. How hard she worked to get in to college, how he’d made sure that she never missed a soccer game no matter how busy or tired they’d been over the years. You grinned while you watched him talk about her, about how proud he was of her, and how he’d supported her through the years. Your chest swelled at how simply he said it, like there wasn’t even an alternative in his mind. 

You beamed at him, “It sounds like you’re a great dad, Joel. Sarah’s really lucky.” 

He shrugged, trying to hide a blush. “I’m the lucky one, she’s a great kid.” He looked down at the lid of his cup, fingers dancing around the edge of the plastic. “I miss her.” He admitted after a beat. 

If this man got any sweeter, you were going to scream. 

Joel cleared his throat and changed the subject, asking how your work was going and whether you’d caught up after your time away. He didn’t offer up any more information about Sarah’s mom, and you didn’t ask.

You’d been talking about music as you wandered for the last half hour, and it turned out you had very similar tastes. Every time one of you mentioned a favourite artist or album, the other would light up in recognition, unearthing little snippets of common ground. Joel told you all about the guitars he planned to build when he had some free time, the kind of wood he liked to use, the care that went in to shaping the body just right, the satisfaction of stringing it for the first time and hearing it sing. It made you wish you’d stuck with music a little longer, if only to understand that feeling. You told him all about the failed music lessons you’d taken as a kid, and your trial-and-error approach to creative pursuits through the years until you’d found one that really spoke to you. 

The conversation kept flowing as naturally as it had from the start as you dipped between little stories from your lives, getting to know one another in the best way. You’d both agreed to do a loop of the park before heading back; your coffee was long gone but it seemed that neither of you were keen to part ways. 

By the time you walked through the park gates, you were walking so closely together that your fingers kept brushing against his. Each time it happened it felt as though sparks were jolting up your arm. 

You figured you could easily close the last little space between you and slip your hand into his. The thought crossed your mind more than once and your fingers twitched with the want to try. But you didn’t. Because that would mean acknowledging that you were drawn to this man whether you wanted to be or not. 

And then Joel’s pinky curled around yours. Hesitantly, like he was feeling the same pull and trying to meet you halfway. Your stomach swooped as you glanced down at where your fingers were joined and let out a tiny, surprised huff. 

Maybe, just this time, you could accept something sweet and not overthink it. So you did. 

Slowly, you turned your hand and laced your fingers properly with his. His skin was calloused but warm, and his hold was gentle, as though giving you the opportunity to pull away. You tightened your grip and glanced up at him, watching his expression shift from surprise to something soft, filled with fondness. He exhaled, a little shaky as you both fell in to step again. 

“I was wonderin’,” he started, his thumb tracing idle strokes over your knuckles. “Whether you’d want to go out sometime?” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, covering your sudden breathlessness with a laugh, “We could maybe even go somewhere that isn’t a coffee shop.” 

Joel looked down at you and chuckled. “I ‘spose we could,” he said, squeezing your hand playfully. “How about I take you out to dinner?” 

You grinned and squeezed his back. “Dinner sounds great.”

He nodded, looking relieved, although he hesitated for a beat, as if weighing his next words. 

“And, uh, I got these tickets,” he said, glancing over at you, “to a gallery openin’ down town. Wondered if you’d wanna go with me?” 

Your brows lifted in surprise. “A gallery opening?” 

Joel nodded, “Yeah. My firm worked on the place, so they sent me an invitation. Figured it might be somethin’ you’d like.” 

It was such a thoughtful gesture it made your knees weak. 

“I really would like that.” you said, trying to hold back your excitement. 

You used the fountain in the park as your turning point for heading back the way you’d come and you revelled in the fact that Joel seemed like he was letting himself relax a little into this - into you. 

“So, when is this big fancy gallery opening?” You asked, 

“Friday night,” he said, tilting his head and squinting over, “that work for you?” 

You hummed in the affirmative and he said he’d send you a photo of the invite once he got to the office, so you had all the details. 

“I should tell you, I don’t know a ton about art,” he said, nudging his shoulder gently against yours, “I just helped make sure the walls ain’t gonna fall down. You’ll have to help me pretend that I know what I’m talkin’ about.” 

