#i'm sorry but i'm in this too deep by now

[pseudowho]

"Now, gently release the clutch as you press the accelerat-- gent--ly-- Yuu--ji--"

"--shi--t--I'm--try--ing--Na--Na--Min!"

"--lan--language, Yuu--Yuuji, a lamp-post! Brake!"

"Shit! I mean, fuck!"

Kento's voice rose, punctuating each lurching stall of the car in first gear. You watched in despair from a distance.

Kento's car, far too powerful in the hands of a teenager, jolted and hiccuped across the evening skyline. The once quiet car park was polluted with screeches and grinding.

You held your head in your hands, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Teaching Itadori Yuuji to drive was surely the 9th circle of hell.

Over the weeks prior, Kento had tried explaining the mechanics of driving more. He had tried explaining them less. He had tried showing Yuuji videos, and diagrams.

Kento had pulled his hair out, and even considered sitting Yuuji on his lap like a child, and encouraging Yuuji to press Kento's own feet upon the pedals.

You had told Kento that his last idea was utterly mad, and Kento had slumped in resignation and poured himself a second, bigger drink.

The drive back to Yuuji's dorms, at least, was smooth. Kento's shoulders were tense, mountains beneath navy twill. Yuuji looked awkward in the rearview mirror. He broke the silence with a mumble.

"Maybe...maybe I'm not ready to drive yet, Nanamin."

Quiet. The car purred to a stop at the traffic lights. Your eyes flicked to your husband. His voice was quiet, too; measured.

"Any new skill takes practice. It takes time, Yuuji. We'll go out again in a few days. I know you'll get there. I...I believe you'll get there."

And so, Kento and Yuuji did drive again. And again. And again. And again.

Kento came home more dishevelled each time; first, with mussed hair; then, with mussed hair and sweatstains; then, with mussed hair and sweatstains and a straggly, loose tie.

"Maybe he's not ready to drive yet," Kento grumbled into a whiskey one evening, his elbows planted on his knees and his head in one hand. He had dropped Yuuji home in a courtesy car this time.

His own car, with grisly tire arch damage, had been stretchered away to a mechanic as Yuuji bowed with tears in his eyes and stuttered promises of compensation.

Kento wouldn't hear a word of it, but you could see the fissures of anxiety rending him fragile. You could see the numbers racking up in his line of vision; the deep breath and wince as his insurance premiums rose.

"Maybe...maybe he just needs a bit of a push?" You mulled one night, as Kento sat on the sofa, obsessively researching methods to make Yuuji anything less than a hazard behind the wheel.

"Absolutely not," Kento grumbled, his face illuminated by his laptop. "What he needs is some control. Some self-discipline--"

"--Kento, come on, he's just a boy--"

"--and he'll be a man, soon!" Kento snapped, cold and dismissive. You gritted your teeth, knowing there was no arguing with him, when he was like this; when stress had rendered him dogmatic. You bit your tongue to stop the venom leaking out.

"Fine. Just...don't take it out on him."

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Kento's tone was barely schooled. The air in the car ran thick with tension.

"So you press the clutch down, release the accelerator, and slip into second ge-- clutch down-- clutch down-- Yuuji!"

A horrible grind, a crunch, and a stall. Yuuji and Kento lurched forwards. Yuuji's mouth puckered up into a mortified grimace once more. In the back seat, you opened your mouth to reassure Yuuji, but Kento cut across.

"Enough. Enough. You're not ready, Yuuji. Perhaps you won't ever be."

You felt the same knives that Yuuji did. You turned to look at Kento, stunned. You heard, rather than saw, the tears brimming on Yuuji's lashes; his voice was thick as he spoke, barely audible.

"...'m sorry, Nanamin."

You waited until Yuuji was well inside his room, that evening, before you swept past Kento like a winter wind. Kento flinched, and turned to watch you go, silent. Minutes later, as he slid into bed to join you, the silence stretched longer, gravid and expectant. Eventually, Kento spoke.

"I just think...he needs a bit more control, and I'm...I'm sorry--"

"You can't control everything, Kento. Why are you apologising to me?"

It was Kento's turn to feel the knives.

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Kento wouldn't have blamed Yuuji for abandoning the mission, and leaving him to die.

This woodland shrine, mountain-nestled and ravaged by time, had no business being as cursed as it was.

"Grade Two, my arse," spat Kento, staggering out onto the moss-gravel path, with blood dripping from his hands. They were crushed; agony, and Kento's face twisted in pain. He could hardly hold his blade, let alone holster it. "Yuuji-- you've got to get out of here--"

A peachy blur; a boot-gravel skrrrrrr. Yuuji skid out of the shrine, dropping to his haunches beside Kento.

"What do you mean 'you've' got to get out of here?" Yuuji yelped, dodging flung debris from the beast that followed them. Kento swore, reaching one mashed hand into his pocket for his car keys and--

-- Kento froze. He stared at his battered, bloody hands in mute horror. He looked up to his car, through the windscreen, and at the steering wheel which he could not turn,q and blanched.

Yuuji panted, slowly deflating as he watched Kento unravel.

Never before had he seen true horror seep into Nanami Kento. Never before had he watched the light leave Kento's eyes, to be replaced by the looming spectre of certain death.

It made Yuuji's heart clench; and Yuuji decided.

Kento grunted in surprise as Yuuji's hands shot into his tan pockets. "Yuuji-- Yuuji! What are you doing? Leave--"

"Get in the car," Yuuji ordered, already yanking Kento over slippery cobblestones by the elbow. The earth rumbled behind them, their time running short.

"--Yuuji-- you can't drive--"

Yuuji slammed his hands on the hood of the car, and roared, "Shut the fuck up, Nanamin! And get in the fucking car!"

Kento's jaw dropped, pearl-clutching, gravely offended. He opened his mouth to argue, and Yuuji interrupted, ripping the passenger door open and shoving Kento in (who made a muted little 'ouch') with no decorum.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, 'language Yuuji'-- shut the fuck up-- and do as you're told, Nanamin--"

A monstrous thing, a curse of a Curse, punched out of the shrine with explosive force, as Yuuji slammed himself into the drivers' seat.

Still being regarded by Kento with mute horror, Yuuji leaned over Kento and his mangled hands, and pulled his seatbelt on. Yuuji gripped the wheel, turned the key, and took a deep breath.

And boy, how he drove.

Kento's arms flung sideways, slung like an unstrung marionette as Yuuji shot the car into reverse with staggering speed, and spun it into forward facing, to wheel-screech and half-donuts.

Yuuji's foot hit the floor.

Kento barked encouragement at him, as their speed rose, and the creature chasing them sped up to match, with a roar muffled by engine roar.

"--clutch-- 3rd gear-- build your speed! 4th! Put your foot down! Good boy, Yuuji!

Yuuji turned the volume up-- the radio blared. The sound of thundering footsteps quickened behind them. So Yuuji jumped to 5th gear, and flew.

Yuuji grinned, whooping like a howler monkey, driving Kento through branches and over tiny cliffs, swerving trees and leaves and logs and stones and river bridges until--

"Shit-- Yuuji-- blind spot--"

Yuuji laughed, and Kento groaned into his forearm to see one of his wing mirrors ripped off and left behind, the car juddering and slamming and skidding until--

Crash!

The car broke through foliage into glorious daylight, skidding to a halt on an empty dirt road. Yuuji panted. Kento panted. The second wing mirror fell off. The engine smoked. Yuuji turned slowly to Kento, his face falling.

Kento huffed, a rueful half-smile on his bloodied face.

"Mrs.Nanamin said you just needed a push. I should have known. You always were a clutch hitter, Yuuji."

[witherby]

The Littlest Wayne

Or, the one where Bruce brings home a baby, and your adorable little face wins the heart of your new, big brothers.

Platonic!Reader and Batfam

"Bruce."

"Don't freak out."

"Bruce."

"You're freaking out. I can see it in your eyes, but don't do it."

"This is a problem. This is an actual addiction and you need help."

"You're overreacting. I need everyone to take a deep breath, in and out, and not freak out."

Dick crossed his arms and glared at his father, narrowed eyes shifting up and down in an extremely pointed manner. Tim and Jason were wearing similar expressions, looking either at Bruce himself or the bundle in his arms.

Damian walked across the room and peered down at the bundle, expressionless.

"Father, come on."

Bruce carefully brushed the edge of the blanket away from your face. You scrunched your tiny nose, disturbed, then settled back down without issue. The billionaire had found you abandoned outside the garage doors of the Gotham Fire Station, left there by some overwhelmed mother no doubt. Unfortunately, that particular station was closed on the weekends, because of course this damned city couldn't staff a fire station 24/7, and if he hadn't found you on patrol, you would have frozen to death on the ground.

"They were in danger!" Bruce insisted firmly, but kept his voice soft so as not to frighten you. "Look — they don't have black hair or blue eyes. You can tell I didn't do it on purpose."

"Why not take the baby to the GCPD, then? Or a hospital?" Jason piped up, unamused. "B, cut the bullshit. You can't keep 'em."

"I brought them here first to ensure they didn't need any immediate medical attention."

"Which is something a hospital could do," Tim said.

"An overcrowded and understaffed hospital, that doesn't have the time to spare to give them direct and undivided attention?" Bruce argued. "The med ward in the Cave is just as efficient as an emergency room, if not more so."

"And the fact that you aren't down there with the baby — the baby you are not keeping," Dick chimed in, holding out his arms for you, "means that they're perfectly fine and can be transported safely somewhere else."

"They're sleeping right now," Bruce said, completely deadpan, and made no move to relinquish his hold over you. "We can't put them in a noisy car and upset them. We can drop the baby off in the morning."

"He's getting dangerously attached," Dick hissed to his brothers. "We need the big guns."

"I'll alert Pennyworth," Damian declared, already ducking out of the room. Bruce scowled, aware the battle was quickly turning against his favor. But he could play dirty, too.

He dropped his shoulders and the furrow of his brow turned slightly down, weary and forlorn. He stopped looking at his boys and instead studied all your tiny features, tracing a finger down the bridge of your nose, gently across your lashes, and over your plump little cheeks. You were absolutely adorable. He was already thinking of names for you in his mind.

"You know, I never got to raise any of you from infancy," he stated, not in any pointed manner, just as objective fact. Just quietly enough that they could think Bruce hadn't meant to say it out loud. "Not that I would've wanted to steal that experience from your birth parents. I would never. But...I don't even know what Damian looked like when he was this small."

Dick's eye twitched. The glare was still in place, but his frown was less severe. One down.

"I'm sorry, boys," he sighed, acting as though he were giving in. "The Mission has taken up so much of my time, it's hard not to wonder what I would have been like as a normal father. Just the formative things, like... like changing diapers, and doing Tummy Time, and helping you guys learn to walk."

Tim's eyes grew distant, likely thinking of his own parents and the loneliness he felt growing up in Drake Manor all by himself. He was no doubt recalling how much he wished his mom or dad had been around, to play or to talk to or just to physically be there with him, instead of off traveling the world and leaving him behind to fend for himself.

Two down.

But Jason, despite all that had happened over the years, despite the strain on his relationship with Bruce, had always been the most emotional of his children. He would not be hard to win over.

"This would be a mistake," Bruce stated, looking his second oldest right in the eyes. "They'd be happier somewhere else, somewhere normal. Maybe...maybe one of you could hold them and I can go start the car? I can feel myself starting to get attached, and that's not fair to you, boys. I didn't mean to stress you all out. I wasn't thinking."

Jason huffed, lowering his feet from where they'd been propped up on the coffee table, and stood from the couch to come take you from Bruce. His arms carefully held you to his broad chest, your weight settling against him pleasantly.

He made the mistake of watching you scrunch your face and whine softly, itty bitty hands poking out from your blanket and gripping onto his shirt sleeve with all the strength your small body could muster.

Jason's expression dropped immediately, and he practically melted as he tucked you closer.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Damian and Alfred walked into the living room to find Bruce, Jason, Dick, and Tim all cooing and fawning over you, and the war was lost.

Welcome home, Littlest Wayne.

[thewidowsledger]

Agent

© thewidowsledger 2025 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Undercover Agent!Natasha Romanoff x Mob boss!Female Reader

Word count: 693

Tags | Warnings: None, is the sexual tension in the room with us (?)

Author's Note: This is not a fic, more like a drabble👉👈 I hate how so many good ideas are running in my mind when I am heart broken, so just let me spoil y'all as long as I can :))

Navigation | Masterlist

⧗

"Go home, get some rest."

Natasha lingers by the doorway, shifting uncomfortably. Her eyes darted around the room, and her clasped hands fidget behind her back.

"Nat." You called.

She sighs, leaning against the doorframe and stealing a glance out the window.

"Natasha." You called again, much firmer this time.

Ah, she's in shit now. She knows damn well she's in deep trouble when she hears her full name being used especially by you. "Sorry, boss, guess I'm…distracted."

"That much is obvious." You offer a brief smile from your desk, but it fades just as quickly. "What's wrong, Natasha?"

Oh well, the list goes on and on. Where to begin? First, she's an undercover agent walking a tightrope, knowing her bosses are ready to pull the plug on the operation. Second, she's not a very good agent, since she became too attached to her target, the woman she's been guarding for six months. Lastly, she's an agent, and she's wondering if she should be.

Not that the answer is to join organised crime, either. But she's probably not as…objective as she used to be.

"I'm not sure about tomorrow," she finally admits. She doesn't like lying to you.

"What makes you unsure?"

Tomorrow looms large. The brass is forcing her hand. Natasha already delayed delivering you to them three times, and tomorrow, in the middle of your biggest land trade in years, her fellow agents are going to storm the place. There will be chaos, and you're likely to get caught in the crossfire. And despite her divided loyalties, she knows she'll put her life on the line to protect you. Whether they will question her credibility if she's a traitor or not.

Well all because she's just the agent who fell for her target—the Romeo of the operation. She just hopes that the story doesn't end in tragedy.

"Are we sure the meeting place is secured?"

"You went with Bucky to secure it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"You're nervous," you interrupt smoothly. Your smile is as polished as your satin night dress and the faint, fabricated English accent you wear like armor. Natasha knows it's a front—like her own.

"Can't help it," she shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Your heels click on the floor. The sound haunts her in her dreams.

"I know you can't." You almost sound like you're soothing her. "But try not to let it cloud your judgement."

She nods, brushing a speck off her jacket. It's the best she's ever dressed in her life, all thanks to you. Steve loves to tease her about it, especially the set of black shirt she's never ran out.

You blink as she catches your hand before you can pull away from her completely. "Natasha."

"You," she begins, breaking the strict rule against using names—real or fake—in the office. But you had told her your name yourself, and it's been etched into her mind ever since, like a treasure on a pedestal. "Just…think about tomorrow again."

She meets your gaze, both faces unreadable. Natasha's mastery of concealing emotions comes from years of training, while yours seems effortless. "You're concerned about me?"

She inhales, squeezing your hand tighter. Finally free to tell the truth, she says, "your safety is my top priority."

Something changes in those eyes of yours, but she can't quite tell what it is.

Natasha blinks as you lean in, pressing a light yet deliberate kiss to her cheek. She fights to keep her composure, knowing that you, the boss, rarely shows affection—mercy even less so. But her focus is entirely on calming the storm of butterflies in her stomach.

Oh idiot Romeo, indeed.

You lock eyes with her, your hand steady on her cheek. "We'll be fine," you say with unwavering confidence.

She holds your gaze, resisting the urge to hope for another kiss. Slowly, she lets go of your hand. "If you say so, boss."

You arch a brow. "Back to boss, is it?"

She felt a smirk but more like a smile tug at her lips. "Would you rather I call you something else?"

"Hm, mommy sounds good or perhaps mistress..." A sly smirk crept in your face. Then your hand glides down her chest, skimming over her leather jacket until it rests on the concealed weapon at her belt.

"You tell me, agent."

[dorabellingham]

Bed breaker

warning: there is a part where if your native language is not english, you can substitute :)

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you decide to do certain things and the bed ends up breaking

may contain spelling and translation errors!

You were relaxing on the couch, wearing a light and comfortable dress, still savoring the unforgettable moments of the day. The apartment was silent, except for the sound of your favorite playlist playing softly in the background. It was already night when you heard the front door open.

—Babe?

Jude called, entering the apartment with his hair still damp from the shower in the locker room after training. He was dressed casually, in a tight black shirt and sweatpants.

You stood up with a smile, going to greet him.

—Here!

Jude wrapped you in a tight hug, burying his face in your neck.

—How was the rest of the day? Did you have fun?

—It was perfect. —You answered, feeling his comforting warmth. —And your training?

—Tiring, but nothing I can’t get over. —He pulled you closer, running his hands around your waist, and murmured: —Now all I can think about is how I want to end the day.

You laughed, but you could hear the tone in his voice.

—Oh, yeah? And what would that be like, honey?

He tilted his head, looking into your eyes with a mischievous glint.

—I think you already know.

Before you could answer, Jude picked you up, ignoring the shy protests you whispered.

—Jude!

You exclaimed, laughing as he carried you towards the bedroom.

He gently placed you on the bed and climbed in right after, pulling you towards him. The atmosphere quickly changed from playful to intense, with the closeness of you and his slow, determined touches.

You always loved the way he made you feel —special, wanted, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. And in that moment, you knew he was completely focused on you.

Things heated up quickly, the two of you completely forgetting about the world around you. But then, as the rhythm grew more intense, a loud crack echoed through the room, followed by the sound of wood breaking.

You and Jude froze, exchanging confused looks. And then... the bed gave way completely, the mattress sinking to one side as the frame broke.

You let out a yelp of surprise and then began to laugh uncontrollably. Bellingham, who was half on top of you and half trying to balance himself, let out a deep laugh.

—Are you okay, Y/n?

He asked between laughs.

—I am! But the bed clearly isn’t!

You replied, wiping away tears from your laughter.

—That was a sign that we’re too intense.

Jude joked, sitting on the crooked mattress.

You shook your head, still laughing.

—I knew this bed was flimsy, but you took it to another level, babe!

While you tried to compose yourselves, you started talking without thinking, still lost in the fun of the moment.

—It's completely ridiculous... I don't know how this happened

Jude stopped laughing and looked at you with a mixture of surprise and delight.

—What did you just say?

You blinked, realizing what you had said.

—Oh, sorry, it was automatic.

—No, no, keep going. —He asked, still smiling. —I love it when you talk like that. It's been years since I've heard your accent, sweetie.

You blushed, but decided to continue.

—I don't even know what to say. Maybe you should buy a sturdier bed?

Jude laughed out loud.

—I'm sure I'm going to have to buy one now. But you talking like that… I almost don't want you to stop.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide your smile.

—You're really stupid, Jude.

—And I have no idea what that means, but it sounds cute.

He replied, leaning in to kiss you.

After a few minutes of joking and talking, you decided to improvise. Jude pulled the mattress to the floor and adjusted the pillows.

—This will have to do for now. And tomorrow, we'll buy a bed that can withstand our adventures.

You settled down next to him, still laughing lightly.

—I can't believe the bed broke today.

—I'd say it was a memorable way to end the day.

Jude replied, hugging you.

As the rain gently tapped on the window and tiredness finally caught up with you, you realized that, despite the setbacks, you wouldn't trade that moment for anything. You laughed until you fell asleep, promising that the next one would be even more unforgettable—with a new and much more resistant bed.

[blackdykegirlblogger]

a/n: i'm so terribly sorry for what you're about to witness. happy 2025 whores! may this new year grant you love, light, and tons of great sex (manifesting this for myself too) <3

abby who loves loves loves fucking your lights out. you were always such a good girl for her, always using your head to think such big thoughts and ideas, always showing off your intelligence in every way you could.

and she loved that for you. trust me, she did. you never failed to make her so ridiculously proud of you.

but she also hated it. as delusional as it sounds, as disgusting as it sounds, she liked you best when you didn't have a single thought in your pretty head at all. when your skull was so empty that you could roll your eyes back and see absolutely nothing, think absolutely nothing. her cute lil housewife, pampered and adored and without a care in the fucking world. loose, pliable....just begging to take whatever she offered to give you. crying for it. drooling for it. pure, heartfelt devotion to the one who took such good care of you, who always made you feel so so good :(

she can't have you like that all the time, she's well aware, and has mostly accepted that her little...fantasy was going to have to remain just that. but while abby was never one to daydream, she still thinks about it a lot more than she'd ever like to admit. and it's times like these, like right fucking now, that makes her imagination run wild.

"feel good, pretty?"

she knew you were too dumb to give her an answer, and relished in that fact. she was holding up your thighs with her calloused hands, pushing your knees up to your chest as you reclined flat against hers. she had been pumping her cock in and out of your sopping hole for what felt like a millennium, the white ring around the base of her strap so thick that it dripped off the silicone and onto the mattress below you, adding to the already preexisting puddle. you senses left you several rounds ago, your knees locking and every part of your body going numb. you couldn't hear, couldn't think, hell you could barely even see through the tears clouding your vision. but that's alright. none of it mattered anyway.

truth be told, her stamina has always scared you, the countless hours she spent at the gym never failing to haunt you in bed. but this? this was just fucking cruel. you were ready to stop ages ago, cunt too achy and sensitive to keep going. but she had pleaded and pleaded with you, hitting you with the puppy dog eyes that always never worked as she circled your clit absentmindedly, knowing damn well it never took you long to get all worked up. "had such a long day, baby, was worked to the fucking bone. just one more round, yeah? for me?"

that was back when she still had you in missionary, legs wrapped around her waist as she took what she pleased on top of you. you had agreed because of course you did, but she didn't say jack-shit about having you in a full fucking nelson for hours at a time.

"thaaaattt's it. being such a perfect girl for me, huh? fucking amazing." her tip kissed your g-spot again and again, making streams of droll loll out of your mouth unconsciously as your eyelids fluttered. "good god, this pussy's amazing, doll." and in another life, maybe you would've responded to her praise, would've moaned or whined or did anything but babble mindlessly as her girth stretched you for all you were worth. but, that clearly wasn't now. suddenly, you felt her hands leave the undersides of your knees, instead choosing to wrap the rest of her bulky arms around them as she used her hands to push your head down. you were now forced to stare at the bump in your tummy (well, as much as you could cross-eyed), right underneath your belly button. shit, she was so deep.

she planted her feet firmly into the bed, her hips picking up speed once again as she abuses the drooling cunt between your legs. you couldn't run, you couldn't hide, you could do nothing but lay there all stupid and cockdrunk and take it. just like she wanted. her girl, greedy and grateful and helpless.

"well would you look at that? looks like mama's got herself her own little fleshlight."

[cyrdling]

Lovey (Jason Todd x Reader Oneshot)

a/n: i really hope i wasn't gone too long, lol. hope you guys like the blog retheming! for the story, reader is broke and lives in a shitty apartment.

now, you didn't know jason todd was the red hood. how were you supposed to know that the total hunk with mysterious scars all over and a tendency to leave in the middle of the night was a fucking vigilante? okay, yeah, maybe you were a bit oblivious. but nobody could blame you for it, since you were slaving away at your job and you lived in gotham, for goodness sake. if you had one week without some random attack by the local crazies, you could count yourself lucky. this meant that the time you had outside of work and city-wide emergencies was very, very little- you couldn't really sleep all that much, and you couldn't do any of your hobbies. in essence, you weren't really living- just surviving. no time to think about pretty boy jason, or to figure out how to lie about being fine.

despite your oblivious nature, you knew jason was incredibly observant. you didn't need to know he was a vigilante (which, by the way, he still teases you for) to know that he's very aware of his surroundings. he takes care to be very, very aware of where you are- other things he doesn't really care about. he wants to make sure he knows where you are so he doesn't hurt you if you startle him. he just wants to be as gentle with you as possible. however, because of his observance, he's noticed something is up with you.

he wakes up in the morning to you rushing to get ready for work, remembering how late you went to bed last night. he decides to say something.

"sweetheart, why are you going to work? you slept so late last night," he practically mumbles. he has to keep his voice quiet, or else you might notice the soft little whine to it- he just wants to cuddle and keep you close, so not being able to absolutely breaks his big heart.

"sorry, jay- i need to work, i won't be affording this apartment and i can't miss a day just because i'm too tired. i know you'll miss me, baby, but i'll be back before you know it," you tell him, speaking at a volume normal to you, sure, but the quiet paradise of your bedroom was practically shaking from the sound. jason sighs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes to try and guilt you into staying. you're his little angel, he wants to hug you like a teddy bear while he curls up under your blankets.

you sigh, kissing him on the lips, while his adorable tactic doesn't help his case. then, you grab your phone, and leave. he sighs, deep and tired, as he pulls out his phone to check the time before he gets up. he goes through his morning routine without you- brushing his teeth, combing his hair, putting on his sweats and a tee shirt, eating a balanced breakfast (which he's very sure you didn't do, because the one he made for you and put in the fridge is untouched) and then sitting down in front of the television to think about you.

now, jason doesn't think about you every second of every day- he has to figure out how to save the city, after all- but he definitely comes close. he'll be walking down the street and see some items you might like, in a little storefront. he's watching television, and an ad for that one show you like shows up, and he looks to his side to talk about it with you, but you're not there. he decides that if he wants you to be happier, he'd have to do a lot of work.

first, he goes to the grocery store and buys all the stuff you're running out of, and stuff you've said you wanted to try but never had the funds. he even gets a couple extra things he thinks you might like, too, even if you've never said anything about them. he racks up quite the bill, but it's fine- bruce will pay for it.

second, he goes to a furniture store to replace your ratty couch and get you something cute and nice. he gets you some insanely expensive furniture, especially in comparison with what you bought for yourself, and even got you a couple knickknacks from an antique store nearby. like the first bill jason got, bruce will, once again, pay for it.

last, he goes to the wayne manor. there's some things he wants to get that he can't exactly buy- mainly sentimental things- but he wants to show you that he's making an effort to trust you, and turn your apartment into a home. he gets some framed photos off the walls of his old bedroom, some books, and other little things that he thinks you might find cute. while he's carrying his huge bag of goods, he comes across bruce. they stare each other down for a while, and bruce speaks first.

"is this for your partner?" he asks, stern voice bouncing off the walls and buzzing in jason's skull.

jason smirks, "yeah. what's it to you?" the last word ending in a slight raise of his voice.

bruce sighs. "nothing. just tell me the next time you plan to spend that much money in one day," with that, he turns and leaves- a barely imperceptible smile on his face at the fact that finally, finally jason has found someone to love.

jason hops in his car- he couldn't trust himself to carry that much on his bike, let's be honest- and drives back to your apartment. he drags all his luggage up to your floor, struggling only slightly to open your door. thankfully, all of the furniture he got was delivered- thank goodness for money- and he just took a few trips to carry it up (and also had dick help some).

with all of these things in his sight, he suddenly became insecure. what if you didn't like the foods he got you? what if you didn't like the furniture, or thought the stuff from his childhood room was stupid?

he heard footsteps down the hall.

heard someone fiddling with their keys.

heard the door opening.

you came in, and saw him in the center of a long day of work- his eyes widen, and he greets you- nervously, stuttering a little, just a bit too loud for the situation.

"hey, sweetheart- um- i got you some things," he sighs, almost defeated. oh god, you're gonna hate him. you're gonna leave him for someone who knows what gifts to get you, who knows how to talk to you about things. he feels his palms going clammy, his heart thundering away in his chest, his lungs struggling for air- wait, why are you smiling? you're not supposed to be smiling. does this mean you're happy with this? you laugh, and he feels his heart shoot directly through the upper floors of your apartment and into the stratosphere. he's sure you'd be losing your security deposit for that, but he can't bring himself to care. he'd pay for it, a million times over, just for you.

with his help, you put all of the food away, throw out your ratty couch, rearrange the furniture, and set up the knickknacks and sentimental items around the place. the entire way through, though, jason stares at you starstruck- if you look close enough, you might be able to see the hearts forming in his eyes. he, in his ever-helpful wisdom, told you to quit your job. when you ask why, he only told you one thing- and he kept repeating it whenever you'd ask.

he'd tell you, "it's my job to take care of you, lovey. i'll pay for it," his eyes full of love and his thumb caressing your cheek. he is quite the partner, ain't he?

please reblog if you enjoyed this one!! i definitely had a lot of fun writing it!

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　11:50 PM. DEC 31ST, 2024.

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N shows up at Matt's doorstep at 11:50 PM of New Year's Eve, soaked by the rain and ready to confess her love to him.

WARNING: Insecurities (just a bit). Friends to lovers trope.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is MY idea and work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: Happy New Year, lovelies! 🤍

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

11:45 PM.

December 31st, 2024.

Y/N had never considered herself one for big gestures. She preferred to deal with her feelings by pretending they didn’t exist, tucking them away in the quiet corners of her heart until they faded on their own. That had been her plan for handling her crush on Matt Sturniolo - ignore it, bury it deep, and wait for it to dissolve into nothing.

But the universe had different plans for her.

Instead of subsiding, her feelings for Matt had only grown. They grew with every laugh they shared, every accidental brush of his hand against hers, and every time he looked at her with those soft, oceanic eyes. It felt like the emotions were slipping out of her control, inch by inch, until tonight, when they completely exploded.

Now, she was walking through the freezing rain, her body trembling as water seeped through her clothes. She had never been more determined - or more terrified - in her life.

The Sturniolos' house was a few doors away, its warm glow spilling onto the wet pavement. It was almost midnight, and she knew the triplets and their parents would be gathered inside, celebrating New Year's Eve together. She didn’t care. She couldn’t wait for a "better" time or a "perfect" moment. Her time was now.

It had started hours earlier when she sat in her room with a notebook, jotting down her resolutions for the new year. She wanted 2025 to be different. She wanted it to be clean, honest, and full of things that truly made her happy. But one glaring thing wasn’t right - her feelings for Matt. She couldn’t go another year pretending she didn’t feel the way she did.

The rain fell down harder, and her breath came out in visible clouds as she approached the front door. The cold was relentless, but it barely registered compared to the storm inside her mind.

Her heart hammered as she pressed the doorbell. She could hear Trevor’s nails clicking on the hardwood floor as he bounded toward the door, his excited barking growing louder.

She smiled.

Of course. Having the triplets' parents in Los Angeles for New Year's had meant Trevor was here too.

Drops of water dripped down her face, mingling with her already damp hair, as she clenched her fists at her sides to stop the trembling. She didn’t know what she’d say when the door opened, but she knew she couldn’t leave without Matt knowing the truth.

The clock ticked closer to midnight.

11:50 PM.

Ten minutes until the new year. Ten minutes to change everything.

The door creaked open, and Matt showed up - not surprising, it was always Matt who got the door; Chris and Nick couldn’t be bothered most of the time. He stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob and his expression soft with curiosity.

Trevor bolted out before Matt could say a word, charging toward Y/N. His wet nose nudged her soaked leg, wagging his tail so hard it shook his whole body.

"Hey, boy." Y/N said softly, her voice trembling from the cold as she crouched down to scratch behind his ears. "I missed you."

Trevor barked once, happily, then turned and bounded back into the house, disappearing up the stairs toward the living room, leaving her alone with Matt.

Matt took a step forward, leaning against the doorframe. His brows knit together as his eyes swept over her, taking in the rain-slicked hair plastered to her face, her damp, trembling figure, and the strange look in her eyes - something between fear and anxiety.

"Y/N?" He asked cautiously, his voice quiet but edged with concern. "Hey, what are you doing here? Are you okay? It's almost midnight."

She wrapped her arms around herself, looking down at the wet ground beneath her feet.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just need to talk to you." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be quick, I promise."

Matt blinked in surprise, his gaze flickering toward the warm glow of the living room. He hesitated for a moment, then looked back at her.

"Okay." He said slowly, though his tone was laced with uncertainty. "But you should come inside. You’re soaked, and it’s freezing out here."

Y/N shook her head quickly, her voice catching as she replied.

"No. I can’t. I don’t even know if you’ll hate me after this, and I... I think it’s better if we stay out here."

Her words and the desperation in her eyes froze Matt in place. He let out a soft sigh, clearly torn, but he nodded.

"Okay." He repeated, his voice low. "Okay, we’ll stay here."

He stepped out fully onto the porch, the rain spilling over the edges of the roof above them. His hands were shoved into his hoodie pocket, and his expression was unreadable as he waited.

Y/N drew in a shaky breath, staring down at her soaked sneakers.

"Um... The first time we met." She began, cringing when her voice faltering slightly. "You completely threw me off guard."

Matt tilted his head slightly, confusion crossing his face, but he didn’t interrupt.

"I had heard so many amazing things about you on the internet." She continued, her words coming out in a rush. "When you and your brothers moved to LA, to my street, I thought I already had this perfect image of who you were. But then I actually met you."

She glanced up at him briefly before quickly looking away, unable to hold his gaze.

"You were more than I ever imagined. You exceeded every expectation I had in my head. You’re... so sweet, Matt. So kind. So human."

Her voice wavered, but she pushed on.

"You take care of people. You’re a gentleman, and you’re so thoughtful, always putting everyone else before yourself. And then we started spending all this time together. At your house, at mine, sleepovers, just... being with you."

Matt’s expression softened, but Y/N kept her eyes fixed on the ground.

"You were always there." She whispered. "And every time you were, you pulled at my heart a little more. You made a home inside it, Matt. You made it warmer. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you."

Her cheeks burned despite the cold rain.

"When I realized how I felt, I was terrified. I thought, 'Why would someone like Matt ever feel the same?'"

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N raised a hand, cutting him off.

"So I hid it." Her voice broke slightly as she added. "I buried it so deep because I couldn’t lose you. I wasn’t ever going to tell you, Matt. I wasn’t. But tonight..."

Y/N took another shaky breath, her fingers trembling as she pushed her damp hair back from her face.

"Tonight." She repeated, her voice quieter now but still steady. "I was sitting in my room, writing down my resolutions for the new year, as I always do, you know that. But then I started thinking about what I wanted for 2025, what I wanted my life to look like, the things I needed to fix, or let go of. And then I realized something." She hesitated, her chest rising and falling as she braced herself. "The one thing I haven’t been honest about with anyone is how I feel about you. And I can’t go into a new year carrying this secret anymore. I just... I can’t."

Matt’s brows knit together as she continued.

"I can’t stop thinking about you, Matt. I think about you all the time. Your laugh, your kind words, the way you’re always so thoughtful. The way you smile at me like I’m the only person in the room. Everything about you, every little piece of you, it’s always on my mind."

Her voice trembled, but she didn’t stop.

"Every time I see something, it reminds me of you. A song, a movie, even the smallest things, like the way the rain smells or the sound of someone laughing across the street. It all brings me back to you. You’re the only thing that never slips my mind, no matter what time of day it is."

Matt’s lips parted slightly, but he stayed silent, his hands still buried in his hoodie pockets as he listened.

"You’re my best friend." Y/N said, her voice breaking slightly. "But I want more. I need more."

Her eyes finally met his, and for a moment, she forgot the rain, the cold, and the fear pounding in her chest.

"I want to be called yours. I want to be seen by your eyes with love, not just as your friend. I want to be held by your hands, kissed by your lips... I want to be yours, Matt."

Tears mingled with the rain on her face as she finished, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"And I'm so sorry for damping all of this on you like that. I know it’s a lot, and I’m probably ruining everything right now. I-I never wanted to mess up our friendship-"

"Y/N-" Matt interrupted, his voice firm but gentle, but she didn’t even hear him, lost in the whirlwind of her thoughts.

"And I don’t want you to feel bad for rejecting it. I know you don’t feel the same way, because why would you? People like you never fall in love with people like me-"

"Y/N."

His voice was louder this time, cutting through her rambling like a sharp blade. She froze, her eyes widening as she finally looked at him.

"Y/N." He said again, softer now, his eyes locking with hers. "You're so silly. People like me fall in love with people like you all the time, actually."

"What?" She whispered, her voice barely audible. Her brows knitted together in confusion, her lips parting as if to say something else, but nothing came out of them.

Matt shook his head, a small, breathy laugh escaping his lips before he leaned in.

His hands found her waist, gripping her soaked shirt as he pulled her closer, and then his lips were on hers. The kiss was everything at once, soft yet intense, hesitant yet confident, warm despite the cold rain pouring down around them.

Y/N gasped softly against his mouth, her hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his messy hair. His lips were softer than she could’ve ever imagined, moving against hers with a fervor that sent shivers down her spine.

Their mouths opened, their tongues brushing and intertwining in a dance that felt both foreign and natural. The rain mixed with their saliva, the taste of each other blending with the crispness of the winter air.

Matt’s hands tightened on her waist, grounding her as her knees threatened to give way, and her fingers tugged lightly at his hair, earning a quiet groan from him that she felt more than heard.

The world around them seemed to fade away, the cold forgotten as their shared warmth became the only thing that mattered.

And then, like magic, the sound of fireworks exploded in the distance, the vibrant colors illuminating the dark, rain-soaked sky. Cheers and laughter echoed from nearby houses, and Y/N’s mind registered what was happening: midnight.

12:00 AM.

January 1st, 2025.

New Year's Day.

Slowly, they broke apart, their breaths mingling in the space between them as their foreheads rested together. Y/N’s heart was racing, her cheeks flushed despite the chill, and she could see the reflection of the fireworks in Matt’s eyes.

"Happy New Year." He whispered, his voice soft and filled with something she could only describe as love.

She laughed breathlessly, a smile breaking across her face.

"Happy New Year." She replied, her voice light despite the tears still glistening in her eyes.

Matt pulled back slightly, his lips twitching into a small smile.

"So... do you want to come inside now? I think you’ve been out in the rain long enough."

Y/N chuckled, nodding.

"Yeah, I think I do."

He reached for her hand, his fingers warm and steady as they intertwined with hers, and together, they walked inside the house, leaving the cold rain and the past year behind.

[lowkeyerror]

Congrats on Your Divorce

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: Requested, fluff & smut, librarian!reader, divorced!Wanda, smut, fingering, thigh-riding, cunnilingus

Summary: You befriend Wanda, a regular at the library you work at, after learning about her divorce. The friendship becomes something more one day when you come over to help her with her sick kids. As your relationship progresses you even talk about buying a home together, which leads to a physical manifestation of how much you love each other.

An: It took me awhile because I got a little carried away. I hope I did your request justice 🙇‍♀️.

Masterlist

You enjoyed the mundane lifestyle that came with working at the library. There was a comfort that came with knowing that you worked in something of a community center. Being able to provide a service that for some was the highlight of their day. In this day and age having regulars at the library was a rarity, especially the adults. Kids would come after school for homework or for research purposes, but the adults were few and far between.

Technically it may have been weird that you had a favorite but you couldn’t help yourself. There was a woman named Wanda, she’d come once a week ask for a recommendation and sit there the whole day and read it.

She’d always make a comment or two on the book on her way out and it made you smile. It was good to know she appreciated your picks. Though there were other staff members she only really asked you.

When she missed one week, you found yourself discouraged. One week turned to two and so forth until it had been a month since you saw the woman.

“Y/n, it looks like your regular is back. She might need a little assistance,” one of your coworkers approaches you.

“What are you talking about?”

They give you a look that says ‘seriously’, “Ms. Recommendations, she’s in the non-fiction section looking a little worse for wear.”

You nod and make your way over to the section. There you find Wanda. Your coworker was not exaggerating. She looked so fragile as if she was just waiting for the tears to fall. She was staring at the books, but it was easy to tell that she wasn’t really reading anything.

“Looking for anything in particular,” you say softly, trying not to startle her.

She seems to snap out of her trance enough to try and answer you, “No, not today.”

It felt like she was speaking on autopilot. If it were another guest, you would’ve let her be, but this was Wanda. Perhaps it was a bit para-social but it felt like you knew her better than the average customer.

“I- I don’t mean to overstep, but are you alright?”

She lets out a tired sigh, “That obvious?”

You attempt to back track, “No… uh it’s just I haven’t seen you around in a while."

She looks away for a moment, “ Yeah, I um got a divorce. So I’ve been a hermit as of late.”

“Oh, congratulations.”

Wanda can’t help but laugh at your words, “Most people have been saying they’re sorry to hear, but congratulations? It’s kind of refreshing.”

You shrug, “Well I don’t think divorce is always a bad thing. It’s hard for sure, but it’s better than staying in a situation you don't deserve.”

“What if I was in the wrong?’ Her eyes are glued to the floor as she speaks.

“I may be overstepping again, but I doubt that's the case. You don't seem like the kind of person,” your tone doesn't make her argue, instead a look of relief crosses her face.

“I'm not,” she says taking a deep breath.

You smile at her, “Then it’s their loss.”

She smiles back at you, “I guess you’re right.”

Glad to have made her feel even a little bit better, you begin to leave the aisle she's in. You dint get far before there’s a gentle tug on your wrist. You turn back to stare into Wanda’s warm green eyes.

She’s nervous as she speaks, “I don’t know if I’m too old to be doing this, but fuck it. I could really use a friend right now and I was wondering if you’d be open to getting coffee or something, whenever you’re free.”

You stare at her for a few seconds before nodding, “I’m off in about 15 minutes, there’s a café a few blocks over that I think everyone should try at least once.”

Her excitement builds up in her features. She clears her throat to hide it, “I’ll wait for you by the YA novels?”

“Sounds perfect.”

From that day on Wanda wasn’t just a regular customer anymore, she was your genuine friend. She was also one of the sweetest people you had ever met in your life. She was unbelievably strong too.

The details of her divorce were quite messy. A touch of infidelity here and there, mixed with a custody agreement was a recipe for disaster.

You always offered to be there in any way you can’t for. She usually turns down your more serious offers for help, and sticks to fun small outings. You can tell that she’s somewhat embarrassed by her situation, but you don’t think there’s anything she should be embarrassed about.

“Y/n, I know I said I was free to go out today, but Tommy is sick and Billy isn’t doing that great either, can I give you a rain check?”

She called you and you could hear the tiredness and distress in her voice, “Let me come over and help you, Wands. Two sick kids is rough work, I know you could use a hand.”

She’s silent on the line, but the coughs and sinus filled conversation doesn’t stop.

Wanda sighs, “Okay, do you think you can bring me some medicine? I’ll text you some ingredients I need for soup too if that’s alright?”

“Whatever you need, I’ll see you in a bit,” you say simply.

You follow through on your word picking up various cough, cold, and fever medicines along with some cough drops. You nearly forget about the stuff for the soup, until Wanda texts you something she left off the ingredient list. After picking up everything you head to her house.

You’d been to her house before, but never when her kids were there. You had seen them with her a few times at the library, but back then you didn’t quite deduce that they were her children. It feels so obvious now, but Wanda was definitely a young mom in your opinion, or at least she looked like one.

You rang the doorbell and waited with the groceries in your hand. It took a moment but eventually the door swung open revealing Wanda. Though your hands were full, she’s the one who had bags under her eyes. She looked as though she would fall over any second.

“You’re a godsend Y/n,” she tries to take the bags from your hands but you don’t let her.

“And you’re sick too, here I figured this would happen,” you rummage through the bags and pull out a medicine that’s for adults.

“It’s drowsy.”

You nod, “I know, I figured you need the rest anyway, let me handle its.”

Wanda shakes her head, “Are you crazy? You think you can handle my two kids and me on your own?”

You smile at her, “You underestimate me, Maximoff. Let me show you what I can do.”

“We’ll see, but first come meet them properly.”

You sit the bags down in the kitchen, opting to take the medicine upstairs with you. She takes you to their room.

Tommy is propped up in his bed watching as Billy plays videogames from his spot on the floor.

“Tommy, Billy, this is my friend Y/n. She’s going to help us out today,” Wanda introduces you.

“The library lady,” Billy sounds congested as he speaks.

You nod your head enthusiastically, “ Yep, that’s me. I heard you boys were sick, so I brought some stuff to make you feel better.”

Tommy gags, “Ew medicine.”

You sympathize with him, “Ew is right, but it’s worth it I promise. In fact, I’ll sweeten the deal, you guys take your medicine, and I’ll make you the best soup of your life in return.”

“Better than mom’s?” Billy questions.

“ 1 million times better,” you egg him on.

Tommy is more hesitant, “I don’t know.”

You get closer to him, crouching so you can meet his level, “How about when you’re feeling better, we go out to the arcade and get some ice cream too.”

That seems to be enough for the boy, “That sounds awesome.”

While you’re chatting with them Wanda starts to prepare the medicine cups for the boys. They take the medicine with all the dramatics that children do.

“Ok, we’ll be back to check on you guys, shortly. Billy, get some socks baby. Tommy stay under the covers sweetheart."

The both of you exit the room and head back down the stairs. Wanda moves to start unloading the groceries, but you stop her.

“If you’re not going to fully rest, at least sit. I can make the soup,” you point to the barstools she has in her kitchen.

“Are you sure? I can help-"

You block her from opening the next bag. She looks into your gaze, which holds no feeling of malice or resentment. Instead she finds a warn and tender look behind your eyes.

“I’ve got it.”

She listens to your directions and takes a seat

She watches as you prep the ingredients, ever so often asking where she keeps certain things. Otherwise there is a fluid motion to your movements in the kitchen.

“You know you don't have to take them to the arcade just because they took the medicine, right?”

You pause slightly from chopping vegetables to look up at her, “I probably should’ve asked if it was okay with you first, but I don’t mind taking them. They seem like good kids, which isn’t a surprise at all considering they’re your kids.”

She beams at your words, “They’re a little more docile in this state, but they can be a handful at times. We haven’t really had a big outing like that since the divorce, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

“Then consider it done, as soon as they’re better let me know. We can all go out and have some fun.”

Wanda can’t help the feeling she gets hearing you talk so nonchalantly about going out with her kids. It’s something like a spark, that she hasn’t felt in a long time. She takes this time to really look at you, you’re stunning. Truth be told Wanda had always found you a little attractive, but she wrote it off as you just being conventionally good looking. However now, with you standing in her kitchen cooking for her and her kids. She’s starting to think it’s more than that.

“Do you like children, Y/n?”

“I have a soft spot for kids, it’s partially why I chose to work at the library. I had kind of a rough upbringing as a kid. It was just me and my mom, and money wasn’t all that great, but I remember her taking me to almost all the community events they hosted at the library. We spent a lot of time there. When I was old enough to go on my own, it was rare that I didn’t go. The library is such a haven for kids it’s one of my favorite things about it.”

Wanda felt herself melting under the sincerity of your words, “That’s really sweet.”

You start cooking down the vegetables before you answer, “Yeah, if I wasn’t so crazy about the library, I would’ve been a chef. I actually applied to a few culinary schools in high school, pretty ambitious but I had won a few competitions. I had offers and full ride scholarships to some of the best schools out there, but I chose to become a librarian instead.”

Wanda tilts her head to the side playfully, “So you weren’t just talking shit when you said you’re going to make a soup 1 million times better than mine.”

You laugh, “Technically I’m using the ingredients that you told me to get, so it’s more like our soup. I’m just tweaking a few measurements and cooking it a little different. It’s like a group project, if you will.”

Wanda laughs even harder, “You’re so full of shit.”

“Language, there are children present.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “They’re upstairs."

“Children have super good hearing Wanda, trust me, I’m a librarian.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle. She watches as the soup comes together a lovely aroma fills the kitchen, her mouth waters at just the smell.

“It smells delicious.”

You motion her over to the stove next to you. She scurries over, which makes you smile. She looks utterly adorable and ethereal at the same time. You began to notice it over the last few times you had hung out. Wanda was simultaneously the cutest and the most beautiful woman, you think you’d ever met in your life

“Taste,” you hold a spoon full of soup up for her.

She hesitates a little, but decides to just eat from the spoon while you hold it. Her eyes close as the flavors dance on her tongue. She lets out an involuntary moan, that has her blushing as soon as it leaves her mouth.

“Oh my god, that’s the best soup I’ve ever had in my life,” Wanda stares at you in awe.

“I hope the boys think so too.”

Wanda helps you fill the bowls for them, “They’re going to love it.”

True to her words the boys devour the soup going as far as to ask for seconds. Neither of you can deny them another bowl. Once they eat, you can see the food working in tandem with the medicine to tucker them out. Before they’re completely out of it you and Wanda get them ready for bed.

It feels more normal than either of you expected. By the time you’re done, both twins are now in bed. The tv plays something at a low volume, but you and Wanda are both aware that the kids will likely be asleep as soon as you leave the room.

When you leave you head back to the kitchen fixing 2 more bowls of soup for Wanda and yourself. You eat amongst each other with small chatter, but it’s comfortable. When you’re done, you almost have to fight Wanda to allow you to do the dishes.

She pouts, once again sitting at the barstool watching you clean.

“You haven’t let me help this whole time,” she whines.

“I’m here to help you, not the other way around,” you remind her.

Wanda places her hands on her hips, “But if you’re doing everything, what am I supposed to do?”

“Just sit there and look pretty,” you say without thinking.

Wanda feels her face heating up, losing track of how many times it has happened today alone, “Look pretty, huh?”

You can feel your ears heating with embarrassment, “oh I- well.”

“Oh my god are your ears turning red, that’s literally adorable. Are you flustered, Y/n?” Wanda teases.

You glare at her with faux-anger, “My ears? Your cheeks are just as red.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

You wash your hands, quickly drying them before approaching her. You keep walking until there is virtually no space between the two of you. You look down at her, you don’t stop your eyes from dropping to her lips.

“Oh really?”

She looks up at you, her cheeks indeed, red like you had mentioned.

“And if they were?”

“Maybe I’d say that it’s adorable,” you use her words against her. “Or maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Her eyes dart to your lips.

You look back into her eyes, “Maybe, I’d kiss you.”

“I’d like that.”

That was all you needed to hear. She met you halfway and, in an instant, you were kissing. Your hand rested on the small of her back, while her hands locked around your neck. It was cliché but it was cute. The kiss itself was respectable, but still filled with a feeling of longing.

Wanda’s hands drop from your neck to lightly push you back, “I’m divorced with two kids Y/n-"

You stop her before she can even rant, “I know, Wanda. I’ve been here, maybe not the whole time, but most of it. I don’t care that you’re divorced and I’d love to get to know your kids. I’d love to get to know you better.”

“I feel like you already know me, Y/n. We’ve been friends for over a year now. We’ve spent so much time together, I’m just surprised you’re not tired of me yet.”

You take her hands in yours, “I could never get tired of you. I’m quite literally asking for more. Let me take you out some time.”

“Are you sure?”

It’s bold, but you place a quick kiss on her lips, “Positive."

From there things just seem to fall into place. You kept your promise to the boys, taking them out when they recovered from their sickness. Wanda was impressed by how well you mingled with them considering her ex always seemed to struggle to relate. However you, had no problem tapping into that childlike like amazement that the kids felt.

Soon after that outing, you and Wanda went on your first real date. You took her out to a nice restaurant. It was an upscale establishment, the prices weren’t even on the menu. Wanda tried to fret about how she didn’t know if she deserved this kind of treatment, but you always reassured her.

You believe she deserved the best and as long as you could give it to her you would.

It only took 4 dates before you asked her to be you girlfriends, not being the best at waiting. Luckily for you she agreed and truth be told if you would’ve asked her on the first date she probably would’ve said yes then.

At this point you’ve been dating for a little over a year. The twins are with their father for the weekend, and Wanda is staying over at your apartment.

The two of you are on the couch. She’s resting in your arms as you watch tv, “Wanda.”

She looks up, “Yes, detka.”

“How attached are you to your house?”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Why?”

You hold her gaze, “Is it crazy if I say that I want us to live together?”

Wanda plays with your fingers, “No, I don't think so.”

You kiss her forehead, “It’s just a thought.”

“You want to buy a house?”

You nod curtly, “We don't have to leave the area, I know the boys have school and I wouldn't want to pull them away or make them start fresh or anything, but I’ve been looking at some homes in the area. Something a little bigger, Billy and Tommy could both have their own room and a huge backyard. Maybe a dog, in the future.”

Wanda cups your face gently, pulling you down to kiss her, “I would love to buy a home with you Y/n.”

“Really?”

Wanda kisses you again, “Really.”

“I love you,” your eyes softening as the words fall from your lips.

“I love you too.”

Your lips are connected again, this time neither of you break the kiss. Instead Wanda shifts in your lap to straddle your waist. Her hands playing with the tiny hairs on the back of your neck. Your hands start at her thigh but end up sliding up to her hips, and soon your fingers are in contact with the cool skin of her stomach.

You aren’t able to stop yourself from kissing down her jaw. She moves her hair and cranes her neck to give you more access. Your teeth sink into her neck only for your tongue to soothe the skin. You suck the spot tenderly, causing little whines to emanate from Wanda.

“Y/n,” your name is breathless on her lips.

She doesn't have to say anything else for you to stand up with her still in your arms. You carry her to the bedroom. Once you’re in there and her feet are on the floor, you pull her shirt off. Yours follows after.

Wanda feels herself getting wet under your gaze. The way you take in her bare chest, eyes blown with want. While you stare she gets rid of the rest of her clothes. You eagerly do the same.

You pull her flush against your body. Skin heating upon contact.

“You’re perfect,” your thumb toys with one of her nipples.

Your head dips to take it into your mouth. You suck lightly, ever so often slowly fanning your tongue over the nipple. You do the same to the other nipple, while your hand cups her warmth. You moan at her wetness.

“ I need you,” she whispers.

You kiss her tenderly, backing her onto the bed. You’re gentle as you ease two fingers into her. She arches her back slightly, and her kiss becomes sloppier.

You’re in no rush as you slowly build pace. Her finger nails dig into your back.

“More please,” she buries her head in your neck.

You begin pumping at a faster pace, using your thumb to stimulate her clit. Her ragged breaths in your ear only turn you on even more.

You jolt as you feel her hand in-between your legs. Her fingers play through your folds and you hear her gasp in your ear.

“All for me baby?”

You nod, “All for you, Wands. Can I taste you, baby?”

“Fuck,” Wanda murmurs.

She pulls her fingers from you, signaling for you to suck them. You take them in your mouth, swirling you tongue around the digits, high off of your own taste.

Once her fingers exit your mouth, you maneuver down her body. You momentarily take your fingers out of her. She doesn’t have time to complain before you’re sucking on her clit.

“Holy shit,” she entangles her hands through your hair.

You keep eye contact with her as you lick, suck, and slurp her pussy. She throws her head back, taking her lip between her teeth. You can see sweat illuminating her body.

Soon you add your fingers back and you can feel her approaching her edge.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she keeps repeating the mantra as she reach her peak.

You don’t stop when she cums on your tongue, only slowing your motions, to help her come back down.

“You did so good for me baby,” you say kissing up to her lips.

She shifts so her thigh is against your dripping cunt, “Your turn, my love. Use me.”

You see her flex her thigh, which causes you to moan, “Fuck, Wanda.”

Your hands rest on her shoulder as you begin to grind down on her. Her hands are on you, but the movements are all yours. Wanda watches with blown eyes as you fuck yourself on her thigh. Her hands climb up your sides to massage your breasts. You bite your lip as her fingers play with your nipples.

Wanda sits up slightly, just enough to get her mouth on your body. She sucks on near the top of your breasts, trailing hickeys across.

“I love it when you make a mess on my thigh, cum for me, moya lyubov.”

You cum all over her thigh. Her arms wrap around your midsection holding you steady as you shake. Her head rests against your chest, listening to your wild heart beat return to normal. She places a delicate kiss on your shoulder.

“I love you.”

You kiss the top of her head, “I love you too.”

Once you’re both cleaned up, you settle in bed for the night. You’re start out as the big spoon but soon Wanda turns to face you.

“I was so scared before you came into my life,« she admits.

“Wanda-"

She shakes her head, “Let me finish. I was so lost, I didn't know what to do, if there was anything I could do to feel like myself again. There were so many days I went through thinking I was unlovable. Then you show up, and all of those feelings and thoughts just leave. I’ve never felt so cared for. You make me remember all of the things I love about myself. You make love seem so easy, it feels obvious when you’re with me. I’ve never experienced a love like you’ve given me and I need you to know I love you too. I’ve never felt what I feel for you with anyone else.”

Wanda starts out loud and sure, but by the end her voice is quiet. She doesn’t break eye contact, fighting against her insecurities.

There are no more words shared between the two of you. Wanda kisses you with everything she is feeling and you return her fervor. She pecks you again before burying her head in your chest. You hold her tightly in your arms wondering how you ended up being so lucky.

Her words make emotion swell inside of you. Your voice cracks when you speak, “You are the love of my life. I was doing alright before, but you and the boys are truly everything I’ve been missing in my life. Getting to be with you, a part of your family, it means everything to me Wanda. Thank you, for letting me love you.”

[siasthoughts]

↳ ❝ [ i missed you. ] ¡! ❞

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ IN RAFAYEL'S LANGUAGE.

CONCEPT; inspired from the in-game feature where you leave them for too long.

TOPICS; gn!reader . yearning rafayel 😞 . begging . kissing . intimacy not smut . suggestive . slight angst?? . idk how to explain

will prolly do sylus next, idk if i can do zayne n xavier idk ab them enough 💀 (only cared ab sylus n raf when i played the game)

⊂⊃ SYLUS VERSION

what does he do now? he's sent you endless messages, emails, even asked thomas to check up on you at your place but you weren't even there! do you hate him? did he do something wrong? was he annoying you too much?

tell me, just please, don't leave me in the dark, not again.

he sighs as he lays on his couch, staring at the canvas that's been left blank ever since it's been hung up. his phone rests on the mess of a coffee table, he's muted everyone but you. hoping that his phone would ping or ring, even just once.

he flinches as his doorbell rings, his hopes rising for just a moment before his shoulders slump once more. he sighs, it's probably just a delivery again. he reluctantly gets up, endless bundles of paper and brushes scattered across his floor as he heads to the door. he takes a deep breath, knowing that it's probably not you, but a small part of him was hoping, just hoping...

he finally opens the door, his eyes slowly making its way up the figure in front of him, widening as it clicks. you. his breath hitches in his throat, and he swears he forgot how to breathe for a second. he huffs, his melodrama begins. he moves to close the door, hoping you'd stop him, and you do.

"rafayel, i'm sorry." you start, placing your hand against the door to stop him from closing it, "i know-"

"glad to see you're alive." he bluntly interrupted, turning away from you as his fingers wrap tight around the door knob, "i don't know if i am though." he scoffs, turning back to you with glazed, teary eyes, his jaw tense.

your eyes widen, "let me in please, raf, let me explain." you plead, your eyes filled with eagerness. you push weakly, and his equally weak hand moves aside to let you have a peek inside at the state of his home.

it was messy before, but now... takeouts were scattered across the tables and floors, paintbrushes untouched and crumpled papers filling the space, "what's the point? it seems like you do fine without me." he murmurs, though despite his words, he opens the door and leans against the frame.

he keeps his head low in a luring effort to hide his tears. you sigh, reaching up for his cheek to wipe the tears beginning to fall quietly, "it's been an entire two months." he speaks barely above a whisper as his voice cracks, "not once did you text, or update me at least." he hisses lowly. "a simple, 'sorry i've been busy.' would've been fine."

"i know, i know..." you respond in defeat, tilting his head up gently to make his eyes meet yours. "but i'm here now, okay?" you reassure, your voice soft and tender.

he leans into your palms, letting your voice soothe his soul, "don't do that again." he murmurs, his voice a mix of threat and nervousness. "no, i won't let you." he continues sternly, breathing in your scent as he wraps his arms around your waist firmly.

you huff, letting him wrap his trembling hands around you, "it's okay, i'm here." you whisper, stroking his hair gently. he groans, kissing the crook of your neck as he pulls you inside, one hand reaching out to shut the door as his pent up need and longing finally spills out of his fingertips and lips.

his body speaks of his need, his movements clumsy and hasty yet filled with intent as he pushes both of you back towards his plush couch. scattered items rested on the sides, and his hands made quick, thoughtless work of sweeping them away, sending them clattering across the floors along with the other things.

"rafayel-" you murmur breathlessly as he greedily marks you with kisses, his lips trailing down the column of your neck as his hands mindlessly roamed your body, not having a designsted destination, only with the simple thought of having to hold you in mind.

"don't leave me, please," he says in between needy kisses, "i can't take it, not again." he mutters, his hips subtly grinding against yours, slowly, wanting to feel every inch of you against him. "you were driving me insane." he hisses, his hands gripping onto your hips as he guided your body, to move it against his.

"not responding..." he huffs, whispering into your ear as his warm breath grazed your skin, reminding you of the slight guilt that came along whenever you thought of him in those busy times, "you know, i couldn't even help myself even when i needed a release." he groans, his arousal growing stiff under his pants.

ah, those times, when he'd want to cum, to just relieve some stress. he couldn't, not without you actually being there. the way he'd helplessly pump into his hand with sweat coating his skin from how desperate he was for some relief...

"i won't let you get away, not this time." he hisses, the grip on your hips tightening, as if you were going to disappear any moment.

𓆩♡𓆪

╰┈➤ END OF PAGE! RETURN HOME?

[revelboo]

So the joints on the 2024 golden lagoon set are very brittle. Reached out to the company and they said the 2025 set will have improved joints. Had to perform knee surgery on starscream but he's good now (rip inferno I'm sorry I stole your joints) and the company is sending a new set of the improved ones when they receive their 2025 sets

Ahh! His little smirk.. I want to open the package now even worse... very, very carefully

Everything Is Alright Pt 102

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Soundwave’s servos tighten on you in a subtle warning. Not that you need one, having no intention of telling the warlord about that since you have no idea how he’ll respond. Tucking your face against Soundwave’s neck, hiccuping now you’re so upset, you can’t even care that you’re still on Soundwave. Megatron’s walked in on you enough times, it’s hard to care anymore. Mostly, but a mortified part of you dies a bit more every time. “Argument,” Soundwave says, hands running over you soothingly as you try to get yourself together. You’re lying, that anger in Star’s voice hooks at you, making you want to start sobbing all over again.

• Optics narrowing as you hide your face against Soundwave, Megatron hesitates before sitting on the edge of the berth, hands dangling between his thighs. Wishes it was only Soundwave, not you too, but at least you’re not looking at him with those eyes. “Why a human?” He asks and you do peek at him, face flushed and wet with tears as he watches his old friend cup the back of your head. Wanting to understand this. “The size difference?” And you make a choked little sound that he suspects is a laugh as Soundwave bumps his helm against your forehead, rubbing his cheek against yours to make you loop your arms around his neck. The intimacy of the interaction making his spark ache even though he doesn’t know why.

• “Because of who they are,” Soundwave growls. Not the most talkative mech by any means, he knows this is important. Making Megatron understand that you’re not a plaything to him is a step forward to making you safe and keeping you that way. Knows the warlord is curious about you now that the anger has burned low. And that he could make you safest by twisting that curiosity into something else. Something Starscream will hate him even more for. Retracting his mask, he brushes his mouth against your cheek. “Sweet, little mate.”

• Low voice dipping to a rumbling croon, you lay your cheek against his shoulder. Still able to keep an eye on Megatron as you wonder at Soundwave’s seeming indifference to being so small around Megatron. He’s not terrified of him like Star is. At the thought of him, that hollow, aching pain doubles and Soundwave croons more insistently at you. The deep sound humming through you and unraveling the fear and tension, seeming to whisper to you that it’s okay, to not worry.

• Transforming, silhouetted against the bright sky, he hangs there trying to get himself together. A lie. A trick. But the look that has been on your face? That pain was real. If it is? If he somehow sparked you? Primus, he’s not cut out to be a sire. Thinks of the manipulations and casual cruelty of his own carrier and that anxiety cranks tighter, because he can’t do this. Can’t be what you need him to be even though he wants it. What if he’s every bit as awful as his carrier was? If his sparkling despises him and you because of him. There are so many horrible what ifs digging into him, tearing into his processor. That he’s not good enough, not good at all. That pain in your eyes. Like you’re sure he’s abandoning you again, as lost as you’d been that night he’d tried to set you free. Reaching out a hand after him and crying out his name. Pleading to not be left. And he’d done it again, leaving you scared and reaching after him when you’d needed him most. Transforming, he races back to you. Back to home and a future he desperately wants even if it terrifies him.

Previous

[wchswift]

hii!! i'm a big fan of your writingss!! they're all so amazinggg and the way you portray the emotions in the character is something i wish i could try :3

i saw your request is opened and i have this little idea: oldman logan tries to comfort his s/o (they're having a bad day at work and accidentally snaps at logan) IM SORRY IF THE IDEA IS LAME 😭

and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Pairing: old man logan x reader Summary: You had a hard day at work and when Logan tries to take care of you, you just snap at him. Content: established relationship, angst, yelling, comfort, fluff, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 1.2k notes: heyy, zayn!! tysm for your request and for your words, you are so sweet, I'm glad you like what I write!! The idea is not lame at all, I loved the idea and I hope it did justice to what you imagined <3 Happy new year 😊

The low rumble of the limo engine died as Logan cut the ignition. The evening had settled into an uneasy silence, thick and heavy, the kind that crept in after a long, thankless day. A fine sheen of dust clung to the once-sleek black of the car, mirroring the grit beneath Logan’s nails and the wear etched into his features. He sighed, staying inside the car for a moment, enjoying that he was finally home. That he was finally back with you.

The house door creaked open under his heavy hand. He didn’t call out. Years of instinct had taught him the value of silence, though tonight, it wasn’t just habit. He could feel it—like a pulse in the air—the black cloud hovering.

Inside, the light over the small kitchen buzzed faintly, illuminating a lone glass on the counter. You sat slumped on the couch, head in your hands, the uniform from the bar rumpled and stained with traces of a shift too long and customers too careless.

Logan lingered in the doorway, taking you in. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too lost in thoughts, in an internal battle. The air smelled faintly of stale beer and cleaning solution, the scent of dish soap clinging to your skin. You were clearly tired—bone-tired in the way that made you hollow, made you sharp without meaning to be.

He stepped inside, boots scuffing against the floor, and shrugged off his jacket. “Hey,” he murmured. “You eaten yet?”

You flinched at the sound of his voice, head still resting in your hands. You just shook your head, jaw tightening.

“Not hungry,” you muttered, tone clipped.

Logan frowned, setting his jacket down. “You should eat somethin’. Gotta keep your strength up after a shift like that.”

You exhaled sharply, pressing your palms against your temples. “Logan, please.”

He stilled, brows knitting. "What? Rough night?” Logan’s voice was gravel, softened by an edge of concern.

Your voice rose, the frustration spilling out before you could stop it. “Yes! And I don't need you lecturing me.” You broke off, dragging your hands down your face. “I just need you to stop for a minute.” Your words were a knife: sharp, unintended, but cutting all the same. “Can’t you just let me have a minute?”

The words hung in the air. Logan stood there, unmoving, the weight of the day and your tone sinking into his chest like stones in a deep well. He wasn’t a man of many words, nor one prone to anger over things like this. But it hurt—because it was you.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low. “Sure.”

The anger was quicksand now, sucking her down even as she clawed at the surface. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t mean to, but the day’s weight pressed against your chest, leaving no room for patience or kindness.

He set his keys down with a muted clink and walked to the kitchen. The scuff of his boots against the floor was the only sound as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. Logan wasn’t good at this. Words failed him more often than not.

The guilt came rushing in, fast and unrelenting, as you watched him lean against the counter, his shoulders hunched under the weight of more than just your words.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking the stillness.

He cut you off with a small shake of his head, stepping closer. “Don’t. We’ve all got days, darlin’. You don’t gotta explain.”

But you did, because that’s who you were. You reached for his hand, calloused and scarred, your grip tight.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Logan crouched in front of you, his presence solid and grounding, and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was rough but careful, like he was afraid of breaking something delicate.

“I get it,” he said simply. “The world’s got a way of piling on. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

Your hand brushed his arm, tentative but seeking connection. “Yeah, but you don't deserve it,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just—work was hell tonight. And I...I took it out on you.”

Logan shook his head, getting up and sitting beside you on the couch, pulling you into a loose embrace. His arms were rough but steady, grounding. “You’re allowed to be mad, darlin’. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

You pressed your face into his chest, the scent of sweat and earth and faint tobacco grounding you. “I just hate feeling like this.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, resting his chin atop your head. “I know the feelin’. But you don’t gotta carry it all by yourself. That’s what I’m here for, even if I ain’t great at it.”

You pulled back enough to look at him, your eyes searching his. “You’re better at it than you think.”

Logan sighed, kissing your head. “That’s what we do, yeah? You’re there when I’m all messed up, and I’m here when it’s you. That’s how it works.”

Your throat tightened, the simplicity of his words striking deeper than any grand gesture ever could. “I don’t deserve you.”

"Cut that out,” Logan muttered, his tone gravelly yet laced with an unexpected tenderness. His brow furrowed, the usual edge to his voice softening into something more vulnerable. “You deserve more than I can give. But this?” He gestured between you two. “This, I can do.”

"You give me everything I need," you practically whispered, the words coming out softly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like an anchor.

Logan cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “C’mon. Let’s get you somethin’ to eat. Even if you don’t want it now, you’ll feel better with somethin’ in your stomach.”

You started to protest, but he raised an eyebrow, a look that was equal parts stern and amused. “Don’t argue. You’ll lose.”

You chuckled, letting him guide you toward the kitchen. “Fine. But only if you eat too.”

“Deal.” Logan opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread. “Scrambled okay? Don’t expect a five-star meal.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, leaning against the counter as you watched him move. His movements were deliberate, a mix of rough efficiency and surprising care.

As the eggs sizzled and the smell of toast filled the air, you felt the tension in your chest begin to ease. Logan’s presence, steady and unyielding, had a way of doing that.

When they finally sat down at the small table, the plates of simple food between them, Logan reached across to brush your hand with his fingers. It was a small gesture, fleeting but grounding.

“Tomorrow’ll be better,” he said, his voice low and sure.

You smiled, squeezing his hand before picking up your fork. “As long as you’re here... I'm sure it will be. Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

“Don’t push it,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

The quiet between them wasn’t heavy anymore—it was comforting. Enough to carry them through the night.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: angst

Series masterlist

The first night without Noah felt like the heaviest.

You slipped under the covers, the soft fabric of your pajamas feeling foreign against your skin in the quiet of the room.

Your house felt cold and empty, now that you were used to spending almost every night at Noah's. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to find some comfort in its warmth, but it did little to ease the ache in your chest. The silence around you seemed louder than ever, pressing in from all sides.

The thought of how you were going to live without Noah now weighed on you—heavy and suffocating. No more goodnight texts to look forward to. No more knowing that when you woke up in the morning, his goodmorning text would be waiting, like a little promise that he was thinking of you. It felt strange, almost impossible to imagine a morning where that wouldn’t be the first thing you’d see.

You could already picture the screen lighting up with his name, his words that always made you smile—good night, beautiful. That simple, small gesture that made everything feel a little brighter when you weren’t physically with him.

But there would be no message waiting for you now. There would be no good mornings, no arms around your waist when you’d stir in the early hours of the day. No Noah. The thought made your stomach churn, and the emptiness settled deeper within you. You turned your head, eyes lingering on the empty space beside you. It was cold, untouched, and as the minutes stretched on, you felt a deep sense of isolation.

You grabbed your phone, half-hoping, half-knowing that there would be no text from him.

You were half expecting a "hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted that way. Can I call you?" but you were aware that if you hadn't received it since that morning, it would never have came.

You dropped the phone beside you, closing your eyes tightly as if willing the sadness away. You tried to remind yourself that this was for the best—that everything would be okay, that you’d be fine. But the ache in your chest felt too real, too present.

With a sigh, you curled into yourself, pulling the covers tighter around your body. There was no point in pretending it didn’t hurt, no point in pretending you didn’t long for his touch, the sound of his voice, the comfort of knowing that he still loved you.

You turned onto your side, and you opened your eyes, staring at the wall in front of you, trying to force your mind to slow, but it wouldn't let you. Thoughts of Noah—of his absence—raced through your mind, each one more painful than the last. You had never imagined it would end up like this.

Your heart tightened, and before you could stop it, the first tear since you had stopped crying that morning, slipped down your cheek.

It wasn’t a sob, not a loud cry that broke through the night. It was soft, quiet—just a single tear slipping into the pillow. And then another. Slowly, quietly, the tears came.

You tried to wipe them away, tried to tell yourself you’d be fine, that this was just a moment, just one night. But the ache in your chest wouldn’t go away. You curled up tighter, as if holding yourself would somehow make it hurt less, but it didn’t.

Your breathing became uneven, soft sobs shaking through your body.

And so, with the tears still on your cheeks and your pillow wet, you eventually drifted off to sleep.

You spent the night tossing and turning in your bed, having strange dreams that you remembered nothing of when you woke up.

The first morning you woke up without Noah was the worst.

The morning light filtered weakly through the curtains, but it did nothing to lift the weight pressing on your chest. You woke up with a jolt and you turned your alarm off. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, you thought maybe the day before had all been some twisted nightmare, but then the truth sank in. Noah had actually broken up with you. The words you had tried to avoid saying to yourself now echoed in your mind with cruel finality: He broke up with me.

The realization made your stomach churn. You dragged yourself out of bed, the ache in your chest never fully subsiding, and you moved through the motions—getting dressed, going through the routines—but it all felt so foreign now.

You forced yourself to get to work. The drive and then short walk to the café were mechanical, your feet carrying you without much thought. You couldn't stop your mind from replaying Noah's words, each detail sharper and more painful than the last. You tried to shake it off, but nothing worked.

When you stepped into the café, the familiar smell of coffee and baked goods hit you, but it did little to soothe the hollow ache gnawing at your insides. Grace was already behind the counter, arms crossed, a sharp look in her eyes as she surveyed the room. As soon as she saw you, however, her gaze softened just a fraction, a rare flicker of concern crossing her usually cold demeanor.

She leaned over the counter, arching an eyebrow. “What happened to you? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck.”

You tried to force a smile, but it fell flat, barely a twitch at the corners of your mouth. Grace's eyes narrowed, sensing something deeper than just a rough morning. She stepped closer, studying you with an intensity you weren't really used to from her.

"Hey. What happened?” she asked again, her tone a little less biting than usual.

You opened your mouth to lie, to give some casual response, but the words wouldn’t come. You bit your lip, feeling the lump in your throat rise. And suddenly, there was no avoiding it. You couldn’t keep it inside anymore. “Noah… Noah broke up with me yesterday.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. Grace’s face shifted, the usual sarcasm and sharpness giving way to something softer, more human. For the first time, she didn’t seem like the usual bitchy barista who took pleasure in her snide remarks.

"What? Why?"

"I swear I didn't do anything, Grace. I barely touched Jason. He came drunk at Noah's house in the middle of the night and I let him in because he had nowhere else to go. I was just trying to be... I don't know. Nice? I just didn't want to leave him out. Noah found him there the next morning and there are pictures online and he thinks I cheated on him or something and this was all Jason’s plan because I saw the way he looked at me when he left and I-" you had to stop talking when your eyes filled with tears again.

"Fuck." You whispered to yourself.

Grace stared at you for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, she pushed herself off the counter and walked around to where you stood. “Hey,” she said, her voice quieter now, more sincere. “I know I’m always a bitch, but I’m not a monster. Come here.”

And before you could protest, before you could even fully process what was happening, Grace wrapped her arms around you in a hug. It was awkward at first, like she wasn’t entirely sure how to comfort you, but the warmth of her embrace was unexpected. It wasn’t the type of hug you would’ve expected from her—no witty comment or sarcastic remark—but something real, something unspoken.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured softly, holding you a moment longer than you anticipated. “If Jason shows up here again I swear I will kill him with my own hands. Sorry for thinking he was better than Noah. He's an ass."

You stood there for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or cry. But all you could do was let yourself be held, just for a moment.

In the days that followed, things shifted in a way that felt unsettlingly quiet, like a weight pressing down on you. Jason never showed up at the café again, and you didn’t see him even once, despite working just across the street.

You were kind of relieved.

But what was truly breaking you was Noah’s absence.

And you missed Luna too. It was a sharper ache than you'd anticipated, you never thought you would become so attached to a three year old.

You missed making up silly bedtime stories to help her fall asleep, hearing her little giggles as she tried to weave together her own, completely nonsensical tales. You missed how her face would light up with excitement whenever Noah would do something small for her.

She had always been the bright, lively part of your evenings, and without her, everything seemed duller. You missed seeing Noah be so gentle and sweet with her, the way he’d always make sure she felt cared for and loved. It hurt to know that you wouldn't see that again.

Work was different now, too. You could feel it—how much more distracted you were, how your mind kept drifting back to Noah, to Luna, to the empty space in your life that you couldn't seem to fill. You tried to focus, to get through your shifts, but it was like trying to move through thick mud. Everything felt slower, harder, as if the weight of the world had settled squarely on your shoulders. But Grace... Grace was different, too.

She could see it, even though she didn’t say much. She didn’t make a big deal out of your distraction, didn’t call you out on it like she might have before. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. It was as if she knew that you were barely holding it together and didn’t need to hear a snide remark or a sarcastic comment.

Instead, Grace seemed to give you space. She watched you, but not in a judgmental way. When you stumbled over your words while taking an order, when your thoughts wandered too far off track, she didn’t make it harder.

There was no passive-aggressive comment, no mocking smile. She just let you be. It wasn’t the support you would have expected from someone like her, but you appreciated it more than anything.

You were starting to think Grace wasn't that bad, after all.

But still, no matter how many times you forced yourself to focus, no matter how many breaths you took to calm your racing thoughts, there was a constant hum in your mind, a reminder that Noah wasn’t there, that Luna wasn’t there, that your world had irrevocably shifted.

You would look out the window occasionally, seeing the world moving on outside, while you stood still, trapped in your own sadness, trying to figure out what to do next. You weren’t sure what to expect from the days ahead, whether things would feel better or worse. But right now, everything felt so heavy—too heavy to move forward, yet too necessary to stay where you were. The truth was, you were just trying to survive the days, to make it through until something changed, though you weren't sure what that change would look like or when it would come.

But at least you had work. It gave you something to do, something to occupy your mind, even if only for a few hours. When you walked into the café each morning, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries filled the air, and for a fleeting moment, it almost felt like things could be normal again. Almost.

Every time someone entered and you heard the little bell jingle on top of the door, you almost imagined seeing Noah enter holding Luna's hand, ready to order a tea for him and some cookies for Luna.

The days seemed to blur together and they became two full, long weeks. You were going through the motions, but everything felt muted, like the world was happening around you while you were stuck.

It was another early afternoon when Grace approached you in the café. You were leaning against the counter, wiping down a table, when she walked up to you, her arms crossed and eyes focused, a serious look on her face.

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked, her voice softer than usual, but with an edge that made it clear she wasn’t asking about your work schedule.

You blinked, caught off guard. You hadn’t really thought about it. What was your plan? How were you supposed to move forward from here, when everything felt like it was falling apart?

You let out a breath, leaning against the counter as you thought about her question. “What should I do?” you replied, the words coming out in a soft, helpless tone.

Grace didn’t hesitate. “Honey, you love him,” she said, her voice almost gentle despite her tough exterior. “As much as I’ve never been a fan of your rockstar boyfriend, you know I don’t hate him. Seeing you like this... it’s depressing.”

You stared at her, not sure if you wanted to feel grateful for her honesty or irritated. But the words hit harder than you expected. She wasn’t wrong. Noah had been a huge part of your life, and seeing him gone felt like a part of you had been ripped out, leaving a raw, empty space. But hearing someone else acknowledge that hurt made it all the more real.

Grace continued, a slight frown crossing her face. “So, what’s your plan? Just sit here and let this eat you up?”

You swallowed, feeling the lump in your throat return. “He left me,” you muttered, your voice shaky. “He didn’t let me talk. He didn’t believe a single word I said. I can’t do anything.”

Grace’s eyes softened, a hint of frustration in them. “Have you tried talking to his friends? Or... I don’t know... doing something? If you really love him, don’t give up. Don’t just let this be the end of it.”

The words felt like a slap in the face, but not in a bad way. You knew Grace wasn’t the type to coddle anyone, but there was something in her voice, something genuine that made you feel like maybe you weren’t as alone as you thought.

“I just want him to be happy,” you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “And if this means... if this means I have to let him go—”

“No,” Grace cut in, her tone firm, no room for argument. “Noah was happy with you. You don’t just throw that away because of some misunderstanding or some stupid argument. You have to do something.”

Her words rang in your ears, echoing louder than you’d like. You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to push Noah, not when it seemed like he was done with you. But what if she was right? What if there was something more to say, something more to fight for?

“I don’t know what to do,” you said quietly, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried. I don’t know how to make him believe me.”

Grace stepped closer, her voice dropping to something quieter, more sincere. “You don’t know until you try. But don’t just sit there and let him slip away. You’ll regret it.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of her words pressing on you. Maybe she was right.

"I don't want to regret it," you whispered, almost to yourself.

Grace gave a sharp nod, as if she’d been expecting that answer. “Then do something. If you love him, fight for him. Don’t give up.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could feel the weight of her words settling on your shoulders, but there was a flicker of hope inside you that had been buried for so long. Maybe there was still a chance. Maybe you could fix things. Maybe this wasn’t the end.

As you turned back to the counter, Grace’s words kept echoing in your mind: Don’t give up.

But how could you fix that mess when it was all your fault?

Noah hadn’t been able to focus on anything since the day you walked away. He felt like he was suffocating, a weight pressing down on his chest that he couldn’t shake off, no matter how many times he tried to breathe through it. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the house most days, his feet heavy as though they were cemented to the floor, each step a battle he couldn’t win.

He spent most of his time in bed, or just leaving the house to drop Luna at daycare and to go take her, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the last few moments with you over and over again.

When Luna was around, he tried to be strong. He put on a mask of normalcy for her, making sure she had her breakfast, getting her dressed for school, pretending that everything was okay for her sake.

But he felt like he was falling apart a second time.

His heart was fractured, shattered in a way he hadn’t known was possible, and no matter how hard he tried to keep it together, the cracks were starting to show. When Luna asked about you—"Is she coming over today, Daddy?"—his heart twisted. He would force a smile, brushing it off, telling her you were busy or that it would happen soon, but inside, he was dying.

Every time he saw her light up with excitement, every time she innocently mentioned something that reminded him of you, it was like another piece of him was ripped away.

One of the worst things was that this time, somehow, it hurt even more than when Hannah left him.

He hated himself for it. He hated that he couldn’t let go of the anger, of the hurt. He told himself that he was right, that the pictures, the situation with Jason, it all pointed to something he couldn’t ignore.

But at night, when the house was silent and Luna was asleep, he could feel the emptiness gnawing at him. He would lie in bed, wide awake, staring into the dark, his thoughts too loud, his mind too restless. It was the worst kind of silence—the one that stretched on for hours and reminded him of how alone he really was.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a full meal. He didn’t have an appetite, not after everything that had happened. The fridge was only full of things he knew Luna was going to eat.

He ate when he had to, but it wasn’t the food that kept him alive—it was the idea that somehow, maybe, he could make it through. But every day, he found himself sinking deeper, each minute dragging him further down. He wasn’t sure if he even deserved to be happy. He had pushed you away, let his insecurities and jealousy get the best of him. And now, he was left with nothing.

Had you really cheated on him? Or had something else happened? Did you still love Jason?

He was starting to think that maybe it had all been in his head all along. That maybe he had overreacted. That maybe you had always loved him. That the fear of being left had pushed him to the point of telling you to leave before you could.

He stayed in bed in silence.

No music. No TV. No distractions. It felt wrong to even try to pretend like things were okay. His usual escape—anime, movies, his guitar—none of it seemed to matter anymore. It all felt so meaningless without you in his life.

The only thing that brought any comfort, even if it was fleeting, was Luna’s presence. When she was with him, he could almost forget about the mess he’d created. She had this way of making the world feel smaller, easier to handle, even if just for a little while.

But once she was asleep, it was back to the silence. And with the silence came the thoughts he couldn’t escape. What had he done? Why hadn’t he trusted you? The truth clawed at him every time he closed his eyes, a brutal reminder of the mistake he had made. He had pushed you out of his life, and now all he could do was wonder if it was too late to fix it. Would you even want him back? He didn’t know, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

His dark circles grew darker. His face looked worn, tired. Even when he forced himself to get up in the mornings, to take Luna to daycare or go through the motions of the day, he could feel the weight of it all dragging him down. No matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to busy himself, there was this hole in his chest that wouldn’t go away. That only you could fill.

And then, there were the dreams. Night after night, he dreamt of you. Sometimes it was sweet—a memory of the two of you laughing, Luna running around in the background, her giggles ringing out or a moment spent together during the night, the feeling of your lips caressing his skin and your hands tracing every single tattoo that covered his body all too real. Other times, it was a nightmare, your face twisted in hurt, the look in your eyes that told him he had destroyed everything. He’d wake up sweating, heart racing, only to realize that none of it was real.

He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know if he could. But as much as he hated to admit it, he knew that he couldn’t keep living in this limbo. The thought of letting you go, of walking away from everything you’d built together, was unbearable. He loved you. He always had. And he hated himself for the way things had turned out.

But how could he fix that mess when it was all his fault?

Noah hadn’t been answering his phone for days, so the guys finally decided to drop by and check on him, but when they knocked on the door, they heard no response.

"I swear if he doesn't open the door I'll break it down." Matt said.

"I'm pretty sure there's no need, King Kong." Folio laughed as he took the copy of the house keys from his pocket.

When they got inside, the whole house seemed was dark and quiet, almost like no one was there.

They found Noah lying in bed, his head buried under a mountain of pillows, his body curled up like he was trying to disappear. The others exchanged uneasy glances, standing awkwardly by the doorway for a moment. None of them knew what to say.

Nicholas was the first to break the silence.

“Dude, you okay?”

No response.

Jolly stepped forward and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You haven’t answered any of our calls for days, man. What the hell is going on?” He asked with a hint of concern.

They had all seen the pictures that had been posted on Twitter but Noah hadn't said anything about what happened after they returned from the show.

Noah didn’t move. He just stayed there, his face hidden from them.

Matt scratched his head, his face a mix of confusion and worry. “C'mon, man, what happened with Y/N?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” came the muffled reply from under the pillows.

There was a long pause, and the band members just stood there, unsure of how to respond. They weren’t used to seeing Noah like this. Or at least, the last time they'd seen him like this was after Hannah had left. And this was not a good sign.

"C'mon man. Talk to us." Nicholas tried again.

But Noah didn’t even flinch. He just stayed there, his body heavy and unmoving. The silence stretched on.

Finally, Folio spoke again, his voice a little firmer now, but still gentle. “Noah... dude, you can’t just shut us out like this. We are here because we care, okay?"

Noah sighed, a long, tired exhale, and slowly, he pulled his head from under the pillows, just enough for his face to show. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale, and he looked... well, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Go away,” Noah muttered, barely lifting his head off the bed. “I’m fine.”

Matt pointed his hands at him. “Fine? Is this fine? Dude, you look like a zombie."

Nicholas looked over at the others, his face full of worry. “Maybe we should just let him be,” Jolly suggested quietly, clearly out of his depth with how to handle this.

But Folio wasn’t ready to let Noah retreat that easily. He walked over to the bed, sitting down at the edge and looking at him seriously. “Noah, listen. We’re not leaving until you tell us what’s going on. It’s not just about the band. It’s about you. We’re worried, alright?”

Noah didn’t answer. He just closed his eyes and seemed to sink deeper into the bed, his body still tense with whatever weight he was carrying.

“Come on, Noah,” Matt said, “We can’t help you if you won’t talk to us.”

For a moment, it seemed like Noah wasn’t going to say anything. The room felt heavy, filled with tension.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Noah lifted his head, staring at them with a look of exhaustion. “I don’t know what to say. Everything’s messed up, okay? I’m messed up. Y/N left and I- I just wanna rot here now.”

Folio softened, finally understanding the depth of the pain Noah was in. “You’re not messed up, man,” he said quietly, his voice a little more comforting. “What happened?"

Noah looked away, staring at the wall, as if trying to escape his own thoughts. The band stayed quiet, letting him have the space he needed, but not leaving.

“Just... give me some time,” Noah muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not ready to deal with any of it yet.”

"Noah. It's been almost two weeks." Jolly added.

"Well, I obviously need more than two weeks, then."

The guys exchanged a look. They knew they couldn’t force him to open up, but they also knew they wouldn’t give up on him.

“Alright, we’ll give you time,” Nicholas said softly, “but just know we’re here when you’re ready.”

Noah didn't answer, he just sank his head into his pillow again.

"You need help with Luna? Need anything?" Nicholas added.

"It's fine." Noah mumbled.

They lingered for a few more moments, before finally, one by one, they made their way out of the room, leaving Noah to whatever thoughts he had left.

As the door clicked shut behind them, the soft hum of the outside world filled the empty space left between the guys. They stood on the porch, the cold air biting at their skin. There was an uncomfortable silence between them, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Folio shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, staring down at the ground. "I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “What do you think he meant? ‘Y/N left’... I mean... they were in love. Like... I know her."

Matt shook his head. "Honestly, when I saw those photos, I thought she was cheating on him. Her letting another guy into Noah's house in the middle of the night? What do you think?"

"That’s what I’m saying." Folio’s jaw clenched. “That's impossible. But if Noah won’t give us answers, then I’ll go to the one person who might have them.”

It was just past closing time when Folio parked his car outside the coffee shop, as you locked the door chatting with your colleague—a girl with long, dark hair and sharp eyes. He didn't remember her name.

As he started walking toward you, another figure appeared behind him— a guy with spiked hair, wearing a Sex Pistols t-shirt and black boots.

"Hey, I need to talk to you," the guy said when he reached you, just a moment before he did.

Folio, standing just a few feet away, didn’t wait. He stepped forward, just as the guy did, his voice cutting through the moment with an urgency that mirrored the guy’s.

“We need to talk too,” Folio said, his words almost overlapping with the stranger’s.

When you heard the two guys' voices, you and the other girl turned in unison.

You glanced back and forth between them, confusion flashing across your face. “Um… one at a time, guys,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

The guy with the spiked hair raised an eyebrow but smiled, as if the situation was more amusing than anything. “Well, seems like we’re both in line for a conversation,” he said, glancing at Folio.

Folio didn’t take his eyes off of you. “It’s important,” he said, his voice firm.

"Well, what I have to say is important too."

Then, you looked at the guy with the spiky hair. "Hey! I know you. You punched Jason that day!"

"You did what?" Folio raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, so it was him!" The girl with black hair spoke.

"Yeah. It was me. But hey, he paid me."

There was a brief moment of silence, all eyes on that weird guy, and then, you all spoke at the same time.

"You did what?"

"He paid you?"

"Wait. What the hell are you all talking about?"

The guy grinned. "See? We all need to have a good talk. Is the café still open? I love cakes."

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog @whenyouwannafindlove @chey-h @kenjipepsi1

[igotanidea]

(6) Cheater: Dick Grayson x reader

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

A/N: I'm damn aware it took me ages, I;m sorry! But - as many people asked for it (@pookieisme4life :D) and I DID HEAR YOU ALL, I hereby give you the preludium to the finale!! :D

MDNI!

TW: mention of self-harm/suicidal thoughts, brief description of rough s*x, bit of violence, swearing

***

FUCK!!

She felt like yelling, screaming, falling to the ground, tearing her eyes out, cutting her wrists, anything to get rid of this heavy feeling in her chest.

SO FUCKING STUPID

Falling into the same pattern of behavior as many more before her and – most probably – many more after her.

She should have known better.

No man in relationship ever leaves the girl for a lover

NO MAN.

EVER.

And yet she thought that him… that Dick… that he would be different.

She thought-

STUPID IDIOTIC IDIOT WITH STUPID UNREALISTIC BELIEFS.

Damn, it sucks to be a woman sometimes.

She hated herself.

Not only because of this stupid dickish Dick Grayson, but also because she acted like a piece of shit towards another girl.

Crossing out every single value she ever held dear to her heart.

Idiot.

***

“So, did you have fun?”

“Sienna-“

“Was she fucking better?!”

“Sienna, honey-“

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare calling me honey, right now!” she lunged at him, trying to slap his cheek, scratch his oh-so-fucking-stupid-pretty-face. To hurt him in any way possible, that could never ever measure the amount of pain she was feeling. Too bad Dick could easily predict her every move and block it with zero effort.

“Just listen to me-“ he grabbed both her wrist and held it to his heart. He should have known that her initial reaction that was almost shockingly calm would turn into a blind rage sooner or later.

Clearly sooner.

“You are –“

“A liar, a cheater and unworthy of your attention.”

“That’s not even close to truth.” Sienna struggled against him.

“What can I do to make it better?” – despite letting go off all the pretenses and running after the girl that really mattered to him?

“Nothing. We’re done here.” Finally she managed to wriggle free, walking towards the wardrobe and started throwing his clothes out.

“Don’t say that-“

“I will say whatever the fuck I want right now!” jackets, shirts, pants and even socks flew In every single direction in the room.

“Stop it- Sienna- Come on- “ he grabbed his favorite piece of clothing before it landed on the ground – “Come on-! Sienna! Stop it-!” before she realized what was happening, he was holding her waist, pressing her against the wall.

The tension in the room were tense enough to stop them from making any move, and yet, for a single moment he was way more scared than in any other life-threatening situation he encountered as Nightwing. She was angry. He saw it in her eyes. But there was also vulnerability and some sense of longing. Dick wasn’t exactly sure what this longing was for, but that look- that look of bambi Sienna put on her face made him act completely recklessly.

He kissed her.

No – not just kissed, that would be a heavy understatement.

He consumed her.

That masculine energy and confidence he was always sporting, took a very surprising form of dominance.

His lips moved with hunger, forcing her to submission, shutting down any objections she might have had, causing her body to respond out of pure instincts, moaning and melting into his arms.

Clothes flew around the room again, but this time for much different – arguably more pleasurable reasons.

He fucked her hard and rough, ending with deep, red, bloody scratches on his back and leaving little dents in the wall due to the way the bedframe kept on hitting it.

And even as he became almost brutal, she never told him to stop. If anything – begged for more, pulling him closer, taking him deeper.

As if the pain he was giving and receiving could in any way make up for the fact that for the entire time they fucked he was seeing y/n’s face.

***

“You almost ruined the entire mission.”

He couldn’t even care much enough to respond.

“Nightwing.”

“Uh-huh….”

“Do you realize you could have compromised – “

“Yeah, whatever-“

“I shall not tolerate-“

Dick rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“You are being insubordinate. Do not try to act like your brother. Teenage rebellion doesn’t suit you.”

“Teenage rebellion? Huh! Funny you say it, B, because if anyone, you are acting like a spoiled 5 year old, who gets mad and pouty when someone does a step without his permission.”

“I don’t understand what is happening to you-“

“Of course you fucking don’t!” he finally yelled, spinning around angrily, ready to fight Batman. Instead, however, his eyes grew a little wider in sudden realization. He was not a fucking pawn. He was not a fucking piece of a puzzle Bruce was trying to form to his own liking. (bright discovery for a man his age if you allow me to be a “tad” sarcastic). With that realization he jumped out of the ledge of a building like a acrobat he was and rushed to her apartment.

“NIGHTWING!”

“FUCK YOU BATMAN!”

He was still broken-hearted but for some silly reason, yelling those words into the night, illuminated by Batman’s symbol adjourning the sky like a beacon of hope felt exhilarating. Damn, next thing he knew, he could be joining Jason in his little vendetta against Bruce. How fun would it be? Two brothers, joined by circumstances and similar history, trying to get justice for-

Focus.

“Right, right, focus…” he muttered to himself. “Y/N.”

No matter what, he was going to make things right between them.  

***

Where the hell could she be at 3 am?!

Partying? Not her.

Getting drunk at the bar with guys all over her? Not for long, once he beat them all to shit.

Staying at friend’s? Maybe, but then why was her phone on the nightstand, flickering with unread notifications from a few hours ago?

“Y/N?!” he cried out into the silence of the apartment, hoping against hope that she’d answer.

She was not in the bedroom, bathroom or in the living room.

“LET GO!!”

Oh, so there she was-

Outside.

Clearly in danger.

Dick rushed to the balcony to asses the situation, but before he could do anything, she was knocked down and dragged into a car.

“Y/N!!!” he yelled desperately, but it was no use as the black SUV (the fuck it always had to be black SUVs) took off with a squeal of tires, raising a cloud of dust.

“FUCK!”

There was not much he could do at the moment.

“Come with me.”

 “Huh!”

“Jeez. Chill out, Blue.” a masked persona that appeared out of nowhere, scoffed at him, easily holding back the punch Dick aimed with his escrima sticks.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I know where they took her.”

“huh?”

“your girlfriend.”

“She’s not- well she is, but technically-“

“Focus, idiot!” the person smacked his head. Not hard enough to cause any real damage, but hard enough to made him come back to reality.

Reality in which Y/N was straightforward kidnapped.

“how do you know—”

“I just know. And now I’m your best shot at getting her back in one piece.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?”

“Trust? Ha! God forbid you’d be so foolish to trust me.”

Dick scoffed.

“Where did they take her?”

“Just follow me.”

And just like that, he followed a stranger into danger.

And despite it sounding pretty lightly due to the rhyming, this self-appointed mission was about to change the lives of not one, not two, but a whole group of people.

And maybe – just maybe – some of them – would end up irreversibly changed.

Last part will be the grand finale!!

@miraculous-panic @fullbelieverheart @xlatinaaxx @ietss @arfrona

@gracescor3 @jaysgirlx @fuzzym4m4 @peachmartini @xenop0p

@leovergurl

[unpublishediary]

Why didn’t you tell me?percy jackson x injured reader. (hurt/comfort) Part 2

part one ✵ part two

✵ synopsis: after a fight on the Argo II, reader tries to hide their injury but Percy is determined to find out what’s wrong… he figures it out, but hopes he wasn’t too late

✵ interest: percy jackson (HOO)

✵ warnings: mentions of blood, pain, loss of appetite, isolation, loss of consciousness, and leo.

MASTERLIST

Consciousness returned like a gentle tide, bringing with it the soft rhythm of nearby breathing. Your eyelids felt leaden, and when you finally managed to pry them open, the infirmary's muted light was a blessing to your sensitive eyes.

Percy was there, but not how you expected. He wasn't slumped in sleep or pacing with worry, he was just... staring. Sitting perfectly still in the chair beside your bed, his sea-green eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

His jaw was set, hands clasped so tightly together his knuckles had gone white, and you couldn't read his expression. You'd never seen him like this before, caught between anger and something else, something raw and vulnerable that made your heart twist.

When you tried to shift position, a deep ache flared through your side. His eyes tracked the movement, and something in him finally broke.

"Six hours," he said, voice low and rough. "You were out for six hours."

You tried to speak, but your throat was too dry. Without breaking his stare, he reached for the water glass, helping you take small sips. The gentleness of his movements contrasted sharply with the storm brewing in his eyes.

"Percy—" you started.

"No." The glass clicked against the side table. "You don't get to—" He stood abruptly, running both hands through his hair. "Do you have any idea what—" He cut himself off, turning away, then whirling back. "You were bleeding out. Right in front of me. And you didn't say anything."

The last words came out as a shout, echoing off the infirmary walls. You flinched, and instantly saw regret flash across his face.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't want to—"

"To what? Trust me?" His voice cracked on the words. "To let me help you? Gods, when you collapsed, I thought—" He broke off again, dropping heavily back into the chair. All the anger seemed to drain out of him at once, leaving something much more fragile in its wake.

"I thought I was going to lose you," he said quietly, not meeting your eyes now. "And the worst part was knowing you didn't even think you could tell me. After everything we've..."

The silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid. When he finally looked up, the vulnerability in his expression took your breath away.

"I can't lose you," he admitted, barely above a whisper. "Not like that. Not ever." His hand found yours, tentative at first, then holding on like an anchor. "Next time you're hurt, you tell me. I don't care if it's a paper cut or a broken bone. Promise me."

You nodded, throat tight with emotion. "I promise."

Some of the tension finally eased from his shoulders. He didn't let go of your hand, his thumb tracing absent patterns against your skin. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, letting the quiet wash away the last echoes of anger and fear.

"Annabeth going to kill me for yelling in here," Percy finally said, a ghost of his usual smile returning.

"Probably," you agreed, feeling your own lips curve upward. "Worth it though?"

His expression softened as he looked at you, and that something deeper was back in his eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Worth it."

As exhaustion started pulling you back under, you felt him shift closer, his free hand brushing hair from your forehead with impossible gentleness. The last thing you heard before sleep took you was his whispered, "I'll be right here. I promise."

The next two days in the infirmary blurred together, marked by the steady stream of visitors and Percy's constant presence. He'd only leave when someone else insisted, and even then he'd return looking like he'd barely slept, dropping back into his chair like it was the only place he wanted to be.

"You know," you said one afternoon, watching him fight to keep his eyes open, "your room probably has a more comfortable bed than that chair."

"I'm fine," he insisted, though he was practically slumped over the armrest. "Annie said you might be able to try walking today."

As if summoned, she appeared in the doorway. "Speaking of which." Annabeth crossed her arms, giving Percy a pointed look. "You're not going to be much help if you pass out from exhaustion."

"I don't pass out," Percy protested, but she was already shooing him toward the door.

"Go. Shower. Sleep. She'll still be here when you get back."

Percy hesitated at the doorway, giving you a look as you laughed at the exchange. "I promise not to do anything stupid while you're gone."

"Better not," he said softly, something warm in his eyes before he finally left.

Annabeth checked your bandages, nodding with satisfaction. "Walking should be much less painful now."

The first attempt at walking wasn't exactly graceful. Your legs felt like jelly after hours on hours in bed, and the stitches pulled uncomfortably. But Annabeth was patient, letting you lean on her as you made your way slowly across the room.

You'd barely made it halfway when familiar voices drifted in from outside.

"If you're going to hover, you might as well come in," she called out, amused.

Jason was the first through the door, followed by Leo, their faces lit up seeing you on your feet.

"Look who's vertical," Leo joked at the sight of you.

"Barely," you admitted, grateful for Annabeth’s support as your legs trembled. Jason immediately took that as his cue to support your other side.

"Baby steps," Leo said as you gave him a look, but Annabeth cut in,

“Let’s get you back to—”

"I've got her." Percy was suddenly there, like he'd materialized from thin air. His arm slipped around your waist, careful to avoid your injury as he took your weight from her. "I thought you were going to sleep," you murmured as he helped you back to bed.

"Tried. Couldn't." His voice was low enough that only you could hear. "Kept thinking..."

He didn't finish the thought, but his arm tightened slightly around you.

"Well, now that the gang's all here," Leo said once you were settled, pulling something from his bag, "movie night?"

"In the infirmary?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Come on," Percy sided with Leo. "She's been staring at these walls for days. And we'll keep it quiet." He looked toward the daughter of Athena.

Annabeth sighed the sigh of someone who knew not to fight it, "Fine.”

Once the others were gathered, everyone settled in around your bed. Including Leo perched at the foot with his laptop, Annabeth claiming the extra chair, and Percy back in his usual spot beside you. As the familiar opening credits rolled, you felt some of the lingering tension finally ease from your shoulders.

"Hey," Percy whispered, his hand weaving through you hair before finding hand in what had become a familiar gesture. "You good?"

You looked around at your friends, your family really, and squeezed his hand. "Yeah. I'm good."

His answering smile was soft, private, meant just for you. And as everyone argued about plot holes and character arcs, you realized that maybe getting hurt hadn't been the worst thing.

Sometimes it took falling apart to understand just how many people were there to help put you back together.

By the time the movie ended, you'd dozed off against Percy's shoulder, his thumb still tracing absent patterns against your skin. The last thing you registered was the quiet murmur of your friends' voices and the steady rhythm of Percy's breathing, anchoring you safely in the moment.

You were going to be okay. All of you were. And if hidden injuries caused this, maybe next time you’ll hide a paper cut.

part one ✵ part two

MASTERLIST

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[twst-drabbles]

Floyd 14

Summary: Your nails grew too long again and now you need to cut them. And, as it turns out, your little pet Floyd makes for a great nail clipper.

(Wanted to write something goofy. So here it be. More little house pet Floyd being a weirdo.)

You usually didn't give much of a care for the length of your nails. They grow, they chip and split all the time, and they do so more often now that you have these pets to take care of. Not to mention that you have been going out more, leading to more opportunities for them to get damaged.

But then you accidentally scratched Epel, and unless you want to face the wrath of a disappointed Vil again, you have to cut them. Well, it's not as if disaster would strike if your nails are left long and Vil is dropped off again, but his attitude becomes even more annoying that it's just better to cut them and forget them.

However, here's the trouble, you don't have a viable set of nail clippers. You haven't needed one for years, so the pair that you did have were rusted beyond usage. And rather then go out and get a pair right now, you just left the job to your teeth.

And then, eventually, you started using Floyd's teeth when you got too lazy to use your own.

"Hey Floyd," you approached the tank sleepily, yawning as you rubbed the back of your sore neck.

Floyd, ever the creature that runs on his own schedule, peeked out of his little cave, yawned out bubbles, then face planted into the sand, clearly too sleepy to drag himself back.

Yeah you wanna be back in bed too, but Rook insisted on an early morning hike with Vil and Epel. You're not in any rush, but you would like to have a small meal before you go.

And so you do your little trick.

You brought out your longest nail, and dinked it against the glass. Two sharp sounds, divided by a second. Floyd eyes shot wide open and he launched himself up so quickly, he slammed right into the tank's lid. It was enough to make the tank jump.

"Ah." Whoops. You forgot to open it.

Like an old sticky hand toy from the cheap arcade about a mile down from your place, gravity slowly peeled Floyd from the lid. He drifted down, the entire front half of his chubby body made flat.

"Sorry about that, Floyd. I'm still kind of sleepy." You pop open the lid, and splashed your fingers into the water, "Come on, it's nail cutting time."

Shaking himself back into shape, Floyd slid his body right onto your palm.

You sat in the nearest chair, towel on your lap, and let Floyd at it with your nails. He gnawed on each one of them, like a comically small wood chipper. One by one, your nails were cut down with perfect precision. So much so that when you tried to pull away too early, Floyd grasped your finger with his tiny hands with a whining grunt. Not done. And then would slap your wrist with his tail.

"Okay okay, my bad." Ugh, your hands were entirely covered in slime, but hey, what can you do? Besides, after you wash your hands, the skin always ends up incredibly soft. You can't help but wonder if you should bring this up with Rook. Hmm, perhaps later.

Floyd gave two firm pats on your hand. He's done, time for the next one. He splayed his arms out, as if getting ready for the biggest hug of his life.

Silly, silly eel. Hopefully he doesn't throw a tantrum when he realizes you're going on a hike without him. Right now you're just dressed like you're getting ready for a deep cleaning of the house.

But for now, he can enjoy himself as he chews off your nails. And then run on out of here as soon as you can.

[haru-natsuka]

The Unending Daze Side Story 2 (Malleus Draconia x Wife Reader)

>> Trailer <<

"My darling wife, the joy you have brought me throughout the years is without compare. Our children are fortunate to have been gifted with such a loving and caring mother as you,"

Malleus spoke with affection, his voice like honeyed words that melted the hearts of everyone that heard it. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

But just as you were getting used to this blissful scene, your old friend, Ace arrived in an unexpected turn of events. He claimed that he was your husband, which left you perplexed and bewildered.

"Wait a minute, that's not right! I'm your real husband! He's just trying to manipulate you with a dream. Wake up, now! Our children need you! I need you, Y/N!"

You were unsure how to proceed, caught in the middle of a confusing situation. In this situation, you feel conflicted and uncertain about whether your old friend or your darling husband had spoken the truth.

>> HEAD TO CHAPTER LIST

>> SIDE STORY 2 <<

"Y/N, did you dream about our time again?" That creature spoke with an eerie and unsettling smile, its facade mimicking Ace's gentle expression. You gave him no respond as you did not even want to converse with that impostor. This unending daze was your nightmare and you were living in it.

Silver comforted you as he gently wiped away your tears with his thumb, his heart heavy with pity as he witnesses your suffering. Seeing you in such a pitiful state was a stark contrast to the strong-hearted junior he knew at NRC.

He felt helpless, unable to do much to alleviate your suffering beyond pulling you back from the dark abyss of your nightmare. The nightmare that deliberately put by his king on you.

Silver quietly admitted, "I've tried to wake you up, Y/N, but you were too deep in that dream. Everything started well, but then…”

He paused, as he, having the ability to enter someone dream as his unique magic had witnessed the dream you had and keep on having. The pattern remained the same. You, having a good family life with Ace before you lost Ace and your family again and again.

He could not even describe the agony he witnessed as for him, you had going through too much pain. His eyes filled with sadness and disagreement with Malleus' choice of selecting the court of another man's wife, a choice he could not fully support. It sadden more when his father and Sebek chose to support this unwise decision.

You pleaded to Silver with desperation in your voice, "Silver senpai, please help me. I want to escape this nightmare. Stop that creature from mocking my husband." You glare at the wooden doll who shares the same figure as your late husband.

Silver sighed in response, regret etched on his face, "You know I can't, Y/N. If I reveal myself, Malleus-sama will notice my presence."

Realization slowly dawned upon you, and you hesitantly asked, "Is this again another dream?"

Silver's solemn silence spoke volumes, confirming your suspicions. The weight of your despair and desperation caused your shoulders to sag in resignation as you felt the last remnants of hope slip away. There was nothing more left for you in this world. Everyone you held dear have already gone. What was the meaning and purpose of living?

"Thank you for everything, Silver. I'm sorry because of me you lost your job,” you said, your voice laced with gratitude and remorse. "I can handle myself now, so please focus on yourself."

"B-but-!" Silver tried to interject, his concern for you evident in his expression.

"Goodbye, Silver," you whispered, feeling yourself awakening from your deep sleep. As consciousness slowly returned to you, your eyes fluttered open to reveal a sight you dreaded, green slit eyes staring down at you.

The voice, belonging to the person you despise the most, echoed in your ears, "You were in a very deep slumber, my dear. Having a pleasant dream?"

You deliberately averted your gaze, refusing to look at the him who had stolen your life against your will, and who imprisoned you within this castle against your will. The mere act of conversing with someone who was once a good friend now filled you with an intense sense of revulsion.

"Are you still mad at me over the lost of your unborn baby? You cannot blame me entirely, my darling wife. You are the one who reject all my kindness and courtesy for you. Its not me who force you to stop eating. You have done it to yourself, my dear"

Malleus delicately held your chin as he began to stroke your hair, his gentle touch sending a shiver down your spine. He settled himself beside you on the bed, bringing his face closer to yours until you were left with no choice but to meet his gaze because you eyes should always remained on him.

"If you still want to have your baby again, I can give it to you. A child with a black hair like us, having your eyes, having the resemblance of my thorn is much more beautiful than having red hair don't you think so"

Malleus continued, his tone slightly coaxing as he attempted to sway you, "If you still yearn for a baby again, I will gladly give you a child. Imagine a child with hair as dark as ours, possessing your captivating gaze, bearing the resemblance of my thorns would undoubtedly make a beautiful progeny, don't you concur, my dear wife? Hmmm? Rather than having those red hair"

Malleus boasted further, revealing an undercurrent of disdain in his voice, "I am capable of giving you everything your heart yearns for. My power is boundless, unlike that of his."

He paused for a moment before continuing, a hint of malicious satisfaction evident in his expression, "I've even granted you ample time to spend with Trappola, but you seemed intent on destroying him on your own. It feels pleasant for you to hate him that much."

You muttered a firm rebuttal, "That is not my Ace." Your Ace was a true human, not a magic made with woods.

Malleus nodded, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "Indeed, that Trappola has already vanished. Are you finally accepting the reality, my dear wife?"

He seized the pendant you held near and dear to your heart, forcefully opening the locket and revealing the picture of your family within. Anger simmered beneath his cool facade, and he justified his actions, "I'm merely reclaiming what should be mine. There is nothing wrong with that, don't you think so, my dear wife?"

Malleus spoke with an air of finality, "Everyone is gone. That guy and those two boys are dead, and so is the baby within you, my dear.)

He softly touched your stomach, his tone taking on a gentle coaxing tone as he continued, "Accept me, Y/N. Accept me as your husband in this life. I will give you a new family, two sons and a baby girl. I will bestow upon you the happiness you deserve."

He then nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck and held you tightly, as if you were his precious possession that he would never share with anyone.

Your words cut into Malleus like a knife, causing his grip on you to tighten as anger flared in his eyes. The temperature in the room dropped drastically, and the sound of thunder crashing outside echoed incessantly. Some of the furniture in the room froze over with ice, evidence of Malleus's growing fury.

He gritted out, his voice cold and harsh as he could not accept the reality, "You would rather stay with a wooden puppet than be with me?"

Malleus released a defeated sigh, his expression hardening as he realized that you have yet to accept the greatest fate he had bestow on you.

He conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of determination, "I suppose everything remains a failure for now."

He then added, his tone taking on a commanding edge, "You should go back to sleep, my dear wife. You shall come to choose me in the end. You will become my wife, this kingdom's new queen, and bear my heirs."

Malleus tucked you back into bed, a smug smile playing on his lips as he whispered, "Sleep well, my dear. Dream about me, dream of our children. Let your dreams shape your reality. Let it become a constant repetition until you make the right choice, the choice that will lead you to me."