#this has been living in my head for a while now

[imma-dragon53]

TimSteph and CassKon on a double date

Tim: *staring at cass*

Cass: *staring at Tim*

Steph and Kon: confusedtm

Cass and Tim: SWITCH!

Both procédé to switch places across the table, cass scrambling under it and Tim leaping over it until Tim is sitting with Conner and Cass is sitting with Steph

Steph and Conner: *prove they can fit in with the family and just shrug*

[lambilegs]

your best friends older sister!sevika fanfic had me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. love the way you write her as a mean teasing flirt ☺️ may i suggest roommate!sevika who does everything she can to get reader worked up such as bringing home girls to purposefully fuck them loud as fuck to make reader jealous 🙂‍↕️ hehe

roommate!sevika headcanons

note to anon: OMGGGG thank you so much bae!! and right? I feel like if she found someone who got on her nerves, she'd enjoy being the rudest flirt alive, hehe. ALSO, YES, I LOVE THIS IDEA SOOOO MUCH. took me a while to write it out, but I hope you enjoy!! <33 contains: sfw and nsfw content (minors + ageless blogs dni), reader receiving oral and strap, porn-watching, kinda voyeuristic (reader gets horny from sevika having sex with other girls), throat-grabbing, smoking, reader's body is referred to with the terms "pussy," "g-spot" and "clit"

roommate!sevika who doesn't really bother talking to you at first, just keeping to herself. she's not a fan of sharing her living space with people, but money's tight, and this is what she can afford right now. she's not interested in friendship, or some sort of everlasting bond to form between the two of you. she just wants to live in amicable peace, and have her space to herself.

and so, the two of you barely talk. you try, at first, but it becomes clear three days in that she's utterly uninterested. which, you can't lie, is a pretty huge disappointment, considering that the prospect of living with an incredibly hot and stoic butch was one that had you thrilled initially. but, unfortunately, she seems anything but truly interested in any sort of connection with you.

roommate!sevika who remains in her bedroom most of the time, working on one contraption or the other, or watching videos on her laptop.

or gaming. because, yes, she games, and she does try her best to keep quiet, she really does. but, the idiots she plays with have her occasionally shouting, cursing loudly as they cause her team to lose yet again.

every now and then, she'll hang out in the living room, watching TV, but that's usually reserved to when you're not home, or locked up in your own bedroom. when you come out to cook in the kitchen, or sit on the love seat so that you can fold laundry, she'll usually linger for a few minutes, carefully observing, before standing up to head back to her bedroom.

it's not like she hates you or anything. you're pretty okay -- nice to her and not sloppy and disgusting like some of the other roommates she's had before. you even share the food you cook with her, and have always been cooperative about splitting chores with her. so, in sevika's books, you're not a person who she's keen on disliking, and she actually feels pretty damn lucky for having found your ad.

roommate!sevika who does nothing to quell the sexual frustration you've had for months due to the serious dry spell that's been plaguing you. walls are thin, and you can hear the loud ass girl she's brought home, moaning and whining as sevika's bed frame rocks against the wall. every now and then, her noises are met with sevika's hushed grunts and filthy words of, "tell me, who's a good girl?"

you twist and turn in bed, rolling over to glare at your phone. it's 2:03AM -- how does she still have the energy to be fucking at this time? you're exhausted, irritated, and insanely horny from what you're hearing. because horribly enough, this girl doesn't sound like she's faking -- no, she's truly enjoying herself. sevika is just that good of a lay, it seems. and that piece of knowledge has your pussy beginning to dampen, soaking through your panties.

if you shut your eyes, and drift into the hazy world of dream land, you can pretend that it's you and her making those noises. that she's the one fucking you right now. god, just the thought of that notion has your clit aching.

but, it also has you feeling a strike of insecurity. because the truth is, that probably won't be you and sevika anytime soon. she doesn't even give you the time of day. you don't know what it is you've done to her, but she avoids you like the plague, never returning any of your offers of kindness or bonding. and it's beginning to sting really bad. if she can canoodle with a stranger (and, yeah, you're painfully aware it's a stranger, since her text said, "Hey. I met a girl at the bar tonight, is it okay if I bring her over?") well enough to have sex with her that very night, why can she barely spare you attention as her roommate?

the thought is a cold wash over your horniness, and all it leaves is a bitter taste on your tongue.

roommate!sevika who's giving you the most bewildered stare as you shake the soaked thong of the girl she brought home last night, yelling about how you're convinced that said girl stole one of your underwear after this one got ruined.

"how would you even know that?" sevika snickers, eyeing you in disbelief. "are you that anal?"

"my drawer was half open, sevika! and I never leave it like that because I'd knock into it on my way in otherwise!" you snap, your eyes wide and glossy with anger. sevika's honestly a bit unnerved by the sight -- she's never seen you this pissed, but jesus, she thought it'd take more than a singular, flimsy piece of fabric to get you to this state.

"it's just one pair," she deadpans. "I'm sorry serena -- or, selena, I don't know -- took it, but it's not that big of a big deal."

"maybe not for you, but it is for me! listen, I don't care if you don't know the names of the girls you bring here, or anything about them -- but, just make sure they're not a thieving dumbass, okay? is that enough for you?"

sevika's jaw shifts, irritation beginning to sizzle in her from the condescension layering your words. you're talking to her like she's a fucking child, tone taking on a faux sense of guidance.

"okay, listen, I'm sorry she took your underwear, okay? I'll buy you a new pair if you're that bent out of shape over it. but, you don't need to be such a piss baby about it."

your head flinches back, eyes sharpening in clear anger. sevika feels a twinge of guilt. she knows she fucked up, since ensuring the girl from last night didn't do anything out of line was her responsibility. but, your anger has her own defenses kicking in automatically, and she's equal measures embarrassed and angered at being spoken to this way.

"I have every right to be pissed if you're gonna be stupid about the people you bring in our apartment."

well, that manages to snap her out of it. "because I could just magically anticipate that she'd steal your shit? I get it, she did something shitty, but I couldn't have known that. I've got lots of skills, but that's not one of them."

you scoff, the noise loud and unabashed. "oh, trust me, you made a great display of your skills last night. not that you seem to fucking spare any of that attention to someone unless you're gonna get a good lay out of it."

sevika immediately freezes at that, her brain running into overdrive. your tone has shifted into something biting, but lowered with what seems like -- frustration? frustration not just at that girl, but at sevika herself. and if you're frustrated about sevika possessing an attentiveness that she spares only to certain people, then that must mean--

sevika snickers softly. oh, yeah, you've definitely given her an opening in this argument. "what, you jealous?"

immediately, you're spluttering, broken words and half-gasps flinging from your mouth, sentences barely strung together. it only heightens sevika's newfound delight in having found something to hold above your head.

"you are, aren't you? what, haven't had a good fuck lately? need me to get one of my boys to come over and take care of you?"

sevika can see the way you work your teeth behind your pursed lips, and it only causes her flame of amusement to burn brighter.

"first of all, I'm not fucking pitiful, okay? I can handle getting fucked. second of all, I'm not into guys, something you'd know if you even spoke to me for two fucking seconds."

sevika's eyes widen at that. this interaction definitely had her suspecting it, but to hear you confirm it only sends another wave of satisfaction, mingled with surprise, through her. so, you're gay and bitter over having no attention, and specifically not hers? you're making it too easy.

"so, what, you're into me?" she asks, her voice twisted with snark. "been wanting me this whole time? mad I'm not giving you attention?"

she knows it's risky to be goading her own roommate like this, flirting and teasing. but, she can't help it -- not when your mouth is finally shut and she knows she has something on you.

she stalks up to you slowly, using her height to her advantage as she dips her head down, staring at you with a piercing smirk. "well?"

your eyes are wide, blinking rapidly like a pretty little butterfly. they flicker down to her mouth, and sevika feels something stir in her gut at the sight. she's always been neutral about you, but there's something undeniably attractive about seeing you like this -- seething, wanting, in need of someone to take care of you. as her gaze roves over your features, she finds herself struck for the first time that you're, frankly, pretty good-looking.

but, then, you draw in a sharp breath, and sevika reels back in surprise when you hiss, "no."

she's left baffled as you whirl on your heel, stomping to your room, muttering out, "perverted jackass."

sevika chuckles at that. perverted jackass, huh?

roommate!sevika whose noises are so bothersome that you cover your ears, gritting your teeth at the rattling-headboard noises that are running through the apartment for the fifth fucking time in these past two weeks. how sevika manages to get this many girls in her bed is beyond your human capabilities. all you know is that it was never this often in the past. no, this -- this is fucking personal. you can feel it in the way she shoots you a haughty smirk the next morning, and how she encourages the people she's with to moan louder, move back faster. it's gotten to the point where you can even hear the fucking skin smacks.

it makes you utterly enraged. and impossibly soaked. but, for your own sense of justice and determination, you refuse to get off to the noises. in fact, everytime she continues her habit of asking you politely if she can bring someone over, you ensure to respond in as chipper a tone as possible. you don't want her thinking she's having an impact on you. you want to convey the self-image of being unbothered, unfazed and completely okay with every little dig she's attempting with you.

what makes you snap is when you're on your way to work one morning, and from where she's seated on the couch, lip bitten in frustration as she does a crossword puzzle like a fucking nerd, she says, "enjoyed the show last night? I can pick someone else up tonight. thought I'd ask in case you need to charge your vibrator in advance."

stay calm. stay calm. don't attack her. don't sit on her face.

"well," you drawl with a forced smile, "you'd like that, wouldn't you? so, your next girl can steal it for herself."

she immediately bursts into a loud round of laughter, her gap revealing itself unabashedly. your eyes linger on it, struck with a sudden bolt of fondness. it's one part of her that is unarguably adorable.

you turn away before she can catch you, heading to the kettle to pour the boiling water into your tumblr.

"wait, no," sevika calls out from the couch, eyes still fixed on the newspaper. "the counter."

your eyes curiously travel to the wooden surface, gulping in surprise when you see a fresh pot already made. you know sevika always drinks coffee before her shift at the mechanic's, but that's usually just a single cup. never an entire pot like this. "did you, uh, make this for me?"

"don't flatter yourself. just take some."

her voice is a grunt and no-nonsense, not allowing for her meaning to be minced whatsoever. she wants you taking the coffee, and that's that.

with a bitten smile, you pour it into your tumblr, the pleasant scent of it wafting through your nostrils. it's the brand you always use, the one you've offered to sevika before that she's never actually taken you up on. at least until now.

she's at least half-redeemed to you until she says, "just needed some energy after last night, you know? wait, what am I saying? you were listening, won't you?"

your skin stretches over your knuckles as you tightly grip the doorknob.

jackass.

roommate!sevika who you try to get back at by watching obscenely loud porn. sometimes, you touch yourself to it, while other times, you just let it play in the background while folding your laundry, or wiping the dust from your furniture. you know it's immature as fuck, and will probably never equate to the personal touch of her being the one to incite those noises when trying to piss you off. but, hey, if it keeps her up at night and pisses her off, you're more than content. and judging from the glares she silently shoots you in the morning, you can tell you're succeeding.

at least, until one day, she leans in from behind when you're making eggs, her mouth lowered to your ear, and mutters, "c'mon, you're easy on the eyes. can't be so hard to find someone that you resort to porn, right?"

your nostrils flare, nearly slamming down the pan on the stove. "oh, fuck off."

"don't you mean 'fuck me'?"

your mouth cracks into an almost-smile. it's one thing to wanna fuck sevika, it's a whole other thing to have your stomach tighten up from how funny she is. makes it all the harder to deal with your current predicament. "no, I mean 'fuck you,' actually -- thanks for helping with that clarification."

"anytime," she huffs in amusement, lightly smacking your shoulder, which sends you nearly tumbling from her strength.

you glare at her back as she leaves. god, it's a good back. you hate that she has a good back.

roommate!sevika who's almost... thankful for this situation? because paying more attention to you, being in your way more often, ends up revealing to her that she was, admittedly, a damn fool for not having taken notice of you earlier.

because you're smart. like, wicked smart. what she suspects is mostly out of spite, you've started leaning over her shoulder, your scent flooding her senses as you spoil the answers to her crossword puzzles. at first, she rolled her eyes, grumbling that she would've gotten it without your help. but, now, she anticipates your stupid antics before you can even think about disrupting her mood with it. that translates to her raising the newspaper to you right as you meet her in the kitchen, an action which you first met with a disapproving glare.

but, in a matter of days, you're sitting right next to her, a pencil in hand, the two of you debating over answers together and groaning in frustration whenever you get something wrong.

when you bump her arm, whining, "c'mon, I told you it was wrong!" she can feel her face heat up like some fucking teenager.

and when you roll your eyes when her answer ends up being the right on, it only eggs her on, the motion usually followed with her murmuring, "sorry, what was that again?"

whenever you two finish, she always says, "thanks for ruining it," to which you singsong, "anytime, sevika."

and she hates to admit it, but you're funny, too. there've been several times where she's actually been rendered silent from just how good a comeback of yours was, or where you said something that caught her so off guard she nearly laughed in a moment where she was just annoyed.

and fuck her, you're so fine. so goddamn fine.

a notion that seizes at her when you come out of your bedroom one evening, dressed from head to toe in clothes she certainly has never seen you in before. clothes you'd surely never wear to work or when lounging at home.

she licks her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling very, very dry. "what-- where are you--?"

"putting myself out there." you shrug, idly stroking a palm along your head, smoothing your hair. "I mean, it always works for you. and, you're right, porn can only do so much. I think it's time for me to, you know, actually try to get with someone."

sevika's jaw clenches. like the fuck you will. "no."

"what do you mean 'no'?" you scoff, swinging your bag over your shoulder. "I can do whatever I want."

"well, I'm not letting you do this," she snaps, standing from her seat on the couch and rushing to block you from the door.

"why not?"

"because I--" she cuts herself off, teeth pressing in together as her mind is shaken with an influx of thoughts. because what can she even say? it's not just about wanting to fuck, not anymore. she's actually interested now. so interested that it's been weeks since she last brought a girl over. no point in doing so if her mind is filled with thoughts of you touching yourself to the noises, anyways.

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. "yes?"

she leans in closer, propping a hand next to where your shoulders rest along the door. there's an inexplicable urge tugging her forwards to you, and she doesn't have it in her to resist it. "because I," she rasps, her voice low and scratchy, "I want you safe."

jesus, is she an idiot?

your face is deadpan, not a twitch of expression in sight. "you do it all the time. besides, how will I learn unless I'm out there, doing it?" after a beat skips between you two, you add, "unless you wanna come with?"

sevika snorts. "you really think I'm gonna watch you fuck about with some other people who don't deserve you?"

you brace your head against the plane of the door, eyes tracing over her face, making sevika's skin tingle in response. "then, who does?" you mutter quietly.

your tone is no longer flat. it's raised in pitch a bit, almost sounding hopeful. sevika swallows hard, her own body beginning to tense in anticipation. she latches onto that audible sign, using it to propel her forward until her lips are ghosting yours.

"me, you idiot."

and with that, she cups your face, drawing you into a soft kiss, your chapstick-smeared lips thick and slippery against hers.

roommate!sevika who makes you come so many times that night that you lose track. first with her head between your thighs, mouthing at your clit, fingers pumping into your hole as she spreads you loose and open. her lips wrap around the stiffened bud, drawing it in in tight, sharp sucks, the pressure of the movements making your legs tremble around her head, pressing into her ears without relent.

"damn, you trying to suffocate me?" she murmurs against your clit, the vibrations of her words making you whimper.

"it's what you deserve," you chuckle once the fog has cleared a bit, the noise dissolving into a whine when her tongue darts out, flapping over your clit with hard presses up and down, up and down.