“Oh that’s easy,” you said with a grin, “I learned this at college. All you have to do is stand in front of any painting and nod like you’re having a deep, intellectual experience.” 

Joel smirked. “Yeah? Show me.” 

You dropped his hand and turned dramatically toward an imaginary painting, narrowing your eyes at the hedge by the path, and tilted your head to the side. Then, forcing the smile from your face you nodded and gestured in to thin air before you turned back to him and murmured, “fascinating use of negative space.” 

Joel let out a laugh that made your chest tighten in the best way. 

“Damn,” he said, shooting you a crooked grin, “That’s real good. I’d believe you were an expert.” 

You smirked back at him. “Stick with me, Miller. By the end of the night, people will think you are too.”

Joel exhaled a chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Guess I picked the right date, then.” 

Your stomach did a giddy flip at the word date. 

“Guess you did,” you murmured, letting your fingers lace with his again. 

You finally reached the corner where your paths had to diverge. It was quiet now, the chaos of rush hour had long passed. Joel waved away your concern that he was going to be so late to the office and claimed that there had to be some perks to being the boss. 

When you reluctantly dropped your hand from his, his fingers lingered, ghosting over your palm. A small shiver ran up your spine, and Joel must have noticed because the corner of his mouth quirked up just slightly. He gently pulled you closer, and you let him.

“This okay?” He murmured. 

You barely heard the words over the thump of your heartbeat in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathed.

He hesitated a second longer, his thumb grazing the delicate skin of your wrist. And then, finally, he closed the last of the space between you. 

His lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, careful. Like he expected you to pull away. But the second you leaned in, pressing just the slightest bit closer, he melted in to you with a sigh. His hand left yours and moved to cup your cheek. Your fingers curled into the collar of his jacket, pulling him even closer as you kissed him back, a small moan escaping your throat before you could stop it. Joel moved his other hand to the small of your back, pressing you against him with splayed fingers in a way that made your head spin. A deep groan rumbled in his chest when you swiped your tongue experimentally over his, and you felt his fingers press in to your jaw, urging your mouth open to kiss you deeper. 

He pulled away suddenly, breath uneven and warm against your cheek, matching the rhythm of your own. His nose grazed down yours and he sighed deeply. 

“We should probably stop before I decide I ain’t actually goin’ to work today.” He murmured, eyes glinting as he smiled at you. 

You let out a small laugh, cheeks warm, smoothing his jacket down affectionately. He brushed his thumb against your back a couple of times before letting you go. The absence of his touch after the last hour felt foreign to you now. 

You let your hand linger on his chest and pecked a kiss to the top of the scruff on Joel’s jaw. He closed his eyes, and an almost pained expression flickered across his face when you stepped away from him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked, suddenly nervous. 

He cleared his throat and his fingers twitched at his sides, as if resisting the urge to pull you to him again. 

“I sure hope so.” He said, his voice low and rough. 

You nodded, knowing if you didn’t leave soon, you wouldn’t want to at all. “Have a good day, handsome,” you murmured, tilting your head with a smile. 

He took a breath and looked at you like you’d hung the moon. 

“You too, darlin’.” 

As you walked away from him, you decided that Joel Miller calling you ‘darlin’ was your new favourite sound in the whole world. 

Next Chapter

[tinydefector]

Behind the Scenes 6 DC

Tim Drake x Male reader

Word count: 2.7k

Author note; Remind me to stop writing like 10k words, I've so much to edit and at this rate I cut them down into smaller chucks so it makes it easier on me to edit in my sleep deprived state. It be 12am right now and this be what I do with my life.

Warnings: swearing, Tim being Tim, family drama.

Masterlist

Prev

Next

____________

Tim hadn’t expected this.  

It had been a few days of digging, researching, and obsessing over Y/N. Every spare moment outside of his responsibilities as Red Robin, online classes and his work at Wayne Enterprises had been consumed by this mystery. 

Nothing about Y/N made sense, and Tim hated not having answers. So, during his break from the monotony of WE Appointment involving potential investors and paperwork, Tim had retreated to his favorite café after picking up his new script of medication. 

