#so maybe they are the key at the final battle who knows

[ryllen]

[skzstarl0ver]

One Bed, Two Problems

Jeongin x reader / enemies to lovers / only one bed / smut / possessive!Jeongin

**involves!!** sex, dirty talk, cursing, rough sex, Insulting / pain kink, cursing

enjoy xx (open for request)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

You don’t remember when exactly it started — this thing between you and Jeongin.

Maybe it was that first time he rolled his eyes at something you said during a game night, or the way he’d always challenge you on the most mundane things. What movie to watch. Who made the best ramen. The right way to fold laundry. Every moment between you turned into a petty argument — but the weird part?

It never really pissed you off. It exhilarated you. You craved it.

Which is why this trip with the friend group was already risky. You didn’t need to be around Jeongin for seven straight days, sharing vans and meals and long stares across group dinners. But you never expected this.

“We have a little mix-up in the booking,” the hotel receptionist said sweetly. “Looks like… one bed in the room for you two.”

Jeongin laughed. Actually laughed. And that smug little dimple popped.

“Perfect,” he said. “Y/N snores anyway. I’ll suffer through it.”

You spun toward him. “I do not snore.”

“Sure, baby. Whatever gets you through the night.”

You could’ve punched him right there. Instead, you grabbed the key and stormed off.

Now it’s 12:37 a.m. and you're lying as close to the edge of the bed as humanly possible, gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline.

Jeongin is on the other side — same position. Same tension. Same awareness.

Every rustle of the sheets feels like an earthquake.

You toss onto your back and exhale sharply. “Can you stop moving?”

“I’m not moving.”

“You’re breathing loud.”

“It’s called being alive, princess.”

You groan, covering your face with your arm. “I hate this.”

He chuckles under his breath, voice low and far too hot in the dark. “No you don’t.”

You peek at him. “Excuse me?”

“You love fighting with me,” he says lazily, one arm tucked behind his head. “You’d be bored if I stopped.”

You roll your eyes. “Trust me, I dream of silence.”

He hums. “Do you dream of me too?”

That silences you.

For a full beat, neither of you says a word.

“…You wish,” you finally murmur.

But it comes out too soft. Too shaky. And he hears it.

He shifts, and you feel the bed dip as he turns onto his side to face you.

“You know what I think?” he whispers.

You don’t answer. You don’t breathe.

“I think you hate me because you can’t stand how badly you want me.”

Your chest tightens. Your heart is racing, hammering. You can’t look at him.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, voice brushing the shell of your ear, “if I was flattering myself, you’d be begging already.”

You turn, ready to throw another insult, but the words die the second you meet his eyes.

God. His face is so close. Lips parted. Eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. That cocky confidence is still there, but it’s coated with something else now.

Desire.

Raw and real and hungry.

“You want me to shut up?” he whispers.

You swallow hard.

“Then make me.”

You don’t know who moves first — maybe both of you. Maybe the universe finally snapped and said enough — but your lips crash like a storm.

It’s not sweet. It’s heat. Tongues, teeth, years of teasing and tension unraveling all at once. His hands tangle in your hair, your fingers clutch his hoodie like you need something to anchor you. Every kiss is a battle and a surrender all at once.

When you break apart, breathless, his forehead presses to yours.

“I knew it,” he whispers.

“You’re so cocky,” you pant.

“You like it.”

You kiss him again just to shut him up. This time slower. More desperate. You feel his hand slide under your shirt, warm against your skin, and your breath catches.

“I should hate you,” you whisper.

He smirks against your throat. “You do.”

“But I want you.”

“I know.”

You don’t remember who yanked whose shirt off first.

All you know is that one second you were clawing at each other’s clothes like animals, and the next he had you pinned to the mattress, body heavy over yours, lips swollen from kissing you stupid.

“You gonna whine the whole time?” he growls, dragging his mouth along your jaw.

You squirm beneath him. “Depends. You gonna fuck like you argue?”

His smirk is pure sin. “You want me to be nice?”

“God, no.”

He grins — but it’s feral now. Dangerous.

“Good,” he mutters, “because I don’t do nice with brats like you.”

His hand wraps around your throat — not tight, just enough to make you freeze. To make your breath hitch.

“Always mouthing off,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “Always so fucking annoying. You need to be put in your place.”

And then his mouth is on yours again, biting, claiming, owning.

You gasp as he flips you over, chest to the bed now, his weight pressing you down. You feel his teeth scrape your shoulder, and you moan — loud, shameless.

“You like that?” he whispers, fingers sliding between your legs. “Didn’t think a stuck-up princess like you could be so wet for someone she ‘hates.’”

“I do hate you,” you breathe.

He laughs against your skin, nipping your ear.

“Liar.”

You feel him rutting against your ass, hard through his boxers, and you push back just to feel him groan.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So desperate. So cocky all day, and now you’re just begging for it.”

You try to turn your head but he grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking it back — just enough to make you moan again.

“Say it,” he growls.

You shiver. “Say what?”

“That you want me. That you need me.”

You grit your teeth. “Never.”

He laughs again — dark and low and absolutely wrecking you.

“Fine,” he mutters, lining himself up behind you. “I’ll fuck the truth out of you.”

And when he thrusts in, hard and deep, your brain short-circuits.

You cry out into the pillow, hands clawing at the sheets. He doesn't give you time to adjust — and you don’t want it. You want it raw. You want it rough. You want him.

Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs. He leans down, chest to your back, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

“You take me so well,” he growls. “Bet you’ve thought about this every night after we argued, huh? Bet you played with yourself thinking about how good I’d fuck you.”

You moan, helpless.

“Oh my god—”

“What was that?” he taunts. “No more snarky comebacks now?”

He reaches down, fingers circling your clit while he keeps thrusting. You arch like a live wire, crying out for him. Your entire body trembles.

“You close already, baby?” he whispers in your ear. “I’m not even close to done.”

You choke on a moan, tears pricking your eyes.

“Fuck, Jeongin—!”

“Say it,” he demands again, voice sharp.

Your pride is barely holding on — but your body? Your body is screaming for him.

“I need you,” you finally cry. “F-fuck—please—Jeongin—”

He groans at that, slamming into you harder, relentless. You’re so close it’s painful.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, watching your body quake beneath him. “My bratty little problem. So fucking perfect like this.”

His hand grabs your jaw, turning your face toward him just enough so he can kiss you while you fall apart.

And when you do, it’s earth-shattering.

You moan his name like a prayer, like a curse, and he follows with a low growl of your name, burying himself deep, shaking against you as he loses control.

The room is filled with panting, sweat, tangled sheets, and the aftershock of a storm you both saw coming — but still couldn’t prepare for.

You're still catching your breath when he pulls out, breath heavy, hand sliding slowly down your back. You're both slick with sweat, clothes tossed somewhere across the room, and your thighs are still trembling.

You don’t speak — you can’t. Your brain is fogged with pleasure and chaos and something dangerous that tastes a lot like need.

Jeongin lies beside you, propped on one elbow, staring. His skin is flushed, hair a mess, lips red from kissing — and biting.

“Didn’t think you’d actually say it,” he says finally, voice rough.

You blink at him.

“Say what?”

“That you needed me.”

You scoff, rolling to your side, back to him. “Shut up.”

He smirks — you can hear it.

“You’re such a brat.”

You’re about to shoot back something petty — “At least I’m not obsessed with me.” — but then he’s grabbing your waist, flipping you effortlessly onto your back.

You yelp. “Jeongin—!”

“I’m not done with you,” he growls.

Your breath catches. Your legs fall open without permission.

“You came so pretty for me,” he mutters, dragging his fingers down your inner thigh. “But I want to see you fall apart again. I wanna see how messy I can make you.”

You swallow hard. “Again?”

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, “you started this.”

And then he’s kissing you again — deeper this time. Less anger, more claiming. Like he needs to remind you who you just begged for.

His tongue slides into your mouth as his fingers slip between your legs — still so sensitive, so soaked — and you whimper instantly.

“Still wet for me?” he teases.

“I hate you,” you breathe.

He smiles darkly. “No you don’t.”

Two fingers push in deep. Your back arches. You gasp.

“You love this,” he says, voice like gravel. “Love being split open by the guy you pretend to hate.”

He leans in, mouth brushing your ear.

“You like when I treat you like a toy, don’t you?”

You whine.

“You like it when I ruin you.”

You don’t answer — can’t — because his mouth is moving lower now, trailing kisses down your chest, nipping a path along your ribs, licking the sensitive spot just beneath your breast.

Then lower.

And lower.

And you already know what’s coming.

But when his tongue touches you — slow, deliberate, possessive — your hips jerk off the bed.

“Fuck—Jeongin—!”

His hands grip your thighs tight, holding you in place.

“Don’t run,” he murmurs. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He eats you like he’s starving — like he’s addicted. Like every moan out of your mouth makes him harder.

And god, he’s relentless.

He flattens his tongue, circles your clit, then sucks — and you almost scream.

“Jeongin—oh my god—”

Your fingers knot in his hair, pulling — but he just groans into you, the vibration making your vision blur.

“You’re gonna come again,” he growls. “Right on my face. Like the needy little problem you are.”

You do. Harder than the first time. Writhing, sobbing, wrecked.

But before you can even come down, he’s crawling back up, lips shiny, eyes dark.

“You’re not done,” he says.

You blink. “I—”

He kisses you, slow and filthy. “I’m not done.”

You feel him line up again, and this time, he doesn’t ease in. He slams into you in one long stroke, and your mouth drops open in a silent moan.

“Jeongin—please—”

“Yeah?” he pants. “What do you want?”

“You—fuck—you—harder—”

He grabs your wrists, pins them above your head, and starts pounding.

The bed creaks.

Your cries echo.

And Jeongin just keeps going.

“Mine,” he grits. “You’re mine tonight. Say it.”

You sob, body barely holding on.

“*Yours—*fuck—I’m yours—”

“Good fucking girl.”

And that’s when you snap.

You fall apart beneath him — again — tighter, messier, more ruined than before. He curses, stutters a breath, and follows, hips jerking, burying himself deep.

You both collapse in silence.

Breathless.

Shaking.

Destroyed.

_

You wake up to the worst sound imaginable.

Knocking. Loud. Rapid. Too damn early.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Chan’s voice calls from the hallway, sing-songy and unforgiving.

Jeongin groans from behind you, burying his face between your shoulder blades. “I hate him.”

You whisper, “He doesn’t know—right?”

“Not unless you screamed really loud.”

You punch his arm. He just laughs.

But panic is very real now. You sit up, immediately clutching the blanket to your chest.

“Jeongin. What if someone heard us? What if they know?”

He props himself up on one elbow, messy hair, lips swollen, the faintest bite mark still on his neck.

“Then let them.”

You gape at him. “What happened to keeping it lowkey?!”

He grins, stretching. “You’re the one who said ‘Jeongin, harder, please—’”

“JEONGIN.” You throw a pillow at his face, shrieking.

He catches it, laughing as he drags you back into the sheets.

“I’m kidding. Relax,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss behind your ear. “We’re cool.”

Spoiler alert: You are NOT cool.

20 Minutes Later — Downstairs at Breakfast

You walk into the hotel café like you’ve never sinned a day in your life.

You are showered, dressed, dead-eyed, and pretending like Jeongin didn’t have you folded in half against a headboard exactly eight hours ago.

But the second you slide into the booth with the rest of the group, all conversation stops.

Chan stares at you.

Felix blinks.

Hyunjin looks between you and Jeongin like he’s watching a reality show finale.

“So,” Minho says, sipping his coffee, eyes sharp. “Sleep well?”

You almost choke on your orange juice.

Jeongin clears his throat and starts buttering a croissant like it’s a weapon.

“Fine,” you mutter. “Normal. Totally average.”

Seungmin raises a brow. “Right. Because totally average sleep ends with you wearing his hoodie to breakfast.”

You glance down. Shit.

Jeongin looks up with the fakest innocence you’ve ever seen. “Oops.”

Felix leans in, chin resting on his hands. “You guys were fighting so much yesterday. But now you’re all…” he gestures vaguely between you, “glowy.”

“Did you guys…” Hyunjin pauses. “Work out your tension?”

Minho: “With communication? Or—”

Jeongin: “—Body language.”

You whip your head around. “OH MY GOD.”

The entire table bursts into screaming laughter.

“You guys totally fucked!” Chan yells, slapping the table. “I knew it!”

“I heard moaning,” Hyunjin gasps.

“I thought someone was being murdered,” Seungmin adds casually.

You hide your face in your hands. “I am never showing my face again.”

But then you feel it — Jeongin’s hand slipping under the table, resting on your thigh. Quiet. Comforting. Yours.

And you peek at him. He’s smiling down at his plate, cheeks a little red, but eyes only on you.

He squeezes your leg gently.

And suddenly?

The shame melts away.

Because this isn’t just about last night anymore.

This is about what’s next. (pt.2??)

[daeniradraconis]

My Emergency Contact – William Nylander

Just a little short Valentine’s Day fluff—because nothing says romance like realizing your boyfriend is absolutely not qualified to be your emergency contact. (Yes, inspired by the TikTok trend!) BTW, this pic is literally my favourite of Willy. Like, sir—how are you this hot and this cute at the same time?! ---

Moving in together was supposed to be romantic. Cozy. A new chapter in your relationship.

Instead, you’re sitting on the couch in your new apartment, watching your shirtless boyfriend, William Nylander, struggle for his life against an IKEA bookshelf.

The shirtless part isn’t unusual. If anything, it’s his default state. The man has never met a fabric he liked.

And honestly? You’re not complaining.

His blond hair is tousled from running his hands through it in frustration, his cheeky grin flickering in and out as he mutters to himself in Swedish, clearly losing patience. His mustache and beard are in full force—an off-season indulgence, just like the sheer amount of cake he’s been consuming lately.

And it shows.

Willy is always strong, always an athlete, but off-season Willy? He’s soft. He still has muscle, but instead of his usual sculpted abs, there’s the faintest hint of a tummy, a little dad bod moment that somehow makes him look even hotter.

Unfortunately, all that raw, Swedish power is currently being humiliated by a simple bookshelf.

“IKEA is a scam,” Will mutters, glaring at the half-built monstrosity. “They make the instructions impossible on purpose.”

“You’re Swedish,” you remind him, sipping your coffee. “This should be, like, in your DNA.”

“Yeah, well, my ancestors built actual ships, not this bullshit.”

He picks up the hex key like it personally insulted his mother, then frowns down at the two pieces of wood he’s supposed to connect. His brows furrow, lips pressing together in deep concentration, and for a fleeting moment, you think—maybe—he’s finally figured it out.

But no. No, he has not.

With way too much confidence, he tightens one screw, nods to himself like a man who knows what he's doing, and then leans his full weight on the side panel—only for it to give out instantly, betraying him in the most dramatic fashion possible.

The entire bookshelf wobbles violently before crashing down in slow motion.

And so does Will.

You watch in horror as your six-foot, professional athlete boyfriend completely loses the battle. He stumbles backward, knocks into a chair, flails to catch himself—too late. His knee buckles, and before you can react, he fully wipes out.

A loud thud. A groan. Silence.

For a split second, your heart stops. You freeze, eyes wide, a sharp pang of panic in your chest. He’s completely motionless, just lying there, staring at the ceiling.

“Will?” you ask, rushing over, hovering a hand over his arm, not sure whether to touch him or call 911.

No response.

Then—he bursts out laughing.

Flat on his back, bare chest rising and falling with laughter, stomach shaking, cheeks flushed—he looks absurdly proud of himself. And you can’t help but laugh too—though only after you're sure he’s not actually injured.

And then it hits you. This man is your emergency contact.

The realization hits you slowly. This is the guy responsible for calling an ambulance if something happens to you. This one.

The same man who once set off the fire alarm trying to “improvise” a grilled cheese with a blowtorch because he thought it would be “faster.”

The same man who got his shoelace caught in an escalator last summer and had to be rescued by a mall employee.

The same man who confidently insisted he could fix a leaky faucet in your old apartment, only to somehow make it worse—so much worse—that you had to call an actual plumber, who took one look at the situation and just muttered, Jesus Christ.

You blink down at Will, still sprawled on the floor, grinning like an idiot, and a strange mix of affection, disbelief, and sheer terror floods through you.

You sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you are my emergency contact.”

You look at him, grinning up from the floor like he just won a prize, and a mix of affection, disbelief, and helpless laughter washes over you.

Will, still sprawled out, turns his head to smirk at you. “Baby. I got you.”

“You just lost a fight to plywood.”

“It was a close fight.”

“In your dreams.”

He just shrugs, completely unbothered, propping himself up on one elbow. “Eh. I’m strong. I can take it.”

You stare at him, still processing the absolute chaos of it all. The lack of concern.

Will sees your expression and smirks, sitting up fully. “You’re thinking about it, huh?”

“I’m regretting it.”

He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Wow. That’s ruthless.”

“Honest.”

Will squints, then rubs the back of his head. “Maybe. But too late, baby. We live together now. No take-backs.”

You roll your eyes, standing up to help his dumb ass off the floor. He lets you pull him to his feet, then immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Will—”

“Shhh,” he says, resting his chin on top of your head. “Let me hold you. I almost died, älskling.”

You snort. “You did not.”

He squeezes you tighter, grinning against your hair. “You were so worried about me.”

You groan, but his arms feel nice, and he smells like cedarwood and the vanilla latte he stole from you earlier. Despite everything—despite his complete incompetence at building furniture or being careful at all—you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You sigh into his chest. “Yeah. You are sometimes actually terrifying. You clumsy idiot.”

Willy laughs, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead.

“Terrifyingly sexy, you mean.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

[lidiasloca]

az during mating bond frenzy

azriel x reader

part two

You feel Azriel’s will to maintain peace. But by the look on his face, the need of his fists to find Cassian’s smirking face is stronger.