"you're right," she hums, pressing a soft kiss to the spot just as her fingers curl up and begin stroking your g-spot, making streams of pleasure pulse from your pussy into your tummy, which tightens in anticipation. "I've been a dick to you, huh? I'll make it up to you tonight."

and make it up she does, her strap plunging into you and stretching your hole into a dull ache as her strong fingers hook onto her headboard, raising herself over you as your hips smack together. the mix of lube and your juices send filthy little squelches flowing through the room, and the noise only adds to the whirlwind of pleasure she's throwing you into without pause.

when she kisses you hard, making you whine as her fingers wrap around your throat and her tongue shoves into you, you can't resist quipping through your moans, "gotta say -- those girls had a point."

she chuckles against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. "and I was going easy on them. just wait till I'm done with you."

roommate!sevika who wraps her arm around you when smoking her cigarette afterwards. after lying together with nothing but some faded music playing in the background for a few minutes, she presses a tentative, slow kiss to your head, muttering, "I wish I had started talking to you earlier on."

you blink in surprise from the words, the tenderness of the moment sending a flood of emotions through you. you don't want to sound needy, but now that the topic has been brought up, a part of you aches for reassurance, wishing for the hollow part of you her initial avoidance had bore to be filled. "was it because I seemed uninteresting, or...?"

"no, no," she immediately cuts in, her voice hard. "I just wasn't interested in bonding with any roommate. never have been." her nails gently skim along your arm, and her voice lowers before confessing, "I thought you were sweet, though."

that sends satisfaction pumping through you, and you need to purse your lips together to halt a wide smile from breaking over your face. "yeah?"

"yeah, until you started being a little fucking menace," she whispers with a grin, her hand snaking down to squeeze your ass, a motion which nearly sends you moaning.

"hey, you started it with your panty-stealing girl."

"my panty-stealing girl?" she asks incredulously, her chin pointing down to shoot you a wide-eyed look. "you think I'm gonna call anyone mine except you now?"

feeling suddenly bashful from the bold declaration, you nuzzle into her neck, your face heating up. "I don't know."

"huh, you know, you're cute like this. docile, quiet--"

"oh, fuck off."

she laughs, lightly pinching your arm, which sends you squealing. "eh, I knew it only could've lasted so long."

"like you'd have it any other way."

she takes a drag, the corner of her lips curling up. "got a point there."

no sentences and/or parts of my writing are allowed to be reposted or reused without explicit permission or credits given.

[aikuwrld]

men who are DEVOTED munchers becoming a stuttering mess when you ask to give them head… they look at you like you just asked the most incredulous question in existence. you? give him head? right now? he’s so used to servicing you— the thought of you giving him head already had him shamefully twitching in his pants and dizzy.

“are you sure, my love? no, i mean, you don’t need to… i mean—”

poor baby can barely put a sentence together even before the touching has even happened. don’t get him wrong, it’s not that he doesn’t want it. he’s indulged— matter of fact, he’s stroked a few ones out at the thought of you sucking him off. on your knees, pretty glossy doe eyes looking up at him while you struggle to take all of him in your mouth. it’s just that he’s always been a little shy. too embarrassed to ask you. it’s pathetic— hilarious even that a burly, bulking man of his stature couldn’t bring himself to ask his darling little wife something so simple. he was devoted to you. the man worshipped you. he knew his purpose. it was clear as day in fact. to service and care for you. to follow you like the smitten fool he was. he knew that he was meant for nothing else the moment he had laid his eyes on you. he was yours.

your husband’s putty once you begin leaving behind the softest of kisses down his chest and trembling stomach. the smell of his skin and the hushed whimpers every once in a while leaving his pretty lips dulling your senses. you had to pull away to admire the sight— your hungry eyes drinking in the mesmerizing sight of your man. the contour of his prominent muscles; the number of ruthless hours he’d managed to put into training never failed to impress you. the tank he wore now bunched up and resting on the swell of his pecs; buds glossed over with drool while his chest heaved with every shuddering breath he took, and god, the trail of thick hair leading down to his veiny lower abdomen.

he’s practically a pathetic puddle of moans and drool while you attempt to push another inch of his twitching length down your throat minutes later, the tuft of hair on his abdomen tickling your nose as your mouth painfully stretches to take in his fat girth. your tousled hair not going unnoticed as he begins to comb it back, chivalrous as ever while he holds it back with one shaky hand, the other draped over his burning face.

“ah, hnng..! fuuuuck… just—just like that, pretty…”

he drools out, a fucked out mess of groans and praises just for you as he bucks his shaky hips into your mouth involuntarily, apologizing hastily at the sound of your gagging. but oh, how you could practically live off this rare sight. your panties soaking wet at the sight of your husband selfishly chasing his high. you suck in your tear stained cheeks, hallowing them out as his fat leaky tip hits the back of your throat. you were no better than him; a slobbering, gagging perverted mess as you begin to massage and stroke the base of his wet cock.

“gonna… oh— oh, god… don’t… please, baby, i’m gonna…”

he strains out, his hips twitching up as his head presses back against the arm of the couch, his bulging biceps flexing from the iron grip he has on your hair as he thrusts into your mouth once more. you pull away from his thick girth to catch your breath, eliciting a whine that you swear had you ascending. sticky gloss and spit trailing down his cock and connecting from your lips as you push his cock against his tense stomach to lick at the veiny underside. you allow the tip of your tongue to massage against a vein before leaving behind sloppy kisses at the thick shaft down to his twitching balls. he jolts forward in shock, heels digging into the plush surface of the couch. the veins straining underneath the thin skin of his large hands, almost like they were ready to burst with how tight he fingers were interlocked with the roots of your hair.

he can barely control himself, at this point mindlessly babbling on about how lucky he is to have you, how much he loves you, how close he is to cumming. you begin to massage the base of his sticky cock once more before sliding the wet shaft past your lips, slurping shamelessly as you begin to bob your head back up and down. it doesn’t take another second before he shoots his thick load right down your warm, wet cavern. riding out his orgasm as you massage and you pull your head up with a pop, gasping for air as he begins to wipe at your mouth, praising you for taking him so well. he definitely didn’t mind a bit of spoiling here and there. especially from you.

⟢ reiner, erwin, choso, nanami, sendou, niou, noel, tokimitsu, yukimiya, diluc, sanji, zack, aki, vash, sanemi + your favs . . (〃ω〃)

[eldest-moonlit]

I've never found that place at all in my life, and I'm no longer looking outside of my already existing circle of close friends and acquaintances. As a neurodivergent woman on the autism spectrum, I've taken so many blows from neurotypical society and neurotypical people that I've lost track. I've been ghosted and blocked by a lot of people, the majority of them men, when they seemed to be the ones interested in me, only to abandon me without warning the moment I started to become myself or if I ever brought up my own needs. One of those instances left me sobbing into my blankets as I was sitting in my bed, trying to be quiet so that my parents wouldn't notice that I was in emotional pain. I've faced a lack of understanding, and/or a lack of effort to understand me, from most neurotypical people in my life, with the only exceptions being my parents and one of my three close friends. I've had far too many neurotypical people accuse me constantly of making excuses for myself when in reality I'm trying to explain my neurodivergence and how it affects the way I perceive the world in the best way that I can. There is a high possibility that I was gaslit for years, by my own peers in middle and high school, into invalidating my concerns and fears over living with epilepsy, when I purposely don't drive because I've missed taking my medication before and had a seizure 24 hours later because of that. If I have a seizure while driving, then I would be at a much higher risk of being either seriously injured or outright killed in a resulting car accident. Unfortunately, the only neurotypical people I've met in life who actually understand that, or at least try to, are one of my closest friends, my parents, my neurologist, and my therapist. Anyone else I've met who understands, or at least tries to, are also on the autism spectrum or neurodivergent in a different way, which includes my other two closest friends.

As a result of all the blows, my trust in neurotypical people is, to an extent, permanently damaged and will remain so. I may be in therapy now, but I feel that even if I go through years of it, I will always be very suspicious and wary of any neurotypical person I come across, of their true intentions and colors. I've learned to avoid hope as well. For me, the pain of crushed hopes is far worse than pain that comes from avoiding hope. I have my request that people not immediately follow me for good reason: in the words of TV Tropes, I'm a Broken Bird who finds stronger bonds and kinships with others on the spectrum, who Does Not Like Men because of just how many times I've been hurt by men in the past, and has the coping mechanisms I do to Never Be Hurt Again. But I'm not getting my hopes up. I already struggle to survive in a neurotypical society that loves to hurt and disadvantage neurodivergent people, so I don't expect it to adjust to my needs while I will have to constantly adjust my needs to fit in. And even if there is someone for me out there, I don't bother to hope. I've been lied to far too many times by men already, and during a time in my life where survival in neurotypical society has only gotten more difficult for me. I have a feeling that for the rest of my life, I will be struggling to survive in society with only my needs, my interests, my methods of survival, and autistic traits keeping my head above water.

[natalievoncatte]

| This is an act of pure self indulgence, because this one made me sad.

This was a new thing, fragile and beautiful. These moments had always been awkward before- Kelly wasn’t often at the Tower, but when she was she would give Alex the classic gift for luck and Nia and Brainy would have their little moment and Lena would awkwardly stand there and wish Kara good luck or something before they all ran off to fight the alien or… whatever.

Now it was Lena’s turn and she was going to savor it. She sauntered up to Kara, enjoying the look of surprise on everyone’s faces as she placed a soft, chaste kiss on her lover’s lips. Kara deepened it, bracketing Lena’s waist with her powerful hands. Standing there in her boots and cape, Kara was like a storybook night, even grinning like a teenager.

“What the hell was that?” Alex blurted.

“You all do it. Can’t I give my girl a good luck kiss?” said Lena.

Alex gaped at her. Nia began to giggle and Brainy nodded slowly, a secret smile on his face.

“How long?” Kelly asked.

“About five years,” said Lena, “it just took a while to figure it out.”

Kara nuzzled her nose into Lena’s hair and a deep rumble buzzed in her chest as she purred in delight.

“Is she purring?!” said Kelly.

“She does that,” Alex sighed. “Come on everybody, cowboy up and let’s get this guy bagged and tagged. I want to be back here for our victory dance in twenty.”

Lena stood next to Kelly and watched them leave.

“Have you ever thought about going with them?” said Kelly. “You’re a billionaire witch, you could probably-“

They were both cut off by the resounding boom behind them, and Lena whirled as a portal opened right in the middle of the Tower.

Lena watched in shock as Kara walked out. Not her Kara, another Kara from another timeline, a sickly, wounded woman with half her face and her arm and leg missing, replaced by sleek blue metal, and a blazing chunk of Kryptonite where her heart should be.

Kelly let out a shocked yelp and danced back, but Lena stepped forward.

“She won’t hurt us,” said Lena.

Then, she saw what Kara was carrying. Who she was carrying.

The Lena in her arms was not a mirror image. She was older, thinner, short hair streaked with gray and a patch over one eye, and she hung limp in Kara’s arms.

“Help her,” Kara rasped in her mechanical growl. “Please, Lena. Don’t let her die.”

“Come on,” Lena said, to Kelly. “You’re a doctor, you can help me.”

“I’m a psychologist, Lena.”

“Fine, you’re smart and you have hands. Kara, bring her to the medbay.”

“You’ll have to show me. We didn’t have one of these in my world.”

Lena nodded and led them down to the level below and directed Kara to lay… Lena on one of the beds and waved for Kelly to bring her instruments.

“What happened?”

“There was another me there,” said Kara. “She was wrong, broken… not like me. She took over her world, her Lena died, she kept mine like a pet.”

Lena looked at her.

“The Kryptonite has its uses,” Kara said, coldly.

Lena pressed a hand to her other self’s shoulder, shaking her gently.

“Lena,” said Lena. “Lena, can you hear me?”

“She has a pulse,” said Kelly, “but it’s faint. She’s breathing.”

“The Other,” said Kara. “She said she implanted some kind of device in her chest, triggered it before I…”

The Lena on the table convulsed, foamy spittle spraying from her mouth. It took Lena and Kelly to keep her from bucking off the table as Kara clutched the side of her head and wailed in rasping torment.

“Please don’t let her die, I can’t live without her. Please not now please.”

“She’s not going to die,” said Lena.

At that very moment, Kara -her Kara- walked into the medbay with Alex. As she approached, the protective Kryptonite suit formed and snapped into place around her.

Alex drew her alien pistol and aimed at the Other Kara.

“Get away from them.”

“Alex, no,” Lena shouted, stepping between them.

Her Kara gently pushed Alex’s arm down, sweeping her aim away.

“What happened to you?”

Other Kara rasped, “Lex. Killed me. Metallo protocol. Sent Lena to the phantom zone. Help her.

Alex holstered her weapon and rushed over, gently moving Kelly aside.

“Fuck, she’s not breathing, something is choking her. We need to get a breathing tube in.”

“Lena, do you have your watch?” said Kara. Her Kara.

“Yes.”

“The Fortress. Now.”

Lena nodded and stepped away from the table, activating her portal watch. The portal boomed open and Kara gently shouldered her cyborg doppleganger aside and took the dying Lena in her arms, and rushed through the portal, and Lena followed.

The cold was a shock but Lena didn’t care as the adrenaline roared in her veins.

“Follow me,” Kara said, before blurring away into the Fortress.

Lena ran after her, Alex and Kelly in tow.

“What is this place?” Kara rasped.

“The Fortress of Solitude,” said Lena. “Kara’s cousin built this place with Kryptonian technology from his pod.”

“Cousin?” said the cyborg. “Pos?”

“Don’t you have all this stuff on your Earth?” said Alex.

“No. I was teleported to my Earth, not sent aboard a pod. There was only enough energy for me… Kal-El was supposed to join me but…”

“He’s here,” said Lena. “In our world, he lived and became a hero like you. He’s the Superman.”

Cyborg Kara stumbled, skidding to a stop as she stared up at the massive statues of Jor-El and his wife, Lara Lor-Van. Clark’s parents.

They finally caught up to Kara, who placed Lena gently in one of the pods and pulled down the canopy. A soft hiss of air was followed by a hollow thrum as the machine came to life.

“She’s in stasis,” said Kara. “I’ll run scans and we can collect samples, find out what’s wrong.”

Cyborg Kara let out a strange, rasping sound, pained and guttural. She was sobbing.

Kara, still protected by her suit, stepped in and put her arms around her counterpart, pulling her into a hug.

“We’re going to save her. I promise.”

“Please. Please just let me speak to her one more time.”

“We’ll do more than that. I promise.”

“Kara,” said Lena. “Let me look at her.”

Kara stepped aside. Lena stepped close to the cyborg, a deep pang of sadness exploding in her chest as the broken woman turned away.

“Don’t look at me.”

“I have to if I’m going to fix you.”

“Fix me?”

“I can replace the Kryptonite as a power source for your cybernetics, repair some of this damage. If you’ll let me.”

She looked at Lena uncertainly. Kara put a hand on her shoulder.

“Your Lena is going to need you, and you don’t deserve this pain. Let us help you.”

“…alright.”

“Alex,” said Kara. “Take the portal back to the tower. Call everyone. I’m going to send a message to Clark on Argo.”

Lena led Cyborg Kara away to another lab and motioned for her to sit down, then began going over her with the benefit of Kryptonian technology.

“My God,” Lena whispered.

The cyborg had to be in constant agony. Her mechanical components had taken damage her flesh would have shrugged off. When she took a blood sample, she found that the very Kryptonite that kept her alive was turning her blood corrosive, and her superhuman healing and a healthy dose of nanites were keeping it in balance, but did nothing to spare her the pain of the radiation.

It was a losing battle. She would eventually rot from the inside.

“I need you to lie down, and to trust me.”

She began by fabricating a new power source. The Kryptonite had never been essential to the Metallo Protocol- the point had been to make the subject deadly to Superman.

Once she had it online and modified to fit into the power plant on Kara’s chest, it was simply a matter of carefully lifting the Kryptonite core out and swapping out the connections. Once she had the wiring done, all she had to do was lock the power supply in place.

Lena sealed the Kryptonite behind a Kryptonian force field, containing its radiation.

Once she did, Cyborg Kara sucked in a sharp, shocked breath.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered, “it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m not done,” Lena said, gently. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s my own work.”

It took hours. She started on the most painful parts for Kara, carefully repairing and rebuilding joints and connections between her organic and mechanical systems. It really was a wonder. Her counterpart was a genius.

Obviously.

She fixed the speaker in her throat last, making her voice clearer if not perfect.

“Thank you,” Kara murmured. A tear of dark blood flowed down her cheek and her chest shook with relief. “Part of me was afraid I’d die before she wakes.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I left her alone, Lena. She was trapped in that awful place and the… other… me was a monster. She hurt my Lena.”