It was his favourite little hole-in-the-wall place he frequented when he felt Gotham closing in on him. It was quiet, tucked away from the chaos, and the coffee was good enough to keep him functioning through the day, despite how much the rest of his family would protest over it. Tim had been minding his own business, or that's what he would have said up until his eyes landed on Him. 

Tim’s coffee was halfway to his lips when he froze, his sharp eyes zeroing in on the man who had just walked through the door. blinking slowly as if trying to convince himself it wasn't a hallucination, of his brain playing tricks on him from fatigue, his heart skipping a beat as he watched the man from the nursery stroll into the café like it was any other day. He wore a warm jacket, a side bag over one shoulder, his posture relaxed and unassuming. 

Y/N greeted the barista with a polite smile as he placed his order. Tim’s eyes tracked his every step, He wasn’t here by coincidence—he couldn’t be. Gotham didn’t work that way.  

Or maybe Tim was just paranoid.  

Y/N didn’t seem to notice him, which was both a relief and a frustration. After grabbing his drink, he scanned the room before settling into a seat a few tables away, pulling a small stack of books from his bag, along with a well-worn notebook, and immediately got to work.  

Tim leaned back in his chair, trying to look casual as he observed. Y/N was completely absorbed in his task, scribbling notes in his notebook while flipping through the pages of a thick book on... Tim squinted. Herbology? He frowned, taking another sip of his coffee as his mind raced. What was Y/N doing here? Did he live nearby? Was this his regular spot? Or was it just a coincidence?  

Tim didn’t believe in coincidences.  

He leaned forward slightly, pretending to scroll through his phone, positioning himself so he could  keep watch of Y/N in his peripheral vision. The man looked focused, his brow furrowed as he jotted something down in his notebook. Occasionally, he would pause to flip through another book with a slight noise, his fingers tapping lightly against the pages as if he were deep in thought.  

It was strange seeing him like this so... normal. Y/N didn’t look like someone who could make Poison Ivy back down, But Tim knew better than to trust appearances. His mind wandered back to the footage. The way Y/N’s skin had shifted, the faint green leaf-like markings visible. But now that he gets a better up close look there aren't any markings on him, no leaves, little vines or anything of the sort looking like they are trying to climb out of his skin. 

Tim’s fingers itched to pull out his laptop and start working through the puzzle again, but he forced himself to stay still, sipping his coffee and pretending to relax. He couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself. Instead, he settled for watching.  

After about 15 minutes Y/ n eventually swapped over books, he reached for his drink, and he tilted his head slightly, as if sensing something. For a split second, Tim thought he’d been caught, but Y/N didn’t look up. Instead, he shifted in his seat, stretching slightly before returning to his work.  

Tim let out a quiet breath, his heart still racing. The soft scratch of pencil against paper pulled Tim’s attention back again. Y/N had closed one of his books and was now sketching something in a little art book. His lips twitched into a faint, contented smile as his pencil moved across the page with ease.  

Tim’s eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity. What was he drawing? Plants? Notes for some herbal concoction? He tried to steal a glance without being obvious, leaning slightly to the side under the guise of adjusting his coffee cup.  

Then Y/N glanced up.  

Tim froze.  

Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and Tim’s breath hitched. He quickly looked back down at his phone, pretending he hadn’t been watching. His mind raced, his heart pounding in his chest. Had he noticed him staring? Did he recognize him from the nursery?  

But Y/N didn’t say anything. When Tim dared to glance back up a moment later, Y/N was already focused on his notebook again. His pencil moved in smooth, deliberate strokes, and that same soft smile played on his lips. He didn’t look suspicious, if anything, he looked... peaceful.  

Tim frowned slightly, his curiosity deepening. Y/N wasn’t acting like someone who had something to hide. He wasn’t glancing around nervously or watching the door like a criminal expecting to be caught. He was just... sketching.  

He tried to go back to his coffee, forcing himself to focus on anything other than the mysterious man a few tables from where he sat. But the soft scratching of the pencil was oddly distracting, pulling his attention back again and again. Y/N’s hand paused for a moment, and he tilted his head slightly, studying his notebook before glancing up again. His eyes landed on Tim once more, but this time, they lingered.  