“Az,” Rhys says, making him meet his eyes and open his fists. You let out a sigh of relief at the High Lord’s conciliatory tone. “I’ve been thinking about it too, you know?”

“What?” Az asks.

But the High Lord’s growing smirk tells you he’s up to no good. “Sharing.”

The first punch is Azriel’s.

You choose your battles wisely - so you turn on your heel and walk to the kitchen, where you find Feyre preparing tea.

“They’re at it already?” she asks as you lean on the countertop.

“They are,” you breathe, defeated, which makes Feyre walk over to you, worried. “I’ve missed you,” you finally confess.

She smiles weakly and moves to hug you. “I’ve missed you too.” You hold on to her warmth, almost falling asleep in the softness of her embrace.

When she feels your head resting on her shoulder, she gently pulls away. “Are you alright? It’s normal that they’re fighting. Azriel needs it.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that.”

She strokes your cheek. “What is it? Is everything okay with Azriel?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “He is perfect,” you say. “He is. And I love him so much. Everything with him is great. It’s just…”

“What?” Feyre urges you.

“The frenzy.”

Feyre’s brows rise, and her knowing smile makes you feel understood. “Is it that bad?”

“I’m sleep-deprived, Feyre.”

She snorts at your words. You’re about to call her out when someone walks in. “Feyre, darling.”

An Illyrian baby.

“Hello to you too, Y/N. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Your Azriel is just fine. Or at least he was when I left them to fight.”

“You’ve deserted,” you grin.

“I have,” he returns your smile. “But for a good reason.” And with that, he turns to kiss Feyre lovingly on her temple.

“Thank you, my love,” Feyre starts, her eyes on Rhys. “But Y/N and I were having a girl talk, so—”

“Are you kicking me out?”

The High Lady nods with a playful smirk.

“I could be of some help, darling.” He turns to you. “I’m actually quite good with the ladies,” he adds, which earns him a slap on the shoulder.

“Leave.”

“Wait,” you intercede. “Maybe he could be of some help.”

Feyre’s eyebrows furrow, so you further explain.

“Rhys, could you maybe assign Azriel a mission? One that takes a few nights. Nothing dangerous, please.”

The High Lord just stares at you, confusion in his eyes. And then… “Oh,” he says, and then proceeds to laugh in your face. “Oh.”

You hope for Feyre to scold him, but she just laughs along with him.

“Okay, stop. It’s not funny.”

“He doesn’t let you sleep, huh?” Rhys says between laughter, which makes his mate laugh even more.

“Ha ha. So funny.”

Finally, their laughter ends. “Can you do that, yes or no?” you ask.

“I guess I can. But I think it’s better if you tell him the truth.” He turns his flirtatious gaze to Feyre and adds, “Communication is key, right?”

Feyre rolls her eyes with a smirk.

You ignore their daily flirting and stop to think about his words. Telling Azriel the truth. But how? You’d always been open to him about everything, and so was he.

But this… What if he didn’t take it well? What if you hurt his feelings?

Every emotion was more intense with the recent snap of the mating bond.

But you are still you. And Azriel is still Azriel.

He would understand… or so you hoped.

“Y/N?”

You snap back to reality. “What?”

“Do you still want me to do it? Send him away?”

You take your time to think. Yes? No?

“Maybe d—”

“Well. Look who’s here,” Feyre says loudly, looking behind you.

You don’t have time to turn before a familiar hand touches your waist. “Hello, love.”

You move to the side to find your mate standing behind you. Shirtless and sweating from the fighting. Your eyes linger on the tattoos tracing his torso, his arms, his neck, and his face.

Azriel’s face. His lips, his eyes, his cheekbones, his jaw.

Your mate.

Gods, the frenzy was making you suffer as well.

There are no more thoughts to ponder. Your mind is made up as you turn to Rhys with determination and say, “Forget about it.”

His knowing smile is his answer.

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

[https-murdock]

trust me - matt murdock

summary: when you finally get your dads best friend alone, you take your opportunity.

word count: 1,281

warnings: ⚠️ smut, dbf!matt (it’s own warning), age gap (not stated but legal obvs), oral f!receiving

note: heyyy i wanted to put this out to battle through the writers block howeverrr im gonna write either a part 2 or a separate dbf moment cause this one ain’t that gooood sorry :( learning to put the plot in my smut lol <3

maybe it’s because he’s your dads best friend.

you’ve known him for a few years. when he and your dad started working together on a case that crossed both of their paths, they bonded and he started coming over more, and with you living at home for a while this meant you saw him each time.

you can’t help but wonder if you’re seeing it right when you catch him listening to you potter around over your dads shoulder, that smug little smirk gracing his lips again. or the uncomfortable shuffle he does when you tell your dad you’re going on a date. you can’t help but think he may just feel the same as you do.

but you leave all those feelings aside, all those wondering thoughts because that could never happen.

sometimes you can even see his cross necklace, and you almost giggle when you realise how unholy you are for thinking about your dads best friend this way.

they’d known each other years, their relationship building while you were away at school, seeing matt when you came home during breaks or for a couple visits. there was always something in the way his voice had that drawl… the way you had to press your legs together for some form of release even just from a lingering hug. so, when your dad said he was going away for work, you saw your chance.

“i’m going away for a couple days, matt is only across the road if you need him. no messing around while im gone.” your dad had said, and he had no idea what that phrase meant to you when matt was in the same sentence.

seeing your opportunity, you ‘accidentally’ leave your key inside the house after your dad leaves… giving you no other option but to go see if matt has a spare - and you know he doesn’t.

you notice the way your heart flutters, the way it sits differently in your chest as you’re approaching his front door, and you take a second to question whether this is a bad idea, when the door opens for you.

“oh, sorry sweetheart i didn’t realise you were there.” he smirks, and you wonder how he knows it’s you so quickly - matt knows it’s because he recognises that perfume that makes him painfully hard every time he smells it.

matt knows it’s a shared feeling. he can smell you from so far away, and sometimes it feels like he could taste your slick in the air after you hear him talk.

but matt could never cross that line… could he?

“it-it’s ok, i left my keys inside the house but my dads away for a couple days. you don’t have a spare key do you?” you try to speak with your voice straight, tone as it normally would be, but the more you try the more you begin to think you’re making it worse. “oh uh, no i don’t.” he says, and you both stand there in a moment of silence, both wondering what to say next to ease the tension.

“stay here. i have a spare bed you can take ‘till your dad gets back.” he says, and part of you wonders if he is annoyed like he seems, or if he’s just hesitant to let you closer.

“are you sure? i’ll keep out your way, unless you don’t want me to?” you smirk, wanting to see what pushing this a little further would get you.

“you’re trouble.”

—

“we really shouldn’t do this.” he mutters to himself, letting you slip off his dress shirt as you straddle him. “why? who’s gonna know?” you whisper into his ear, feeling his hands mould to your skin as you leave hot kisses down his neck.

“if your dad found out the way i’m touching his daughter, i would loose my head.” he grunts, flipping you so your back sticks to his leather couch. “trust me, we’ll be fine.” you confirm, gasping when he starts kissing your inner thighs.

you toss your head back, basking in the heat his lips bring to your skin, feeling the way they move closer to where you so desperately need him to be. his calloused hands finally grace the waist of your panties, dragging them painfully slow down your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him.

“fuck, wanted to taste this pussy for the longest time.” you’re unsure whether he’s talking to himself at the point, as his head lowers toward your slick.

“p-please, fuck.” the words come out as stutters, almost unintelligible as you wait to be given what you need.

finally, even though isn’t sure why, he lets his trust in you take over. licking a broad stripe up your glimmering folds and groaning to himself at the taste, matt grinds his boxer-only-clad body into the couch, searching for some release.

“god you’re so desperate for this, aren’t you sweetheart?” he chuckles from in between your legs, strong beard rubbing against your skin as you finally let your hands weasel their way into his hair. “so desperate.” you say, and the words tumble out so quick you can’t help the blush that rises on your cheeks.

“little slut, getting this wet for your daddy’s best friend, huh?” he drawls, his voice low and scratching as his lips finally wrap around your clit, a gentle suck making your legs clench around his head.

as you finally feel the exact touch you’ve been asking for, you realise that you’ve both fallen way too deep into this to back out. “i see the way you-ah, fuck, see the way you look at me,” you begin, trying to speak full sentences and failing with his tongue working the way it is, “i know you want this just as much as me.”

there’s a short scoff between your legs, but no reply as you find two of his fingers inside your walls with no build up, the hairs on your body standing up as your moans drift further. “smart mouth isn’t so loud when you’re about to come, huh?” he smirks, wet beard glimmering in the light from his windows.

that’s when it hits you like a train, his fingers still working you through your high, and his hips still grinding into his couch in search of a hint of you.

“holy shit.” is all that leaves your mouth as he sits up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. matt lifts his fingers, fresh with your slick, to your lips - and as you open them and take them in, relishing in the taste of yourself, he says “we should stop now, before it goes too far.” and your heart sinks at the realisation he’s being serious.

“do you not trust me?” you ask him, smirking at your own words from earlier, unsure whether you even trust yourself to keep your feelings separate.

“trust my best friends daughter? not sure if that’s a smart idea, sweetheart.”

tags 🏷️

@lambmurdock @parker-murdock @silas-aeiou @audreyclimbs @pupmurdock @millennial-birkin @poeticbookwormcat

[qiyutism]

"you became quiet all of a sudden. i'm not used to it."

summary: you had been working late, night after night for weeks now. you don't answer his calls, you give clearly rushed, short responses to his texts. you haven't even stopped by his studio in god knows how long. rafayel cant stand the lack of attention. can't stand being ignored. forgotten. abandoned. 

had the bond your two souls share lost all meaning to you? 

word count: 3,283 words

content warnings: angst with a happy ending. mentions/fear of abandonment. kissing and implied sex (if you wanna interpret it that way?) but no actual smut.

author's note: this is my first time writing a fic on tumblr! umm this is barely proofread because i'm sleepy asf so apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes, if i notice any i'll go back and edit them. but yeah, this was all mainly inspired by my own headcanons about rafayel's character and by the in-game dialogue below! please let me know what you think and maybe i'll write more in the future :)

tags: @m00nchildwrites @ghoulishnero <3 !!

heart dividers by @/cafekitsune!

the rain poured down like a waterfall, heavy raindrops hitting against your umbrella as you rushed to your apartment building. it was late at night, with the only thing illuminating the sidewalk at this hour being the flickering street lights and occasional blinding lightning from the storm. 

after sprinting your way through the rain, you finally made it safely inside your apartment building. trying to regain your composure you paused for a moment, breath heavy with sheer exhaustion as you closed your dripping umbrella.

you sluggishly began your way to the elevators, wet shoes squeaking along the floors and echoing throughout the quiet lobby. pressing the button to go up, you then stepped back and waited only a few seconds before the elevator doors opened in front of you. 

you were thankful that no one else was inside as you pressed your floor number and leaned against the cold wall, closing your eyes and letting out a loud sigh you didn't even know you had been holding in. you remained still, letting your mind and body rest, even for just a moment, before the ding of the elevator brought you back into your body. 

you stand up straight and make your way to your apartment door, fishing your keys out of your purse as you get closer. you turn the key in the knob and open the door, quickly ridding yourself of your shoes and almost throwing the rest of your things to the ground. you'll worry about that later.

but right now, you were so incredibly tired.

every muscle in your body ached after weeks of training and battling wanderers nonstop. your head was pounding, as if there was someone inside your head repeatedly beating against your skull. 

work had been pushing you especially hard lately, with a sudden increase in wanderer appearances causing hunters in various departments to be stationed around the city to protect citizens, and hopefully find a lead as to what triggered this influx in the first place. over the past month, you had been stationed in several different places around linkon, ordered to eliminate any potential threats to the area and investigate for any clues on what could be causing this.

and even when you weren't stationed out to be constantly battling wanderers, you were at headquarters sorting through mountains and mountains of paperwork. for hours on end, you would do nothing but read and catch up on previous investigations or potential leads that would explain the uptick in wanderers. 

and yet, you nor anyone else in your department had seemed to uncover anything.

and for the past few weeks, the stress, skipping meals, and losing sleep had finally begun to catch up to you. when you would eventually be let off work and allowed to go home, you completely shut down. even your closest friends hadn't heard from you in who knows how long. you were always too fatigued to do anything but sleep the moment you stepped through your front door.

even rafayel suffered as a result.

you'll admit, despite everything, you still tried your damn best to reply to his texts and answer his calls when you could. but the frequency of which you two communicated had still been heavily impacted. sometimes, the best you could manage was only a short reply, if only to let him know that you were still alive and breathing at the very least. you hadn't even had the energy (or the time) to pop by his house for a visit. 

realizing how bad things had gotten thanks to this increase of demands from work, how horribly you had been neglecting your physical and mental health, how badly you've been neglecting your friendships and relationship, you decided to finally reach out and request for some desperately needed time off. that's all you needed, was time.

some time to sleep in late and be able to wake up and have a calm, slow morning. some time to take a long, hot, relaxing bath to soak the stress and strain out of your poor muscles. some time to eat a big, filling, home cooked meal, a luxury you hadn't allowed yourself lately and instead opting for the convenience of take out meals or junk food snacks and sweets. 

you needed time to go over to rafayel's studio and profusely apologize for how distant you had been. 

with your thoughts circling back to rafayel yet again, you thought you should check your phone and see if he had sent you his usual stream of texts messages throughout the day. sprawled out across your bed, you slowly reach into your back pocket for your phone and check your notifications for the first time all day. 

among the usual system notifications and messages and calls from friends, there was only one person you cared about and were specifically looking for.

30+ unread texts and 10 missed calls just from rafayel alone. you could swear you felt your heart physically break into a million pieces inside your chest seeing the sweet, playful messages slowly turn despondent and sorrowful as the day went on.

goooood morning cutie ♡ i finished another painting last night, reddie thinks u should totallyyy come over later and check it out :P

i went out to the beach today and collected some seashells to make some new paints. i think the hues will be perfect for an old piece i was working on

the hermit crabs outside have begun asking where u've been lately :/ 

miss bodyguarddd where are uuu :( 

you're being quiet again today ... 

cutie??

*missed call*

*missed call*

*missed video call*

you stare at the screen for a while, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as guilt digs its claws into your heart. you feel like a horrible partner, with work straining you mentally and physically, you've barely had the time or energy to even talk to your own boyfriend? of all people?

you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts as your fingers begin tapping the screen. you're not even completely aware of what exactly you're saying, all you know is that you need to make it up to him.

you have to see him.

your body feels heavy like a sack of bricks, its past midnight, and the storm outside is only just starting to let up. but looking back at this past month, you realize how much you've pretty much neglected rafayel. barely replying to his texts, and if you do its something sent in a fatigued, half-functioning state. you haven't had the time to answer his calls, not wanting him to see you so disheveled and almost on the brink of passing out at work. you damn sure haven't been able to visit his studio with how busy work has kept you. 

mustering every last bit of strength in your body, you slowly make your way out of bed and into the shower. you need to at least wash off the day's stress from your body before heading over to his house. though it's nothing compared to soaking in a nice bath, the scalding hot water still does wonders for your body and you certainly feel more refreshed than before. 

you slip on some comfortable clothes, just some sweatpants and a hoodie, before putting your shoes on and grabbing your purse from where you left it when you first entered. locking the door behind you, you begin your journey to rafayel's home, on a mission. 

you check your phone again, every bone in your body hoping rafayel was even still awake and had replied to your text from before. usually he stays up late, either soaking in his bathtub or pulling an all-nighter on a painting project. so it's a little disheartening when you glance at your phone and see no new notifications from him. this doesn't deter you from your newfound mission, but it does plant a seed of worry that buries its roots deep within your chest.

the rain had thankfully seemed to have briefly paused by the time you arrive at your destination. you stand in front of the gate to mo art studio, that seed of worry already branching out and stretching through your entire body like a full grown tree.

still no text or call from rafayel.

you stand still, frozen in place by a heavy veil of doubt and ...

... fear?

will any amount of groveling and apologizing possibly fix what i've done? fix the pain i've caused him? 

you notice your breathing start to grow louder and faster and try your best to calm yourself back down. 

you were already here now. there's no going back.

you force yourself to push the gate open, stepping on the stone path towards the front door of his home. you stand there for another moment and decide to knock first.

*knock knock knock*

no answer.

*knock knock knock*

still no answer.

*knock knock knock knock knock knock*

silence.

taking a deep breath, you reach inside your purse and pull out the key rafayel had given you long ago when you two had first met. with shaky hands you insert the key, slowly and quietly letting yourself in. 

your eyes almost bulge right out of their sockets at the sight of what you had just walked into.

the living room was a complete mess, as if a hurricane had came and swept through the whole place. paint tubes lay scattered around, various colors leaking from them onto the floor in streaks. paint brushes look like they were thrown against the wall, all laid on the floor in a pile under a big splat of paint made on the wall. canvases, some big or small, some blank or with a few strokes of paints struck across them, lay on the ground in several pieces, as if a wanderer had came and ripped them to shreds. the entire place just look completely unkempt and almost abandoned. 

the only source of light allowing you to see anything was the glow of the moon shining through the open windows, faint wind blowing the loose sheer curtains inwards. 

"rafayel?" you whisper, unsure if he's even awake or here at all. 

you walk through the house, trying your best to remain quiet. as you continue on, you notice that it seems like some paint brushes and canvases and even parts of the walls have been burned? you reach your hand out to touch the scorched pieces, bits of ash and soot marking your fingers black.

this means rafayel was definitely here, but just what the hell happened?

you carefully step over and around all the mess, making your way through the home when you hear what you think is someone ... mumbling?

sounds like it's coming from his bedroom.

the door to his bedroom is slightly ajar, and before you make your presence known, you lean in and try to hear what's going on inside. 