“Kara,” said Lena.

“I did something terrible. I had to, she made me. She made me.”

Lena gently dabbed the crimson streak from her cheek. “Hush. It’s okay. It’s over now, you’re safe with us.”

Cyborg Kara swallowed and looked at her, just looked at her, and Lena felt a jolt ripple through her. She looked just like her Kara, looking at her as if she made the sun rise.

“Come on, let’s see where we are with, um, me,” said Lena.

The mood was somber when they walked back into the chamber. Kara no longer needed her Kryptonite resistant suit, so it didn’t activate.

Lena’s counterpart lay in the stasis pod like some futuristic Snow White, eyes closed, frozen. Cyborg Kara pressed her intact hand to the glass.

Kara put her hand on it.

“I won’t give up on her,” Kara promised. “I swear it.”

“I know you won’t,” said the cyborg. “You’re me.”

Alex stormed into the room.

“Okay,” said Alex. “Kara, I called in a favor. Can we move this pod?”

“If we have to,” said Kara. “Why?”

“We’re taking her to Themyscira,” said Alex.

Yes, I will write a third one, and probably publish this on AO3. I can’t let it go, lol.

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Smau

A/N : hi~ its been a while my luvsss! Hope you enjoy hihi

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 18 | Next >

Y/N. 45mins ago

story replies

oscarpiastri Thank you dearest! Ily

Y/N. ily too! are you free to go to the hotel now?

oscarpiastri Not yet, baby. I still need to do post race interviews and I'm assuming that McLaren will bite my ass for the race.

Y/N. Ah damn, I wish i could commit arson in your motorhome rn hbcalfbsa

oscarpiastri Lmao I'll beat you to it.

Y/N. Should I wait for you?

oscarpiastri No need luv, I'll see you in our room

Y/N. Alright Osc~ call me if you need anything.

oscarpiastri Ik luv, keep safe alright?

L.norris Aren't you and your rebound fucking happy.

L.norris I know Max and Charles planned everything to screw my drive. I bet it was your idea.

L.norris I'll make oscar's stay in Mclaren hell than it already is.

Y/N. P1-P6 in turn one amazing drive and really?? a dummy account?? how desperate can you be? Ella not enough for you?

L.norris I swear Y/n.

skysports LIVE

mclaren

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

mclaren P2astri! monstrous effort by @oscarpiastri. P17 to P2 — that’s our driver!

oscarpiastri Lol. 

danielricciardo Yeah Lol

user1 Bruhs literally said Lol.

user2 Oh, hi danny ric. Can I ask you a question? what's up with Mclaren screwing their aussie drivers??

user1 Not Mclaren tryna play nice after the team orders. Cuz wth was that???

user3 Sweep it under the rug ahh move from them.

user2 I stand by what i’ve said about Oscar should try to fit in the team before but damn after what they tried to pull today?? Oscar’s reaction is valid

user3 Imagine admin posting this after Mclaren tried to f up Oscar’s race… the audacity of this team is amqzing.

user4 I could see Lando fuming right now 😮‍💨

user5 Mate of course he is! Did you hear the radio? Lando wanted to take both his and oscar's cars out 

user6 Lando has always been a sore loser. But today was smth else -- a crybaby in the radio damn.

user7 imagine if McLaren actually showed support towards Oscar? Blud might even be fighting Max on the WDC rn

user8 WE WILL NEVER FORGET WHAT YOU DID TO OSC IN QUALIFYING

user9 and we will NEVER forgive you Mclaren!!

user10 Oscar only continuous to amaze us as a driver. That level of focus on maturity on track was masterclass.

Notification : You missed a call from Zak Brown*

Notification : You missed a call from Zak Brown*

Notification : You missed a call from Zak Brown*

Notification : Zak Brown sent you a voice message*

-Pick up the damn phone Oscar! or I swear you'll be driving nothing next week!! -

Incoming call from Mark Webber

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

-Hello? What is it Mark?-

-Get your ass inside the motorhome. NOW-

-Calm down, I'm on my way. I just finished my bloody interviews-

-Heads up, everyone is fuming. You made them look like clowns today Osc... I have no idea what consequences they've planned for you-

-Whatever, i'm sick and tired of them-

-You don't get it Osc... this is serious. RedBull and Ferrari contacted me and they've said Zak is pulling some strings to keep you inside McLaren. They might withdraw their offer-

-shit, what???-

-Exactly, so get your ass here NOW. -

call has been disconnected

Formula1 news

MCLAREN DRIVER FEUD! The arguments between the 2 McLaren drivers have turned physical! 

read more… 

Not long after the race and interviews, it was said that a fight had started inside the McLaren Motorhome. 

Sources had stated that Lando Norris had confronted Oscar Piastri for not following team orders given previously. Both drivers seemed to be talking till it started to escalate when Oscar tried to leave. 

Physicalities had started when Lando had struck the Australian in the face— initiating Oscar to fight back. The fight had been stopped with Lando Norris being escorted with a broken and bleeding nose and Oscar with a bruised cheek. 

oscarpiastri 3 mins

story replies

danielricciardo Mate! how did you get that?! 

oscarpiastri Lando was a sore loser and punched me after interviews 

danielricciardo Damn, tell me he’s got it worse?

oscarpiastri yeah, I broke his nose. danielricciardo Nice. does Y/N know? 

oscarpiastri not yet. 

danielricciardo oh she’s not gonna like that

oscarpiastri I mean i didnt start it

logansargeant WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?

oscarpiastri Calm down, Logan its just a bruise. 

logansargeant so the rumors where real? you and lando got into a fight? 

oscarpiastri blud couldn’t accept that I won. 

logansargeant Cool. But i’m sure Mclaren isnt happy with this.

oscarpiastri is that even a surprise 

logansargeant Hey, they might fire you and I could have your seat then 

oscarpiastri Yeahhh screw you. You already signed the contract with Indycar 

logansargeant heck yeah I did! 

charles_leclerc Oi I let you out my sight for a few hours and this happens??

oscarpiastri you know you're playing this father thing a lil too real.

charles_leclerc Ik, deal with it! Anyways so the fight was true

oscarpiastri How did you know?

charles_leclerc carlos was on call with Lando and I overheard. You hit Lando out of no where?

oscarpiastri WHAT? NO. He punched me first. Where did you get that?

charles_leclerc Carlos told me that Lando said that to him… that you were the one who punched him in the nose. 

oscarpiastri wtf? Nah… he’s twisting the story again. Classic 

charles_leclerc I knew it!

*Hilton Hotel

-Y/N? luv are you here?-

-Yeah, i’m on the bed-

-Did you watch the race?-

-I did! P2 my luv congratu— what the fuck happened to your cheek?!- 

-Lando punched me after the interview. Nothing big-

-Nothing big?! are you kidding me? Oscar half your face is swollen! -

-And his nose is broken, whats the big deal?! I’m fine aren’t I?-

-You broke Lando’s nose?!  Oscar what the hell! You hit him back?! - 

-Of course I did! What?! should i just let him have at me? What the fuck is that question Y/N??- 

-Oscar! you actually fought physically. This is different! this is not online or on the tracks! you can’t just start throwing fists like cavemen!-

-Different how?! Y/N, Lando struck first and I hit back. I’m was defending myself! Why am I even explaining this to you?! Aren’t you on my side?! -

-Of course I am Osc! I am always on your side!-

-Then show it! Y/N! because what it looks to me is that you think is that I should’ve just let him beat me over! - 

-Of course not! but you know that everyone will use this against you.-

-So?-

-So?? what do you mean so?! You could be in trouble with the FIA. Red Bull and Ferrari might withdraw their offer for you if this blows up! Oscar your career is already hanging on by a thread! How could you let them hold more things against you? -

-You think I dont know that?! HUH, Y/N?! Not a fucking day goes by without me thinking whether if I’ll have my job the next day! So don’t fucking preach to me what I should be thinking or be feeling! You know that everything about this started with you right?? because I chose to fight for our relationship?? -

-Oscar, I know that! Don’t you think I don’t feel guilty or hurt seeing you suffer because of me? because of us?! I’ve been dealing with some shit too! and do you see me throwing fists around?!!-

-And now it’s all about you. You know what Y/N? Yeah… you don’t fight No. You just wait for them to cheat on you before you see the years of abuse. Well tough luck Y/N, i’m not like you! I don’t cower away when its Lando. - 

-WOW! just fucking wow, Oscar!! how nice to pull that shit up. You fucking know how I feel about what Lando did to me!-

-You know what?! I can’t do this right now. I need air. FUCK!-

Notification : you received a message from **** *** ***

*Hello ms. Y/N, this is Emery James, McLaren's Lawyer. I am reaching out on behalf of McLaren to offer you a proposition that will benefit all . Your presence is requested urgently. please contact us at your earliest discretion. Thank you*

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

extra A/N: Only a few more chapters for this series my luvs! I'm so glad yet sad that this smau is coming to an end huhu

alsooooo recently i've been obsessing over football! any Madridistas here hihi? Imma shamelessly plug my playlist for Jude here~ enjoy hskhdbvks

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[4mrplumi]

ZERO (iii) : SCAVENGERY . (ms/prev/next)

-> plot synopsis - you don't think you're as odd and horrifying as the news makes you out to be. but you have never much cared for the validation of others, and certainly not theirs.

-> batfamily x serial killer reader. playlist (wip) ask 2b added to taglist

-> tw; gn reader, guns, violence, child neglect, messed up legal system, mention of death, poor living conditions, bug taxidermy, everyone's a b, paranoia, ocd, full list on master list.

> a/n; the prologues are text heavy... i'll try more dialogue for the first chapter (next upload) and onwards. in the mean time, feel free to send asks and ideas, i'd love to discuss and tie up my own lose ends too. hope this suffices for the reader's relationship with the bat family!

“family business”, you squint at the sign, “12th sector conveniences, run by a family business!” the print on the plastic sign is misspelled, and fading away completely. red into pink, orange into pale yellow, and green into cyan. a lovely place to be at for what you’re doing.

family has always been an iffy subject for you, in your mind and verbal exchanges. you never humoured your friends’ prods at you to talk, and were especially vigilant about shutting down conversations about family.

you’d already brushed over the meaning of the word in your head, on terms with the fact that you would most likely never understand it in this lifetime, but the experience with it still stung. sometimes.

at ten years old, the landlord of your apartment, who’d let you stay for free since it was so horribly kept, passed away. it meant you had effectively no place to live, since it wasn’t legally in your hands anymore. nothing much about your situation was legal, but he’d argued your case for you for years, and the neighbours were supportive of it too.

gotham is a gritty place, and even with the varied dictionary of swears they used to poke away security, it was a little show of squishy softness from the people. 

after he died, your friends’ parents and your neighbours shuffled you around in their homes, month to month to keep you around. no one thought of calling fosters, or the police, since you were their kid as much as their children were. “love” was an odd word to use, people in your alley married for benefits and children were kept about for that reason too. there were exceptions, but the reason for your staying was obligation.

at eleven, you got caught directly in between a scuffle on the streets. the guys must’ve been waiting to put off steam, since it got bloody way faster than you’d ever seen. but honestly? you could’ve gone past it, it was nothing unnatural for the city, and having grown up in it on your own, you would’ve been fine.

but gotham was a city full of interruptions. buses, classes, going to the store for chips or even walking back home, you would be interrupted. by a gun, a fist, or if you were especially unlucky, the big old bat and his big old car. you wonder if you could’ve saved yourself all the trouble, the tax on your mental state and the worry you keep everyday of your life now, if you had just been a bit faster, fast enough to avoid the batman’s interruption. maybe, you would’ve been in the stairwell with your friends now, eating chips or running from old mister ford on the sixth floor.

you’d been put in the police station down the road, the same one your friend had thrown a brick through last week, while the caped weirdo, batman, told you it’d be alright. alright? you were fine. what did he mean, alright?

you’d nagged the officers to let you go, lying that people at home would be worried (maybe they were, you never got to know), but they’d sat you down and expected forced, timid compliance from you. these guys are always expecting better. one lady even had the gall to put on a show for you on the tiny tv in one of the “comfort-rooms” and you’d gone biting, screaming and struggling.

‘radicalised’ was what your landlord-uncle had called it. gotham’s people, even those not submerged in the high of crime, couldn’t help but grow up to be hard and rough at the edges, hating the people who put them here. the divide between the common people and the socialites was so jarring, so far. you didn’t want to comply with what these guys were telling you to do. all the adults hated them! why wouldn’t you?

it had taken two hours of watching a few pink-haired girls run around behind the screen, in cold, cold anger before you were let out. “a new home,” the lady officer had said, “safer.” it wasn’t until later that you got to know the reason they didn’t let you leave or shoved you in a care-home you could've run from, and instead pushed you into the manor; was because of your lack of legal documents. most noticeably, your birth certificate and the absence of your parents. 

you think now, that maybe batman had expected you to be broken, ruined and lonely like his other odd children. fact of the matter is, that you were fine. you were none of those things, until he intruded in your life. why he never let you go… perhaps he feared any resentment you held. you held none, until him.

the fight never left, you’d hissed all the way home at the old guy and the other man who’d come to pick you up, swiping at a hand offered to you. a new home? a new home? you had a home! they were waiting for you, you think, what do these people mean about a new home? why would you trust a badge and cap or a suit and tie, on their judgement of safety?

you want to go home.

the house they put you in was gargantuanly huge, your room the size of your old shared apartments. it made you sick. the ceiling was too high, and the corridors too long. admitting to fear was a sure way to get snuffed on the streets, and you didn’t admit to it, spending hours hiding in a bathroom alone, still too big for your liking. you hid and hid and you still hide. all the time.

when you got used to the place, pangs of loneliness and homesickness hit you. having never talked much, it was an unusual habit to reach out to someone. the flats you lived in used to be small enough for three people to have to sleep in the same bedroom. and the other four to crash on top of each other on the couch.

it’s different here, you’re alone. there’s no situation where everybody has to be together. you could tail along with the old guy while he cleaned, or stalk the boy who came to visit every month, but you avoided the man who got you here at all costs. you hate him, it would be betrayal to yourself to want to be around him. but seeking out company was too taxing, too new a thing for you. no one else came to you on their own, never needed anything from you. you were isolated. lonely. scared.

you weren’t forbidden from going outside, but always tailed by a security guard your “father” would set on you. the place where you grew up was blocked off your mental map too, a firm hand on your soldier from the boy, richard grayson, and his voice telling you it was off limits.

when you demanded a snarled “why?” with a dark, dark scowl, he’d just shook his head. an answer never came to you on its own, but it was quite clear you’d never be able to disobey.  so you scuffled around, lonely, the shadow of the manor on you making street-kids you’d get along with otherwise frown at you, everywhere.

a few months after your glorified kidnapping, another boy came into the polished picture of your family photo; jason todd. he was about the same age as you, with a noticeable and heavy gothamite-accent that you recognised immediately. though you still didn’t much enjoy seeking out the company of anyone in the house, jason’s was by far, the easiest to go to.

he was a surprisingly tender little kid, you’d expected a meaner, more similar to you type of guy, but it didn’t matter much. you’d sit in the same room as him when he studied, listen to him whisper under his breath about some composition of something, watch him run around in the garden after alfred to help him, gain the favour of the man, and wonder where he’d gone at night when you tried to stay awake with him in either of your rooms. the two of you were unalike, but the comfort of knowing rags better than rugs brought you together, just a bit.

towards the… end, he’d become more biting. more snappy, on edge. the change had come suddenly, and made you conflicted. on one end, you were delighted at his hostility, seeing a familiarity of behaviour with him. he was finally growing into the hardened shell. the other end just made you sad. what happened to the kid? to your brother? what happened to him?

it’s safe to say his death destroyed any neutrality you had for this place. when you’d seen bruce one night, he’d looked absolutely horrible, and you hadn’t understood why. you couldn’t much bother to ask, assuming it must’ve been bitchy-bad billionaire-blues, and the shock, the blunt punch that came to your gut at attending jason’s funeral the next day made you sick. 

dick had stood crying, his face in his hands, alfred had put an umbrella down to his face in what you assumed was sorrow, and bruce’s expression was unintelligible under the shadows that fell on it. you only stared, and stared, and stared at the stone of his grave, as though wanting to erode it, dig him out. jason. jason. a good soldier. 

soldier?

you were livid, entirely unable to express your emotions in any way possible, no outlet among your family, no friends, no social circle or activities to let out even the smallest sliver of your anger out. you hadn’t cried, mourning was never one of your customs, but you were so horribly angry. he was gone. gone.

what probably made it worse was that you never knew how he died. he disappeared one day, and came back dead the other. your only half-friend in your whole life, was gone, the sweet, helpful little boy, gone. your brother. gone. you shut off entirely, unwilling to accept dick’s offers to spend time together, snarling that his attempts at being a better brother to you would never undo anything that he’d ever done. with no knowledge on the cause of his death, you blamed everyone for jason todd’s story. 

dick had pulled away his hand, expression darkening, and did very pointedly avoid you from there on. thinking back, you wonder why he couldn’t excuse your grief. you were a child too. how did he manage to excuse everyone else?

tim drake’s arrival had been a thing of great disgust to you. he’d become an outlet for your fury, shoving past him in the corridors, muttering curses at him at the smallest issues, and flashing a scowl and a glare at his direction whenever he spoke. from the very beginning, tim knew about your distrust, your hatred of him, and avoided you in return to avoid trouble.

maybe you shouldn't have, and you don’t anymore to anybody, but you’d often go at him when you were at home. snarky comments on what he did, brushing off efforts he didn’t even present to you. you could see the slight effect it had on him, reclusivity, him thinking twice over his words. that on it’s own, and grayson’s narrowed glare and muttered “lay off, (name)” had almost made you guilty. 

almost.

he’d come to eventually just spit back at you, or ignore you, and you’d leave him be too. it’s just that the impact that period of time had on the both of you was irrefutable, and harsher exchanges would come out much easier from your mouth now. again, you wonder, why he couldn’t excuse you. you would take any hatred back from him, face the consequences of your actions and accept what you did was terrible. even if he never forgave you for being so unwelcoming to the little boy he was, if it meant that one day, tim drake would look your way without a scowl. but why did he never excuse you?

around this time, you took up many things. jason’s death had soured you against the crime in gotham way more than your arrival at the manor did, so you took to listening to the news and skimming through pamphlets. the common figures of the batman and robin had created a semi-permanent furrow in your brow, and you pitied the robin-boy who’d have to work along the incompetent, interrupting, annoying bat-hag. batman. 

the repetition of’ saves the day’, ‘exposes the scene’ and ‘back at arkham’ formed a slight obsession in you, and you had to know who these… geeks in costume interrupting everything were. if they could so skilfully weave through the riddler’s intricate puzzles, handle the joker’s lunatic schemes and avoid the bristling thorns of poison ivy’s attacks, how could they not put their minds to the little guy? the smaller problems?

 from stalking tim and watching his work methods, without his awareness, you picked up a pin and a photo, and got to work. school was never challenging, maybe initially with your lack of an uneducated pre-teens, but easy to catch up to with your abundance of time. with all the hours freed up from not having to do homework you’d already finished, you made it a personal goal to find out who batman and robin were. the man and the boy who failed you, jason, and all the kids down the road.

and you found out. in february, wearing a short sleeved shirt ‘cause the heating was always up, with a final thread of glittering blue thread, you found out. the anger that had built up over the years had started to die out, and snapped with a fizzle when you understood.

you hate them. bruce wayne, dick grayson, tim drake and even, even jason todd. you hate them all. incompetent fools. idiots.

a sense of emptiness lingered in you for days, a morose sense of nothing to do. you came across a video of a girl stuffing a hollowed spider with cotton, and gently placing it’s dangly limbs on top of pins like they were footrests. the spider’s paws were limp on her sides, but she looked alive. she looked alive, even after dying.

maybe it would’ve passed on a fleeting interest, if you had not come to the terms with the fact that rich people could do just whatever. without asking anyone, you’d gone out to buy a board and some bob-pins, signed your name off as someone else on the shop record book and left. two habits, hobbies, created on the same day. taxidermy and paranoia. 

you were not paranoid.

when you were now sixteen, bruce- no, batman, had gotten home troubled, more so that usual. it had peaked your curiosity, and you couldn’t help but eavesdrop through a micro communicator tim had so considerably left out in his room when you snooped through it.

the silhouette of a red hood trailed their conversations, troubling them with drugs and guns and knives. you’d found it all very amusing, minus the fact of his crimes. anyone who troubled the batman was amusing, but crime? you never excuse.

the relevance two months down that jason todd was alive, when you left the communicator on on a sleepless night, jolted you fully awake. a similar resurgence of not knowing, and fear, and worry engulfed you, much alike the same feelings you felt coming to the manor five years ago. 

you wanted to demand for answers, weasel out how, why, where he was. why he wasn’t coming home and why bruce was so incompetent at getting him back to the manor. but you couldn’t. no one could know you knew, no one could know you had that information, of their identities on them, and have that leverage over you. you bit your tongue. 

you never spoke to him, or saw jason face to face after his “rebirth”, catching glimpses of his voice on the mic’s that inputted into the oracle’s connected networks at night. you caught a glimpse of a large figure, draped in a leather jacket jumping out the window from the kitchen, but too late and too awkward to call out.

he’d gotten so tall. grown up. it hurts so bad, and you’ve never hurt before. never admitted it.

how had he managed to regain just the littlest bit of ties with the rest of the family, but not with you? you knew he snuck in on some nights, and he rarely ever came to the manor to talk to anyone, but how was it so easy for him to just, forget you? did he ever wonder where you were? did he ever want to see you again? you know he couldn’t, wouldn’t, but would he want to?

the pain that comes from seeing damian enter the manor is ten folds that. another little boy, falling to the bat’s trap of glory and growing up like jason and dick and tim, trapped. you want to warn him, but his kohl-lined eyes and scowling face makes it too difficult.

he reminds you too much of yourself, and that’s just about the scariest thing you know. self-importance and snarkiness. 

the worst thing? their tolerance. their excuses. dick’s grin at damian a day after the loudest scuffle, the meanest words you’d heard come from a ten year old’s mouth, him being excused. tolerated. tim excusing him, and bothered to still talk to damian even after all the insults and demeaning of his work, the tolerance he received.

bruce wayne’s hand on his shoulder, showing him around to help him adapt to the new, unfamiliar place. why had no one done that for you? why did no one excuse you, see if you were okay? why were you like this? what had damian done that you hadn’t, and what had you done that he didn’t?

“the blood son”, he had declared at you the first time the two of you spoke, “has come to show his worth to the family. remain on the sidelines from your unimportant and tarnishing stain on father’s name, or struggle against my defense.” you didn’t respond to his edwardian monologue, and left despite his appalled scoff at your indifference. the blood son. he had a family. you could never compare to the concern or the trouble they put in to be with him, because he was family.

family. 

you could’ve ignored damian if he didn’t come into your business so often. poking at the posters you’d put up to cope with the large, empty walls in your room, scoffing at the music you’d put on to drown out the ring in your ears from the silence and snapping your last nerve upon stealing a cricket from your board to bury in the garden.

you’d said nothing, quietly taking it back when he was faraway, straightening the legs of the insect with a motherly tenderness. he had soiled a lifeform put in your hands over his own sense of honour and humanity, effectively disgracing the ideals you had been raised on and live on now.

you knew of his upbringing, and you knew better his horror at your practice. but nevertheless, it was yours. he didn’t excuse you, he demeaned you, he didn’t consider you family.

he was not your family.

none of them were, and none of them will be. they’re self-prestiged vigilantes with overblown egos and no semblance of shame or understanding. they know nothing, and you can’t abandon a city so unfortunate to be in their care like this. they don’t know anything, because the ceiling they live under is too high to need to crouch and hide, and the corridor is too large for them to have to squeeze through when running.

a tap on your shoulder brings you out of thought, and your reply is a gruff “you’re late” at the girl in front of you. the salty green-white lights of 12th sector conveniences buzz on as you make your way inside, and garcia’s grin is too wide for someone so inconsiderate of your carefully mapped plans.

you hate your family, and their poor work. so you’ll have to scheme in different run-down hell holes to undo their messes. but order and control is important. if you’re in hell, why should you stop here? “one day”, your ‘girlfriend’ had said, “all these places you take me-” “you all,” you had interrupted, “i take you all” “-will be as clean as your nails, (name)”

you hope that she’s not mocking. and you hope she’s right.

> a/n; nothing much left 2 say! i notice my writing habits have switched up a bit, way less unnecessary words and stuffs. this is queued for tmrw so hopefully im not spamming anything. re-added the tags i left out for zero:ii too. idk when my next upload will be since my first exam is day after tmrw, but i wanna really write for the plot soon.

thanks for reading!!

taglist: @boredselkie @shirp-collector-of-fixations @randomlyappearingartist @bat1212 @maicenitas @xjesterxjacksx @heartjwonie @lucienneb1ue @vikkus-main @adornedlace @cuntiesweet @minorlyatfall @staarflowerr @ithoughtthinks @crazycaoticsimp

[dilfologies]

older stepbro!suguru that's getting annoyed by his sister being jealous and touchy - just because he has a girlfriend

omg he’d get so sick of you coming into his room while he’s on the phone with his new girlfriend and sitting next to him on his bed, grabbing at his muscular bicep and pulling it close to your chest to rest your head on it. he’d try to pull it away, but you would not budge!

you could hear his girlfriend speaking through the phone, and you rolled your eyes at the mere sound of her voice.

“suguru, you okay?” she questioned. as she spoke, you trailed your hand down his abdomen until you reached his waistband and he grabbed your wrist harshly. he gave you an authoritative glare that you would’ve listened to if not for the fact that he’s been on the phone with her practically all day.

suguru sighed, letting go of your wrist. “yeah, sorry. my sister’s just bothering me,” he pressed the mute button and turned his head towards you. “the fuck is your problem?”

“you’ve been talking to her all day,” you whined, “i’m bored.”

suguru scoffed. “not my problem.”

other times, when his girlfriend is at the house and they’re watching a movie in the living room, you’d come down in your shorts that showed off a little too much of your ass, and sit right on top of his lap when his girlfriend would saunter off to the bathroom.

you’d whisper in his ear, “i miss you, sugu… y’sposed to hang out with your little sister.”

your breath fawned on his neck and suguru closed his eyes momentarily, a mix of annoyance and temptation visible on his features. his breath hitched when you wiggled your ass a little, putting pressure on his soft cock that you were just aching for.

“i can’t believe you’re acting like this,” he groaned. you only grinned in response before placing a hand on the side of his face, cupping his jaw and sliding the pad of your thumb across his bottom lip.

“is it so hard to believe that i want you for myself?”

suguru should’ve stopped you when you started leaning closer. he should’ve pushed you away and off of his lap. he shouldn’t have allowed you to swipe your tongue along his lips before placing your soft lips on his.

but he didn’t, and now here he was, caught in a whirlwind of emotions as he kissed you back with hesitation. what he was doing was wrong in so many ways. for christ’s sake, his girlfriend was just down the hall! she could walk in any time. but suguru was too swept up in the heat of the moment to form a coherent thought.

you, on the other hand, were hoping she walked in on this scene of you straddling your step brother’s—her boyfriend’s—lap, grinding down on his hard cock. maybe she would make a scene, declaring the relationship over and storming out the door. or perhaps she would make a silent exit and leave you to get fucked by suguru right where she had sat on the couch.

either way, you knew your little half-devised plan had worked when you and suguru were interrupted by a voice coming from the front of the hallway.

“what. the. fuck.”

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

Omg, I read and reread your fitness influencer x chubby cooking influencer like five or six times already! Would you consider writing more parts to it, please?

Omg i would love to, lemme cook for a sec sksksk

CW: chubby fem cooking influencer reader x fitness influencer fave, fluff, smut, mentions of internet trolls being mean, not proofread i am sorry sksksk

So, chubby cooking influencer reader and fitness influencer

A match made in heaven tbh sksksk

But it's very normal at first! Like i said in my original post, reader and fitness influencer (i.e. your fave) just start the relationship with simple conversation

Your likes, dislikes, hobbies, interests, you chat about it all on social media!

His instagram has a lot of tagged photos of your recipes that he tries, as well as photos of him at the gym

His youtube is mostly vlogs of his days as an influencer and workouts and all that

He's always very good about tagging you, even if he just mentions your channel in passing, he's tagging you in the description AND comments

And you always thank him in his dms for tagging you

He starts expecting it now, seeing your notification and it brightens his day

He plays it cool tho, always thanking you in return and asking how your day is going

Which of course leads to conversations about other things (what did you do today, what did you eat, what are you up to)

He likes you, he really likes you

But he tries to be suave, just being nice at first, but he's always thinking of you tbh

At the gym, at home, when he's eating, in the shower, in bed 😏

He ends up jerking off to you quite a bit, though he won't admit it, he's too shy for that sksksk

He does ask about the general area you live in and gets excited when he finds out how close you are

Takes a lot of guts but he ends up asking you on a date, offering to pay for a nice meal and a movie if you want

Does a fist bump and jump when you accept sksksk

He dresses nice for your date, opting to wear dress pants and a tight button up shirt to show off his muscles

BUT YOU?? OMG YOU LOOK SO CUTE

You've got on a yellow sundress with flowers and white heels and a sun hat and he is just UGH so obsessed with you

Date goes well. He's happy to see you eating freely and without a care about how he may think, plus you get dessert and you lick cream off your lips and he has to excuse himself to go to the bathroom and calm himself down bc he got a boner 😔

Before the date ends, he asks you if you two can do this again, and you turn bashful

"You really want to hang out with me again??" you ask with big doe eyes

"Of course I do. I wanna date you, Y/N. And fuck you the way you deserve"

....is what he wishes he said sksksk

But instead he just nods, screaming inside bc you are honestly just so precious

You go on a second date, and a third, and a fourth and a fifth and honestly he is getting a little frustrated bc you have not even tried to hold his hand yet

He tried making the first move, but you're always just out of reach, just a little too far away from him to do anything

He agonizes over it a little bit, asking his gym bros what he should do

"Maybe she's just not into you dude"

"Just grab her and kiss her dude"

"I don't know man, i like men, not women"

They're no help tbh sksksk

He just decides to ask you on your next date and figure out why you won't initiate things with him

When he asks you, your eyes go wide and he thinks that if you could blush, your whole body would turn red

"What?! This whole time we've been going on dates?! I thought you just liked food as much as me and wanted to share it!"

He feels like he's gonna bang his head against a wall sksksk

TO BE FAIR! When he asks you out, he always refers to it as "hanging out" so you can't be blamed for getting confused

You decide to sit down with some ice cream and talk about how you both feel

He admits that he's been crushing on you for a while before you met and that he wanted to date you

You shyly admit that you find him very attractive but thought he was out of your league so you never considered that he could have feelings for you he's gonna crack his head open on the pavement omg sksksk

He reassures you that he genuinely likes you and is attracted to you and wants to have a romantic relationship with you

It's hard for you to believe, he's just so handsome and big and strong, is this real life or a dream??

You decide to let him prove it to you with more dates uwu

You start getting closer to him, letting him put his arm around around you, holding your hand

You're very anxious when he tries to kiss you, but once it happens it feels like fireworks are going off in your brain

You really like kissing him, just because he's always so gentle and he's so close and he's warm

You really, really like him 🥺

But don't worry sweet love, he likes you just as much if not more sksksk

He's so obsessed with you it's honestly kind of silly sksksk

He thinks about you all the time! And he wants to be with you all the time! He feels like he's gonna explode every time you show up to a date in a cute outfit!

He wants to make the relationship official and exclusive, so he asks to make a vlog with you

You agree! Not only do you think it would be good traction for your channel, but it would be nice to spend the day with him :)

You both bring your cameras on the day of the vlog!

You start by getting breakfast, showing off your coffees

He gets annoyed that you JUST have a coffee, but you swear it fills you up and he lets it slide as long as you eat a good lunch

Then you go to the gym together! You just hang out on the treadmill while he does his weight lifting

Tbh he's very distracted by your outfit, your leggings make your ass look so fucking good, and he would've been fucked if he didn't have a spotter

Then you go to lunch and you gush about the food and the restaurant and he's infatuated with you 💕

You turn the camera towards him and he's just got a lovesick look on his face

Then you go to a movie and then you go to his apartment for dinner!

You cook dinner together, making a meal that the both of you can enjoy, one that is nutritious AND delicious

You finish the vlog by showing off your finished plates and talking about what a fun day you had :)

You're ready to pack up your stuff and go home, but he asks if you'd like to stay and hang out a bit more

You oblige. You're dating now so it makes sense for yall to spend more time together

You decide to cuddle up and watch a movie, but 20 minutes in, you guys are making out on his couch sksksk

Things get hot and heavy pretty quick, and now his hand is going up your shirt and he's squeezing your waist and you start getting shy 😔

Does he really want you? Is he really interested in you? Is he sure that he wants you and your body?

But then your leg moves and rubs against his crotch and good lordy you can feel his boner 😳

Ok, goodbye insecurities, he's def into you and you're gonna get your man 😏

You go to the bedroom, undress, and oh boy he is enamored by you

Your breasts, your thighs, your BELLY?? You're gorg and he's obsessed

But he's not the only one drooling sksksk has he seen himself lately? He's sculpted like a god, you can't believe you scored a guy like him

AND NOT TO MENTION HIS COCK SKSKSK like that thing is long and thick, you're genuinely wondering if it's gonna fot

The two of you spend a good five minutes just staring at each other and complimenting each others' physiques

Eventually you get to the sex part sksksk but there's a lot of praise along the way

He's so cute the way he kisses down your body and spreads your legs and nuzzles into your mound

He's not too bad at giving head. You have to give him a little direction but he gets the hang of it and makes you cum

You admit that you're a little scared of sucking his dick so he doesn't make you, you just go to the main event

You're not sure if you should let him hit it raw but you're too impatient to let him get a condom, you're on birth control and you need that dick NOW

He slides in very easily, you are unbelievably wet and oh my god, if he doesn't focus then he'll cum so easily

He fits inside you so well, filling you up just right without any pain

It's such a good fit, his cock feels soooooo good inside you

And then he starts thrusting and all bets are off

The sex is so fucking good, oh my GOD

He just keeps hitting your sweet spots and rubbing your clit and oh god you're cumming already

Your cunt squeezes him so deliciously and you're so pretty and cute when you cum and holy fuck the noises you make are just sinful and he needs to slow down bc if he doesnt he's not gonna last long

He makes you cum three times before he pulls out and cums all over your tummy

Thinks you look so cute covered in his cum 🥴

He ends up cleaning you off with his tongue which just makes you needy again and you ask him oh so sweetly if he can fuck you one more time and whoops now his cock is hard again, guess he's gotta fuck you 🤷‍♀️

You guys go at it all night, eventually showering and going to bed around 4am

Of course you sleep over, ain't no way in hell he's letting you leave after all that

You sleep in together and when you wake up he makes you breakfast 🥺💕

He uploads his vlog after editing it the next day, and you upload yours

Your comments are very sweet at first, congratulating you on your new relationship with this other influencer

But then they turn mean :( people start to say that you're not good enough for him, why is he even with you, he should be with this other fitness influencer instead :(

He is pissed. His fans are attacking you on your page 😡

He makes a video the next day and posts it where he explains that he loves you and is happy with you and that until the hate comments stop, he will not be posting on his page

He helps you delete and mute and block and filter comments and users

He's very upset about this entire experience

"I guess you don't want to be with me anymore, huh?" you ask

He's offended and hurt!

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, you saw what they said. Maybe you should be with someone better..."

"What are you talking about? I love you, Y/N. You're perfect for me and I don't want anyone else. Do you just not want to be with me?"

"No! I do! I just... worry that I'm not good enough for you..."

He grabs your hands and makes you look at him

"Y/N, you are perfect to me. I couldn't ask for anyone better. I love you and I want to be with you. Please don't let these trolls dictate your life."

You're still hurt by the comments, but your feelings for him overpower the negative things you're feeling

You keep dating, and as time goes on, you care less and less about the comments that were made about your relationship

You continue with your channel and vlogs with him and enjoy your life

You still get backlash every now and then from obsessed friends, but when that happens, you just turn your computer off and go on about your day

Negativity can really affect your life, but he's always there to cheer you up and fuck you stupid so you forget all those mean comments sksksk

You become the "it" couple in the fitness and cooking communities, everyone thinks you're so so cute together and such a good match, so fuck those online trolls! Your cooking besties and his gym bros love you two together and that's all that matters 💕

I imagine he proposes after a year of dating, not wanting to waste any more time without you

He proposes at your favorite restaurant, but you say no :(

To be fair, your reasons are justified. You guys have rarely had arguments, you haven't gone through many trials in your life, you don't even live together! How can you be sure that he's the one when you haven't truly struggled with him yet?

He understands, although he's diappointed 😔

On the bright side, you suggest moving in to an apartment together once your leases are up! And he's very happy about that :)

You guys adopt some kitty cats after you move in together! You adopt two kittens from the same litter and you love them so so much, they often appear in your vlogs and sometimes you do cat reviews like on cat trees and toys and stuff

He encourages you to go to the gym for health reasons, but he doesn't push it. He just wants you to take care of yourself so you can be around for as long as possible 💕

He's gained a little bit of pudge! He's still strong as hell, but he's got a little layer of fat over some of his muscles like his abs, he's just not as sculpted now

It's bc he can't resist your food sksksk

But you're still very attracted to him so he doesn't care so much

Overall, beautiful love story, match made in heaven 💕

[lila-went-missing]

Hiii, saw you wanted some requests for Sevika and I've had this idea bubbling up for a while. Imagine Vika with a reader that's normally experienced, yk has fucked one or two people before and it's not a sex god, and they're growing insecure about sevika never starting intimacy even after months of dating, so they think it's because they're not as good as the girl's she's been with before. Idk just thought that'd be good

I'm kind of obsessed with this, ngl. This isn't the first smut that I've written but it is the first smut that I've posted on here so feedback is always appreciated. Y'all will never guess... it's not proofread. Again. Enjoy my lovelies! X

Warnings: Smut (obviously), mild angst but nothing too horrible, mentions of body image issues but readers body type isn't specified or described.

Fem reader, of course, with female genitalia.

At first, you didn't think anything of it. She probably just wanted to take things slow with you. You weren't as experienced as her so she probably wanted to take her time.

That made sense for a while.

But now, after eight months together, you haven't had sex once. More importantly, she hasn't initiated it.

Realistically, you know that it's fine. There's plenty of reasons as to why nothing has happened so far. But that voice in the back of your head is doing a fantastic job of convincing you otherwise.

Sevika was kind of a sex symbol before you two got together.

She'd been with countless women, she was a regular at Babbettes. Her name was uttered on the streets like a sacred prayer.

You, on the other hand, have only been with two people: your ex, and a drunken one night stand that was less than satisfactory. So you did have sexual experience, but not nearly as much as her.

Honestly, it's starting to worry you.

Did she not like you? Was she not physically attracted to you? Was there something wrong with your body? Were you not showing enough skin?

Thoughts plagued your mind night and day. You were stuck in constant turmoil. It was impossible to stop your own brain once it got going.

It was taking everything in you to focus on the stove and not burn dinner.

You flinch at the sound of the door closing. Heavy footsteps sound through the house, approaching the kitchen.

Sevikas thick arms wrap around your midsection, her face making home in the side of your neck. For a long time, she doesn't say anything. The only sounds come from the meat sizzling in your pan. Moments like this make it easier to not think about the painful lack of aw sex life between you two.

Her lips purse, pressing small kisses against your skin. She hums against your neck.

"What are you cooking doll?" Her voice is muffled against your flesh but you understand her all the same.

"Spaghetti." You feel her smile.

"My favorite.." She mumbles. You hum a small "Mhm" before focusing back on the seasoned beef and water you're waiting for to boil. Her arms tighten ever so slightly, one hand slipping under your shirt. Her thumb caresses your bare skin.

It should be sweet but it really just drives the nail into the coffin for you.

Your voice comes out before you can stop it.

"Why won't you have sex with me?" You regret it the moment it leaves your mouth.

"I- woah, what? Doll what do you mean?" She honestly sounds baffled.

"Forget I said anything, please. It doesn't matter."

Her hands gently grab your shoulders, turning you around.

"No way. What are you talking about?"

You shake your head. "It's stupid.."

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you." She reassures you.

"It's just, we've been together for eight months, and we practically live together. But we haven't done anything. I know you don't have an issue having sex because half the undercity talks about how good you are and I just don't understand. Is there something wrong with me? Am I not appealing to yo-" Your rant is cut off by her lips. Her hands are holding you like glass, one on your cheek, one curled around your hip.

"There is nothing wrong with you." Her voice comes out as a soft whisper. "I'm sorry I made you feel like there was. I just knew that you don't have as much experience as I do. I didn't want you to feel rushed, or forced."

"Rushed? No, you could never.. I thought you just didn't want me that way." She immediately shakes her head. She kisses you again, more urgently this time.

Her hands grab anywhere they can, pulling you in. They're on your hips, waist, groping your ass.

"I do want you." Then they're picking you up and lifting you on the counter. "Let me show you how much I want you?" All you can do is nod as her lips trail down your neck. Her touch dances over your body, removing your top.

Her mouth follows soon after, sucking dark bruises into the skin on your neck and chest. She takes a nipple in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. A low whimper leaves your mouth at the new, but not unpleasant, sensation.

Her right hand copies her tongue's motions on the other, pinching and pulling. Your body trembles against the counter with need.

She moves away from your breasts, kissing and licking down your stomach to your navel. Her hands unbutton your pants. She looks up at you as she lowers herself to her knees, silently asking for permission. You nod your head. You don't trust your voice. Your pants are off in seconds and thrown somewhere in the kitchen that you'll worry about later.

Her hand splays across your stomach and gently pushes you to lay against the tile. It's cold against your bare and burning skin, your back arching off of it but she keeps your hips pinned down.

You gasp as her teeth nip at the skin of your thigh. A breathy laugh leaves her.

"Shut up.." You mutter.

"Didn't say anything."

Your eyes roll in fake annoyance but you don't get the chance to reply as the cold air hits your bare cunt. Her thumbs pull your lips apart, admiring the sight before her.

"Fuck doll, you're so wet. All of this for me?" Her voice is husky between your legs and it stirs something delicious in your belly.

"Yes, all for you Sev.." She chuckles. Her teeth take the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs. She kisses your hips and navel, sucking hickies and marking you as hers.

"Please, Vika. Need you.." You whine. You can't bring yourself to care about how desperate you sound. You're sure that you look even more so from her position.

It seems, though, that your prayers have been answered because as soon as the words leave your mouth hers is back on you. This time it's between your legs.

She licks a long stripe up your pussy before stopping to suck your clit into her mouth. A loud moan reverberates from your chest as you lean your head back into the counter. Her tongue kitten licks at the bud before suckling on it like shes trying to nurse herself.

You've had people eat you out before but never this well. You don't think it could get better than this.

She moves down, opting to fuck you with her tongue instead. You definitely understand the appeal now. You've given yourself plenty of orgasms but this is the fastest one has risen before.

She feels it in the way you clench around her tongue and moves back to your clit. Her fingers fill up the now empty space, fucking into you in a gently but rough way only she could manage.

She's eating you like a woman starved and with the lack of sex the two of you have had she may as well be. If you didn't know better you might think this is her last meal.

Gasps and whimpers leave your mouth in a desperate way you can't stop.

"Fuck Sev.. ngh~ m'gonna cum, please.."

She smirks against you once more, speeding up her ministrations.

"Come on my tongue baby, make a mess on me." Her voice is muffled against you cunt, vibrations travel through your clit with her words.

You last maybe thirty seconds longer, hand tangled in her hair, before releasing over her tongue.

She laps you up, milking you for all that you're worth. She's never tasted anything more delicious. Her mouth doesn't let up until your whimpering from the overstimulation and pushing her head away.

She looks you in the eye as she sucks her fingers clean before kissing back up your body. Her lips lock onto yours and you can still taste yourself on her tongue. It makes your head spin in a way you've never felt before.

When you come back to earth, her hand is running through your hair.

"I'm sorry I made you believe that I didn't want to do that." She mumbles. "But now I may need it to be a daily thing." You giggle at her words.

"It's okay. I wouldn't mind honestly." She helps you sit up, a large hand cupping your cheek. "You didn't get to cum.." You whisper as you lean in closer.

"Don't worry about me, I'll get my fill later." The look on her face tells you that this isn't over. "I'm going to change out of these clothes. You just worry about dinner okay?" She slips your panties back on along with your shirt.

You nod, sliding off the counter. You wince at the mess you made but she's already wiping it up. Her lips meet your temple as she mutters a low, "I love you."

"I love you more." She shakes her head, chuckling before walking back to her room. You feel much better now, and you really can't wait for what she meant by "later".

[fancyfeathers]

Thinking about Yandere!Justice League having children with their darlings and perhaps those children aren’t too keen on their relationship with their parents…

Set in the universe of Young Justice.

Includes references to my Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling & Always Prey But Never A Bird

Clark’s daughter grew up in Smallville after Clark married his darling, living near the same house her father grew up in. She is one of many children, including Connor who her mother immediately took in as her own even if her father was still struggling with his feelings about his clone (though Connor rarely comes by unless Clark is gone, otherwise he is back with the team). Between herself and her siblings there is one major difference, she doesn’t have powers, or at least they have not come in yet.

She feels herself isolated from her siblings, especially when she sees one of her brothers practice and train with their father or when she gets pulled from the soccer team since it is apparently not safe when she sprained her ankle during a game but her dad has missed half her games of the season because of being Superman, Justice League business, or something with her siblings because of their powers that they are learning to control.

He is so protective but he is never even there.

She gets fed up when it gets near to her high school graduation and she is looking at colleges and talk to her parents about colleges and Clark is not sure about sending her off.

So she decides to leave on her own, pack a bag in the middle of the night while her dad is off planet and walks outside, walking across the empty field and she hears…

“Heading out?”

One of her siblings had caught onto her leaving, but they are not going to stop her, instead offering to take her anywhere she needs because she needs to leave this place to figure out who she really is.

Of course there will be panic when Clark returns home and finds one of his children is missing and she is completely untraceable, how is she untraceable? Clark can not even hear her heartbeat, she could be dead!

But she’s not…

Hal Jordan’s twins don’t really know their father super well because of when he is off planet as Green Lantern but he still wants to be a part of their lives, but their childhood is spent running around the Watchtower and being babysat by other league members or other Green Lantern Corps members while their dad is off planet, and their mother is tired of reading two very chaotic teenagers. Hal is like that one dad who does not fully understand that his children have been growing back, he’ll come into his teenage daughter’s room, sit on her bed and ask if she wants to go practice softball pitcher throws but he doesn’t know the last time his daughter played softball was in middle school. Or offering to take his son to the beach but his son cannot stand the feeling of sand on his feet or how the sand can ruin his books.

He remembers them like when they were babies and he made constructs from his ring of animals and toys for his children to play with and now when he picks up his daughter up from school he does not even know the names of her her friends.

But one thing that will never change is the fact that he will protect them no matter what. All it would take is for Hal to witness one incident, say he has to save his twins as Green Lantern, he makes the decision that at the end of the school year he is pulling them out and moving them into the Watchtower full time, besides they already stay there when he is off planet.

The two pick up on this when they overhear their parents arguing about it in the night, it is far past their bedtime so Hal doesn’t think either of them are listening but both of them listen in and all it takes is for their dad to go to a Justice League meeting and the two have packed their bags and jumped out the bathroom window.

Diana’s darling is definitely a woman and I think if they were to have a child they would have adopted an orphan, one who perhaps lost their family in an accident and Diana saves them, a young boy, a preteen at the oldest. He has a semi normal upbringing, he doesn’t really have any powers. He has never been to Themyscira because of he is a man, but Diana trains him anyway because it is important he knows how defend himself and his other adoptive mother when Diana is not around.

But the day comes where every little bird has to leave the nest and Diana agrees to let him to go to college nearby, especially after hearing about his intentions to become a lawyer. But his true intention to pursue such a career is because when he heard the stories from his other mother about how the members of the Justice League did certain things to get their partners and he felt horrified, he may not have been the one who done such a thing but he would be damned if he was not the one to try and repair it. Besides Diana has no reason to believe her baby boy is a liar, so he never even gets caught and forced to tell the truth.

It is at school where he meets someone not too different from himself and the two immediately hit it off, but the major thing between the two of them is that she is fast… really fast…

Barry Allen is close to his darling little girl, especially since she inherited his speed, they found that little fact out when she was practicing for track team tryouts and she suddenly found herself in Arizona, that was an interesting conversation when she called up her dad, a crying and confused mess, and before she could hang up Barry was already there, kneeling down in his suit and explaining everything to her.

Most kids get a car for their sixteenth birthday, she got super speed.

But another thing she got from her dad is his intelligence, it takes a lot to be a forensic scientist so Barry is hardly surprised when he little girl graduates early, he knows that she used her speed doing homework when he told her not to but sometimes the achievement outdoes the actions to get there.

Barry is willing to send her away from home for college, after all he is never far. But while she is at school she meets a boy, a few years older than her, and they become fast friends. She trusts him so she reveals her powers one night when they are hanging out around campus, her hand literally phasing through the wall with how fast it is going, but after that all turn is revealed and her world is shattered.

That boy was the son of Diana and he tells her everything, the truth about her own parents and she feels like she can never look her dad in the eye again. She doesn’t even feel like she can go home again, but when the end of the school year comes up they do have to move out of their dorm rooms and go home, but neither of them have the intention of doing that.

When Barry comes to help her move out, she is gone, most of her stuff is still there but she is gone. Then he hears the same from Diana about her son and everything clicks into place…

They found out the truth.

Zatara has another child besides Zatanna, though not biological. When Zatara’s first wife died and he kidnapped got remarried to his darling, she also had a child, a little boy from a former relationship. The boy may not be his biological child but that boy is his son, so just like Zatanna, he teaches him about the mystic arts.

The boy is practically raised by Zatara as his father, especially when his mother falls into stockholm syndrome, but that just makes the sting so much worse when Zatara puts on the Helmet of Fate to save Zatanna. Sure by the time it happened his son is basically an adult, but it still hurts when his sister comes back home and tells him and his mother what happened. So while Zatanna joins the team and leaves home he is left to struggle with his emotions about what happened.

The young man is cleaning up some of his father’s things to tuck away in boxes because his mother is to grief stricken to even look at them, but then he found some of Zatara’s old journals where he wrote about his darling, when he was too young to remember, and he feels absolutely horrified about what his step father did. He thinks about asking his mother about it but he does not want to bring up any sad memories she might have lingering, and he is not going to ask Zatanna, because his sister is still in pain after what her dad did to protect her.

So he decides it might be best for him to leave so he can make peace with a few things.

He packs up his bags and does not even tell his mother or Zatanna that he is leaving, just leaving a note on the kitchen counter. He travels the world, becoming a mostly self taught magician, besides the few things his father taught him when he was younger. He calls Zatanna or his mother every so often and every time his sister sounds more and more worried, but he reassures her that he is not on a team of superheroes like she is, he is just trying to figure out where he belongs…

But that promise does not last long once he finds out about the rest of the Justice League and their darlings and he is enraged…

Arthur Curry’s son is technically a prince, but really he feels captive in his own home. His father may be half human but his mother is fully human, and so their son is mostly human, so one can imagine how hard it is for him to breathe underwater without some form of assistance. Arthur tried to get his son adapted overtime, but it just became too hard as he got older and he had to rely on assistance to breathe underwater like his mother. He would be the heir to the throne if it was not for having young siblings who were stronger than he was, truly he is not jealous but he is disappointed that he is seen as so fragile for being born into an environment his body mostly does not want to be in. He is hardly let outside just because his body already struggles enough being so deep underwater… he wonders if it would be different on the surface, he’s never been up there before.

By some miracle he convinces his retainers to let him explore, just for an hour or two, but then an hour turns into a day and a day turns into weeks. He feels so much more alive on land, his lungs don’t feel heavy like they are struggling to breathe.

But the Prince of Atlantis going missing is going to cause more than a few people to panic. Including Arthur himself.

With more children of the Justice League going missing they get more worried and stressed and begin a mass search for them if it was not for a certain someone…

Now Bruce Wayne’s daughter I have written about before, she was the vigilante know as Songbird in Gotham, she ran away years ago and in this universe when everything was said and done she went off all on her own, sure she based herself off Black Canary, but with most of the league like this she wants nothing to do with it.

She was the first one to run away from home and not being caught by the Batman is certainly a feat but she is certainly her father’s daughter, so when she hears the news about some of the children of Justice League members going missing because she definitely did not hack their server communications. So she finds each child of the Justice League and she helps them out, because to be honest they all want the same thing.

Setting up a place for everyone to stay safely after tracking them down one by one, she even went all the way to Paris to find Zatara’s son to convince him because he was doing a show there.

So she makes lead lined shirts for little Miss Supergirl so she cannot be found via powers. Then it gets get worse when she does finally get powers and being half Kryptonian hits her hard, especially when she has no one around to teach her how to control them, well almost no one. Luckily she has someone in her corner, who better to teach her than the daughter of the Batman who taught herself how to be a vigilante, it should not be that hard.

Each one wants to either help one of their parents or they straight up are doing this out spite. But trying to piece together a team of the heroes who have next to no idea what they are going to do. But becoming a team to spite their parents turned into them basically stopping villains before their parents do.

Extra things

I love the idea of Clark’s and Bruce’s daughters and Diana’s son be best friends who have never met, like the second the meet each other they just know that they are inseparable. The self trained vigilante, the boy raised by an Amazon, and the half Kryptonian girl. Then the training sessions and teaching Clark’s daughter how to control her newly gained powers almost always turns into just chatting and some sort of shenanigans.

I don’t know why but something about Zatara’s son gaining powers kind of like the Scarlet Witch from the MCU just makes sense to me. Also the idea of Doctor Fate having slight, or heavy, protective tendencies over him while Zatara is the host.

Also I did not put them down here but I also had ideas for Green Arrow’s & Black Canary’s daughter because they would definitely share a darling, and I might write a second part for them and a few others.

Then I also thought about Martian Manhunter and his darling having an adoptive daughter because she is a meta human with telepathic abilities, but then I got reminded of Charles Xavier and thinking that she would be just to similar and now that I am finishing up this post I don’t hate that idea.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 15

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension

Matt finishes up his shots, handing the jacket off to Chris before running a hand through his hair.

I take that as my cue, slipping my own jacket on. Just as I’m adjusting the sleeves, Matt starts walking toward me. My pulse skips slightly, but I force myself to act normal.

"Nice jacket" I say, my voice light, playful. I tug at the sleeve for emphasis. "We’re twinning."

He follows my motion, then looks back at his own. For a moment, there’s a flicker of something in his expression, something almost unreadable, before he smirks. "Yeah, guess so."

I tilt my head, raising a brow. "Trying to be me now?"

Matt huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, this was all Chris. Maybe he wanted to show it was unisex or something, I don’t know." His tone is easygoing, dismissive, like the whole thing didn’t really matter.

Something in me sinks slightly. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe some kind of confirmation that there was a meaning behind it. That it wasn’t just a coincidence. That he had chosen it intentionally. But I nod, forcing myself to brush it off, not wanting to read too much into it.

Before I can say anything else, Nick, who had clearly been listening, steps in. "Okay, well, since you two are basically in matching outfits, you should get some pictures together."

I blink, glancing at Matt, who looks just as thrown off by the suggestion. He hesitates for a split second, then shrugs. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

Chris, already looking back at photos, gives an approving nod. "Yeah, that could be cool. Matt stand behind Y/n."

I swallow, suddenly more aware of the way my jacket feels against my skin, the way Matt's standing just close enough for our sleeves to almost touch. I nod, stepping forward, trying to ignore the way my heart is beating.

We start taking photos, the fading sun casting a golden hour glow over everything. We take turns, everyone gets their solo shots, duo shots in turns between the boys then some of just Chris, Matt and Nick together. There’s small moments, genuine laughter caught between shots.

At one point, Chris calls me over, gesturing for me to stand beside him. "Let’s get some together" he says, adjusting his hoodie. It would be nice for both of us to have photos together, considering how hard we've worked on this.

By the time we’re done, the sky is a deep navy blue. We huddle around, flicking through the photos. The excitement is evident, everyone’s happy with how they turned out.

Chris straightens up, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright" he announces, a grin stretching across his face. "I say we celebrate."

Nick smirks. "You just want an excuse to go drinking."

Chris shrugs. "Yeah, and?"

We all laugh, the energy still buzzing in the air as we gather our things. The beach is still calm and quiet with the sounds of distant music playing from the bars lining the shore. We make our way up to the strip and walk into a lively sports bar.

Chris makes his way over to the bar and orders a round of drinks, effortlessly charming the bartender as he waits. Meanwhile, the rest of us find a table near the open air area, where there's a light breeze.

I decide to make my way to the bar, stepping up beside Chris. “I’ll help you carry them” I offer, reaching for a couple of glasses.

He flashes me a grateful smile. “Thanks” he says, passing two drinks to me. “Man, I’m so happy with how everything turned out. The photos, the jackets, everything.”

I smirk, nudging him playfully. “Even Matt’s jacket?”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, don’t act clueless. His is basically identical to mine, my initial, my favorite number. You trying to make us twins or something?” I tease, though there’s an edge of curiosity in my tone.

Chris looks at me for a moment, confused. Then, with a slow shake of his head, he says, “I didn’t do that.”

My head snaps towards Chris. “What?”

“I didn’t pick Matt’s design” Chris explains, grabbing the last drink. “He sat with me when I was placing the order back in Vegas. I had already filled in everyone else’s details, but he got to choose his own.”

The words hit me like a slow motion realization, the pieces falling into place one by one.

Matt chose it himself.

The same initial. The same number. On purpose. And he played it off.

I swallow, my fingers tightening slightly around the glasses in my hand. My heart thumping in my chest. Chris is still talking, but his voice fades into the background as my mind races. I don’t even know how to feel, shocked? Conflicted? Something deeper?

Chris finally glances over at me, noticing the shift in my expression. “You good?”

I snap back to reality, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” I lie. “Just.. taking the whole night in.”

Chris doesn’t question it, just shrugs before nodding toward the table. “Come on, let’s bring these over.”

I follow, but my mind is elsewhere.

Matt did it on purpose.

And I have no idea what that means.

As we set the drinks down on our table, I sneak a glance across at Matt. He’s leaned back in his chair, talking to Nate about something. My His jacket rests against the chair beside him, the initial and number staring back at me like some kind of silent confession.

I try my best to brush it off and we fall into easy conversation within the group. Chris and Nate get another round of drinks, sliding them across the table. The energy between us is nice, everyone is buzzing after a successful shoot and the anticipation of whatever the night might bring.

Chris grins as he leans back in his chair. “I mean, tell me that wasn’t one of the cleanest shoots we’ve ever done. No arguments, no disasters.. kinda feels wrong.”

Nate laughs. “It’s because I was there. Everything runs smoother when I’m around.”

Matt snorts, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, okay, let’s not rewrite history. Weren’t you the one who knocked over a whole light stand last time and blamed it on the wind?”

Nate places a hand on his chest, replying in defense. “It was the wind. A strong gust. Nature conspired against me.”

Chris shakes his head. “The only thing working against you is your own coordination.”

I laugh, settling back in my chair as the teasing continues. It’s easy like this, the kind of comfort that only comes from knowing each other for so long.

Nick pulled up some of the photos on his phone. He slides it across the table, and everyone leans in to look.

“Oh, this one’s sick” Matt says, tapping the screen. “But I feel like Y/n should’ve gotten the solo shot standing on the rocks instead of me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re admitting I would’ve done it better?”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “Mmm, not exactly. Just saying your balance is probably better, considering I nearly fell to my death up there.”

“You tripped once.”

“And it was a near death experience.”

Nick laughs. “Guy swayed a little and saw his life flash before his eyes.”

“I felt myself falling, kid” Matt insists, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t expect you guys to understand.”

I roll my eyes, reaching over to take the phone from him. “Anyway, let’s look at other pictures before this turns into the Matt Survival Story.”

The night continues like that, joking and teasing. The drinks kept coming, round after round, and at some point, I stopped keeping track. The buzz in my head was fun, my limbs loose, and the laughter around the table made me feel nice.

Chris, clearly feeling it too, leaned forward suddenly, eyes wide with a drunken revelation. “You know what sounds unreal right now?”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten us.”

“Churro’s.” Chris declared, as if he’d just discovered the meaning of life. “Like, really good, proper churros. There’s gotta be a spot somewhere on this strip.”

Nick laughed, swirling the last bit of his drink in his glass before setting it down with a clink. “That actually doesn’t sound like the worst idea. Wanna walk and see what’s around?”

Chris nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah.”

Nate stretched, already pushing himself up from his chair. “Might as well. I could go for something sweet.”

I expected Matt to get up too, but he stayed seated, nursing his drink with an unreadable expression.

Nick glanced between us before shrugging. “You guys staying?”

Matt barely looked up. “Yeah, we’re good here.”

Chris wiggled his eyebrows at us like he knew something we didn’t before nudging Nate to move. “Alright, suit yourselves. Don’t get too bored without us.”

With that, the three of them wandered off, their voices carrying over the music and street noise before fading into the night.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling as I swirled my straw in my drink. The silence between Matt and I stretched, but for once, it wasn’t awkward. It was.. easy.

“You’re holding up well” he commented, nodding toward my glass. “Thought you’d be slurring by now.”

I smirked, tilting my head. “So you underestimated me?”

“Never” he said smoothly, a small grin forming on his lips. “I just figured you’d be the responsible one tonight.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m on vacation. Responsibility is not in my vocabulary right now.”

Matt raised his glass slightly, as if to toast to that. “Fair enough.”

We both took a sip, the air between us charged with this weird tension, a different tension to normal, something neither of us seemed in a rush to address. 

Matt set his drink down, leaning forward slightly, his elbow resting on the table. His eyes, a little lazy from the alcohol, flickered with something unreadable.

“So, if responsibility isn’t in your vocabulary right now” he smirked, “what is?”

I smirked, continuing to swirl my straw in my glass. “Recklessness, maybe. Spontaneity.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Spontaneity, huh? That’s a dangerous game.”

I tilted my head, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I like a little danger.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Yeah?” He leaned in slightly. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

I took a sip of my drink, letting the ice clink together. “And here I was, thinking I was predictable.”

He shook his head, studying me like he was trying to figure me out. “Not even close.”

Before I could respond, Nick’s voice cut through the moment, his energy a stark contrast to our quiet exchange.

“Guys!” he said, slightly breathless, plopping down into a chair, “we just found something way better than this place.”

Chris and Nate sat down beside him, both grinning.

“Oh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Better how?”

Nick leaned forward, excitement clear in his face. “There’s a bar at the end of the street with a full on drag show happening. It looks insane.”

Chris nodded enthusiastically. “We’re talking full performances, outfits, the whole thing. You guys down?”

I glanced at Matt, whose lips twitched into an amused smirk.

“Well” he said, looking at me, “since you’re in your spontaneity era…”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t even like using the term era”

Nick grinned, slapping the table. “That’s the spirit. Let’s get out of here.”

Matt lingered at my side, as we stumbled down the strip and into bar. The place is alive, bright neon lights, a shimmering backdrop behind the stage, and a drag queen in a sequined bodysuit commanding the crowd. She’s scanning the room, mic in hand, looking for her next victims to drag onstage.

Before I even have a chance to process what’s happening, Nick’s hand clasps around mine.

“Oh no” I start, shaking my head, but it’s too late.

“You know we have to do this.” he grins, practically dragging me toward the stage.

Chris, Nate, and Matt cheer from the table, egging us on like we have a choice in the matter. I laugh, half in protest, but I already know what’s about to happen.

Nick’s been dying to perform Alter Ego ever since we watched Crystal Envy and Lexi Love lip sync to it on Drag Race. And now, here we are, center stage, spotlights on us.

The beat drops, and suddenly, Nick transforms. He throws himself into the performance, rapping along flawlessly, hyping up the crowd, while I do my best to keep up, dancing and laughing through the whole thing. The drag queen is eating it up, hyping us both as if we were seasoned performers.

By the time the song ends, we’re completely breathless, and for once I’m not embarrassed by all of the attention. The drag queen dramatically bows to us, then gestures to the bartender.

“Now that is how you commit to the bit” she says into the mic. “Drinks are on the house for these two.”

We walk back to our table, joining back with the others when a tray of free shots is handed to us.

Chris whistles from the table. “I mean, if free drinks are involved, I might have to hit the stage next.”

Matt shakes his head, chuckling as I sit down.

“You really went for it” he says, impressed.

I grab a shot from the tray, still catching my breath. “What can I say? Spontaneity, remember?”

He raises his glass, smirking. “Guess you weren’t lying.”

I clink my glass against his before throwing back the shot, the burn of alcohol mixing with the rush of the night so far.

The warmth of the alcohol spreads through my body all at once, a delayed hit that makes my head spin slightly. The mix of adrenaline from the performance and the lingering buzz leaves me feeling lightheaded. My skin is still damp with sweat, a mix from dancing under the lights and the Hawaiian heat. 

I set my empty shot glass down and push back from the table. “I need some air” I mumble, mostly to myself, but Matt’s eyes flick toward me for a second before I turn away.

Stepping outside, the slight breeze feels cool against my overheated skin. I exhale, running a hand through my hair, trying to steady the rush in my head. So much has happened in just the past 24 hours. Getting my locket back, the jacket, the way he looked at me earlier, the teasing, the tension. 

It was a very different side of Matt that I wasn’t used to. 

I lean against the side of the building, staring down at my heels, my thoughts spinning faster than they should. Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe Matt isn’t just Matt, the frustrating, teasing, sometimes unbearable guy in our group.

Maybe he’s the guy who went out of his way to do something meaningful for me. The guy who gets jealous when I give someone else my attention. The guy who’s been watching me just as much as I’ve been watching him.

And maybe he likes me. And maybe I like him too.

I heard the sound of the side door to the bar swinging open behind me, catching my attention. I turn to see Matt walking toward me.

“You good?” His voice is softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.

I glance at him standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching me. The concern in his eyes is subtle, but it’s there.

“Yeah” I say, offering a small smile. “Just a bit warm. And very drunk.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. “Yeah, no shit. You and Nick just put on a whole damn concert in there.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “He’s been waiting for that moment.”

Matt smirks but then tilts his head slightly, considering me. “You wanna go for a walk on the beach or something? Might make you feel better.”

I hesitate for a second, but something about the way he’s looking at me makes it impossible to say no.

“Yeah” I say. “That sounds nice.”

We head down toward the sand, the noise from the strip fading as the waves take over and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Matt walks beside me, hands tucked into his pockets, but there’s an ease to his posture. “So” he starts, a teasing lilt creeping back into his voice, “you gonna add karaoke connoisseur to your resume after that performance?”

I roll my eyes but laugh. “Oh, absolutely. Gonna start touring next week.”

He grins. “I’d buy tickets.”

I nudge him playfully. “You’d probably take the piss out of me the whole time.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, biting back a smirk. “Or maybe I’d just sit front row and admire the view.”

I feel my stomach flip at his words, and suddenly the air between us feels differen again. Even more intense. My steps slow just slightly, and he matches my pace.

“You’re such a flirt” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

Matt smirks. “And yet, you’re still walking with me.”

I shake my head, trying not to smile, but I know he sees right through me. The alcohol has made me bold, but maybe it’s not just the drinks. Maybe it’s him.

We keep walking, the conversation flowing like we never hated each other. Playful. Teasing.

I laugh at something he says, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grins, nudging me lightly with his shoulder. “And yet, you love it.”

I roll my eyes but don’t deny it. Before I can think of a comeback, my heel suddenly sinks too deep into the sand, throwing me off balance. I stumble to the side, my hands instinctively reaching out.

Matt reacts fast, catching me before I fall to the ground. One arm wraps firmly around my waist, steadying me, while the other grips my hand. The warmth of his touch against me sends a jolt through me, and I realize just how close we are, his face only inches from mine, his breath grazing over my cheek.

“Damn” he laughs, holding me upright. “You good?”

I grip his forearm, steadying myself. “Yeah, just, heels and sand? Not a great mix" I say, trying to play it cool. "And to think you were suggesting that I should’ve been up on the rocks earlier.”

Matt smirks, but instead of saying anything witty back, he suddenly crouches down in front of me.

I blink. “What are you-”

“Relax” he murmurs, fingers already working at the straps of my heels. “You’re gonna break an ankle trying to walk in these out here We don't need any more ankle problems.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the way he carefully unbuckles each strap, sliding the shoes off my feet like it’s the most natural thing in the world, has my brain rewiring itself.

Once he’s done, he stands, holding my heels in one hand. “There. Now you won’t have an excuse to fall into my arms again.”

I cross my arms, scoffing at him. “I didn’t mean to fall into your arms.”

Matt tilts his head, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He grins. “And yet, you’re still walking with me.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling too much, but I know he sees it. He always does. I bump my shoulder against his playfully. “You know, you don’t have to carry my shoes. I am capable of holding things.”

He smirks. “Yeah, but then what excuse would I have to be a gentleman?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, so you’re a gentleman now?”

Matt raises an eyebrow, stopping in his tracks.

“I mean” he says, looking down at me, “I did just save you from eating sand. That’s got to count for something.”

I glance up at him, my heart racing, but I play it cool. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe I let myself fall on purpose.” I say sarcastically.

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk. “Oh yeah? You wanted me to catch you?”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sturniolo.”

“Oh, so we’re using last names now?” He steps closer to me. “Careful, that’s dangerously close to flirting.”

 “Please, if I was flirting, you’d know it.”

“Would I?”

I exhale, feeling my stomach flip. He’s so damn cocky, but I can’t even pretend I don’t love it.

I tilt my chin up defiantly, a slow grin spreading across my lips. “Mhm.”

My heart is racing. I can feel the alcohol in my veins, but this, this moment, is all me. No liquid courage, no overthinking. Just me and him.

I step closer, tilting my head slightly, my body moving on instinct. My mind is made up. I want to close the distance. I want him.

I lean in.

But just as my lips are about to brush his, Matt turns his head.

“We should head back.” His voice is quiet, almost strained.

I freeze.

The rejection slaps me across the face. I pull back quickly, my face heating in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

I swallow hard, forcing a nod. “Yeah.. yeah, okay.”

Matt shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by something I can’t quite read. Guilt? Hesitation?

I don’t wait to figure it out. I turn on my heel and start walking back toward the bar, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

My stomach twists uncomfortably. How did I get it so wrong? The way he looked at me, the way he held my waist, the way he played into everything, was it just in my head?

I don’t know.

But what I do know is that I just made a move.. and Matt Sturniolo didn’t want me back.

a/n : i would run into the ocean and never return if i got rejected like that

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[punksyeet]

- Daddy’s Home ❥

Plot: Roman reunites with his girls after a week-long work trip.

Warning: Hefty flirting, mature language, & smut (oral in the shower)!

A/N: thank you to @mrsfatu08 for this request. apologies for the delay, but i hope you enjoy regardless! 💐🫶🏼

—————————————————————————————————

“Da…da…da,” my daughter coos, before fisting a couple pieces of pasta into her mouth.

I chuckle, putting some more in her bowl. “That’s right, baby. Dada will be home soon.”

As if she can understand me, she gives me the most precious four-toothed smile.

My husband is Joe Anoa’i. Known to the public as Roman Reigns, the Head of The Table, and/or the Tribal Chief.

We’ve been together for six years — married for two — and had our baby girl, Jailynn Rose, seven months ago.

As a professional wrestler, Joe is on the road constantly.

Whether it’s doing live shows, filming pre-taped segments, or even traveling the world for PLEs, he’s home maybe 2-3 days a week if we’re lucky.

This week however, he participated in the Royal Rumble alongside being announced as two covers of the video game WWE 2K25.

So, as a result, he’s been gone for a little while.

Yes, it can be a struggle sometimes. And motherhood is difficult in itself, let alone when you’re experiencing it solo 80% of the time.

But nothing will ever replace the excitement that both myself and my daughter feel when he walks through our front door.

With a deep sigh, I unlatch the table from Jailynn’s chair and pick her up.

“Alright babygirl,” I say breathlessly, holding her in an arm and bringing the table over to the sink with the other. “Let’s get you all nice and clean.”

She coos in response, earning a giggle from me, and we begin our journey out of the kitchen and upstairs.

“Ba ti!” she calls out, jumping up and down, holding the wall of the tub for support.

I smile, letting the warm water run and create suds of gentle body wash.

“Bath time!” I say with her excitedly, clapping my hands.

She squeals and claps along with me.

Eventually, I undress her and place her in.

As she’s splashing around in the water, I hear the front door open.

“I’m hooome!” Joe calls out before closing it.

I widen my eyes and gasp at Jailynn who squeals, clapping her hands. “Dadadada!”

“Dada’s home!” I join her and say in between giggles.

Moments later, Joe pops his head into the bathroom and Jailynn goes nuts, over the moon to see her daddy.

I smile watching him pick our daughter up and attack her face with kisses.

She laughs the entire time, grabbing his face with her tiny hands.

“Give dada kiss?” he asks, puckering his lips.

She responds by leaning into him with her mouth wide open.

“Aww good job baby,” I coo, smiling.

She claps in response and we join her.

He chuckles. “Thank you, princess.”

He places her back down and she goes back to her toys, before he turns to me.

“Welcome home love,” I coo, wrapping my arms around his neck and looking up at him.

“Thank you gorgeous,” he replies, wrapping his around my waist. “I missed you so much.”

He gently holds either side of my face and leans down, bringing his lips to mine.

I kiss back and place my head on his chest once we pull away.

His scent is so comforting. A comfort that I’ve been without for what has felt like years.

He holds his chin on my head and rocks us back and forth.

—————————————————————————————————

It’s now 7:30pm - Jailynn’s bedtime.

As I lay her down in her crib, Joe places a hand on my lower back.

“I’ve got it baby,” he exclaims, rubbing small circles. “Go relax.”

I give him a soft but grateful smile. “You sure, babe? I don’t mind.”

He shakes his head and kisses my temple. “Positive. Go on, mama.”

I nod, lean down, and brush Jailynn’s curls away from her forehead, before giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, my baby.”

An adorable little smile appears behind her pacifier, earning a chuckle from both me and Joe.

I stand back up and give him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the bedroom and quietly shutting the door behind me.

Once I’m in our bedroom, I decide to unwind with a nice hot shower.

I grab one of my lace sleepwear sets and head into our bathroom.

“Mind if I join you, pretty lady?” Joe asks, as I’m about to step into the tub.

I smirk and turn around to see my sexy husband, already shirtless and leaning against the doorframe.

“Not at all handsome,” I reply, taking a step closer to him and wrapping my arms around his neck. “Baby girl is asleep already?”

He nods, scanning my naked body. “Knocked right out. Must’ve known her daddy was in a hurry.”

My bottom lip slides between my teeth and I tilt my head, as he feathers soft kisses on my jaw and neck.

“Mmm,” I half-moan / half-hum in approval. “In a hurry for what exactly?”

He smirks and gently lifts my chin, his gorgeous brown eyes locked on mine. “To reclaim what’s mine.”

** smut warning! **

Before I can respond, he connects our lips, immediately sliding his tongue across mine.

The kiss gets steamy quick, as he slides his hands up and down my body.

My breath hitches as he grabs handfuls of my ass, his fingertips just barely grazing my pussy from behind.

“Already soaked for me,” he mumbles against my lips, his voice as deep and sexy as ever. “Y’missed daddy that much, hm?”

“You have no idea,” I reply, my voice just above a whisper.

He smirks and scoops me up by my thighs, never breaking the kiss.

I automatically wrap my legs around his waist, as he brings us into the shower.

The hot water cascades down my back and steam takes over, immediately calming any butterflies I had from earlier.

You’d think I’d stop having butterflies years ago, given how long I’ve been with him.

But when you’re married to Joe Anoa’i, don’t hold your breath.

“J-Joe….baby…” my voice trails off, as he feathers kisses down my body and lifts one of my legs onto his shoulder.

“Shhh,” he orders, stroking my folds ever so gently with his thumb. “Just relax and enjoy, sweetheart.”

As soon as his thick and wet tongue makes contact with my skin, I immediately feel like I’m ascending.

“Fuck,” I whisper-moan, my hand immediately traveling down to his gorgeous curls. “Joe, oh my god.”

He hums in approval, digging his fingers into my hips and flicking his tongue in and out of my clit.

“So fucking sweet baby doll,” he mutters against my pussy. “I’ve been craving your taste for so long.”

I try to form words, but the feeling of his mouth on me takes over, interrupting my thoughts and resulting in a loud and hearty moan.

“Just like that sweet thing,” he exclaims, stroking small circles onto my thighs. “Let me hear you.”

Between his dirty words and his skillful tongue, I almost immediately feel a deep pit in my stomach.

And before I can let him know, he practically reads my mind.

“Go on and cum for me mama,” he says, his voice extra raspy. “Make a mess on daddy’s face. Show me how much you missed me.”

My climax rips through my body, as I softly whimper and grind against his tongue.

** smut over! **

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, running a hand through my hair, once I’m back to standing on two feet.

Joe chuckles and wraps me in his arms, followed by a kiss to my temple. “You good, honey? I didn’t get too ahead of myself, did I?”

I nod, panting lightly and giving his chest a kiss before laying my head on it. “It’s just been a little while, that’s all.”

Don’t get me wrong - my toys get the job done, but nothing and I mean nothing compares to the sex god that is my husband.

“Well as long as you feel good,” he replies, rubbing my back gently. “That’s all I’m worried about.”

I look up and give him a soft smile. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

He looks back down at me with a gorgeous smile in return. “The most perfect woman in the world calling me perfect? Hm, I’ll take it.”

I giggle softly and brush our noses together.

“Let’s finish up in here and get some rest, hm?” he suggests, nodding towards the door to our bedroom.

I raise an eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest. “Does ‘getting some rest’ entail getting into bed so you can get round two out of me, Mr. Anoa’i?”

He puckers his lips to the side and raises his hands, as a smirk grows on his face. “You said it, not me.”

I roll my eyes playfully, shaking my head. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He chuckles and grabs my face, pulling me in for some quick kisses.

“Now,” he begins, pulling away and grabbing my bottle of shampoo from the rack hanging on the wall. “Turn your lil fine ass around.”

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[svnriseblvdd]

AND FOR ONCE, YOU LET GO OF YOUR FEARS AND YOUR GHOSTS — dick grayson

hurt/comfort, slight angst (he's okay in the end), love confession, big steps in a relationship. when dick grayson stumbles through his girlfriend's window in the early hours of the morning, she's there to patch him up and listen to all that troubles him.

It’s some time after four in the morning when Dick Grayson finally steps through the window into your apartment. He shouldn’t be here. It’s not fair on you. He knows it’s not, but he can’t help himself. 

He’s silent as he moves across your living room floor, still silent as he opens your bedroom door. He hates that he has to be here. He hates even more the fact that you left your living room window open a crack so he could come in. He’s closed it now, locked it and made sure all the security measures he’d installed for you were in place how they should be. 

He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t want to disturb you as you look so peaceful in the comfort of sleep. He doesn’t even need to touch you. Well, he does. But he won’t. Not if it’ll wake you up. 

He just needs to see you. Needs to know you’re safe, alive, breathing, content. He needs to sit in the comfort of the sound of your breathing, the smell of everything that’s so unequivocally you. The detergent on fresh sheets, your shampoo, shower gel, the remnants of your perfume lingering. Even the underlying scent of your worn shoes that just barely creeps through everything else. 

He knows where not to step. Where floor creaks and where there’s little things hellbent on stabbing him in the foot. Not that they’d do a good job through the suit, but he won’t risk it. 

But through all his manoeuvring, he bends just slightly too far the wrong way, and he’s hissing in pain. 

You stir, and hum. He thinks for a moment that maybe it’s okay. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he hasn’t woken you up and ruined your sleep because he’s an idiot. 

But he’s wrong. “Dick?” You mumble. “You there?” 

He winces. Not at the annoying pain in his side, but because now you’re awake. It’s nearly 5:00 AM and you’re awake because he didn’t think. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay, honey, go back to sleep.” 

“What time is it?” 

He looks at the clock on your nightstand. The numbers on it glow faintly, almost accusatory. Oh, he knows. 

“4:47,” he replies. “I’m sorry for waking you, baby.” 

You push yourself up, eyes opening properly and taking in the sight of him. Your eyes are soft as you evaluate him, the redness of his cheek as a bruise begins to form, the cut above his eyebrow, the faint glow of the lenses of his mask, which he has yet to take off. “Dick-” 

“Don’t worry about me, baby. I’m okay.” 

You shake your head. “Come here.” 

“’m dirty. You just washed your sheets.” 

“I don’t care.” You stand from the bed, patting it. “Sit. Wait while I get the first aid kit.” 

He gives in, sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting for your return. It’s not a long wait, but every second without you feels like agony. It’s worse than anything that happened tonight. 

When you return, you sink onto the bed next to him, setting the kit down next to you. “Let me see those pretty eyes,” you whisper, lifting the mask from him. His beautiful blue eyes meet yours, and it hurts to see the sadness in them. 

You dab at the cut above his eyebrow with an alcohol-dipped cotton pad. You know that nights like these, he needs time before he can open up about it. So you treat the cut on his brow, the bruise on his cheek. Then you begin pushing his suit down his shoulders and torso. 

“If you wanted me out of my clothes that badly, all you had to do was ask,” he jokes, but it lacks the same tone he usually has. Dick flirts with you all the time. Even now that you’ve been together for almost a year. And he still holds the same charm that he did when you first met, when he first realised his feelings and decided he was going to ‘make a move’. But tonight, he doesn’t hold the same charm or humour in his voice. 

“Dick…” you murmur. He’d spent far too long being valued by Gotham’s social elite and their tabloids only for his looks. He was gorgeous, there was no denying that, he was the most wonderful person you’d ever laid eyes upon. But he was far too used to being a performer, even through his worst times, laying on the charm thick as possible when he had to attend a gala that fell during some of the bad days. 

You get the suit down to his waist, where you let it rest as you evaluate the bruises, cuts and scrapes on his chest and abdomen. 

You begin cleaning a cut on his chest, wondering whether or not it’ll need stitches. “What happened?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing.” At your expression, he sighs. “I just- my head wasn’t in it.” 

“Then where was your head?” You ask, threading the needle. “Hm? Tell me what’s going on, Dick.” 

“I just… don’t know if I’m enough,” he whispers. 

Your expression turns softer still. “What? Dick, of course you are. You’re more than enough. If you ask me, you’re more than most of this city deserves.” He sniffs, still trying to hold in the tears. “Do you want me to numb it before I start the stitches?” 

He shakes his head. “No. No, I can take it. It’s okay.” 

You begin to sew the cut shut, back and forth, back and forth. It’s muscle memory by now, the number of times you’d stitched him up after a rough night. Never like this, though. Usually, even when he’d taken worse beatings, he could still crack jokes easily and he’d still lay on that Dick Grayson charm. Not tonight. 

When you’re done, you lean down, placing soft kisses along the edge. You cover over a graze on his side, the one he’d irritated earlier that had led to you waking up. 

“I’m sorry for waking you,” he says, voice heavy with regret and despair. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay. It’s not. You have work.” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t. I’m taking the day off. Want to spend time with you.” 

“You don’t have to do that. You shouldn’t. I’m not worth it.” 

“You’re more than worth it, honey. Besides, I’ve had it booked since last week, so I can’t just take it back.” You reach up with one hand to cup his face, tilting his head to look at you. His eyes are filled with tears. “Oh, Dick, sweetheart.” 

He breaks then. The tears spill over, and he collapses into your hold, your arms wrapping around him. He smells of blood, sweat, dirt, and smoke, but you don’t care one bit. You’ll hold him forever if that’s what he needs. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He lets out a sob. “I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, my love,” you assure him. “I promise you, that you’re more than enough. Do you trust me?” He nods. “Then trust that I’m telling you the truth.” 

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m falling and I won’t ever stop.” 

“I know, honey. But I’m here to catch you. I’ll always be here. You do so much for this city, for your team, your family, me. You work so hard, honey, and I know that it’s difficult. And I know you don’t feel like it’s enough sometimes but it is. You’re so good, Dick. You bring hope, safety, happiness. I know it’s a lot of responsibility, but you shoulder it so well. I just wish you didn’t feel like you had to take on everything. Sometimes you need a break, and that’s okay.” 

“But who else protects Bludhaven?” 

“That’s the problem, Dick. You take care of this all by yourself.” 

“Bruce protected Gotham by himself.” 

“Bruce hadn’t been Batman for nearly as long before you came along. Besides, he’s had help for years now. You handle Bludhaven, you still help in Gotham, you run the Titans. Hell, you help the Justice League from time to time. Even Bruce has bad times too. Even Batman struggles with his responsibilities. Both of you have yourselves convinced that you have to take on all this responsibility and pressure because if you don’t, you’re not worthy of love. But even with all that, neither of you think you’re enough. And I love you for your heroism and your courage and your goodness. I really do, but you need days off. You need time to just be Dick Grayson. Not Nightwing, not the Wayne heir, not the socialite the tabloids love. Just Dick. The same one who I fell for.” 

He stops sniffling for a few seconds, just breathing irregularly. “You love me?” He whispers then, breaking the silence. He pulls back, your arms falling loosely to his sides. You hadn’t realised you’d said it. 

“Yes,” you whisper back. “Yeah, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, hands cupping your face. “So much.” 

You smile, and it’s the first time tonight that he’s smiled and it’s felt genuine. He kisses you, softly, lovingly, every inch of his soul poured into you. It’s such a simple kiss. Neither of you dare deepen it - you both know it’s not the time. It’s just ordinary, small, wet with his tears, but it’s the most wonderful, caring action. 

“Do you want something to drink?” You ask, pulling away from him. 

“No.” 

“How about a bath? Or a shower?” 

“No, I just want to hold you.” 

You smile softly, nodding. “Let me find something for you to wear. It’s colder tonight.” You stand, moving around your room to find any of his clothes that he’s left behind. You think you might’ve run out of clean things of his in his allocated drawer. “It’s getting really difficult, working with only one drawer of your clothes.” 

“Especially when you use my shirts to sleep in,” he comments. 

“True.” You hum as you find a pair of his sweatpants, folding them over your arm. 

“Maybe it would be easier if we just lived together,” he says. 

You turn to him, now holding one of your baby tees, mistaken for a shirt of his. The words “I’m too sexy for this shirt” stare at him, standing out against the white cotton. “Do you mean it?” You ask. 

“I do. I want us to live together. I love seeing our shoes next to each other when we stay together. I love seeing your things at my place. I love cooking together. I want to stay up late talking to you. I want to dance in the kitchen in the middle of the night. I want to come home to you.” 

You smile, practically attacking him with the way you hug him. “I want all of that too.” You kiss his cheeks, then his forehead, then peck him on the lips before you roll off the bed to look for a t-shirt. You throw the items at him when you’ve found them. 

When he’s changed, the two of you lay in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. And you look up at him while the first hints of the sunrise filter through the crack in the curtains. 

You look up at him, and he meets your eyes, a loving smile on his face. “I love you, Dick Grayson. And I can’t stand to see you destroy yourself.” 

“I love you too. I’ll stay together for you.” 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

I'm happy that you liked the "angsty love triangle" because let me tell you, it took years off my life 😂

Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol

Yes it is. And I hated myself for putting him through that, but it had to be done lol.

I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀

It really did. Man just wanted to be close to the reader, not hear her do the horizontal mambo with Ben next door 🤣

And the fanning gif is perfectly used. The Dean literally having a whole expirence thinking about laying on top of the reader 👀

Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭

I put him through so much in this part- oh goodness, he kinda deserved it, but it was struggle bus the whole way. He loves the reader so much, and wants to be with her, but we all know he's so bad at expressing his feelings 😭

God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲 But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!! The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭

EXACTLY! He hates this life for her, but it is her life. It's her choice to be a hunter and he has to accept that. Because on one hand I do see the side of him that wants to protect her, but he can't shut her up in a glass box. He has to let her live her life and be okay with it. And YES, he should not hide behind the "assholery" (lmao 🤣) instead he should be honest with her!

Oh yeah the "I'm not worthy" was really pulling overtime- It DOES make you want to beat some sense into him with an encyclopedia lol. But we both know how much he struggles with that and I had to include it in here 😭

I KNOW! It fits Dean though. I could see him having the same reaction to it as when Lisa and Ben got taken. Because he loves the reader and he thought that he 'lost' her. Dean would have been almost FERAL to get the reader back.

💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣

Dean is so petty you could call him Tom. 😆

TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol

LOL YES SLAP SOME SENSE INTO HIM!! USE THE BOOK! Continuing with the trope that Sam knows everything.

Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭

Told you... YEARS off my life lol

I also love the use of the office gif- and I really love the little bit that you highlighted about what it was like to kiss Dean vs. Ben. Because yes Dean can say that Ben "is him" but they really are two different men with different mannerisms. And I had this idea that Dean's kiss would be softer, but also more tentative whereas Ben has the confidence to take what he wants.

Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪

Literally all it took was a slap and the thought that he was going to actually lose the reader to put him over the edge. It was so satisfying to finally give him a vulnerable moment with the reader, especially after all the shouting between the two of them. But I think that he realized that the only thing he had to lose was the reader and she is everything to him 😭

Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏 (Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)

Thank you!! They needed a few moments of spice to make up 😉 especially after everything the two of them have been going through lol. And really after everything Dean had to listen to through the wall 😳

And I KNOW lol. The reader is really living the life we all want 🥴👀

Ben will take it... like Ben... and also a little bit like Dean- pushing it all down 😒

Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄

Mhmm. It is unfortunately on brand for him and he will not be the one to admit that he has feelings for someone else. Especially not after everything that happened with Countess. And I also think that Ben understands that this reader, isn't really "his."

That was the biggest decider in this fic when I was trying to figure out if the reader should end up with Ben or with Dean. And it really came down to that she's not from Ben's universe. She's a hunter and there are parts of her life that Ben won't be able to understand that Dean can. She might be able to understand Ben, but she needs Dean and Dean needs her.

LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣 And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭

It is the first fight that Ben has ever lost 🤣 And I literally was like, yes Ben would hate being forced to go to therapy, but he would love to sit there and just rant with someone who has to listen to him. Unfortunately, I think that Ben would also be the person who has an affair with their therapist LOL

OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉

He's already smitten! 😍 And I had to give him a happy ending too! I don't think I would have been able to live with myself if Ben got sent off without someone to love him 😭 I also know that we've talked in the past about Ben needing someone in his life that gives it right back to him and doesn't put up with any of his antics, but I am so intrigued by the thought of what kind of person Ben would be with a shy/anxious significant other. I love that idea and I'm literally adding it to my WIPs lol 💗

ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕

He's got a line for everything *sigh* and he knows just what to say. I hate to say that this would have worked on me 😅 She has NO idea, but I like to think that the two of them are very happy right now. Also kinda know because I am slowly plotting out ideas for follow ups with the IT Reader and Ben lol. But I'm so happy you loved it friend!! Thank you so much for all your kind comments!!!💞

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

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[keyaho]

ℍ𝕒𝕝𝕗𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 : 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

summary: Gianna has been best friends with Terry Richmond since they were in primary school. While she pursued higher education by chasing the title of Dr. he became a force on the field. When life smacks her friend in the face, Gianna does what she can to help.

word count: 1k

Fulton County Courthouse - 0845AM - Smith v Richmond

Judge Matthews had taken his seat as Gianna watched as Terry's shoulders straightened. She couldn't see his face, but each time she saw his side profile it was tight lipped and tense. His eyes were hard and she was glad she wasn't on the receiving end of them. 

I don't like my time being wasted. He said, while shuffling papers in front of him. So I thank both pirates for making this straightforward. Sliding on his glasses, the judge lifted the one paper they were all here for. In the case of paternity of two year old Carter Smith, Mr. Terrance Richmond, you are…….NOT the father. 

"NO!" 

The judge pointed a hard look to the plaintiff, Keisha Smith, Terry's ex-girlfriend. A few months ago Terry had discovered Keisha had cheated on him and the little boy he had grown to love and adore was not his. Gianna saw Terry's shoulders slump forward and the defeat in his eyes wasn't missed by her. She knew her best friend. 

"Ms. Smith,' the judge sighed, "the next time you come through the Fulton County court system it had better because the right person is on the other side of this court room. I implore you to think carefully in the future." 

Judge Matthews then turned his head towards Terry. 

"Mr. Richmond,' he states cooly, "I can see that you are attached to the child as expected given the circumstances and it is up to you what your next steps will be, but as I've told Ms. Smith, I implore you as well to think carefully in the future." 

When the gavel slammed down, Gianna jumped. As soon as the judge left, Keisha shot up from her chair, nearly knocking it over, and tried to make her way over to Terry's side. 

"That test is a lie!" She screamed, the life she had become used to was gone, for good now. "He's your son! I don't care what that test says!" 

Terry worked his jaw and stepped around his lawyer. The last thing he wanted to do was face the camera and reporters out front so he had asked her to find another way out. The alley in the back was perfect. Gianna went ahead of him as he spoke with his parents. 

Terry's Penthouse - Noon

Gianna stepped out of her room to a dark house. The curtains were drawn shut and the interior lights were off. After court they had gone for a quick breakfast. He ate and she tried to make sure he knew she was here when he was ready to talk. Instead, he drove them back to the apartment and retreated to his room. She caught herself up on a class assignment then took a nap, setting her alarm so she didn't sleep the day away. 

The large living room was devoid of the warmth that used to be in it. The toys Terry had bought were gone. She didn't have to go check what used to be Carter's room to know Terry had cleaned it out already. Pulling her phone from her hoodie, she placed an order for takeout to be delivered so they had something to eat. 

"Terry,' Gianna called as she walked towards his bedroom. 

Before she could get to his door her phone buzzed multiple times. Most were from his family asking if he was okay because he wasn't picking up the phone. They knew she stayed with him and would go through her to get to him when needed. Gianna knew they just wanted to be there for him, but he wasn't talking. Keisha had called him several times trying to guilt him into caring for Carter. Eventually, she told him it needed to be through a lawyer if he decided to stay in touch with him. She always asked if he wanted that headache, because she wasn't going to make it easy. 

Pushing open the door to his suite, Gianna found Terry awake in bed, watching previous season tapes. It didn't look like he had slept and the used tissue beside the bed let her know he had been crying. 

"I ordered take out from Sharks. It should be here in about thirty minutes." 

Instead of replying, he patted the bed. Maybe he was ready to open up. When she was settled against the pillows he turned down the volume of the TV. 

"Would it be wrong if I walked away from Carter." 

"I can't-'

"Just answer honestly. Would you still,' he says, frustration laced in his voice as he tried not to give into his emotions again. "Be there?"

"It would be hard,' she replied. "Keisha isn't going to make it easy, Terry. If you agree to stay in Carter's life, you're not going to be able to walk away." 

"So you would walk away." He says. 

Gianna sighed. "It's not about what I want in the end. "You had your relationship and son taken from you over the past six months. You're not in the right headspace to make that decision." 

Her eyes flicked to the TV. The new season was about to start and as his best friend she often helped him out during. Pre-season was no joke and he thanked her each time the season went smooth. They were Superbowl bound this year and nothing was going to stop them this time. She was beginning her doctoral program at Clark and had a bit more leeway as she was diving into her thesis research. She wanted to create a profitable thesis and what better thing to study than football? Specifically the various teams and their cultures, however, she framed it through the lens of literature paralleling plays to stage plays. 

"Right,' he sighs. "Leave it to you to be reasonable." 

"One of us has to be." 

Gianna was always the grounded one. The responsible one of the two. He came to her with everything and she felt more like a manager than a friend at times. This time to the season stressed him because it was all eyes on him again. This time there was an expectation he would lead the Falcons to a Superbowl win. That was pressure. 

"Whatever you decided I'm here for you." 

Terry looked at Gianna and took her hand. "Thanks, Gigi." 

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