Tim did his best not to tense up feeling the prickle of eyes on him, trying to look casual as he scrolled through his phone. He could feel Y/N’s gaze on him, warm and curious, and it took everything in him not to look back. And then, just as quickly as it had started, it was over.  

Tim glanced up out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge what had just happened. Y/N didn’t seem bothered or suspicious. In fact, there was something oddly... soft about the way he glanced up every now and then, his smile growing just a little wider before he went back to his work.  

What was he smiling about? Tim wanted to know what Y/N was drawing, what he was thinking, why he kept glancing at him. But he couldn’t risk tipping him off.  

Y/N stretched his fingers as he finished the last few details of his sketch, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Closing his notebook, he dated the corner of the page with a simple “Café stranger ” before taking a final mouthful of his drink. His gaze lingered on the faint etching of the face in the sketch, the soft lines capturing his focused expression and the subtle intensity that seemed to radiate from him.  

With his books and notebook neatly tucked back into his bag, Y/N made his way back to the counter. He ordered another drink, slipping one earbud in to listen to some soft music while he waited. The café was buzzing faintly now, a steady hum of conversation and the clinking of mugs filling the space. It was peaceful To everyone except Timothy Drake, he was abuzz with questions, theories and concerns. 

Once his drink was ready, Y/N grabbed it and turned toward the door, his mind already wandering to what he needed to do next. He was halfway through putting his second earbud back in when he bumped directly into someone. “Crap!” Y/N yelped, nearly dropping his drink as he stumbled back slightly. His face immediately flushed as he pulled the earbud out again. “I am so, so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going!”  

Tim, on the other hand, stood completely still, equally stunned. He hadn’t expected Y/N to bump into him when he had gotten up to head back to WE, much less to get such an up-close look at the man he’d been researching obsessively for the past week.  

“It’s... uh, no problem,” Tim finally managed, his voice a little awkward as he waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.” he was now regretting not having a tracker or anything similar on his person, this would have been the perfect opportunity to try and plant a bug to try and find out more information. Tim would just have to remind himself to keep something on hand from now on. 

Y/N’s flustered expression deepened, and he ducked his head slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Still, sorry if I spilled anything on you.” Tim glanced down instinctively, but there was no damage to his clothes or the coffee cup in his hand. “No, really—it’s fine,” he said, his tone softening.  Y/N gave a small, sheepish smile. “Alright. Um, have a good day, then,” he said quickly, clearly eager to escape the embarrassing situation.  

Tim watched as Y/N hurried out of the café. For a moment, Tim just stood there, his coffee forgotten in his hand as his mind replayed the interaction. But what really caught Tim off guard was Y/N’s reaction. The guy didn’t seem suspicious or guarded. If anything, he looked genuinely flustered and embarrassed, like he was just a normal person who’d accidentally bumped into someone. He didn't act the same way pickpockets do when they bump into someone, nor with the aggression that some people had towards people in suits.  

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim pulled out his phone and opened the family group chat.  

---

[Wayne's World Orphans, organs and Morgue] 

Tim: I just ran into him.

Dick: Ran into who?  

Jason: If this is another one of your conspiracy theories, I’m muting this chat.   

Tim: The guy from the nursery. The one Poison Ivy backed off from. The one I told you about D 

Duke: oh no your stalking again

Steph: Wait. What plant guy? Are you stalking someone again and didn't tell me ):  

Tim: I’m NOT stalking him!   

Steph: You’re totally stalking him.   

Jason: Lemme guess, he sprouted leaves and vines and tried to attack you? And now you need someone to come save you because you're out in public as Tim ‘Rich boy’ Drake. Damn you get into so much trouble these days, like those muggers from last month. 

Tim: No!, and you keep telling them where I am!!. We are getting off topic, He bumped into me at my café. Like, literally bumped into me. He apologized and looked super flustered about it.   

Duke: BRB 

Dick: oh no!! You didn't give him your full legal name did you, don't trust them they can use it! Don't follow him into circles of any sort!

Damian: what are you prattling about Richard?

Tim: Dick is convinced the guy is a Fae. 