"she's gone. she's never coming back, and it's all my fault."

you immediately recognize the voice, and it's as if your heart was just ripped out of your chest and ripped to shreds.

"was i too clingy? did she feel suffocated by me? did i take my teasing too far? god, i fucked it up again, i can't lose her ..."

you feel tears start to pool in your eyes again, only this time its impossible to stop them from falling. one after another, the more you hear him spew on about what he must have done to drive you away, the more the tears flow down your cheeks like rivers. 

in the midst of your breakdown, before you even realize, you instinctively let out a light sniffle. you were quiet, but the silence of the rest of the house only echoed the small sound even more. you heard what sounded like blankets shift before a small, weak voice spoke out.

"is someone there?" he mutters, his voice slightly shaky as if he had been crying as well.

you close your eyes and inhale, a sorry attempt to pull yourself together, knowing you had been caught. you slowly push the door open with a creak and reveal yourself to see rafayel, buried so deep under the covers that only his peeking head is visible. his hair is completely unkempt, as if he hasn't bothered to maintain it in who knows how long. as you slowly step closer you see his tear stained cheeks, the sight tugging at your heartstrings. 

he looks like a shell of the rafayel you've always known. the rafayel you've known always had a mischievous grin on his face, like he had a trick up his sleeve waiting for you. the rafayel you've known always had a certain light, or twinkle in his eyes that brought him to life. the rafayel you've known always carried himself in a somewhat carefree and lackadaisical manner that made him honestly quite the joy to be around.

the rafayel cocooned in bed in front of you has lost that playful grin. his eyes as dark as the deep sea, and his carefree attitude has been replaced by a thick air around him akin to mourning. 

you stand there, inches away from the bed, the two of you remaining in silence for what seemed like an eternity.

rafayel locked his eyes on you, a mixture of emotions evident in his eyes that he didn't even bother to try and hide. hurt, pain, disbelief, devotion. you could tell even he didn't know what exactly he was feeling right now. so you decided to take this moment of silence to speak first.

“rafayel i–”

you stopped, but your mouth remained opened, as if you were waiting for the rest of your words to load in your brain. and when they didn't, you could only find yourself beginning to sob yet again. your legs felt too weak to support you anymore, your entire body completely overcome with emotion as you sunk to the floor. you held your head in your hands as you simply let your tears flow like a faucet.

“rafayel i’m so sorry!” you began, shoulders rising and falling as you continued weeping.

“i got completely overwhelmed with work lately and everything has just been so stressful! i barely eat and i barely sleep anymore because work has kept me so busy and i’ve just been so tired every day!” you cry out, spilling your emotions out like a dam burst.

you paused for a quick moment just to catch your breath, the tears still not stopping.

“i’ve been wrapped up with work and haven't been able to be here for you and you have every right to be furious with me but please believe me rafayel, you’ve done nothing and could never do anything to ever make me hate you!” 

you’re practically yelling at this point, trying your best to sound as sincere and truthful as possible to get him to believe you. you just can't stand to see him like this, it pains you to see the one person you love the most in this world convinced so deeply that you’ve fallen out of love with him.

when that's the absolute farthest thing from the truth.

you both sit in a tense silence for a few moments, your words repeating over and over again in rafayel’s mind. minutes pass and your sobbing finally seems to be coming to an end as you wipe your eyes with your damp hoodie sleeves.

the sound of your sniffles and choked, shaky breaths are muffled by the sound of blankets shifting around on the bed from above. you look up and watch as rafayel joins you on the floor, sitting only an arm’s length in front of you. 

“do you still love me?” he whispers, so softly as if someone else could be listening in on you. 

“with all my heart, rafayel.” you respond without a second thought, looking him directly in his eyes. 

he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, looking off into the distance of the room as he then continues speaking.

“this past month, you became quiet all of a sudden. i’m not used to it. you stopped replying to my texts, stopped answering my calls. you wouldn't even come over to see me anymore. i thought i had done something wrong, that i must have hurt you. i really thought i had lost you, forever.”

his words grow softer and softer as he continues, almost fading out towards the end. he’s still unable to look you in the eyes as he attempts to put all of his racing thoughts into coherent sentences.

“i’m terrified of you losing you. of being abandoned by you.” he finally makes direct eye contact. “even the thought of it is enough to make me sick. when that terrifying thought seemed like it was becoming my reality, i lost control.” 

you remember the current state that his home and studio is in. the paint splattered all across the floors and walls, paintbrushes thrown across the room, scorched pieces of the walls from his fire evol. he really did lose himself, because he thought i had left him for good.

he grows quiet again, fading out the last part of his sentence, but you’re latched onto his every word like a man dying of thirst reaching for water. you hear every word that leaves his mouth, as much as it still pains you to hear. it hurts you to hear just how horrible he’d felt this entire time.

you slowly reach for his hand, giving him time to reject your touch if he wasn't ready. 

but he doesn't.

you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and feeling the warmth from his palm envelop yours. he looks at you, the numerous emotions displayed in his eyes slowly melting into one.

love.

“rafayel, you will never lose me. and i promise you that. i’m yours, in this lifetime and the next. forever.”

the two of you remain still, hands intertwined, eyes locked on one another. rafayel is the first to move.

he lets go of your hand, instead moving both of his to cup your face and watches as shock momentarily washes over your face. you swear you see a glimpse of that mischievous grin return to his face before he leans in and locks his lips on yours.

you’re briefly caught off guard, but you quickly come to your senses and return the kiss with everything you have in you. your hands find their way to his hair, gripping it tightly and earning the tiniest of moans from his mouth.

time seems to stop as the two of you bask in each other's embrace. you're the first to pull away, only for the sole reason of needing air to continue the kiss. 

as you breathe air back into your lungs, rafayel speaks, voice low and soft.

“tell me you love me.”

a small smile finds its way on your face, happy to do anything he asks for.

“i love you rafayel.” you say, planting a kiss on the mole under his eye.

you can tell that a light blush creeps its way onto his face, even in the dim moonlight that intrudes through his large bedroom windows.

“say it again.” he says, voice still low as a whisper.

“i love you rafayel.” you plant another kiss on the right on his nose, watching his blush intensify even more.

finally, he reconnects his lips with yours yet again, this time pulling you close into his lap, wanting to feel your body close and pressed up against his. 

and when he kisses you, he devotes the entire ocean to his beloved. 

[lavenderhateswritting]

LOWKEY I need Bruce’s reaction when he finds the divorce papers

I'm low-key obssesed with divorcing Bruce. This got so much longer than I thought it would I hope you like it.

If he were to ask himself what he remembers about that night he would say it was the look in your eyes. You were never good at hiding how you felt he could tell what kind of day you had just by staring into your eyes and watchng the way the light bounced off them.

You were sad, of course you were sad he had done it again broken the trust you gave him, over and over again even as past experiences showed, he could not be trusted with it. There was more to it though. You weren't just sad you were determined. He used to love that look on you. The way your eyes would narrow when you had finally found the best path forward.

He knew you had made up your mind as soon as you looked him in the eyes and he saw in you the very reason he had fallen in love all those years ago.

Coming home to the empty bedroom wasn't surprising he knew in a way that he had lost this battle. You were going to leave that night, likely to your parent or friends house maybe if he was lucky to one of the properties you both owned. He could concede this to you learning about a child he had out of wedlock with a woman he had already cheated on you with once before, you were going to need to be alone.

He just needed to think of a plan to get you back like he had before. What had he done before to get you back? To pull your relationship from that ledge he couldn't stop walking it towards. Vacations that never lasted long because there was always a new problem popping up and a world to save. Dates that he planned, going to your favorite restouraunt where he was getting flirted with constantly reminding you why you were out in the first place. Flowers, but you never really liked flowers it just seemed like something he was supposed to do when he failed in the relationship. Likely none of those would work.

In a way the divorce papers had come as less of a surprise than he would have liked to admit. You had been out of the house for a month and not answering his phone calls. He kept tabs though, he had to, to make sure you were safe and that he'd be there when you were ready to move past this together. So he noticed when you started talking to lawyers. So if you asked him, no he wasn't surprised that you had asked for a divorce. It still hurt though. In a way he had never thought a simple piece of paper could hurt in his life.

Twenty years of marriage couldn't be over this quick. With so little fight or care he just needed to talk to you and explain himself. You were always good at understanding him probably the only person who consistently could.

"What are you doing here Bruce." You weren't facing him. You were chopping carrots on the cutting board at the counter, but you had of course heard him come in. You had gained some kind of second sense for people like him and the kids after a while sneaking past you was nearly impossible.

He remembers one of the days when Jason was young and had gotten it in his head that he was going to manage to sneak past you and into the cave even though he was benched for the night because of a cold. He had by the end of the night gotten so frustrated that he had accused you of secretly being a double agent sent to spy on the family.

For a moment he can feel himself wanting to smile at the memory he stops himself he's Batman right now. Maybe coming in the suit was a bad idea, but in a way this was his best defense against you against whatever way you decided to hurt him.

You're waiting for a response, but what should he even say. ' I missed waking up to your smile everyday and holding you close at night.' Or ' I don't know what's wrong with me because you are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen and for some reason that's not enough for me'. Or maybe ' I don't know what a life without you in it would look like and I would never want to live in the world where I have to figure that out.' He doesn't say any of that though can't bring himself to.

"You left." He finally says and he can tell by the tension in your shoulders it was the wrong choice.

"I told you I was going to." Your back is still turned towards him. He'd like to think that if he could see your face maybe he could find a road map towards fixing this.

He watches as you scrape the carrots into whatever soup you have cooking on the stove that has left the entire house smelling like those moments of peace you two would share after a rough week.

"I never got the chance to explain myself. You left and now you want to leave everything we built and you haven't even given me a chance to explain myself." He's hoping that if he can just get you to understand in the way you always have that there might be some chance of fixing this.

"What is there to explain Bruce. You've done this so many times that I think I've heard every excuse or explanation you could possibly have. Can we just end this like adults." You stir the pot and then finally you turn around to look at him. You have dark rings underneath your eyes and he's not sure what of that was always there and what wasn't. You were always exhausted running from one problem to the next trying to keep things afloat as best you could. Tryng to keep this relationship afloat as best you could.

"I know that my relationship with Talia has hurt you multiple times and I need to apologize because this isn't fair to you it never has been." He inhales rememders everything he's ever tried to tell you and just assumed you knew and tries his hardest to voice it.

"I can't tell you why I keep cheating on you because I am truly a lucky man. You are the center of my world Y/N and most of the time you're the only thing keeping it running." He looks into your eyes and he can see the tears rushing forward threatening to flow.

"The world before I knew you was a dark one, I wanted to help people, but in a way I never cared what happened to me. You gave me a reason to want to come home at the end of the day. You made me whole in ways I never thought I could be. I don't want to end this I can't imagine a world where we aren't togehter." You're crying now. He cant seem to stop making you cry.

"Bruce I have loved you for so long that, the idea of not having you in my life was something I could never even consider. And maybe that was the problem. I've stuck beside you for so long and tried my hardest to make sure that you and your life were the best it could be I think I've forgotten that I'm a person outside of you." You reach up to wipe the tears out of your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself like a hug. "You aren't good for me Bruce hell you're not even really good to me and I have to find some way t-to move past relying on you for everything because you don't know how to stop hurting me and I'm just going to keep letting you."

"Don't say that. You know I don't want to hurt you. I don't ever want to see you hurt."

"You say all of this, but you keep hurting me anyways. Maybe you do love me, maybe you actually do believe what you're saying." You're staring him down now. "But that's not enough and I've given you chance after chance to be better and every single time you just hurt me again. Something had to give and I- I need to break this off or this relationship will kill me."

"I'll be better." He's stood up and begun to walk towards you now. "I won't even look in the direction of a woman if you ask me I will do better." You reach your hand up and cup his face. He can see it in your eyes that there's nothing he can do to change your mind, but he'd be a fool not to try.

"Oh Bruce, I wish I could believe you." You take your hand down and lean your head onto his chest. Your eyes are staring back at you in the chine of the bat symbol. You both stand there for a few minutes and breathe in the last of eachother you'll ever get.

"You need to leave Bruce." You finally push yourself away from him and he can tell you mean it.

So he leaves.

[sacredsorceress]

Need the baby daddy!logan fic! 😩😩

sorry in advance for heaps of f bombs, but if I was pregnant from a one night stand and/or had managed to go two centuries without getting someone pregnant, I imagine there would be a LOT of cursing. lmk what you think!! would be more than happy to expand on this thought.

｡° Baby Daddy!Logan °｡

warnings: pregnancy, not proofread

ask box | logan howlett masterlist

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

“Fuck.”

You cursed as you paced around your bathroom. Although the plastic stick in your hand was no heavier than a feather, it weighed down heavily.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. A part of you wondered if it could fly out of your chest and keep thump thump thumping on the floor.

The air in the room thinned- your free hand clawing at your chest as your breath quickened.

Then came the burning behind your eyes.

Like a steaming kettle, you boiled over. You threw the stick across the bathroom, listening as it clattered against the other discarded sticks, taunting you on the sink. The sound echoed throughout the linoleum room. A shout erupted from your throat.

"Fuck!"

Was the bathroom always this small? Or had the walls finally began to close in on you?

You found the knob and pushed open the door, releasing the pressure. With the filtered sun hitting your skin again, you could finally breathe- although it remained shaky- you saw those two parallel lines every time you blinked.

Stumbling through the hallway, you grabbed your keys.

On your way over you rehearsed what you would say. How you would give Logan some very mature and thought-out response: "I'm keeping it. But I understand that's not what you signed up for when we had that one night stand, so, it's okay if you don't want to be involved"- fuck, did you really mean that?

You felt an elbow harshly collide with your abdomen.

"Hey asshole!" You shouted after the stranger. "I'm pregnant!"

"What the fuck?"

You froze. A chill rushed down your back and your face turned to stone as if you had gazed upon Medusa herself.

Your back still turned to him, you said nothing. You weren't positive you could if you tried.

"Tell me you're joking." Logan said, placing his hand on your shoulder. When you didn't respond, he shook you."Hey! I'm talkin' to-"

"Yes!" You erupted, shoving Logan's hand from your skin. "Yes, Logan, I'm pregnant. And guess what? It's yours."

Your hands gestured around wildly as you huffed.

Later, you thought. I'm going to regret this.

"I was just on my way to tell you now, but since you're so impatient," You chuckled humourlessly. "Surprise! You're going to be a father."

You let your hands fall to your side.

You weren't sure if Logan had ever been pale before- as someone with the gift of instant regeneration, when would he have lost enough blood for that to happen? Or experience nausea?

Before, you would've responded that the answer was never. Now, you watched the color drain from his face.

In his two-hundred years- to his knowledge anyway (and maybe he was better off not knowing if he did)- Logan had never gotten a single woman pregnant. Now, with a new lease on life no more than three months strong, he had already managed to fuck it up.

Logan's mind battled with two conflicting, yet equally upsetting thoughts. One: Logan was going to be a father. That one came with hefty baggage he couldn't even begin to unpack. How could he be a good father? How would he keep them safe? What would happen to him if history repeated itself?

Two: he got you pregnant. You, Wade's friend who had big dreams. You, who made the heart rate of every man in the room skyrocket when you walked into it. You, who had shown Logan kindness even when he felt that he was the last person on earth to deserve it.

He, to Logan's understanding, had ruined your life.

You- kind, perfect, caring you- were going to share a child with him.

What did you do to deserve that?

But, Logan didn't say any of that.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

You scowled at him.

"That I'm pregnant?" You asked, crossing your arms. "Or that it's yours? Because either way, yes, I'm sure. I wouldn't have been marching over to your apartment if I wasn't."

Sensing your upset, Logan cursed himself.

He put one hand on his hip while the other ran down his face.

"I-" Logan began.

"Look," You said, levelling yourself. "I get that you probably don't want to be involved and that's fine. I just figured you had a right to know. But now that you know-"

Logan pulled his hand from his face and shook his head in disbelief. His eyebrows knitted as he flew his hand around in the air, shocked.

"What're you talking about?" He asked, exasperated. "You think I'm just gonna let you raise the kid yourself? C'mon, Y/n."

You were taken aback.

"You... want to be involved?" You asked.

To be honest, you had been so concerned with preparing yourself for the seemingly inevitable crushing defeat, that you had not even taken the time to consider that he might say yes.

Now, it seemed obvious. Logan was Logan. He may have been stubborn, difficult, perpetually frustrated- let's stop there- but he was also loyal. Committed.

Logan wouldn't let a stranger take a punch, why did you think he would let you raise his kid on your own?

"You're sure it's mine?"

Did he want you to admit that he was the only man you'd slept with in months?

"Yes."

Logan's jaw clenched as he nodded slowly. He reckoned that it would take more than one conversation for the realization to hit him that after years, decades, centuries- he was going to be a father. But for now, he made peace with his future.

He studied the moment. You stood before him bathed in the afternoon sunlight, your arms hugging yourself as you stared at him intently. He, across from you, had his hands in his pockets, playing with old receipts that had now torn. It was simple. But he figured out of everything in his life that he had forgotten, he would be sure to remember this moment.

"Then you're not doing this alone, alright?" Logan said, meeting your eyes. His words were soft despite his gruff voice. "Now, let's go inside so the whole block doesn't keep hearin' about it, yeah?"

Unsure, you stayed glued to your spot.

Then his hand reached out for you, ushering you forward by the small of your back.

"C'mon sweetheart, I can still see those tears."

And with a deep breath, you let Logan lead you inside.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

this isnt proofread- sorry!! but baby daddy logan who you just barely know but now get forced into close proximity with?? Intrigued...

we're chatting about our favourite mcu guys in the ask box- feel free to come on by!!

[rowdydevs]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 ℙ𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: fluff, pet names, swearing, ruthie’s a bully, ruthie and the reader fight, heavy angst, gaslighting, verbal altercation between rafe and the reader, drinking

All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! The premise the reader catches Rafe, Topper, and Ruthie talking about her from a distance (homage to s4). There will also be a nod to the beach episode with added drama between Ruthie and the reader. This post is based off an ask requesting a tie between the story and the song “Casual” by Chappell Roan ���️

Reader’s POV:

The Island Club Christmas Party… You never thought you'd find yourself here.

You rest your back against the wall, listening to the party from down the hall, taking a moment to yourself. Well, it started that way until you heard his voice. You couldn't help but hang back, listening to him speak candidly, intrigued as Rafe’s voice weaves deftly between a conversation with Topper and his girlfriend.

“Y/n?” Ruthie cuts as Rafe mentions looking for a bigger house, making plans for the future. Your name on her lips makes your stomach turn.

“What about her?” Rafe drawls before taking a sip.

"She’s pretty Pogue. Isn't she? Are you and y/n getting serious now? She seems… invested,” she needles, wrapping her glossy lips around her straw.

Rafe pauses for a moment, thinking of a reply, letting the words hang in the air for far too long. “Just ‘cause we hooked up doesn't mean she’s my girlfriend. Okay?” He mumbles.

“I’m just saying the two of you are together a lot… Wait, are you lookin’ for a place with her?” She asks, tilting her head slightly, letting her judgment bleed into her tone.

“I’m not livin’ with a Pogue,” Rafe answers without hesitantion.

Ruthie and Topper smile at each other and chuckle at the ridiculousness of her question. “I don't know. Just thought I'd ask,” she giggles to Top as he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“It’s casual… Nothin’ more. Nothin’ less,” Rafe adds, getting the final word. The rug gets pulled from underneath you. The harsh realization that you mean so little to him cutting through you like a knife, especially when he means everything to you.

You walk back to the ballroom—the party hitting you at full force—the smug laughter of the Kooks, rich music flowing, the clinking of champagne glasses between lofty toasts. All the noises battle Rafe’s cruel words, screaming in your mind.

"You coming to brunch tomorrow?" Wheezie’s voice startles you, pulling you out of the depths. She stands in front of you, bright-eyed and innocent, looking up at you with a sweet smile. “John B’s comin’ too,” Rafe’s little sister mentions a familiar friend in an attempt to sway you and make you feel more comfortable, her question just twisting the knife further, every word driving it home that you weren't anything more than a fling— your invitation to brunch apparently lost somewhere down the line.

You offer a strained smile, lips trembling. "Maybe," you say quietly, "I might have plans."

Wheezie’s lips tug to the side, and she nods, not wanting to push it further. “Well, I hope you can make it,” she smiles gently before stepping away.

You walk toward the tables, looking up at the stage, seeing Pope behind the piano playing for the crowd. His fingers move masterfully along the keys, holding their attention as he weaves between Christmas songs, flowing into the next effortlessly. He looks the part; his tailored suit fits him like a glove. You can't help but envy how well he slips into this world, which seems to weigh heavier on your shoulders with every passing second.

You reach for your champagne flute, watching it tremble in your hand. Heat builds behind your eyes as you start to pick yourself apart, just simple things. You notice how chipped your sparkly nails had gotten from doing the dishes before you left, something so superficial now a strike held against you. You toss back the rest of your drink, tucking your hands under the table.

“A drink, My Lady,” your eyes lift to another friend. JJ Maybank. He rests a glass of champagne on the table, taking away your spent drink. His smile falls as his eyes match yours. “Hey-Hey, you alright?” He asks quickly, his voice laced with concern. JJ’s gaze shoots up, scanning the party for Rafe, knowing it most likely has something to do with him.

“It’s fine, Jayj,” you breathe.

“Want me to kill him?” He asks dryly, making you laugh and roll your eyes.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” you sigh.

You look over your shoulder, heart fluttering as Rafe walks around the corner with two mixed drinks. He looks handsome—his honey-colored hair brushed back, showing off his beautiful face. His muscular body is hugged in a dark green suit, matching your dress perfectly as the two of you had planned. Rafe scans the crowd, smiling brightly as he sees you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to forget everything he said, but you can't.

Casual? There was nothing casual about us. How could I not know this is how he felt? How could I be so wrong?

Six months… What’s causal about that? Were you casual this morning when he woke up in your bed? When you made him breakfast and sipped coffee as you chatted about tonight? Were you casual when he took you out to dinner? His beautiful blue eyes locked on yours while he whispered you were ‘the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen…’

Rafe Cameron, the man who trusts no one told you secrets you had to promise to say no one… Casual? I'm a fucking idiot.

Your jaw tightens, teeth-gritted, as you see Ruthie and Topper step around the corner too, following along. The three of them stroll toward your table, sitting down, making themselves comfortable as you try to compose yourself—doing your best to hide the disappointment painted all over your face.

"Wow," she calls as she looks around the room, chuckling mockingly, "We have Heyward and Maybank. I could use something to eat, y/n. Is that your job?"

You straighten up in your seat, cocking an eyebrow in her direction, biting back an angry reply as you feel Rafe’s hand rest on your thigh, grounding you in the moment. Ruthie smirks, catching the shift in your demeanor, getting off on the fact that she got to you, not wanting to stop now that she started.

"Your friends seem to know their place,” she smiles as she points to JJ, gathering some trash from an empty table, "accidentally" knocking her glass over in the process, soaking the lap of your dress before you can get a word out.

You gasp, watching the liquor spread along the fabric. All eyes turn to you. "Oh no,” she pouts, poking out her bottom lip. "Shit, y/n. I’m sorry.” Rafe quickly grabs a linen napkin, blotting the stain. You bite your cheek, fluttering your lashes to hold back tears.

“You okay, baby?” He whispers. You shake your head ‘no,’ feeling the champagne seep through your dress, trickling down your legs and onto the floor below. “Don’t know what the policy is on a rental. Maybe they’ll cut you a deal,” Ruthie giggles airily against the rim of her champagne flute before taking a sip.

The room spins around you; humiliation and sadness quickly snuffed out by a surge of rage. You shove out of your seat, grabbing for Ruthie before tearing her to the floor. “Fuck you!” You hiss as you draw your hand back, slapping her face like you’ve want to do for months, making her head snap to the side.

She shrieks in anger, clawing her manicured hands against your face and arms in an attempt to get you off as you start swinging, blacking out completely.

"Get off me!" She cries.

“Y/n, stop,” Rafe yells as he grabs your arms, pulling you off her. You lift your foot, kicking her back down to the ground, making her sob as your spike heel hits her quick and hard.

"You think you’re better than everyone?" You shout as you fight against Rafe’s grasp. "You’re not-”

“Control you, Pogue, Cameron,” Ruthie cuts over to Rafe as she thumbs some blood from her bottom lip.

“Fuckin’ cunt,” you grunt as you escape, grabbing for her, but Rafe lifts you off your feet, hauling you back. “If you keep running your mouth, Ruthie. You better learn how to fuckin’ fight-”

"Enough!" Rafe snarls in a low, angry tone.

He grabs your arm tightly, dragging you toward the door, guiding you into the freezing night’s air. You tear away from his grasp, charging toward the main road, letting the tears you held in all night go.

“Let me go!” You scream as he grabs you, whirling you around.

“What the fuck was that, huh?” He explodes as he steps closer.

“What was that?” You scream back, voice echoing through the dim parking lot. “I heard you, Rafe. I heard the disgusting shit that you said about me…"

He freezes, his expression shifting from anger to guilt. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers.

“‘Just ‘cause we hooked up doesn't mean she’s my girlfriend.’ What the fuck am I to you, huh?”

“Baby, c’mon…”

“You’d never live with a Pogue. We’re casual. No more. No less. I mean nothing to you.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

"I am not twisting shit!" You hiss, voice cracking with emotion. "You don't respect me. You never fuckin’ did. Admit it.”

“That’s not true!”

“Bullshit!” You bang your fist against his chest, making him shut his eyes, drawing a deep, frustrated breath. “Look at me, Rafe,” you whimper as you show him your dress.

“That was an accident-”

“You’re not that stupid. I know you're not.”

“She’s a bitch… That’s just Ruthie,” he mutters like that excuse will get him anywhere. “You know I'll pay for it. The night’s almost over.”

“And that makes it okay? You let her talk to me like that. You didn’t say anything. You just sat there while she embarrassed me.”

"I’m sorry. Okay?" He softens his voice, looking around the parking lot for watchers-on.

“You sat there and watched her tell me I don’t know my place.”

"That was wrong. It’ll never happen again. I'll fix it. I'll tell them we’re not casual. I'll tell Ruthie everything I should have said when she was talking to you like that. I'll make this right. Just let me make this right-"

You shake your head fast, the bitterness leaving your lips in a disgusted laugh. “You don’t get it, Rafe, do you? You can't repair what just happened in there. It’s done. The little regard you had for me is all they’ll remember. You do not have my back. Allowing them to talk to me like you did without stepping in is somethin’ they’ll never forget. It’s just somethin’ they can use against me. You don't think she’ll bring that shit up again? You think those little comments you made died on your lips, Rafe? ‘Cause they didn’t.”

Rafe reaches for you, his eyes desperate and glossy with tears. “You’re upset. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. Please, just—”

"No. I’m done. I am done not being good enough for you, Rafe.”

"Let me help you relax," he says, lowering his tone further as he reaches for again. "You're just overwhelmed." You shove him back, anger and heartbreak churning in your system. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me. I’m done.”

The Twinkie rumbles behind you, breaking the tension. Pope pulls beside you, opening the door, his concerned stare meeting you. JJ hops out of the van before it can even roll to a complete stop; a wide, wild smile is painted on his lips, just begging Rafe to grab you again.

“Think she told you to stop touchin’ her, Cameron,” JJ cuts to Rafe as he steps between the two of you. Rafe shoves him, the two quickly getting in each other's faces. You grab JJ’s arm, tugging him back to the van. Without another word, you climb in, slamming the door shut.

Rafe’s rapid breathing mists in the night as the blood drains from his face. "Don't go, baby. C’mon,” he begs, his pleas getting swallowed up by the roar of the van's motor.

You look back at him through the window, feeling your heart break all over again. Rafe’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears, his head hanging low as he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and keys.

Pope wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. You rest your head on his chest, taking a deep, needed breath.

After a few minutes, your phone buzzes in your lap as the van heads north, leaving Figure Eight in the dust. You blink away the tears from your eyes, looking down at the text from Rafe.

Rafe: I'm sorry princess. I was a fucking idiot and I hurt you. I care about you so much more than I ever let you know.

Rafe: I'm sorry I fucked up and embarrassed you like I did.

Rafe: Please let me make it right. I'll do anything. Even if it means leaving you alone while you figure out if I'm worth it

Rafe: please give me another chance

You smear a tear into the screen and lock it, wanting to believe him, but you're too overwhelmed. As soon as you close it, another text comes in.

Rafe: I’m driving to your place right now.

Rafe: Please give me a chance to explain. There’s nothing casual about us.

Rafe: Not to me.

Your chest tightens, anger and heartbreak warring on you. Those were his words. He said you were casual. He said he couldn’t see a future with you. And he said that shit ‘cause he thought you weren't listening. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, and against your better judgment, you type.

You: Ok

Rafe’s car pulls up to the front of the château. You watch as he steps out of the car in his suit, his jacket off, and his tie loose. His hair is messy now, hanging down on his forehead, his cheeks dewy and splotchy from the tears he’d never let the Pogues see.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his words wavering. “I didn’t mean what I said back there. That was the stupidest shit I’ve ever done. Alright? You mean everything to me-”

“Do I?” You ask, challenging his words. “Because you made me feel like nothing, Rafe.”

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I’ll spend every day proving it to you if you let me.”

“You love me, Rafe? Love? Why the fuck would you say that now? Do you think I’ll let this go ‘cause you “love me”?” You hurt me, Rafe,” you whisper. “How can I trust that you mean what you say when you talk about me like that behind my back? ”

“I know,” he said. “And I’ll never forgive myself for it. But I can’t lose you.”

“I need some time, Rafe.”

“A break-”

“We’re casual…” You correct him. “A break from what?”

He buries his head in his hands as his emotions start chipping away at his icy exterior.

Rafe meets your gaze again, bushing the sleeve of his white shirt along his eyes. “Can’t we go back to the way we were before? Back to how we were before we got to that stupid fuckin’ party. I can work to prove that you are right this time. That we’re together—you and me. Boyfriend; girlfriend. There’ll be no questions from you or anyone else that it’s serious… That I'm serious about you and I,” he rambles.

You look back at the broken man before you, hating yourself for wanting to do just that, loving yourself enough to shake your head ‘no.’ “We can't go back to the way things were…”

His head falls, tears tumbling to concrete steps below. “Please,” he sniffles.

“I don't want what we had. I want something different. I'm gonna need more, Rafe.”

He nods his head, taking in your words. “Can I pick you up tomorrow? Nine AM. Brunch… With my family, if you’re interested. Please say ‘yes’…”

He steps a little closer, taking your hand in his, his eyes pleading with yours for another chance.

“I don’t know, Rafe…” You whisper.

“Please, baby. I don't deserve it, I know. I got a lot I have to fix, and if shit doesn't change, you can drop me, and I swear I’ll leave you alone. You won't have to worry about me anymore. Okay?”

“Rafe…”

“I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. Everything I just said to you I meant. And I know you said you don't believe that I love you and I don't blame you. I’m gonna show you. Okay? Everyday… Your place is beside me, alright? Where I go is where you belong. You gotta believe me.”

You look up into his tear-stained eyes, and for the second time, you go against your better judgment, putting your heart in the hands of a boy you can only hope means every word he says, unwilling to lose the man you thought you had.

“Okay.”

[supernotnatural2005]

Happily Ever After

Pairing: Dean Winchester

Summary: Set after 'Carry on'. Dean is alive, and you all decide to hang up the hunting life for good. Sam has moved on and you're waiting for your next chapter with Dean. However, the way Dean has been acting lately is making you doubt if you will ever have one.

Word Count: 3.2k

Prompt: "This will be the last time you lie to me."

Warnings/tags: Angst, fluff, two big surprises 👀, swearing.

AN: This is my last submission for my @jacklesversebingo card. It’s been both a pleasure and a challenge participating, but i have loved every minute. 🥰 This is set after the finale, somewhat of a "fixed it" scenario for an ending I never want to think of. 😭 I hope you guys like this one. 🥰

Main Masterlist

JVB Masterlist

Something is up.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing. Just your mind playing tricks on you.

After everything you and Dean had been through—all the battles, the losses, the near-death and death experiences—it made sense that your brain would have a hard time adjusting. For the first time in what felt like forever, there were no hunts, no monsters lurking in the shadows, no looming apocalypse. Just… normal life.

You, Dean, and Sam had all decided to finally hang up the hunting life for good. Sam was the first to take that step, moving out of the bunker with Eileen, settling into an actual house with an actual yard—something that, for so long, had felt impossible. You were happy for him. Really, you were. But his absence had changed things.

Now, it was just you, Dean, and Miracle left in the bunker, rattling around in all that empty space. It was still home, in a way, but more and more you’d been thinking about what was next.

You and Dean had talked about it—about leaving the bunker, getting your own place, maybe even starting a family.

However, Dean had argued that staying in the bunker was the safest option, but you wanted more. A fresh start. A house. A neighbourhood. A life that didn’t feel like you were still waiting for the next battle.

Then, something shifted.

At first, it was small things. The way Dean would space out in the middle of a conversation, distracted and distant. The way he’d disappear for hours at a time, brushing off your questions with vague answers.

"Just running some errands, sweetheart," he’d say, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before grabbing his keys and heading out. Even when the kitchen was fully stocked.

You tried to ignore it, but as the days stretched into a weeks, it only got worse. He’d get texts he wouldn’t answer in front of you. Calls he’d step out of the room to take. And once, you caught him smiling at his phone before quickly locking the screen when he noticed you nearby.

That was the moment the doubt began to creep in.

At first, you tried to shake it off. You trusted Dean. He wasn’t the kind of man who would—No. You couldn’t bring yourself to think it. You were just paranoid.

But after everything you’d been through, everything you’d seen, you knew better than anyone that people could surprise you in the worst of ways.

And the worst part? You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

Something big.

Something you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

What had really put you on edge, was the lack of intimacy between the two of you since the shift.

How his goodnight kisses had become nothing more than quick pecks—absent, routine, hollow. The way he’d slip out of bed earlier than usual, leaving you to wake up reaching for warmth that wasn’t there.

At first, you told yourself it was just life. The two of you had real jobs now, actual, contributing citizen jobs. Dean managed to snag a position at your local garage as a mechanic, and you in a grocery store.

Gone were the days of slicing off vampire heads, ganking demons, and driving cross-country in Baby. Now? Now you were slicing prices at the Daily Dive’s mini-mart, bagging people’s food with a forced smile, and—God help you—guiding customers to the cereal aisle.

The clearly labelled cereal aisle.

Life was weird like that.

But strangely, you didn’t miss the old life. Not really. You did, however, miss him.

That night you slid beneath the sheets, Dean was already in bed, lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. The warm glow of the bedside lamp softened his features, casting shadows across his sharp jawline, highlighting the faint freckles that dusted his cheeks. There was a crease between his brows that never quite went away, even in sleep.

You studied him for a moment, chest tightening.

How long had it been?

Before, sex had always been urgent, desperate—a way to ground yourselves in a life that never stopped moving. A way to remind each other that you were still here, still breathing, still together. But lately? You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d pulled you in close, the last time you’d tangled together under the sheets, lost in each other.

And it wasn’t just the sex. It was the closeness. The way he used to touch you, just because. The way he used to look at you like you were the only thing in the damn room.

You missed that.

So, you scooted closer, slipping beneath his arm, pressing yourself against his side. His body was warm beneath the fabric of his T-shirt, solid and familiar. Your fingers skimmed across his chest, slow and purposeful, before you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, just below his jaw—the spot that always made him shiver.

His breath hitched.

But not in the way you’d hoped.

Instead of turning toward you, pulling you in, he stiffened. His muscles tensed, and a second later, his hand caught yours, stilling it before it could travel further south.

“Not tonight, baby.” His voice was rough, tired. “Just… really tired.”

You froze.

Dean Winchester, turning you down?

It wasn’t like the two of you were at it all the time, but even after years together, he never said no. Not unless he had a damn good reason.

And yet, here he was—shutting you down.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to keep your voice light. “Okay,” you murmured.

You didn’t push, didn’t argue. Just rolled onto your side, staring at the darkened wall of the bunker, feeling the space between you stretch wider than it ever had before.

And as the silence settled in, you worried that gut feeling that had been simmering away for the last few weeks, was right.

The final straw came a few days later.

Your morning had started with you staring at a little pink plus sign for what felt like hours, shock and disbelief washing over you in waves. You had only taken the test on a whim—your period was a week late, but it wasn’t the first time stress had messed with your cycle. You hadn’t really expected it to be positive.

And yet, there it was.

You were pregnant.

A small, quiet part of you brimmed with happiness, the idea of a future, of a family, flickering in your mind like a fragile flame. You pressed a hand over your stomach, imagining tiny fingers wrapping around yours, soft coos in the early hours of the morning, Dean’s green eyes staring back at you from a little face.

But then, reality crashed down like a tidal wave.

Would Dean even want this?

The distance between you had grown in recent weeks—the silence, the late nights, the way he seemed to be somewhere else even when he was right beside you. After everything, did he even want you anymore? And now, suddenly, there was a baby in the mix, complicating things in ways you weren’t ready to face.

Your mind reeled with doubts, twisting into knots of worry until the air felt too thick, the bunker walls too small. You needed to get out.

By noon, you decided you’d had enough of the lonely silence, of the weight pressing down on your chest. Dean was at work, and you needed fresh air. You needed a distraction. And maybe—just maybe—a big, fat cupcake would help bring some clarity. Because, clearly, frosting was the solution to all your problems right now.

However, the universe had other plans.

You were rounding the corner from where you’d parked, already envisioning which cupcake you’d drown your sorrows in, when you saw him.

Dean.

And he wasn’t alone.

Trailing behind him was a pretty blonde. Dressed sharp, manicured head to toe, and a little too smiley for your liking as they stepped out of Pete’s Café together.

Your stomach twisted. Dean had said he was working today. Unless getting coffee with random women was suddenly part of his job description, something wasn’t adding up.

They turned slightly, shifting in your direction, and your instincts kicked in. You did not want to be seen. You weren’t ready for whatever this was.

So, before your brain could catch up with your body, you did the only logical, mature thing that came to mind—

You dove straight into a nearby bush.

It wasn’t a graceful manoeuvre.

Your foot caught on the curb, sending you tumbling forward in a mess of flailing arms and an embarrassing oomph. Twigs scratched at your arms and legs, leaves clung to your hair, and something sharp jabbed your ribs as you shuffled deeper into the foliage.

Fantastic.

You barely had time to process the poor life choices that led to you hiding in shrubbery when Dean laughed—laughed—at something the woman said.

Your eyes narrowed as you peered through the leaves at them across the street, irritation bubbling beneath your shock.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe she’s just a customer.

But the way she looked at him? The way he looked at her? That felt… familiar. Too familiar.

Your pulse quickened and then your fingers tightened around your phone.

If he was lying to you, you were about to catch him in the act.

You pressed his contact and held the phone to your ear, watching as he reached into his jacket. His expression barely flickered—just a slight widening of his eyes before he turned slightly away from the woman.

Then he lifted a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to stay quiet.

Your stomach dropped.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered, voice casual, like he wasn’t hiding something.

You swallowed down the emotions clawing at your throat, forcing your voice steady. “Hey. I was thinking of popping into town today. Want to grab some lunch?”

His jaw tensed, grip tightening just slightly on the phone.

“Ah, y’know. Work’s really kickin’ my ass at the moment, it’s super busy… How ’bout I grab us some dinner when I finish?”

The lie slipped out so easily, so effortlessly, it made your blood boil.

You exhaled slowly through your nose, keeping your tone light. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great.”

“Okay, see you later.”

And just like that—he hung up.

You watched as he walked the woman to her car. If he had just said goodbye and turned away, maybe you could have convinced yourself this was innocent.

But he didn’t.

He climbed into the passenger seat.

And something inside you snapped.

Fuck this.

You tackled your way out of the bush, twigs snapping underfoot, startling a passing couple. They gasped, eyes wide, likely trying to figure out whether you were some kind of deranged woodland creature.

You didn’t care.

Leaves stuck to your hair, dirt smeared across your jeans, but all you saw was red as you stormed toward your car.

Dean had lied to you.

And you weren’t about to let that slide.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel so tight it was a wonder it didn’t snap. You kept your distance, but not enough to lose them. Every mile that passed only made your stomach twist tighter, especially as the familiar roads gave way to something entirely unexpected.

The neon-lit bars and rundown motels of the city faded behind you, replaced by manicured lawns, freshly paved sidewalks, and rows of pristine two-story houses. It was the kind of neighbourhood where people actually waved to their neighbours, where kids rode their bikes in cul-de-sacs, and soccer moms gossiped over iced coffee while their toddlers ran wild in perfectly landscaped front yards.

That was your dream! And now he was off spending it with someone else?

Your heart clenched as he pulled into the driveway of a beautiful cream, colonial-style home with pale green shutters and a wide, inviting porch. It was so normal. So, settled. Everything you had ever wanted. 

And then Dean stepped out of the car with her, reminding you of the situation at hand, and followed her inside like he belonged there.

Your stomach churned, and anger, disappointment and rage took over.

You were out of the car and storming up the driveway before you could even think, your emotions boiling over with every step. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Not after everything you’d been through, not now when you finally got out and what’s more, you were carrying his baby.

Your hand slammed against the front door, shoving it open with all the force of your rage-fuelled momentum.

Dean and the woman jolted in surprise, both spinning to face you.

Dean’s eyes went wide, his mouth parting like he’d just seen a ghost. The blonde looked just as startled, glancing between you both like she had no idea what she’d just walked into.

But you?

You were livid.

“What the hell is this?!” The words tore from your throat, your hands flying out as if grasping for an explanation. “Huh? You sneak off in the middle of the day, lying about where you are, and this is what I find? This?!” You gestured wildly at the space around you, voice rising with every syllable. “You, in a goddamn suburban fantasy. Are you kidding me, Dean?!”

Dean took a step toward you. “Sweetheart—”

“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, Dean Winchester!” You jabbed a finger at him, your entire body vibrating with rage. “After everything we’ve been through, this is how it ends? You run off to play house with her? What, you just wake up one day and decide you want a fresh start without me?”

The woman’s brows shot up. “Uh—”

“Zip it Barbie!” You snapped. This unfamiliar surge of emotion uncontrollable, you were on a roll and impossible to stop.

“I trusted you!” You direct back at him, all but seething now. “I trusted you, Dean! And look at this! Look at you! Sneaking around, all shifty and distant for weeks—God, I should have known! I should have known something was—”

Dean suddenly grabbed your arms, his grip firm but grounding.

“Baby!” His voice was strong enough to cut through the storm of your emotions. “Listen to me.”

You sucked in a breath, chest heaving, anger still simmering just under the surface.

Dean held your gaze, his hands steady on you. “Angela is my realtor,” he said firmly. “She helped me make a settlement on the house. This house.” He exhaled, giving you a pointed look. “For us.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks.

Your breath caught.

Your head whipped around, really looking at the place for the first time.

The empty living room. The walls, untouched by time. The lack of furniture, of pictures, of anything lived in.

It wasn’t someone else’s home.

It was waiting to be one.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

Dean softened, his fingers trailing down your arms before settling at your elbows, as if grounding you. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, like he hated that this was how you found out.

“I know how much you hate the bunker. How you’ve always wanted a real home—somewhere we could actually settle, raise a family. So, I started looking, trying to find the perfect place.” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “And when I found this one… I had to lock it down.” His lips twitched, but there was regret behind it.

“Guess I’m not so great at keeping secrets, huh?”

A sound escaped you—half a sob, half a laugh, so thick with relief it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, gripping tight, like he was the only thing tethering you to solid ground as the weight of the past few weeks finally crashed over you.

Dean’s expression flickered with guilt, his arms coming around you without hesitation, pulling you flush against him. He let out a breath, pressing a kiss to your temple, lingering there like he was silently apologising.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hands running up and down your back in slow, steady strokes. “I didn’t mean for it to go down like this.” He swallowed, his voice thick. “I just wanted it to be perfect for you.”

You let out a shaky breath, your forehead pressing into his chest. Everything had been so much lately—your emotions, your exhaustion, the overwhelming uncertainty of it all. Maybe it was just hormones—after your little discovery this morning, it made sense—or maybe it was just the sheer tension of the past week unravelling all at once, but the tears kept coming.

Dean held you through it, rubbing slow circles into your back, murmuring soft reassurances against your hair, letting you fall apart in the safety of his arms.

Finally, you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your face damp, your breaths uneven as you tugged firmly at the lapels of his jacket. “This will be the last time you lie to me.”

His lips twitched, but there was nothing teasing about the way he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You sniffled, swiping at your cheeks with your sleeve before letting out a weak, breathy laugh. “I—I’m sorry too,” you admitted softly. “For doubting you. My head’s just been… all over the place lately, and my emotions are…” You let out another exhausted huff, shaking your head. “A freaking mess.”

Dean’s hands cradled your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “You, okay?”

You hesitated.

And then, finally, you gave him a small, watery smile.

“I may have some news too.”

Dean’s brows furrowed slightly, curiosity flickering across his face. “Yeah?”

Your breath trembled as you said it.

“I’m pregnant.”

The moment the words left your lips, everything shifted.

Dean’s eyes went wide. His lips parted, his entire body stilling as if the world had just frozen around him.

You held your breath, heart hammering.

Then, suddenly, he exhaled a sharp, stunned laugh. His hands found your face once more, cupping it with a kind of careful reverence. “You—” His voice broke with emotion, eyes searching yours. “We’re—”

You nodded, unable to keep the tears from welling up again.

And then he was kissing you.

Fiercely, desperately, pouring every ounce of his overwhelming happiness into the press of his lips against yours. You melted into it, into him, letting yourself be completely consumed by the warmth of his love, the sheer joy in the way he held you.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, grinning so wide it nearly split his face.

“We’re having a baby,” he murmured, almost in awe.

You nodded again, sniffling. “Yeah.”

Dean let out another soft, disbelieving laugh before wrapping you up in his arms, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

And in that moment—standing in the middle of what would soon be your home, with the love of your life, feeling like an idiot for ever doubting this mans loyalty—you realised just how far you’d come.

And just how right this felt.

You had a home.

You had a family.

And for the first time in a long time… you were truly, inexplicably happy.

AN: It was a bit of a roller coaster this one 😅 but we got there in the end! Also, shout out to Angela 😂

Side note: This was inspired by the Friends episode 'The one where Chandler gets caught' 😆 I'd love to know what you thought! And thank you for reading ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel @piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @waynes-multiverse @jaredpadonlyyyy @impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes @rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

[ladysharmaa]

Wild Hearts

Jasper Hale x original character

Summary: When a new girl arrives at Forks, she seems to catch Jasper Hale's attention. However, he and his family are hiding a secret. What they don't know is that Evelyn has a secret of her own

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Forks had quickly become Evelyn's favorite place. That day, the rain fell gracefully, creating small puddles of water on the ground and making the forest landscape outside the dark blonde's bedroom window even more mysterious. She hadn't explored the city much yet, but she hoped to be able to do so in the next few days.

She got a ride from Angela and Jessica to school, and the three of them had become quite close. One of the biggest reasons was that they had formed an alliance against the trio of Mike, Eric, and Tyler.

On the other hand, Alice also greeted her every day when she saw her in the hallway, and she had even seen Rosalie give her a small smile. It was somewhat surprising because Evelyn was sure that the blonde didn't like her, although Eve didn't know what she had done wrong. The one who didn't talk to her much was Jasper, even after they had gotten along when they walked to class together.

After saying goodbye to her friends, who had a different class than her, Evelyn headed to history class. The truth is that classes were a pain, not that they weren't interesting, but Evelyn couldn't pay attention for long, quickly getting lost in her thoughts. Besides, the words all got mixed up in her head, so trying to read the school books was very frustrating.

Evelyn then sat down at an empty table, resting her chin on her hand and looking around while she waited for the teacher to arrive. She entertained herself watching the other students, who were chatting animatedly since the class hadn't started yet.

However, her attention was diverted when Jasper pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, looking at her with a small smile.

"Hey, Jasper. How are you?"

"Hello, Evelyn." The vampire felt his chest tighten, and had to remind himself that he had to breathe in to maintain his disguise as a human. But Evelyn's smile, directed at him, drove him crazy. "I'm good, thank you. And you, darling?"

"I'm fine too! Really loving Forks. I'm planning on going for a walk here, maybe exploring the forest a bit."

"You should be careful, the forest can be dangerous." the boy warned worriedly. However, Evelyn couldn't answer because the teacher had finally arrived.

The subject was interesting, they were talking about the Civil War. However, and nothing new, Evelyn ended up getting distracted and missed what the professor was explaining, until she heard her name mentioned. She jumped in her chair, seeing that the whole class and the teacher were looking at her, waiting.

"Excuse me, can you repeat that?" Evelyn was sure that her face was completely red with embarrassment. Jasper, next to her, watched the situation with a frown. He didn't like feeling those feelings from his mate.

He sighed. "I asked you to read the document and tell me about the key turning points of the Civil War. Today, Miss Miller, preferably."

The girl looked at the board and her breathing quickened. As she already knew it was going to happen, although she still hoped for a miracle to happen, the words all got mixed up, preventing her from understanding what the professor wanted her to say.

The class was completely silent, watching the teacher lose his patience with the new student. "Well?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry, it's just that my dyslexia…"

Jasper was getting more and more irritated at seeing Evelyn's discomfort. Then, he leaned forward slightly, his voice low but carrying a strange, commanding weight. “The Battle of Gettysburg was the turning point for the Union. Lee's defeat ended the Confederacy's advance into the North and marked the beginning of their decline.”

The teacher raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “That's correct, but I didn't know your name was also Evelyn, Mr. Hale." Small chuckles echoed around the room. Evelyn only blushed more at this, looking at Jasper who seemed unaffected by the looks he was receiving. "But what made Gettysburg so significant?"

His Southern accent was even more noticeable as he continued. “It wasn't just the loss of troops. The morale of the Confederate Army took a hit they never recovered from. Combine that with the Union’s growing industrial advantage and—” He paused, as though catching himself. “Well, the outcome became inevitable.”

The teacher seemed slightly taken aback. “Well, that’s… very detailed, Jasper. Nice work.”

When the teacher resumed teaching, Evelyn was able to jump from her seat to hug the blond. “Thank you so much, Jasper. You didn’t have to do that. I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

“You didn’t put me in anything, Evelyn. Don’t worry about it.” Jasper tried to soothe Evelyn’s concern with his gift.

“No, I truly am sorry. It’s just that school is always so hard for me. I have… I have trouble learning.” she whispered, looking away from the vampire’s amber eyes.

“I can help you, if you want.” Anything to get closer to the girl. "I can explain the topics to you so you don't have to read anything."

"Would you mind doing that?" Eve asked hopefully. When he nodded, she straightened her back in excitement. "I really appreciate it. Thank you, Jasper. You're very sweet."

If Jasper were human, he was sure he would be blushing by now. After so many years alone, he had finally found his mate. She was so much better than any version of her he had ever imagined. Her beauty, both internal and external, the way she was so easy to make blush, her confidence. She was simply perfect. And he was a monster who didn’t deserve her.

He should leave her alone, he knew that. She couldn’t be with someone like him. But it was so hard resisting their bond. He didn’t know if that would ever be possible, for now, he was simply enjoying the moment.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Evelyn was standing by the lockers with Jessica and Angela, Jessica telling them about the latest school gossip. Evelyn wasn't the biggest fan of gossip, because since she didn't want anyone to get involved in her life, she didn't want anyone else's either.

A group entering the school caught her attention. It was the Cullens, talking quietly, but apparently a little angrily, among themselves. Edward looked at her, his eyes frustrated for some reason. Alice, following her brother's line of sight, waved at Evelyn and motioned for her to come over.

"Sorry, I'm just going to say hello to Alice. You can tell me the rest at lunch, Jessica." she said, starting to take a step toward the Cullens, but Jessica's voice stopped her.

"You're going to say hello to Alice Cullen?" Jessica shrieked. Evelyn looked at her with wide eyes, nodding slowly. "How did you manage to talk to them? Since the moment they arrived, they haven't spoken to anyone!"

"I'm sure you're exaggerating, Jessica. They're all very nice." The dark blonde replied, and without giving Jessica time to continue, she walked towards the vampire family. "Good morning."

She received a greeting from everyone, and a smile from Jasper that made her heart race. His pained expression lessened as Evelyn approached.

She didn't know how it was possible to know him for such a short time and feel such a strong connection with him. As if she wanted to spend every second of the day with him. It was a very strange feeling.

Emmett and Lucas exchanged a smile when they saw his brother completely in love with the girl. He looked like a puppy, all that was missing was wagging his tail when he saw his owner.

Alice, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend and brother's antics, crossed her arms with Evelyn's and started walking down the hallway. Rosalie stood on the other side of Evelyn, her face a little more serious.

"I love your outfit, Rosalie. You have to tell me where you got that sweater." Evelyn complimented sincerely.

"Thanks." The blonde smiled at Evelyn, also crossing her arm with the girl's. She really wasn't that bad, even though she was human. And her scent was so calming to be near, it made you forget about the tempting blood of other people.

The boys, who were left behind, opened their mouths in shock when they saw the vampire's action. Emmett kept hitting Jasper's arm, and if he wasn't a vampire, he would have been thrown back. But Jasper didn't even feel Emmett's hand, his gaze fixed on his mate. She managed to win everyone's hearts.

"Oh!" Alice gave a small excited squeal. "We have to go shopping together! How about today?"

"Sure! It should be fun. I haven't had much time to get to know the city yet."

"Why?" Rosalie asked curiously.

"I've been working at a dinner nearby." Evelyn informed. "And it takes up a lot of my time, especially since I have to study afterwards."

"Well, today we'll take you to Seattle to do some shopping! Shall we meet at the school entrance after lunch?" Alice suggested, receiving confirmation from the other two.

With a wave, they went their separate ways to their classes.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

As she had expected, her day with the two Cullens had been one of Evelyn's best days in Forks so far. They had gone through all the stores in the mall, and even after Evelyn bought a scarf, Rosalie and Alice had insisted on buying her a warm coat. After much insistence, Evelyn finally agreed. The two had also bought some things for themselves and left the store when it was already dark, all holding huge bags.

Rose and Eve laughed at a joke Alice had made, the three of them having become very close friends that afternoon. On their way to the car, they saw the rest of the Cullen siblings, except for Edward. Jasper, Emmett, and Lucas were leaning against a black Volvo, arms crossed over their chests and waiting for the girls. The two vampires hurried to get to their boyfriends, while Evelyn followed a little behind with a big smile. She felt so happy. She had met so many people who were already so important to her in such a short time.

Jasper walked over to her, offering to carry the bags. Evelyn handed them to him, watching him put them in the trunk of his car. "You girls had fun?"

"So much fun! We have to do it again!" Alice exclaimed. Evelyn giggled, and Jasper was sure it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It sounded like an angel singing, he would do anything to hear Evelyn giggle again.

"Well, maybe we'll go in my car and Jasper can drive Evelyn home." Rosalie said, the other agreeing. After saying goodbye with a hug to both Rosalie and Alice, Eve got in Jasper's car.

The two of them were silent, but it was comforting. Music blared through the car as Jasper drove, his attention intent on the road.

"We have a history test next week." The vampire broke the silence, glancing at the girl in the passenger seat. "If you want, I can help you study like we talked about."

"That would be great! Would you like tomorrow? I have to work, but then we could go to my place," she offered. But when Jasper didn't respond immediately, she began to ramble. "Or not. It's up to you. Whenever you want, really. I just made that suggestion, but you can say no—"

"Evelyn." He interrupted her speech with a chuckle. The way he said her name gave her chills. "Tomorrow would be fine. Your parents don't mind if I go to your house?"

"I live alone. So maybe around five o'clock?"

Jasper nodded. The two didn't speak again during the drive, both lost in their thoughts. When they arrived at Evelyn's house, Jasper gripped the steering wheel tighter. The house was quite old, and didn't seem to be in the best condition. He tried not to show on his face the emotions he felt when he saw where his mate lived. She deserved to live in a castle, not here.

He would give her anything she wanted.

[fuctacles]

I was trying out a new grammarly alternative, prowritingaid, and it sucks even more. so if anyone has anything usable to recommend, I'm all ears.

<< fourteen | 😺 | sixteen >>

It's a baffling concept, underdressing to go to Steph's place. Not that he's been dressing up before, but he would change into a clean shirt from the folded pile on his desk. Now he's willingly digging through his old clothes, the ones buried deep in the wardrobe Wayne has been already putting his winter clothes in. (Eddie refuses to feel bad about it, he knows he will always have a place in Wayne's apartment, regardless of age.)

He finally finds a pair of dark sweatpants, ones he'd wear on chilly evenings while watching TV with Wayne. These days he'd stay in his jeans or pajama bottoms. When looking them over, he doesn't find any embarrassing stains, but what he does find, is a Looney Tunes logo on the left leg. Knowing he won't find any better options, he resigns himself to possible ridicule. It's this or the even older ones with Pikachu, which he's not sure would even fit. He should probably donate them, but he's got them from Wayne, so there's a bit of a sentiment left behind.

His uncle finds him twisting in front of the mirror, checking out his ass. They stare at each other for a few seconds, both frozen mid-movement.

"I don't want to know."

"Good choice."

"Going to Stephanie's, I assume?"

Eddie is an adult and will not blush like a teenage boy with a crush. He won't. And even if it happened, the bad lighting should hide it from Wayne. Like a Schrödinger's blush. 

"Yeah, she..." He realizes he doesn't have an excuse anymore. There's no conditioner to pick up, or cookies to bring. It's just him in a questionable outfit. Hell, he doesn't even know what's the plan for today; he's still worried Steph wants him to exercise. Or maybe she needs him to do some housework, move some furniture around?

"I don't want to know," Wayne reminds him with a raise of his hand, before moving along to the kitchen.

"It's nothing weird!" Eddie protests, before realizing it might be something weird. He kind of hopes it's something weird. 

"Just remember about the appointment tomorrow."

His uncle doesn't seem interested in his explanations anymore, which might be a pleasant change from his previous prying. Eddie's not sure why he feels the need to explain himself. He's an adult, doing adult things with another adult. He sighs. 

"Yeah, I remember. I'll definitely be back before that," he says dryly. Despite everything, he's a good nephew, so he stops at the kitchen door. "You need anything before I go?"

"Nah," Wayne waves him away. He's slowly moving around the kitchen, preparing tea and grabbing snacks. "Good luck wooing your lady."

Eddie lets out a sigh so deep that for a second, he feels like a teenager again. 

"Thanks," he says, because while he might still react like a teenager sometimes, now he knows better how to pick his battles. "I'll be back later."

"Don't rush on my account!"

Eddie puts on his shoes, grabs his keys, and goes out. The sweatpants, unfortunately, don't make walking the stairs any easier. 

When Stephanie opens her door, the place looks the same as yesterday, which scratches off a gym makeover from his list of nightmare scenarios. 

"You look cozy," she says after giving him a quick once over.

"Uh, thanks?" he's not sure if it counts as a compliment. "You too," and that definitely is as a compliment. 

She's wearing gray sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, so nothing out of the ordinary when she's at home. It's Eddie who looks different, matching her. 

Matching her home clothes. 

He steps inside, imagining them hanging out at their home, winding down after work. Completely comfortable with each other in clothes nobody else sees. Unless they are very lazy and do a quick grocery run to the store on the other side of the street. 

"So, what's the plan for today?" Eddie asks quickly, to stop himself from imagining a life with Steph. 

"Nothing much," she shrugs, walking into the kitchen.

He follows her like he's just another one of her cats. 

"Then why am I wearing sweatpants?" he asks, pulling on the fabric pointedly. It attracts Steph's eyes downward, and he feels himself heat up, not used to her looking there. 

"Because I asked you to?" Her eyes linger, good gods, but when she finally looks up, she bats her eyelashes, and he doesn't question it anymore. Whatever she has planned for him, he'll find out soon enough, anyway. 

She serves them both pasta, and they sit on the couch. It's becoming so familiar that Eddie will undoubtedly miss it when he goes back to Indianapolis. Smoking weed with Gareth over pizza has a completely different vibe.

They pick something less engaging than last night, another game show Eddie's only vaguely familiar with. When the food is gone, Steph cozies up to his side without any hesitation, so he follows her lead and throws his arm around her shoulders. 

He wonders if she's just sleepy again, using him like a warm pillow to rest on, until her hand lands on his knee. 

Oh. Oh.

Any coherent thought immediately flees his brain, and his face floods with blood. But her hand just rests there, almost like an afterthought, like Eddie is a convenient arm rest. Is it an upgrade from being a pillow? He's probably going to find out soon enough.

He almost manages to settle down under the touch, when Steph's fingers start moving. Eddie watches them tap against his own knee like it's some kind of foreign film, without subtitles. That he's watching through a window. 

The tapping turns to tracing shapes, turns to dragging her nails against the soft fabric. It sends goosebumps up his leg and towards places he'd rather not think about right now. When Steph's hand dips to the inside of his thigh, tracing the seam of his sweatpants, he grabs it to stop further movement. 

"Hey—" He turns, not sure what he wants to say, if he's going to beg for more or to stop torturing him. But what he gets, instead, is Steph's lips. 

She digs her nails harder into his thigh, making him gasp against her mouth. It gives her an opening to slide her tongue inside, gentle but determined. Steph turns more towards him, and he quickly discards his almost empty beer bottle to give her his full attention. It's like she's been waiting to feel his hands on her, because as soon as he touches her knee, she's swinging her leg over his thighs. 

In a blink of an eye, he has a lap full of Stephanie Harrington, her thick thighs under his palms, and his face squeezed between her hands. They're making out like teenagers, and she was the one to initiate it. Eddie's on cloud nine and wonders when would be appropriate to slide his palms up her thighs and feel her butt, something he's been thinking about for quite some time. For now, he focuses on kissing back and willing his dick not to ruin the moment with its eagerness. 

Steph doesn't seem to have such reservations. 

He feels it when he wraps his hands around her waist to pull her closer, feel her body flush against him. And feel he does, a hardness prodding near the line of his boxers. His heart stutters, and without thought, he presses against Steph's lower back and bucks his hips up. 

Steph's contented sigh reverberates down his spine, and she starts grinding her hips down on him. With a little adjustment of the angle, their dicks finally brush against each other through the soft fabric of their sweatpants. 

They pull apart on a gasp, and Eddie might have an idea why she made him get rid of the denim.

She keeps moving, eyes hooded while she's looking at him. It almost looks like she's riding him, and what a thought that is. Eddie just rests his hands on her waist and lets her do whatever she wants. 

Which, unfortunately, seems to involve stopping. Steph blinks, her eyes looking a little clearer. 

"Can you come like this?"

It's a miracle he doesn't just at this question.

"With you? Yes." 

"Good." She resumes her movement, now with more purpose. "Because it's all you're getting."

"Okay, thank you," he agrees quickly, because it's more than he dared to wish for. 

He lets his imagination run wild, then. Steph naked, her breasts right in his face, riding his dick. Her pussy is hot and tight around him, and he can feel her raw, no condom between them. Her skin against his, their eyes locked, nails digging painfully into his shoulders. 

She leans down for a kiss, breathless and messy. 

"Wanna see your face," Eddie manages between bites and licks. She keeps kissing him for a moment longer, but as her hips start losing rhythm, she pulls away, letting him watch the climax on her face.

It's her slack jaw, the sound she makes deep in her throat, and the small, jerking motions of her hips, that make him come too, right into his boxers. Knowing he's enough to get her there feels like a win in a campaign, endorphins flowing freely through his body in little tremors.

So, he might not know the rules of the game they're playing, but he must have done something right to get this far.

When he comes back from his high, he finds himself wrapped tightly around Steph, face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

"You smell so good," he says without much thought, lips brushing her skin. 

Her nails scratch at his scalp and he'd purr if he could. 

"Thank you. You smell okay."

He giggles against her skin, feeling high on his orgasm.

"I'll take that."

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94 @tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman @madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @hiei-harringtonmunson @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets @bookbinderbitch @marklee-blackmore  @icecat @rootbeerandmusic @mollymawkwrites @milojames16 @ellietheasexylibrarian

[lizardboiii]

At The Tone ┃ DCU

Barry Allen x Spider-Woman!Reader

┃ Summary: Sometimes bad things happen to good people - and that’s where the Justice League comes in. Too bad you weren’t interested.

“Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be" Billie Eilish, "What Was I Made For?"

│cw: SFW, alcohol abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief, hurt/comfort, violent themes

│wc: 3.9k

│chapters: One shot

│notes: This fic has been sitting unfinished (with 2k words!!) in my drafts for a WHILE. randomly decided it needed to see the light of day ig. was gonna make it nsfw but i low key hate it and just wanted too move on oops. enjoy <3

・❥・

│One Shot: At The Tone

You have five new messages.

“Good afternoon, Spider-Woman this is Cla-”

You heard a throat clear.

“It’s Superman. I see you still aren’t picking up any of the team’s calls,” He swallowed thickly, “I understand your recent loss was… hard. Something none of us would have wished for anybody.”

You could feel the tension in his voice.

“Please take all the time you need. The league is more than capable of taking care of New York in your absence for the time being.”

The sound of a pen clicking disrupted the message every so often, “But at least give us some indication you're alive…and well. The team cares about you,” He chuckled warmly, “Even “Mr. I Work Alone” Batman himself.”

His laugh dropped abruptly with a soft sigh, “Call me back when you can.”

Beep

You crawled out of bed slowly, dragging your duvet behind you like a cloak. The plush cotton laid heavy on your shoulders. You wondered if this was how Big Blue felt every morning - the weight of knowing everything depending on him once he bore his iconic red cape. 

You knew what that weight felt like, and you knew what it felt like to have it all come crashing down.

You have four new messages 

“How’s it hanging, Spidy? Haha, you get it?” A dramatic sigh escaped the machine, “Sorry, poor timing.”

He took a moment to regroup, “It's Green Lantern, just calling to check in. Headquarters has been depressing without you. I mean even Martian Manhunter is down in the dumps. It's a total bummer.”

Another sigh, “Listen you don't have to call me back if you don’t want to, but at least let Flash know you're still alive. He needs you more than he lets on.”

Beep

You groaned at the shrill ring of the answering machine. The outdated tech was too cherished to be discarded but the pulsing headaches you received from it almost outweighed the fond memories of Aunt May.

Thoroughly woken up, you entered your kitchenette. Your eyes shifted between the week old coffee pot on your stove to the half empty Hennessy bottle next to it. 

Maybe this time you would make the right choice. A sober evening is a good evening. However, the battle was always rigged to begin with and the winner already predetermined.

The Hennessy felt burdensome in your hand as you took a long swig. It burned violently down your throat, eating at your skin, before finally settling warmly in your stomach. Though you hated to admit it, it satisfied you more than any pot of coffee could.

Staggering to your couch, courtesy of one of New York’s finest sidewalks, you flopped down. The cushions were well used and musty. But who were you to pass up a free couch?

You have three new messages

“Spider-Woman.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“Your recent inactivity has caused some concerns regarding your whereabouts. The league seems to be having a hard time focusing on missions with your absence.”

Bats’ uncertainty leaked through the phone as he thought of his next sentence, “You have my condolences, Webs. However, the league cannot continue to work with this distraction. Please report to the Hall of Justice immediately.”

He hesitated, “We are worried.”

Beep

An involuntary snort escaped you. Bats’ attempt at comfort was interesting to say the least. He was surprisingly awkward for a leader of the Justice League. Though you supposed dark and brooding was his brand.

You have two new message

“Greetings, Spider-Woman, Wonder Woman speaking.”

You could hear muffled arguing in the background.

“Batman may have been a bit…straightforward in that last voicemail,” She attempted a fake laugh, “Please do not mind his bluntness, he is merely just as concerned as the rest of us. In his own way at least.”

A loud slam made her curse under her breath.

“I apologize I must go, the “children” are fighting again. Don’t hesitate to call back. See you soon, Webs.”

Beep

Lifting the liquor to your lips, your brows creased when only a drop hit your tongue. Out already?

You let out an exaggerated sigh before placing the empty bottle on your coffee table. A quick glance at your barren pantry told you everything you needed to know. You’d have to go out and get some more. You felt your face scrunch. That means you have to go out in public.

You weighed your options. 

You could stay inside and continue to peacefully hide from the world, but you're guaranteed to sober up eventually.

Or you could make a quick trip to the convenience store down the road and pray the minimum wage employee can’t smell the alcohol on you from a mile away. 

You hummed thoughtfully. Though, now that you think about it, there’s a off chance you might run into the supe that’s covering your city for the time being. Then again, there’s a very high chance it’s not someone from the Justice League, a member from The Team at best. 

Massaging your forehead, you tried to remember the last time a Justice League member took a leave of absence. A blonde goatee flashed in your mind.

That’s right. Green Arrow was out for a while when he got busted up pretty bad. His protégé, Speedy, ended up babysitting Star City in his absence. You bit your lip. 

But you didn’t have one of those anymore.

You have one new message

“Hey Webs! Sent me to voicemail again, huh?”

An awkward laugh made the machine crackle.

“Just calling to check up on you. How are you doing? Feeling alright? Just say the word and I can grab you anything from anywhere. I mean literally anywhere. They don’t call me the fastest man alive for nothing!”

You could practically hear the large smile embedded on his face.

A large sigh passed through the speaker, “It’s been a month now. The team misses you…I miss you. A lot actually.”

He paused.

“Just call me back alright? I need to know if you're okay.”

Beep

Your hand paused over your front door handle. Flash’s deep voice was like a siren's call, beckoning you in. 

What you’d give to turn around. What you'd do to call him back. It took everything in you to force yourself away from his voice.

Your best friend. 

Your confidant. 

Your everything. 

You have zero new messages

・❥・

You weaved through the bustling sidewalk with a slight wobble, managing to dodge a third of the people you almost crashed into. Night was quickly approaching. That meant the streets were only going to get busier. 

More people = More crime = More superheroes.

Fumbling into a dimly lit alley, you avoided Main Street completely. It was too risky. Even in your civilian disguise there was no guarantee your voice wouldn’t be recognized - mainly by your teammates but especially by… Flash.

You recalled how often you sought each other out in the Hall of Justice. Whether it was meddling in the business of others, or simply enjoying the company of one another.

His hand always seemed to find its way to the small of your back. Gently resting. While his thumb delicately circled the thin fabric of your suit. 

He leaned in closer than he should. The dull smell of his cologne inevitably picked up by your heightened senses. 

It wasn't how friends should behave - but that's all you ever were. Friends.

Thwack!

You slammed yourself against one of the side walls in surprise, extinguishing your mind of complex thoughts. Creeping closer, you cursed in your head when harsh thumps and muffled grunting filled the air. 

“Where’s my money, Huey?”

Crack!

“I-I don’t know! Please!”

Whack!

You recognized the tell-tale sound of blood splattering against the ground, akin to paint splashing. The sound made you nauseous. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you thought of your next move. 

Now, on any normal occasion you’d swing in all heroic and save the day. But today was different. You were different. 

Excuses flooded your brain as you tried to explain to yourself why you felt little desire to help the abused man. 

Your suit was at home crammed somewhere in between an ugly Christmas sweater and a latex bodysuit you practically begged Cat Woman not to give you. 

Even if you had the energy, you were still considered MIA to the league. You’d basically be spoon feeding them your location. 

Your internal dilemma didn’t last long as the pummeling swiftly came to an end. Peaking around the corner, you watched the assistants retreat into an adjacent alley. They moved lazily. Clearly they didn’t expect to be caught.

You could still catch them.

You found yourself making an internal description. Two Caucasian males both wearing black beanies and disgustingly outdated puffer jackets. The taller one sported purple and green. While the shorter preferred yellow. 

Your foot shifted before you felt yourself hesitate. Maybe you shouldn’t. They’d probably be caught soon enough anyways. 

If anything, the supe covering your city would swoop in and haul their asses to the local jail. Especially when you called an ambulance for the man who was passed out on the ground. It would put this area on tonight's map. You sighed and finally allowed yourself to relax. 

This was fine. 

Everything was fine. 

Shifting your eyes to the ground, you located the poor soul who suffered the attack. His breathing was ragged and wet. You were quick to put two fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse. A wave of relief crashed through you when you felt a steady beating.

Pulling out your phone, you immediately dialed 911 and requested an ambulance, anonymously of course. You stayed with the man until you could hear loud sirens growing closer. Your sign to leave. 

Exiting the alleyway, you reached the small convenience store in record time. The adrenaline in your system was starting to make quick work of the alcohol in your bloodstream. 

You could feel your senses beginning to come back. Eyes clearer. Ears sharper. You could practically hear the heartbeats of everyone in the store. 

Groaning at your misfortune, you beelined for the alcohol section in the back. My god was it beautiful. Itching to return home, you grabbed a random bottle that had the highest percentage. Taste didn’t matter. Only the effect.

Glancing at your selection you choked on your own spit. 30 dollars?? The glass bottle was swiftly put back as you grabbed the cheapest one you could find. Tucking the Shitty K under your arm, you turned to walk to the register.

“PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP, OLD MAN.”

You froze. Extending your neck out, you caught a glimpse of the register. 

Purple, green, and yellow.

You had to be fucking kidding.

You watched as the two assailants from the alley held the elderly cashier at gunpoint. His form shook like a leaf. 

“Please! Just take the money and leave!”

You caught his eyes as he begged for his life. Tear filled and shaking. You could have prevented this. If you would have just stopped them when you had the chance none of this would have happened.

You could have saved the man in the alley. Saved the poor cashier.

You could have saved Uncle Ben too. 

Your eyes watered. Fucking pathetic mistake. What the hell were you doing? You weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a grown adult who should have learned from your mistakes by now.

Shifting your eyes from the vodka to him, you pressed your lips in a thin line. You didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that you were repeating past mistakes or the fact that you wanted to take the more expensive alcohol and leave unnoticed.

When did you become this? 

No wonder you let Spider-Girl die.

You needed a drink. Desperately.

Abruptly, a whiplash of red and yellow snatched you from your daydream. The streaking shape blew over the newspaper stand before spinning around the starstruck perpetrators. You knew those McDonald's colors from anywhere. 

Kid Flash.

Like any speedster, he removed the gun in milliseconds before tying up the confused robbers. They stood no chance against the meta-human.

Dusting off his hands, Kid Flash smiled smugly at the dumbfounded duo, “Guns aren’t currency, you know?”

The man in yellow thrashed violently, “What the hell-Kid Flash!? Why are you in New York? Spidey taking a break or something?”

You cringed.

Kid Flash’s boyish voice laughed awkwardly, “Something like that.”

You need to get out of here. Now.

Slowly backing into the aisle, you clenched your teeth when your elbow hit the shelf. The bottles tinked in a symphony, altering everyone in the store of your presence. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Instantly, you snatched your coat hood and covered your face and hair. Staring into the grime covered tiles, you prayed Kid Flash wouldn’t think too much of it.

“Hello?”

Of course. The one time he’s actually thorough.

“Are you alright?”

Bright yellow boots came into your vision as you tried to conceal yourself further. You hunched into yourself with clenched fists. Mistaking your actions for something else, Kid Flash placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey it’s okay! You don’t have to be sacred!”

You bite into your lip eager to escape the conversation, “I’m not. Please let go.”

Kid Flash laughed, sounding a little too similar to Flash in your opinion. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he stood next to you with his hands on his hips. 

“Then why are you hiding?” A red glove entered your vision. It was headed straight for your hood.

You slapped his hand away, “Didn’t your parents tell you not to talk to strangers.”

He shrugged, “That rule doesn’t really apply to superheroes.”

You couldn’t contain the breathy laugh that left your throat. You hate to admit it but you actually really missed the kid. 

However, you failed to realize your mistake. If anyone knew your laugh it was Kid Flash. You spent way too much time around him and Flash for him not too.

There was a long pause. 

“…Webs?”

You flinched hard, “Wrong person.” You internally cursed at yourself for the obvious slur in your voice.

“Are you drunk?”

“…No.”

His hand grabbed your upper arm tightly, “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

You gently pulled against his hold, attempting to break free without force, “I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t,” Kid Flash raised his hand to his ear piece, “Just let me notify Flash-”

“NO!”

Your arm flew up to the communicator without thought. Taking advantage of his surprise, you were able to snatch the high tech earpiece from his loosen grip.

“Hey!” 

Kid Flash grabbed at you. His lanky limbs attempting to reclaim his lost device, “Let go!”

“You let go!” You shoved his face away with the palm of your hand. 

Kid Flash merely continued to grab at the air around you, “Never!”

If this was any other situation you would have laughed. The pair of you looked like children fighting over the last dessert.  

However, this wasn't just any situation. This situation involved Flash. 

“Listen to your elders you brat!” Finally, after a well fought struggle, you managed to hold the device out of arm's reach. A much needed success after the month you've had- 

“Webs?”

You halted in your tracks.

The small communicator in your hand blinked on and off, identifying an unstable signal. 

“Webs is that you?” Flash was urgent, “Wait there! I'm coming-”

You crushed the device in your hand. Terrified.

Small fragments engraved themselves into your skin, dotting your hand red. What have you done? 

“Batman’s gonna kill you for that, you know?” Kid Flash laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

You frowned, uninterested in entertaining him. Kid Flash merely smiled awkwardly. It was evident the boy was taken aback by your unusually serious demeanor. 

The thought didn't take up much space in your mind. You could only think of one thing. When would Flash decide to appear out of thin air?

As if conjuring the hero, a red bolt flew through the mostly empty convenience store. The glass doors shook from the force. While newspapers scattered through the air, Vogue landed atop the cashier's head. 

Though he moved faster than the speed of light, he stood before you still. Unmoving. It was as if you might fade away if he got too close. 

“Webs,” His voice was laced with reverence. 

Your mouth went dry, “Flash.”

The tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut with a knife, suffocating you. Maybe this was how Flash planned to get back at you for ignoring him. Slowly killing you with hypoxia. A metaphorical death pertaining to how he felt during your absence. 

“Woah, this just got really awkward.” 

Kid Flash’s voice suddenly reminded you of his presence. He swayed uncomfortably. Trapped between you and Flash.

The younger male pointed his thumbs at the door, “Should I leave…or?”

“Yes.” 

Startled at your synchronous voices, Kid Flash quickly shuffled toward the door, “Alright. See you later?”

Flash nodded his head in response, ushering his protégé away. Kid Flash couldn't leave fast enough. Magazines, once again disturbed, twirled around the ground from where he left.

You stared at the loose paper. Preferring the sight of perfume ads then whatever expression Flash held. From the corner of your eye you should see him shift. He moved with unease. Your mouth curled slightly. He never was able to stop moving for long. 

“Webs, I-”

You cut him off, “I’m sorry.”

Flash furrowed his brows in confusion, “You don’t need to apologize. It's not your fault.”

“But it is,” You clenched your teeth in frustration, “It's always been my fault.”

The taller male crossed the space between you hesitantly. You flinched when he placed his large hands on your shoulders, completely engulfing them. 

“It wasn't your fault, Webs. Nobody could have known.”

“I could have saved her,” you finally met his gaze, “I was right there.”

You saw his eyes widen slightly, clearly used to your masked form more than your real face. 

Your name spilled from his lips. 

Not just Webs - your name.

You took a shaky breath, “Barry.”

The name was foreign on your tongue. You had tried to keep your personal life separate from hero work. Though that only lasted a year. Barry managed to weasel his way into your home life before you knew it.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

Barry’s hands slid from your shoulders down to your hands, caressing them softly. “Believe me when I say this,” He took a deep breath, “I’ve been in your position before. We all have.”

Breaking eye contact, your stare bore into the wall of cheap booze, “I know.”

“And I know,” He cupped your cheek, “That drinking away your problems won’t help. It only makes it worse.”

You bit your lip, “I just want to forget.”

“I know. God, I know. I want to go back and change that day every time I open my eyes,” He placed his head in the crook of your neck, “But I've been down that road before. And it's not sustainable.”

Your eyes felt hot, your throat dry, “I don’t know what to do.”

Barry pulled your smaller frame into his arms, “No one does.”

You sunk into his embrace, inhaling his scent.

“Let me take you home, Webs.”

“Okay.”

・❥・

You held tightly onto Barry, arms circling his neck, as he brought you home. You had barely enough time to blink before you were standing in front of your apartment’s door.

Barry hesitantly let you down from his hold. Though his arm stayed wrapped around your waist for support. You gave him a gentle smile as a thank you. 

Unlocking your door, you were immediately reminded of the state of your apartment. Dirty laundry and loose items scattered the floor. 

Shame crept up your neck. The uncaring attitude towards your humble abode seemingly disappeared.

Barry entered slowly, taking in the messy state. His eyes were quickly drawn to the empty bottles strewn about your floor. Unsurprisingly, he began to pick one up. Then another. And another. You snapped when he started to replace your trash bag.

“Barry.”

His head whipped toward you, only focusing on you.

“That's enough,” You tried grabbing the bag from him, “You don’t need to.”

Barry held onto the plastic tightly, “I want to.”

You shook your head, “It's my mess. Leave it.”

“No.”

You jolted in surprise at his commanding tone, “Why?”

He tossed the bag to the side, “Why?” 

Laughing dryly, he shook his head, “Why not? Why wouldn't I take care of you?”

You averted your gaze, “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“But you do,” his voice was imbued with desperation, “If you didn’t, I wouldn't have spent a month doing everything in my power to find you!”

Your face felt hot, “I didn't ask you too!”

Barry closed in the space between you, “You didn't have too!”

You weren't sure when the tears began to pour down your cheeks, “I never wanted you too! I just want to be alone! Why can’t you let me be?”

“Because I can't let you be!” Barry’s hand slammed down on your tiny island counter, “You're all I think about! From the moment I wake up to the time I go to sleep, all I know is you. I would rather you hate me for the rest of my life just to see you for a moment than ever ignore you.”

You felt like a deer in headlights, “What?”

“That day when Spider-Girl died,” He gripped the counter, slightly cracking it under the force, “I felt like I lost a piece of you too. And I could bear it.”

You felt like you lost your breath when Barry met your gaze again. His eyes were laced with anguish. Bloodshot rims already forming.

“I know you're hurting. I know what I am experiencing is nothing compared to what you are going through,” He searched your eyes, “But I'm in love with you! And I have been for as long as I can remember.” 

The start of a cry made his voice waver, “And this is definitely poor timing for a confession, but I can’t lose you-”

You weren't exactly sure which one of your muscles was still intact enough for you to move. However, the feeling of plush lips against your own thwarted any other thought.

Barry stood rigid for a moment. Hands clenched at his sides. Then, he dominated the kiss like his life depended on it. His hands held onto your waist tightly, before slowly making their way to your face. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this happy.

Pulling away, you took shallow breaths, “I love you.”

Barry smiled and swiped a loose teardrop from your cheek, “I love you too.”

The warm moment didn't last long. Your mind was quick to remind you that there was a reason Barry had to confess in a messy studio apartment rather than someplace special. That reason was because you were broken.

You pressed you mouth into a thin line, “Do you still want me even if-”

“I want you no matter what,” Barry didn’t allow you to get another word in, “We can go through this together.”

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “You're not alone, Webs. You never were.”

You swallowed hard, “Together?”

"Together."

・❥・

[edenesth]

[2:49 AM]

"Home at last," you murmured, leaning wearily against the door after tossing your keys aside. You let out a sigh, glancing at the time on your phone. You were just now getting home after work—nearly three in the morning.

And you... you needed him, but Seonghwa wasn't here. Last you heard, he was overseas for work. With a heavy sigh, you turned your gaze to the rain-streaked windows. The world outside was drenched, the ground slick with water. You hated it. You loathed it—the rain, the dampness. It felt as if even the gods were weeping over how miserable life seemed right now.

Okay, maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but work had been a nightmare for months. You were so close to that promotion though, so you just had to push through. And you could handle it—life was never easy, after all. But on top of the stress, your growing health issues lately felt like a battle you couldn't win.

Life had been... exhausting lately.

And the one person who could make it all feel better deserved someone who could give him so much more than this. You wondered if he was asleep now, if he was dreaming of you, just as you couldn't stop thinking of him. Or maybe it was better if he wasn't.

Despite your exhaustion, the last thing you wanted was to return to the same empty bed that had been without your boyfriend's presence for so long. Sometimes, you wondered if your relationship had reached that point—where both of you had bigger, more pressing things like careers to focus on, instead of each other.

Before your thoughts could spiral any further, you set your bag down, and your gaze landed on the vacuum he had given you for your birthday last year. He'd gotten it to help ease your back issues, hoping it would make cleaning less of a strain.

Cleaning—his favourite thing.

Ironically, you hadn't even used it yet, despite it being a gift from him. Seonghwa always ended up coming over and doing the cleaning himself before you could even get the chance. Maybe now would be a good time to finally put it to use and take your mind off things. As he'd often said, cleaning could be therapeutic.

Only one way to find out.

"What the—" he jolted awake at the sudden noise from outside. Who on earth would be vacuuming at—he glanced at the digital clock beside him—three in the freaking morning?! Tossing the comforter aside, he shuffled to the door and swung it open.

"I swear to g—babe?"

You froze. Were you hearing things? Slowly, you switched off the vacuum and spun around, only to see your boyfriend standing there at your doorway in his favourite worn-out t-shirt, his hair adorably tousled.

"H-Hwa? What are you doing here?"

"They let me off a few days early, so I came home first. But what about you? You promised to stay at your parents' whenever I wasn't around. You know how much it scares me to think of you alone here."

Your lips quivered as he stepped closer, gently taking the vacuum from your hands and setting it aside before guiding you to the couch. "I... I've been needed at work a lot lately, so I've been staying here since it's closer to the office. But—wait, why did they let you off early? Are you not feeling well?" you asked, panic creeping into your voice as your hands flew to his face.

He chuckled softly, holding your hands and pressing his forehead against yours. "I guess you could say that," he murmured. "My heart hasn't been feeling too good."

Your eyes widened in alarm. "Your heart?! We need to get you checked—" You tried to pull away to grab your phone, but he gently pulled you back by the shoulders.

"It's okay," he whispered, a teasing smile on his lips. "It just... misses its owner."

You blinked, confusion clouding your gaze. "Its owner...?"

"Yes, you. It belongs to you, doesn't it?" he said, his voice tender.

You sighed, finally calming down as the worry ebbed away, replaced by overwhelming relief. When was the last time he'd said something this sweet? Tears filled your eyes as you melted into his arms. "I missed you too, Hwa," you whispered softly.

Home... at last.

It didn't take long before your body went limp in his embrace, exhaustion finally catching up to you. His heart clenched painfully as he held you close, stroking your hair gently. Truth be told, he'd found it hard to focus on work ever since he realised how much of a rough patch you'd been going through. The distance, the long hours, and the silence between texts—maybe it had all taken more of a toll on you than he'd allowed himself to see.

Perhaps if he'd been more present, more attentive, things wouldn't have gotten so overwhelming for you. Guilt gnawed at his chest, and he hoped—prayed—it wasn't too late to change that now. You deserved someone who made you feel safe and loved, not someone who put everything else before you.

Carefully, he shifted you onto the couch, laying you down gently as if you were made of porcelain. His eyes softened as he pulled the blanket draped over the back of the couch and tucked it around you snugly. You looked so fragile like this, traces of stress still etched on your sleeping face even as you finally rested.

"I'm here now," he whispered softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek. He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

With a deep breath, he sank down beside you, not quite able to leave your side just yet. He reached out, his fingers tangling lightly with yours, and watched as your hand unconsciously tightened around his. A sad smile tugged at his lips.

He could see it now—all the times you'd put on a brave face, all the moments you'd said you were okay when, clearly, you weren't. And he'd been too wrapped up in his own responsibilities to realise. But no more. He'd make it right.

From now on, no matter what, he'd put you first.

With that thought, he settled in beside you, keeping a watchful eye as you slept soundly for the first time in what felt like ages. He could feel his own eyes growing heavy, but he didn't move. For now, he'd stay here, where you needed him to be. Finally, he let himself relax, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. Because he was where he belonged—right by your side.

Watching your chest rise and fall with each steady breath, Seonghwa's heart ached with a mix of relief and regret. He'd almost forgotten how peaceful you looked when you were resting. When was the last time you'd fallen asleep so easily? Had you been spending these nights alone, tossing and turning, fighting your own thoughts?

Guilt twisted in his gut as he brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face. His eyes trailed over the faint shadows beneath your eyes, the stress lines that seemed so out of place on your once-bright features. What had he been doing all this time? He'd known work was tough for you, yet he'd kept pushing himself to focus on his own projects, thinking he was doing what was best for your future together.

But what good was any of it if he wasn't there when you needed him most?

A wave of self-reproach washed over him, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He'd been chasing after goals, believing it was all for you, yet somewhere along the way, he'd let you slip through his fingers. You were right here, yet you'd never seemed further away.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he tightened his hold on your hand, as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly, his voice trembling with emotion. "I should have been here. I should have listened better... I didn't realise how much you were hurting."

The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of rain outside and your even breathing. He watched you stir a little, brow furrowing as if sensing his distress even in your sleep. He quickly leaned forward, his lips brushing your knuckles in a feather-light kiss.

"I promise, I'll do better," he murmured, a fierce determination settling in his chest. "No more empty beds, no more lonely nights. We'll figure this out together, okay?"

It was a vow, one he intended to keep no matter what. Slowly, he shifted to sit on the floor beside the couch, resting his head near your shoulder. He didn't care if it was uncomfortable—he just needed to be close, to feel your warmth. The distance that had grown between you over the past few months felt insurmountable, but he'd rebuild it brick by brick if he had to.

He wasn't going to let you carry everything on your own anymore.

Eventually, he felt your fingers tighten around his hand, just slightly. His heart skipped a beat, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe... just maybe, this was a start.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Thank you, pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for the idea! I just love how this was supposed to be a lighthearted and funny timestamp but my reality took over and here we are.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed this self-indulgent little piece. As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte |

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar |

@bunny4yungi @zl-world

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[bumblebeehug]

When do u think Natsu actually realized that he fell for Lucy and i know he treats her differently but can u give moments where it's initiated from his side?

This is going to be a long post so buckle up!

Okay, first of all: the Phantom Lord arc. Though I don't think he fell in love with her at that point of time, I think it was the events that seriously solidified his partialness to her. I'd go into detail but I can already feel a long post incoming, so I'll keep it short: Lucy telling Natsu that she loves being a Fairy Tail wizard, while crying over the fact that she didn't want to leave ↓

After just trusting her life in Natsu, jumping from an insanely high tower, with a mere belief that maybe she had heard him in the distance – I think it struck a chord with Natsu. Like, it would be normal to cry after a fall like that, but Lucy wasn't concerned about that aspect. Her head and heart was all about the guild, how she didn't want to go, and that resonates with Natsu. Natsu's entire life at that point is 1) Finding Igneel, and 2) being with/protecting the guild.

Then I'd say it's a pretty gradual build in their relationship. They go on a lot of missions, hang out together, and just in general spend a lot of time connecting. There's some Natsu-saves-Lucy, some Lucy-saves-Natsu, some hand holding (tenrou arc I won't forget about that, thank you anime team for adding that scene), and then comes the next pivotal moment. GMG arc and the dragon festival that follows.

By then I'd say Natsu and Lucy are very much in this friends-with-emotional-benefit zone: much more than friends, absolutely not yet lovers. But with Lucy's near-death experiences in her battles, Natsu has to refrain himself from getting involved each time Lucy gets beaten up - he becomes helpless, and the worry that's sowed inside of him gets watered each time Lucy still puts his faith in him, still trusts him to come out a winner. That entire section when Lucy's in the infirmary and she tells Natsu that her entire being trusts that Natsu can do anything, I think that's when Natsu falls in love.

Now wait!! He still doesn't quite understand that he loves her. But he understands that his feelings for Lucy are more tender than any other feelings he's ever had. He treasures her in a new, heavier way. She's become precious to him.

Precious. Where have we heard that... oh >:) ↓

Now the Dragon Festival was LETHAL in a trillion ways, but especially for nalu fans. The whole Future Lucy plot and the forehead touches and the Future Natsu and Future Lucy fighting in a wasteland moments and the Natsu skipping the final GMG match to save Lucy. And of course. Future Lucy dying. It's not the first time we see Natsu get so heavily affected - it happened in the tower of heaven, when Erza was ready to give her life up. But it is the first time we see Natsu see a friend die. Like, a team mate, someone who he's responsible for bringing to the guild. And after the whole GMG conundrum? Had a single more bad thing happened Lucy during the dragon festival, he’d probably turn into a demon right there and then. Dare I even say: their relationship was the strongest at this point in time.

After the GMG and the Dragon Festival, we get the Sun Village arc (I don’t like the Eclipse celestial spirit arc so I’m not counting it, same with Key of the Starry Sky arc — technically some nalu moments but not exactly building imo) and then another big one: Tartaros. Ooooh brother, THE best arc of all times, wish Mashima knew how to replicate it. But alas, he doesn’t.

The Tartaros arc isn’t exactly a pivotal moment where Natsu “falls in love” but rather an important aspect to understand his later actions. Like this guy goes through some pretty grusome stuff, learns a lot of complicated, bad things about himself, and finishes off the arc with losing Igneel — his father that he's spent ages searching for. Natsu's entire life is turned upside down, so he decides that he has to become stronger: cue, he heads off for a year to train.

His time away isn't very elaborated on — not from Natsu's viewpoint or Lucy's. But I think it's understood that he chose not to bring along Lucy because she could be put into danger too much for him to be able to concentrate on building his strength: he knew his training would be dangerous. During this time we also have the Gildarts-scene in chapter (idk i can't be bothered to look it up but y'all know the one ↓) which is kinda debated on — who was Natsu talking about here?

I'm still not certain on if it was a heart to heart on the Igneel-matter, or if it was about his guilt of leaving Lucy behind, like many theorise. I'm not even certain that it's limited to one of them — he could be talking about both. But at the very least, this entire year was one of those "distance makes the heart grow fonder" moments for him. He wanted to get back to his normal life with Lucy so bad. After all, it wasn't like him showing up at the GMG was in order to meet Lucy — had he wanted more training after that, he'd head off again, but I don't think he could physically bring himself to do it, even if it hadn't turned out that the guild had disbanded. Though that's just me speculating a bit.

And about the guild disbandment: oh jolly, he was not happy. He had finally taken the step to grow stronger to protect everyone in his beloved guild, and here Makarov went and disbanded it? Leaving Lucy completely alone? Lucy, who once jumped from a hella high tower because she was just so devoted to stay in the Fairy Tail guild? Yeah, I think that broke him a little. At this point there was just so much guilt involved around his whole relationship with Lucy, because now he had put her through so much pain only because he brought her to Fairy Tail that day in Hargeon.

The next arcs I'd say Natsu's trying to spend his time redeeming himself for the countless things he's done bad (getting the guild back together, just generally staying by Lucy's side as much as possible). And naturally he keeps getting hit by challenge after challenge (it's not easy to be a book written by his immortal brother, yk?). And it's even harder to watch Lucy die again, this time for real (he thinks bc he's stupid and also has a tumour that's nothing less than a ticking bomb) (give this guy a break lol).

Anyways: Lucy's death nr2. Natsu can't live a life without her. Now I know — he still doesn't quite understand that it's romantic love, but I think he does understand that it's pure love. No matter if kissing and reproducing was involved, all he knew was that a life without Lucy is completely unimaginable, so blinded by rage he becomes and decides to decapitate everyone in his way (sorry about that Gray).

The last couple of moments I'll go out of my way to mention as signs of love is 1. when he's won over Acnologia and falls towards Lucy, crazy relieved, saying "I'm home", 2. Gajeel pointing out Natsu's crush on Anna, Natsu basically saying "oh that's why I like Lucy so much" (I embellished it lol) and 3. "We're still gonna be together from here on out, right?" yeah that man won't ever leave her. Ever. It's just not an option.

Now since I've only talked about specific moments, here's what I have to say about his relationship with her in general:

Throughout the main plot line, we also see a shift in Natsu's behaviour. Someone here on Tumblr pointed out that Natsu always finds a way to shield Lucy if something unexpected happens, after not being able to shield her from Future Rogue. There's also the small detail of the order he calls out to people - it goes from being pretty random, to Lucy almost alwyas being on the top of the list: likely because she's always on the top of his head. And in general I'd say that Natsu initiates (i'm adding this entire paragraph bc i realised that you asked about when Natsu initiated stuff, more than when he fell in love lol) almost all of their interractions. It's Natsu who wants Lucy to join Fairy Tail, to form a team, he's the one who enters her apartment constantly, he's always searching her out - his interest in her is at a constant high so we never feel like we get "moments" that he's paying her extra attention. He has one setting, and it's "Lucy" cranked to the max. Lol.

I could also add some HYQ moments to the mix here, but they've been few and far inbetween, and also mostly played off as jokes, so I can't really consider them as moments when Natsu initiates his love. I guess his jealousy can be considered a sign? And when (spoilers from the manga) he runs around to protect her/save her from creepy-freaky-jail (the only one who made it freaky was him, with those wild fantasies lol). Maybe I need to jog my memory a bit, but so far there hasn't been any non-pervy nalu moments initiated by Natsu in the HYQ, aside from jealousy-chap. Sadly.

Hope this gave you the answer you were hoping for! Sorry it took so long, I started writing on it and realised it would be a bible so I put it in my drafts to fetch some pics to make it less wordy, and then I forgot about it, lol. But here it is!

[lvnleah]

Bug having a sick day but having to go to training with lotte, her just clinging onto lotte like a koala and just being a sick girl

🤍🫧

sick bug | bug’s adventures.

Lotte barely had time to process the phone call from your preschool before she was already grabbing her keys and rushing out the training centre. 

The moment she heard the words “fever” and “not feeling well,” she knew you were going to be miserable. You hated being sick more than anything in the world. And when you were sick, you were clingy. Not just normal clingy, more of a koala-level, barnacle-on-a-ship, will-not-be-pried-off clingy.

By the time Lotte got to the preschool, you were curled up in a tiny ball on a bean bag in the corner of the classroom, your little face red and blotchy, your curls sticking to her forehead. As soon as you spotted Lotte, your bottom lip wobbled, and you reached out her arms.

“Mummy” you sniffled, voice wobbly, “I sicky…”

“Oh, Bug.” Lotte scooped you up without hesitation, feeling the heat radiating off your small body. You instantly latched onto her, wrapping your arms and legs around Lotte like a tiny koala. “Let’s get you home, baby.”

Except home wasn’t an option. Lotte had training, and there was no one else to watch you on such short notice.

So, back to training it was.

Lotte walked into the Arsenal training facility with you attached to her, half asleep. Your head was tucked against Lotte’s shoulder, your tiny arms clinging with surprising strength. The room fell silent for about three seconds before the teasing started.

“Aww, look at her!” Alessia cooed, stepping forward with open arms. “Do you want a cuddle while your Mummy trains?”

You barely lifted your head before shaking it and clinging onto Lotte even more, “Want Mummy.” You mumbled.  

Beth let out a whistle, “Woo, she’s in full koala mode. Good luck getting her off.”

Emily tried next. “Bugs, don’t you wanna come sit with me and Lessi?” she tried, holding out her hands to you. “We’ll get you some water, maybe a snack?”

Your response was to bury your face further into Lotte’s neck and whimper softly, “Cuddle Mummy.”

“She’s not budging, is she?” Beth chuckled, reaching out to poke Bug’s little foot, which earned her a tiny kick in return.

Lotte sighed, adjusting her grip. “Nope.”

Renée, who had been watching from the corner in the gym, finally stepped forward, her expression both amused and understanding.

“She’s not going anywhere, is she?” Renée asked, already knowing the answer.

Lotte gave her a tired but affectionate smile. “Not a chance.”

Renée hummed, then glanced at you, still latched onto your mum like your life depended on it. “Well, I’ve been in this situation before.” She gestured towards the team lounge. “Go sit down with her for a bit. If she dozes off, we’ll see if she’ll let one of the girls take over for a cuddle.”

Lotte hesitated. She didn’t want to disrupt training, but she also knew there was no prying you off of her.

“Go,” Renée insisted gently. “We’ll get started, and if you can join in later, great. If not, it’s fine.”

Lotte mouthed a grateful “thank you” before carrying you toward the lounge, settling into one of the sofas. The moment she sat down, you let out a little sigh and relaxed further, your warm little body melting into hers.

“I need to get her some medicine.” Lotte told Renée. 

“There’s some kid's paracetamol in the physio room, it’s here from when my little boy was here a few weeks ago, I’ll go get you it.” Renée smiled. 

Lotte said a quiet thank you and before she knew it, Renée was back with a little syringe of paracetamol. 

Getting you to take medicine was going to be a battle. 

Lotte sat on the couch with you still attached to her, the little syringe of liquid paracetamol in one hand and a spoon in the other. You, however, were having none of it.

“Nooooo,” you whined, turning your face into Lotte’s shoulder. “Tastes yucky.”

“I know, Bug,” Lotte sighed, rubbing your back. “But it’ll help you feel better.”

Beth, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you, grinned. “Want me to try?”

Lotte gave her a look. “Be my guest.”

Beth took the syringe and held it out to you with an exaggerated smile. “Bug, look at this! It’s… um… magic medicine! It makes you super strong, just like Mummy!”

You peeked out from Lotte’s shoulder, unimpressed. “Still yucky.”

Emily joined in next, leaning over the back of the couch. “What if we do a countdown? You take it on three, and then you get a cuddle from me and Lessi!”

You considered that for a moment before shaking your head. “Don’t want it.”

Alessia, always the softest with you, gently tapped your little nose. “Bug, what if we give you a piece of chocolate after?”

That got your attention. Your eyes flickered to Lotte, seeking confirmation.

Lotte sighed but nodded. “Alright, one tiny piece of chocolate after.”

You hesitated, then let out a reluctant little sigh. “Okay…”

Beth, seizing the moment, quickly brought the syringe to your lips before you could change your mind. You scrunched up your face as you swallowed, shuddering dramatically.

“Eugh,” you whined, burying your face in Lotte’s chest again.

“There we go!” Beth cheered. “Good job, Bug!”

Alessia immediately held out the promised chocolate, and you snatched it up with a pitiful sniffle, popping it into your mouth.

Lotte pressed a kiss to your forehead, relieved. “All done, baby. Now let’s get you comfy, yeah?”

With that, you snuggled even further into your mum’s arms, letting out a tiny, content sigh. You still felt sick, but at least you had your Mummy and a little bit of chocolate.

The team trained without her for a while, but it wasn’t long before Alessia peeked her head in, a juice box in hand. “If I bring a snack, will she at least look at me?”

Lotte chuckled. “You can try.”

Alessia approached cautiously, holding the juice box out like a peace offering. “Bug, look what I’ve got for you.”

You cracked one sleepy eye open, then spotted the juice box. You hesitated, then lifted a tiny hand to grab it before burrowing right back into Lotte’s chest.

Alessia let out a dramatic sigh. “Progress, but I’m still not good enough.”

For a while, you stayed curled up against Lotte, sipping occasionally at the juice box Alessia had given you but refusing to budge otherwise. Your fever had gone down a bit, and the gentle rub of your mum’s hand against your back kept you on the verge of sleep.

Every so often, one of Lotte’s teammates would poke their head in to check on the two of you. Emily brought a blanket, Steph offered some crackers, and Beth simply sat down beside Lotte, giving her a look.

“You okay?” Beth asked softly, nudging Lotte’s knee with her own.

Lotte sighed, adjusting her grip on you. “Yeah. Just hate seeing her like this.”

Beth nodded. “I know. But she’s got her Mummy, and that’s all she wants.”

Before Lotte could respond, Renée appeared at the door again. “How’s our little koala?”

Lotte ran a gentle hand over your curls. “Still attached.”

Renée chuckled. “I figured. Listen, training’s wrapping up soon. Why don’t you take her home and get her settled?”

Lotte bit her lip, torn. “Are you sure? I can stay a little longer. She’s gonna fall asleep soon and I know how important this training is for the game this week—”

“Lotte.” Renée gave her a firm but kind look as she cut her off. “Go home. Take care of your girl.”

Lotte didn’t need to be told twice.

Carefully, she stood up, keeping you secure in her arms as she grabbed her things. The moment the cool air hit your fever-warm skin outside, you let out a tiny whimper and burrowed closer.

“Shh, it’s okay, Bug,” Lotte murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “We’re going home.”

By the time she got you strapped into your car seat, you were already half-asleep again, clutching the empty juice box in one hand. Lotte brushed a curl from your forehead, her heart clenching at how small and helpless you looked.

“Let’s get you home, baby,” she whispered, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the car.

She knew it would be a long night, but she didn’t care. As long as you needed her, she’d be there.