Damian: Perhaps he is simply a meta who does not wish to draw attention to himself. Not everyone flaunts their abilities foolishly.   

Tim: that does sound more reasonable than D’s theory. Maybe, but... I don’t know. Something feels off. 

Cass: Did you talk to him?   

Tim:  Not really outside of saying it was all good after he bumped into me. I didn’t know what to say. He ran off before I could think of anything. Also realised I noe need to keep trackers and bugs in my suit so I have them on hand for when I need them. 

Steph: Smooth, Tim. Real smooth. The black phone called and said it needed you back to play a creepy guy stalking people. 

Tim: ShUt! 

_____

Tim sighed quietly to himself, standing on the sidewalk outside the café, watching as Y/N disappeared into the crowd. Part of him wanted to follow him, to see where he went, to gather more information. But he didn’t have the time—he was already cutting it close. Wayne Enterprises was calling, and no amount of caffeine could make him excited about spending the next several hours stuck in the stuffy conference room, feigning interest in board meetings when he could be doing spreadsheet, excel and word documents or his favourite finding flaws in the system or anyone trying to exploit or steal from the company. 

He adjusted his bag over his shoulder and started walking toward the Wayne Enterprises building, his phone buzzing faintly in his pocket. He glanced at it briefly, the screen lighting up with yet another email from Lucius Fox. Tim groaned quietly. “I’d rather deal with Gotham’s rogues than sit in another meeting. Why did i ever accept Bruce's offer to take over the company, I hate people”  

He thought about his apartment instead. his tiny, blissful sanctuary. Blackout curtains, a decent mattress, he liked the building, it was unassuming and the moment he wasn't wearing a suit no one knew who he was, so he enjoyed renting his little apartment in the outskirts. He’d never admit it to anyone, but the little plant Alfred had given him  was beginning to grow on Tim And he intended to win that bet of keeping it alive longer than a month to prove a point to his family. 

“Great,” he muttered to himself, crossing the street. “I’m getting attached to cacti now.”  Still, the thought of going home, even briefly, was tempting. Maybe he could sneak in a quick nap before patrol tonight. Or better yet, squeeze in some extra research on the case he had been helping Kon with. 

As he walked, he pulled out his phone again and opened the family group chat.  

---

  [Wayne's World Orphans, organs and Morgue]    

Tim: Okay, I don’t have time to follow him. I’ve got a meeting at WE in like 20 minutes.   

Steph: Booo, corporate Tim. Lame.   

Jason: Yeah, Timbers. Go sell your soul to capitalism.   

Tim: Not selling my soul. Playing my part in the child labour for Bruce.   

Jason: You're 24 numb nuts.   

Dick: So you’re skipping sleep again?   

Tim: I’ll sleep when I’m dead, or Ra’s finally gives me my spleen back, cause I can't say when pigs fly anymore or you'll put your uniform on.   

Steph: vvdhkgfjj XD 🤣🤣🤣  

Dick: I'm never going to live that down am I? 

Jason: not a fuckin chance bacon bitch. 

Duke: acab, sorry not sorry You're a bastard Richie Grayson not my brother don't know him. Can't believe I got stuck with a cop and the 1% 

Dick: :( and Here I was going to bring you two the leftover donuts, not happening, guess I'll just have to have the fattest ass in Gotham and Blüdhaven. But Tim please try and sleep. 

Tim: It’s fine, I’ll grab a nap before patrol tonight. Maybe.   

Cass: Check your cacti first.   

Tim: I will, it's doing fine.    

Jason: Wait, wait, wait. TIM has plants? Like, actual plants?   

Steph: Oh my god, you’re turning into Ivy!, wait Dick i think your right hes been enchanted by a fairy!!.   

Tim: I’M NOT!. I just have some cacti. They’re easy to take care of.   

Jason: Tim Drake. The man who forgot to eat for 36 hours because he was tracking a rogue. Has plants. That is still alive. I’m impressed.   

Steph: You’re totally projecting your weird plant-guy crush onto them.   

Tim: It’s not a crush! I’m trying to figure him out!   

Duke: hmm. That does sound like a Drake crush tho

Damian: You are obsessing over someone who may simply have a green thumb. Perhaps you should take up gardening if you are so fascinated.   

Tim: He’s not just some guy with a green thumb, Damian. I already told you. Poison Ivy just walked away from him. He's a meta of some sort.   

Jason:  When the cacti die, I’ll know it’s all over for you, you'll have both your pixie boy and Ivy after you, compost Timbers.   

Tim: They’re not going to die. I’m taking care of them.    

---

Tim slid his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head as he reached the entrance to Wayne Enterprises. The family chat was always a mixed bag of teasing and chaos, but at least it kept him grounded.  He sighed as he stepped into the elevator, the prospect of hours of meetings looming over him. At least tonight, after all the corporate nonsense and patrol, he’d have a moment to himself.  

And maybe, just maybe, he’d check on his cacti before crashing for a few hours. Only to make sure they weren’t dying, of course.

______

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Author's note: reminding everyone interested about BUNNYTINE

SAM MONROE never really thought there would be a day where he’d be spending his Friday afternoon walking aimlessly around his mom’s overgrown garden, tiny, chubby fingers clutching onto his left hand.

Vinnie’s puffy cheeks were slightly flushed from the warmth, little legs wobbling with each step as he followed wherever Sam led him--or, more accurately, wherever he decided they needed to stop every few seconds.

“Sammy,” Vinnie lisped, tugging at Sam’s fingers when he spotted something new. He stumbled over to a patch of daisies, eyes wide with fascination as he crouched down, completely absorbed in yet another flower

To which sam sighed. He never in his life was that mad at his mom for planting so much flowers. They’d barely made it five steps, and the kid was already obsessed.

“They’re just flowers, dude,” he muttered, but when he saw the way Vinnie’s tiny hands trying to grab at the petals, his annoyance melted into something disgustingly soft.

Boy didn’t respond tho, of course, too focused on his new, very important task of collecting every daisy within reach. For what? San could only pretend to guess. He exhaled through his nose, eventually crouching down beside him.

“You like those?” he asked, voice quieter now. Vinnie just babbled something incomprehensible, which Sam took as a yes.

So they kept going--well, stopping every few steps--until Vinnie spotted something that completely stopped him in his tracks.

Tulips.

Sam didn’t even get a chance to prepare himself before Vinnie’s little legs carried him straight to the bright petals. He let go of Sam’s hand, plopping down on the dirt with a delighted giggle, reaching for the tulips like they were the most magical, beautiful things in the world. Acting like he was ready to hug them all, squeeze them tight, wish the best day (in his own way) before leaving them all behind

Sam sat beside him, leaning his elbows on his knees. “That’s a tulip, Vin,” he mumbled, rubbing his already tired eyes. “It’s, uh… red. And it’s got… petals. And it’s a flower.” Great job, dumbass.

Vinnie just blinked at him, then turned back to the tulip. Sam thought he was admiring it until--before he could even react--Vinnie grabbed the head of the plant and stuffed the flower straight into his mouth.

“Dude—!” Sam’s eyes widened, and he immediately reached forward, prying the petals from his son’s chubby little hands before going in for the mouth “What the hell, you can’t just eat shit like that!”

After Sam threw the slightly wet from saliva petals, he turned to his son, who, of course, felt utterly betrayed. Lower lip wobbled, eyes getting all glossy like he was about to break into cries at sam's harsh, sudden tone.

Sam panicked. “Oh, damn--okay, okay, chill, man, I’m not mad,” he rushed, patting Vinnie’s head with shaky hands. “It’s just--" he cupped this little face "flowers aren’t food, y’know? We eat real food. Like… like waffles. And… whipped cream. Yeah?”

Vinnie sniffled. “W’ffle?”

Sam nearly collapsed in relief. Thanks the higher power “Yeah, dude. Waffles. You love those.”

Vinnie stared at him, then grinned. A full, teethy, drooly grin, like Sam had just told him the best information of the universe, immediately forgetting how he just wanted to chew on the plant

Sam exhaled, shaking his head. “Gosh,” he muttered, picking up his son and balancing him on his hip. This kid was gonna give him gray hair before he's twenty

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddict @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop