#<- how late am i literally forgot ...

[nobodybetterlookatme]

The boyfriend nearly sneezed on me but caught himself at the last second and pulled his shirt up to cover, so I'm gonna be thinking about that for the next week I think lmao

[buzzcat]

it’s 2025 and I’m writing character study fanfic for Ouran High School Host Club

so to anyone who worries about being “late” to a fandom or embarrassed about joining a “dead” fandom, please understand as I report from the writing trenches: Fandoms aren’t dead. There is no such thing as “late” to a fandom. You get here when you get here and everyone who forgot about that fandom is so so delighted to be reminded it exists

Draw your fanart, write your fanfic, reblog and like and kudos and bookmark and comment on that fic or art or AMV because whoever made it is going to be delighted to realize people are still finding it

[crossbackpoke-check]

Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming

[six-eyed-samurai]

why am I so pathetic

that I am left out of the friend group in my own damn house

that I'm always the last person they think to invite (they didn't even invite me this time)

that I'm just around to help them cheat on their worksheets

that I asked them over for my birthday and they sit in my house gaming amongst each other only

that they think they can do whatever they want and just shout over my voice

that even an outsider noticed that they don't bother including me anymore

that even though no one will say it all I am is a destination to hang out

that they just come visit me to talk with each other on my own birthday

that I keep answering all their messages and agreeing to hangouts and desperately following after them hoping something will change no matter how much it just gets worse

why am I so pathetic

[todayisafridaynight]

brother was talking to me about how if you almost die from an extreme-temperature-related incident then your body is just forever fucked towards that temperature and that's why i think kiryu and saejima are weak to ice. i dont know why aoki isn't like that too but ignore that statistic everything else tracks.

[volchitsa-of-winterfell]

the F1 shipping chart!! original post here by @foo1ishheart554. blank version below the cut for YOU, dear reader, to do!

[y-eontan]

RAWWWGH

[pressuredrightnow]

literally so annoying when you just want to sleep and your intrusive thoughts say what if you did that thing instead and accidentally killed that person on an event that went completely normal from the past

[enhaflixer]

reaction: when they’re pissed off (in a cute way) with you on Valentine’s Day

cw: skinship, upset enha, kissing, explicit mentions wc: 1.7K TL: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @somuchdard AN: LMAO REPOST CUZ ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE LAST ONE

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

"I’m not mad."

Heeseung has said this at least seven times now.

And yet, he hasn’t looked at you properly all evening, has been scrolling aggressively on his phone, and is eating his food like it personally offended him.

"Baby, you sure about that?" you ask, watching him.

"Yep."

"Then why are you stabbing your steak like it’s my fault?"

"I always eat like this." He shrugs, looking down at his plate with a blank expression, before adding, "Totally normal. No problems here."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, then why have you barely spoken to me?"

"I’m just thinking," he says vaguely, taking a sip of his drink like he’s in a drama about betrayal.

You squint at him. "Hee. Just say it."

Heeseung finally exhales, setting his fork down. "Fine. I just think it’s interesting that I planned this entire Valentine’s surprise, wrote you a whole letter, and took you out to this fancy place—but you didn’t write me anything."

You pause. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." He takes another dramatic sip.

You reach for his hand. "Baby, I can write you a letter right now—"

"Nope. Too late. The damage has been done." He leans back, closing his eyes like he’s processing deep betrayal.

You laugh, sliding into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Will a thousand kisses make up for it?"

He pretends to think about it. "Hmmm… I guess I can be persuaded."

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

Jay had a vision. A Pinterest-worthy, cinematic romance kind of vision.

And you? You ruined it.

"Wait." He blinks at you, utterly betrayed. "Where’s my Valentine’s Day gift?"

You freeze.

"Jay—"

"Oh my God, you forgot."

You panic. "No! I mean… yes. But! But I have something planned—"

"Mmm. Sounds fake."

He leans back, crossing his arms, lips pursed in the most dramatic pout.

"I got you roses and your favorite chocolate. I even wrote a handwritten letter. Meanwhile, my thoughtful, loving, caring fiancé—"

"Okay, okay!" You grab his hands, laughing. "I’ll make it up to you."

He tilts his head, eyeing you suspiciously. "You sure? Because this was a pretty deep wound. Might take a while to heal."

You bite your lip, stepping closer. "I’ll do anything, baby."

His jaw tightens slightly at that, his hands twitching at his sides.

"Anything?" he murmurs.

You nod, brushing your fingers along his collar.

Jay exhales sharply, then grabs your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips graze your ear as he whispers,

"Good. Because I plan to collect that apology. All. Night. Long."

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

"I’m so mad at you right now."

You barely step inside before Jake is grabbing your waist, pinning you against the door, and glaring at you like you just personally ruined his life.

You blink up at him, confused. "What did I do now?"

He lets out the most tragic sigh you’ve ever heard. "Oh, I don’t know, babe. Maybe just COMPLETELY neglectING ME on Valentine’s Day??"

You squint. "Jake, we literally spent the entire day together."

"EXACTLY!" he exclaims, gesturing wildly. "We were together ALL DAY and somehow, SOMEWAY, I have not been dicked down once. Not once. Do you understand how that makes a man feel?"

You stare. "Jake—"

"No, no, let me finish." He steps back, running a frustrated hand through his hair like he’s on the verge of a breakdown. "I have spent the last twelve hours waiting, hoping, praying, manifesting some kind of fucking physical affection from my own girlfriend, and what do I get? A pat on the back. A little forehead kiss. What am I, a fucking toddler??"

You burst out laughing. "Baby, you’re being dramatic."

"Dramatic? DRAMATIC?" He grabs your wrist, pulling you flush against him. "Babe. My dick is in distress. It’s been in distress ALL. FUCKING. DAY."

You snort. "You poor thing."

"YES, actually!" He grabs your hand, placing it over his chest. "Feel that? That’s a broken heart. A heart that thought tonight was gonna be different. A heart that thought you were gonna throw me on the bed the second we got home. A heart that—"

You kiss him, effectively shutting him up.

He pauses for half a second before immediately kissing you back, his hands gripping your waist like he’s making sure you don’t escape.

You pull away, smirking. "Better?"

"Mmm." He tilts his head, looking you up and down. "I mean… it’s a start. But, babe—" he leans in, voice dropping— "I'm gonna need a lot more before I forgive you."

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

Sunghoon isn’t mad.

At least, he tells himself he’s not mad.

But he is currently sitting on the couch, arms crossed, jaw clenched, scrolling aggressively on his phone like someone who is very much mad.

And you have no idea why.

"Hoon." You nudge him. No response.

"Babe, what’s wrong?"

"Nothing."

You narrow your eyes. "That’s a lie."

He finally exhales sharply. "You didn’t wish me at 12:00 AM."

You blink. "Wait. What?"

"It’s fine," he says, standing up, walking away. "Just thought my own girlfriend would wish me at midnight first, but nope. Jay texted me before you did. Even my mom beat you to it."

You burst out laughing. "Hoon, we were asleep at midnight."

"You could’ve set an alarm," he mutters.

You chase after him, grabbing his wrist. "Hoon, baby—"

"Nope. Don’t ‘baby’ me now."

Then, suddenly—he grabs your waist, spins you around, and backs you into the nearest wall.

Your breath catches.

His eyes flicker down to your lips. "You wanna make it up to me?"

You swallow. "Yes."

His fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your chin up. "Good."

Then he kisses you—hard, deep, devastating.

And when he finally pulls away, he smirks.

"You should make mistakes like this more often."

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Sunoo is dramatically sprawled across the bed, one hand over his forehead like some tragic K-drama lead.

"Sunoo, baby, what’s wrong?" you ask, sitting beside him.

"Oh, nothing." His voice is eerily calm. "Just thought I was going to be wined and dined. Taken somewhere extravagant. Pampered like the prince that I am."

You stifle a laugh. "Baby, we had a really nice dinner—"

*"IT WAS A CAFE." He sits up, glaring at you. "You took me to a CAFE."

You bite your lip. "But it was a Paris-inspired one…?"

"WHERE WERE THE CANDLELIGHTS? THE VIOLINS?"

You sigh, pulling him into your arms, stroking his hair. "I’ll take you somewhere fancy this weekend, okay?"

He sniffs. "And buy me dessert?"

"Anything you want, baby."

"And feed it to me?"

"Yes, Sunoo."

"And post me on Instagram?"

"Sunoo—"

He squints. "Do you love me or not?"

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

Jungwon isn’t just mad—he’s mad and confused.

And that’s a dangerous combination.

You realize something is wrong when he suddenly stops replying properly to your texts. Then, when you finally meet up for dinner, he just stares at you blankly, arms crossed, jaw tight, looking equal parts irritated and baffled.

"What’s wrong?" you ask, frowning as you sit across from him.

"I don’t know," he says.

You pause. "You don’t know?"

"Nope." He picks up his drink, takes a slow sip while keeping eye contact, then sets it down carefully. "Because if I knew, then I would at least understand why my girlfriend—who, mind you, is supposed to love me—decided to completely ignore me all morning on Valentine’s Day."

Your eyes widen. "Wait—"

"No, no. Please." He holds up a hand, silencing you. "Let me finish."

You press your lips together.

"Do you know who texted me first?" he asks, tilting his head.

"Um—"

"SUNOO." He sits back, folding his arms. "Sunoo texted me first. With a big, pink heart emoji and everything. But my own girlfriend? Nothing. Silence. Like I was just another irrelevant man walking this earth."

You stifle a laugh. "Jungwon—"

"No, because seriously!" He leans forward, exasperated. "Did you hit your head this morning? Did your phone break? Did you forget I existed?"

You grab his hands across the table, laughing. "Baby, I was literally asleep."

"Set an alarm next time," he grumbles.

You kiss his knuckles softly. "I’ll text you first every day for the rest of the week. Deal?"

He sighs, pretending to think about it. "Fine. But I expect dramatic good morning messages. And at least three heart emojis."

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

Riki has been staring at you.

Not in a cute, "I’m so in love" way. Not in a "Wow, my girlfriend is so pretty" way.

No. This is straight-up judgment.

"Riki," you say cautiously, side-eyeing him as he sits across from you, arms folded, jaw tight. "Are you good?"

He lets out the most condescending scoff. "Me? Oh, yeah. I’m GREAT."

You pause. "…Okay?"

"Yeah. No, I was just sitting here, thinking about how interesting it is that I’ve gone all fucking day without so much as a kiss on the cheek from my own girlfriend. But it’s fine. Really. I love being treated like some random side character in your life."

Your eyebrow twitches. "Riki, we’ve literally been together all day."

"EXACTLY." He throws his hands up, glaring. "And somehow, SOMEWAY, you’ve managed to avoid kissing me like I have a fucking disease."

You stifle a laugh. "Baby, we were literally in public the whole time—"

"Bullshit," he interrupts. *"You had time to fix your hair. You had time to take cute pictures. But you didn’t have time to kiss your incredibly hot, incredibly kissable boyfriend?"

You roll your eyes. "I think you’ll survive."

Riki narrows his eyes. "Oh. That’s how we’re playing it?"

Before you can react, he grabs your wrist, yanking you forward so suddenly that you stumble into his lap, your hands bracing against his chest.

Your eyes widen. "Riki—"

"Shh." He leans in, nose brushing yours, voice low and taunting. "You had your chance. Now it’s my turn."

Your breath catches as his fingers dig into your waist, holding you in place.

"You’re gonna make this up to me, babe," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing, torturing. "And I’m not letting you go until I feel properly appreciated."

TAGLIST: OPEN!!!! LMK WHAT YOU THINK PLS

[fangirlfuel]

The Internet's Favorite Couple

---

Lando Norris x Actress!Reader SMau

---

@.yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, lando, and 4,682,561 others

Y/N Press tour life lately. Swipe for chaos.

Comments

@.landonorris: ok but I didn’t get credit for emotional support and snack delivery??

@.yourusername: you stole my chocolate bar and took a nap mid-zipping my dress.

@.landonorris: I was emotionally exhausted from watching you try on 11 outfits in 3 minutes.

@.haileesteinfeld: you two are insane and I love it

@.yourusername 💜

@.zendaya: power couple things.

@.yourusername : QUEEN! douple date when ? 🤭💞

@f1gossipupdates: you didn’t hear it from me but that man is love

@.danielricciardo: this is why I’m not allowed to stay in glam anymore

@.user1919: me waiting for my bf to simp like this

@.oscarpiastri: unfollowed for relationship envy

@.teamlando: Lando’s entire job is just being her hype man and I love that for him

@.glossier: hiring the king of backstage support?

@landonorrisfanclub: they’re always on "cutest couple alive" mode

@blakelively: ok but I’d watch a whole rom-com based on slide 5

@ user220: her red carpet >>>> but let’s be real we’re here for THE BF CONTENT

@.yourusername: y’all he’s still sleeping under that pile

@f1editqueen: posting this to my vision board as we speak

@femalepilot.f1: and here I thought love like this was fictional

@user4200: imagine being this pretty and dating a simp like Lando

@williamsgf3: can they just adopt us? please?

@ lilymhe: okay wait this is actually adorable

@.yourusername: we need to have a girl day !

@.user014: I want what they have and also that dress

@papayaqueen4life: THE CHEEK KISS PHOTO IS A WHOLE MOVIE

@lanloverrr: drop the unfiltered photo dump pls

@.yourusername: fine. next one is all him being chaotic.

@.landonorris: …I’m scared now.

---

Twitter Thread: @F1updates

@Username1: "Top 10 Simp Lando Moments for Y/N That Made Us Believe in Love — a thread"

|

@.username1: That time he stood behind a barricade with fans just to surprise her at her premiere and screamed louder than the paparazzi.

@.username3: When she posted a story of her learning lines and you can hear Lando offscreen going, "I. . Am. Shaking."

@.username4: During an F1 livestream when asked about his favorite film, he replied, "Whichever one she’s in ."

@usename9: The iconic Cannes moment where he fixed her dress train like a stylist, assistant, boyfriend, AND husband all in one.

@.username43: "She’s my whole personality at this point." -Lando during a McLaren interview

@usename67: In a vlog, he literally said, "I memorized your monologue just in case you forgot it."

@username9: Bonus: anytime she posts anything, he’s first in the comments ans likes, my man got post notifications on.

@usename54: They're what happens when a golden retriever boyfriend dates a goddess.

---

@.landonorris

liked by yourusername, mclaren and 2,389,528 others

Lando photo dump. ft my favorite person

Comments

@.yourusername: not the airplane oneeee

@.landonorris: I took it with love and a blanket

@.yourusername: fine. you’re forgiven.

@ user001: this is not a bf it’s a support system

@f1behindthescenes: he’s in his golden retriever husband era

@ user93: her in his hoodie is my new lockscreen

@.zendaya: this is how you DO soft launch every month

@.danielricciardo: lando ur making the rest of us look bad bro

@.landonorris: What can I say , I am the best boyfriend there is 😘 *liked by Y/n❤*

@.user3944: imagine having a man post YOU like this

@papayaaaqueen: he’s so down bad and it’s so beautiful

@user1911: ice cream dates and love notes ?,, this is rom-com behavior

@.yourusername: next post is YOU with whipped cream on your nose. stay tuned.

@ landonorris: lies. slander. I was framed.

@Y/N : I love you 🧡

@lansonorris: I love you more baby girl 🧡

@.user887: NO BECAUSE THEY FLIRT IN THE COMMENTS TOO

@ oliviarodrigo: I’d write a whole album about them if I could. *liked by landonorris and Y/N❤️*

@.user424: everyone say thank you to fate for bringing them together *liked by landonorris❤️*

@User: not lando liking this 😭🫶🏻

@.user1992: he’s so best boyfriend coded it’s not even funny anymore

@landosimp_4ever: the mirror photo ? the kiss ?? HELLO???

@.user900: my fav photo dump of the YEAR

@.yourusername: we just love a man who gets the angles right

@.landonorris: trained by the best

@.haileesteinfeld: okay but I’d pay to have this level of love

@.lilymhe: literal Pinterest couple.

@Y/N: 🫶🏻

---

Fan Tweets Compilation: #ynlando

@.user338: when he looked at her like she hung the moon on that awards night… yeah I felt that in my bones.

|

@.cinemagirlie: Lando watching Y/N on screen with his hand on his heart will forever be my favorite genre.

|

@.notdramaok: someone said they act like they’re in a rom-com written by Phoebe Waller Bridge and directed by Greta Gerwig and they were RIGHT.

|

@.papayaperson: remember that time he flew from Monaco to LA for 18 hours just to walk her to the red carpet? yeah. we don’t forget.

|

@ user827: I want what they have. And also her skincare routine.

|

@landosunshine: she called him her muse in that GQ interview and I haven’t known peace since.

.

[sweetiechenle]

sleepyhead ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁.ᐟ mark

pairing: non-idol!collegestudent!mark x afab!collegestudent!reader

summary: your friend and classmate mark helps you out in class after accidentally sleeping in, but the hint of a scribble in the notes he lends you threatens to rewrite your relationship.

w.c: 7.2k

warnings: mdni 18+, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, it's all fluff with a dash of light angst, reader is oblivious to marks advances, but he's kinda dumb too, idiots in love, mutual pining, kissing, confessions, soft smut, love making literally, oral (f receiving), porn with plot, unprotected sex (dont do this), praising, pet names, soft!dom!top!mark (god i need him), crack/humor, lots of time skips im so sorry, if i forgot anything oh well lmk, i used this idea for a different fandom YEARS AGO, i am too embarrassed to admit what fandom but if you find it and think i'm stealing i am not. promise. reblogs and feedback appreciated ♡ fiction ≠ reality

you yawned big and loud, trying not to give yourself away too much, you kept your limbs from reaching outward. mark, your seatmate, and kind of friend?, gave you an inquisitive look. as if to ask if you were okay. truth be told, it was all rock bottom. papers upon papers, presentations, reading, and a lab took up all of your time this semester. you met Mark at the beginning of the year in your ‘major writings of the european tradition I’. you sat near the front because of your bad vision and the brown haired boy came next to you saying the famous ‘is this seat taken?’ line to which you said no. this left him to plop down in the said seat he pointed at. you studied him hard, clad in a semi-tight shirt and worn jeans, his white tube socks poking out once he sat down. it was hard not to notice the dirty and distressed black converse, probably wearing them every day since he could fit in them. he had a boyish grin when he turned to you and asked about how your day was going, you blushed noticing how handsome he actually is. his bright eyes shown under the fluorescent light as he now asked you about the book you were reading. ‘the picture of dorian gray’ sat atop all of your other books from various classes. it was apparently his favorite book too. his lips curled into the brightest smile, excitingly talking about his other favorite books and authors. it was endearingly cute.

you both shared socials in order to stay in touch in case either of you had questions about the class. you two would talk occasionally, keeping a calm distance. sharing literary memes on instagram, sending book recommendations on tiktok, or texting each other late at night when one couldn’t sleep. you would periodically meet up with him to study, or whenever you were too tired to read whatever was assigned in class, mark would read it for you out loud in the comfort of his apartment. it was easy to consider him a friend. at the end of the semester you told him you signed up for major writings of the european tradition II. he pumped his fist in the air earning small giggles from you due to his overreaction. telling you how happy he was that you’d be in the same class again. that’s where you are now, with mark still sitting next to you, listening to the same boring more advanced lecture. you loved literature and being an english major, but sometimes you don't know how many more reading and analysis’ you can take of the odyssey.

glancing at the clock you sighed, an hour left of class. pain was all you knew at this moment, you underslept last night, working on an essay for a speech writing class, trying to get it all down perfectly in order to impress your professor. you didn’t realize it was well past three in the morning when you finally had finished, all you wanted to do right now was go back to your apartment and nap until your next class in four hours. you drowned out the professor and whatever was being said about odysseus and what he got himself into this time. placing your chin on your closed fist, your vision drifting in and out of blurriness, and before you knew it you fell asleep. you gasped when mark nudged you awaken eyes going wide in surprise making him laugh a little bit.

‘dude, you fell asleep, class is over y/n’ mark said once you looked over at him, still in his seat next to you, almost everyone had already left.

you sighed running your fingers through your already messy hair, ‘ugh, i’m sorry, i didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.’

mark laughed, ‘oh, i can tell’

you scowled at him, earning another laugh from the taller man as you both stood up. at least it was friday, and you’d have the whole weekend to catch up on homework, and sleep. ‘want to go get coffee since you’re such a sleepyhead? need to keep you awake somehow’ mark asked, scratching the back of his neck, nervously rocking back and forth. you smiled at how red his ears were, waiting for your response. when you first met, he would occasionally get nervous around you, to which you never knew why, never thinking of yourself as anything special. but you noticed he got anxious around almost everyone after first meeting people. much like yourself, after a while mark started to get more comfortable with you, becoming more confident, and increasingly charming, however he could never hide the facade he tried to put on when asking to hang out outside of class. he would suddenly become a meek and shy, not the confident, outspoken boy you saw almost every day. 

‘yes, that would be perfect’ you answered, ‘caffeine is much needed right now’ mark smiled and led you to the open door of the classroom, motioning you to go through first. it was pretty pathetic when butterflies erupted in your stomach, standards weren’t high for you, obviously, the smallest gesture from mark made you turn to putty. you didn’t have a lot of relationship experience, most of the time boys would lead you on, only to tell you they were never ready for anything. only a few longer relationships would end up in flames, men too toxic for you to continue on any longer. every time, earning a vow from you that you would never talk to another boy ever again. you could tell mark was different from anyone you had ever met, he was genuinely sweet and always helped whenever he could, profusely apologizing when he was too busy to come and help you study. you’ve always liked mark more than you should, it was really hard not to, anytime you ever talked about mark to anyone else, only nice things were discussed. you would never admit to harbored feelings for him, he was lovely to everyone, how could you be any different?

after a while, he started walking in front of you to the coffee shop on campus, stealing glancing at you just to make sure you were still following him, making your heart ache so hard the caffeine you were about to consume would probably kill you. entering the coffee shop turned your tired state into total bliss, a welcome and much needed break. ‘oh! there’s johnny, let’s go sit with him’ mark exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you near the table in the back. before you knew it, a tall man with raven black hair was standing up and greeting you and mark. he was older than you and mark, a senior that your friend had met during his freshman year of college. you had met johnny before, a handful of times, and for brief moments. mark would always talk about his other friends with you. he’d tell you that ‘you just have to meet them’, but whenever the time would come it would be short meetings, a hi and bye.

mark brought out your chair and gestured for you to sit down, saying that he would go order you both coffees, leaving you with johnny. he turned to you and smiled, to which you returned, trying to register what mark had just done for you. god you really need to get higher standards, hard albeit mark being your standard. johnny asked you about school and how you are doing with all of it, you asked him similar questions, watching mark disappear in the line for coffee. you didn’t notice johnny calling your name over and over, only when he had gotten up close and personal in order to get your attention. you jumped slightly after the fifth ‘y/n!’

you quickly looked over at him, calming him down, ‘jesus y/n, where did you go? staring at mark? i know he’s pretty but-’

you cut him off, ‘would you keep your voice down!? i wasn’t staring at mark, i was just thinking…’ it was hard to keep the blush from creeping up and having it wash over you like a tsunami.

johnny gave you a knowing look, ‘... thinking about mark’ 

you glared at him, ‘can we stop talking about mark, please’ desperate to leave this conversation behind, but speak of the devil and he shall appear.

‘why are we talking about mark?’ you and johnny whipped your heads up in surprise, mark standing there with a grin on his handsome, stupid face. holding two coffee cups in each hand, asking in the third person as to why you were both discussing him while he was away.

‘n-nothing, we were just talking about our english class’ you explained quickly trying to save yourself from embarrassment.

johnny just nodded while mark, handed you your coffee and sat down, joining you both at the table in extreme awkward silence. mark broke the ice, ‘y/n fell asleep in class today’ he smirked and looked your way, catching your reaction of groaning and hiding behind your small coffee cup as you took little sips.

johnny laughed along with mark, wishing that the ground would open you up and swallow you whole, ‘it was so funny, the professor didn’t even notice!’ the older boy laughed along with his friend at your plight to fall asleep so easily in class. ‘you even snored a little bit, oh my god, it was so cute!’ he squealed. CUTE!? your eyes went wide, ignoring the embarrassing part about snoring in class. mark called you cute. johnny turned to give you that knowing look again, this caffeine was definitely going to give you a heart attack. this was going to be a long weekend.

monday morning rolled around, the weekend was spent writing papers, reading epic poetry, and sleeping. and also the occasional mental breakdown when you recall that mark called you cute. sunshine hit your face, and that’s when you figured you couldn’t stay in bed any longer. you rubbed your eyes hard and stretched your body out in bed, dreading the fact that you’ll have to get yourself up and ready to learn about some new epic now that the lesson over the odyssey was over. you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, your bones practically jumping out of your body when you realized you had only an hour left of class. you had overslept and missed the first hour of class, fuck. you hurried to get ready, not giving any mind to your appearance, jeans, and a hoodie would do. you texted mark ‘i overslept ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡), just woke up, i’ll be there soon. my chair still open?’ closing the door to your apartment, you marched out into the warm weather, mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassment you were about to face once you walked into class late. eyes peeled to your phone, the delivered immediately turned into read, mark texted back ‘always, sleepyhead’ you rolled your eyes, too much in a rush to get flustered by the nickname this time, shoving the phone in your pocket you continued walking to the humanities building.

you slipped in through the door in the back, making sure it wouldn’t slam shut, praying to any god who would listen to not get called out. thankfully, your prayers were answered, no one said a thing for the rest of class, only mark who gave you a smile once you sat down. you were lost the entire rest of class, the professor going into depth about the cantos and then switching very rapidly to beowulf then to dante’s inferno. maybe you should’ve stayed home. once class ended, mark started putting everything in his backpack, grabbing his wrist to stop him, he turned towards you with his eyebrows up in question and surprise.

‘can i borrow your notes mark? please? i literally had no idea what was going on since i was late’ you were practically begging at this point, but before you could grow any more desperate, mark chuckled and handed you his notebook for this class that continued to lay on the table.

‘i guess you beat me to it, why do you think i left my notebook out?’ mark smiled and handed you the red, worn out notebook. you let out a thankful sigh, some weight lifting off your shoulders, your standards were fucked by now.

‘thank you so much mark, i really owe you one, i’ll have it back to you by tomorrow.’ you reassured, giving him a genuine, thankful smile.

later that evening, back at your apartment, you took mark’s notebook out from your backpack. you had finished all the work for the classes you did attend today and now it was time to move on to the bane of your existence. opening up his notebook to find the most recent entry, your eyes finally landed on notes about dante’s inferno and whatever gibberish the professor was spewing when you showed up. reading about the layers of hell and how it has to do with the other epic’s was further explained by mark in his notes. flipping the page, your eyes caught something in the corner. taking a closer look, you sat up from the couch and moved towards the light. you gasped upon seeing what was written, erased, and written and erased again over the left side of the page. poorly drawn hearts with the words ‘sleepyhead’ written inside littered the far left corner of mark’s notes. this surely wasn’t about you… could it? you singled out the piece of paper, moving it into the light in order to see through it, double-checking your suspicions. and sure enough, there they were clear as day. it looked as though mark drew them on the paper and had tried his hardest to erase them, yet still somewhat visible, you didn’t have four eyes for nothing after all. ‘fuck’ you cursed out, staring at the faded drawing and words. this was your own personal inferno.

the next day was like no other, barely any sleep and when you woke on time you contemplated not going at all. however, you promised you’d bring mark his cursed notebook back. the very notebook that had been plaguing your mind since you discovered its hidden contents last night. that's what kept you up so late, you couldn’t simply forget about it and let it go. you debated asking him about it, but if it had nothing to do with you, then you’d probably have to change your name, face, and leave the country all together. but after all how many people did he call ‘sleepyhead’… probably 5, max. you had to investigate, test the waters and see what this was truly all about. you had to come up with a plan.

you got up and started walking around your room, getting ready, you put a lot more effort into your outfit, jean shorts and a cute baby t-shirt you think would catch any person’s attention. walking to class, it was brisk, the wind nipping at your arms and legs. you shuddered, bringing your hands up and down in order to try to redistribute your warmth. you finally got to class and the nervousness had taken over your system, totally forgetting about the cold and now terrified to face your friend. your body shook, shuffling to your seat, seeing mark on his phone waiting for class to start. you let out a tense breath, trying to settle your uneasy heart and stomach. you pulled out the chair, startling the boy next to you, his soft hair jumping slightly and moving away from his face, his eyes shining up at you. his mouth curls into a smile, going from ear to ear, it was infectious, you gave him a small smile back despite your stomach churning in the worst way possible.

‘you finally decided to come to class on time’ he joked, poking your shoulder lightly.

you playfully rolled your eyes at him, getting everything out for class ‘i barely even slept last night, i closed my eyes, and then boom my alarm was going off…’

mark’s smile faltered and eventually dropped upon hearing your confession of getting little sleep. ‘by the way,’ you grabbed the wretched notebook from your bag, handing it to mark, ‘here’s your notebook back, the notes really helped, thank you’

mark took it from your hand, ‘it’s no problem, if you need any more you can always ask’

you smiled, and turned towards the front of the class as soon as the professor walked in. putting any thoughts of mark in the back of your mind and bringing forth your plan. every once in a while you could arrive late, it's not like you’d be penalized for missing class, your professor never took notice. it would just be on you if you never showed up and somehow failed the semester. but with marks help, there was no way you could fall that far behind.

over the next couple of days, you and mark would hang out sporadically, studying together or watching movies. after a couple of days, you finally decided it would be time to try and be late to class again. to be fair, you had an essay to start that was due in two days, so staying up and working on it and accidentally sleeping in would be the perfect excuse. silently hoping this wasn’t going to come back and bite you in the ass.

flash forward to the next day: it did. you woke up with only 30 minutes left of class, less than what you originally wanted. thankfully, you did finish the cursed essay at four in the morning, you woke up to your alarm blaring, not even realizing how many times you snoozed it. grabbing your phone from the night stand you stretched and got up, getting changed for class and heading out.

opening up your messages you internally groaned, seeing about five messages from mark reading:

‘dude, where are you??’

‘no way you overslept again( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)’

‘don’t worry sleepyhead, i’m taking notes for you’

‘also, the professor mentioned a project and let us pick partners’

‘i told her you were my partner .. if that’s okay •⩊•’

you squealed into your hoodie sleeve, trying to keep a hold on yourself, but this was too much, the cute aggression getting to you so bad you punched the air. after getting some weird looks you hurried to class, slipping through the big double doors you immediately spotted the brown haired boy, silently cheering that no one was sitting with him you moved towards him and your seat. once you made yourself known to his presence, he gave you a small smile that made your heart crescendo, brought on by the growing feeling of love coming to a climax.

‘hey’ he whispered beside you, keeping his eyes on the professor who continued to lecture.

‘hey’ you answered back.

‘late again?’ he tsked, shaking his head slightly, ‘what am i gonna do with you?’

your hand covered your mouth, trying to hold back a giggle, ‘i stayed up later than i should’ve last night, i had an essay to finish’

‘oh, of course,’ he slide his notebook to you, ‘i got some notes for you about today’s lecture and about the project. we should plan on when to meet up to work on it… the professor has been ranting about plato for the last hour, so you haven’t missed much’

you nodded and grabbed his notebook and slid it into your backpack, trying not to show much nervousness over such a simple gesture. once class ended mark turned to you.

‘i have to meet with johnny, so i’ll catch you later’ you nodded and he smiled, his lopsided lips curling up complimented his boyish charm, making your insides twist and turn. ‘i’ll text you later about the project’

he moved to grab his backpack from the floor, without thinking you grabbed his shoulder softly, he whipped his head around, eyes now wide from the sudden touch, backpack forgotten. ‘uh-h, ha-ave a good day mark’ you said, giving him an innocent smile. his features immediately softened, that tender smile coming back on his lips.

you let go, watching him stand up from his seat, now staring up at his gorgeous face, ‘you too, pillow poet’

the new nickname felt like whiplash, like a 20 car pile up in your heart, every emotion crashing into each other, hard to make it out alive. glued to your seat, you stared at nothing now, the ghost of where mark once stood. you didn’t move until your professor knocked on your desk, promptly telling you to get the hell out.

later that night you had to build up the courage to actually open up mark’s notebook this time, his texts blowing up your phone going left unanswered. your roommate, yeri, had came back from class and asked why the hell you were staring at a closed notebook on the coffee table in the shared living room.

you sighed, ‘its complicated’

she dropped her bag and deadpanned, lips formed into a straight line as she rolled her eyes, ‘its a notebook’

you dropped your head into your hands, admitting defeat, ‘it’s not about the notebook,’ you sighed dramatically, pouting, ‘it’s about what’s inside…’

yeri gave you another eye roll and moved towards you, grabbing the notebook from the coffee table, she opened it and started flipping through the different pages, you looked up after hearing the rustling of pages, ‘it’s just notes!’ she cried.

you groaned and stood up, now facing her. you grabbed the notebook out of her hands, you found the most recent section of notes and scanned the pages, chest beating profusely. you stopped once you finally found what your heart was searching for, half erased hearts with various words inside, you took the page closer to the light on the ceiling.

‘sleepyhead’ ‘cutie’ ‘bedbug’ okay, not that cute, but the sentiment was still present.

yeri, now questioning if you really had lost it or not, grew concerned. ‘what is it?’ she moved closer to you, trying to decipher what it was you were so intently looking at. you grabbed her by the arm and brought her closer to you, nodding up to where you were holding the paper in the light, ‘look’.

‘y/n, what the hell am i looking at? stop being weird, it’s freaking me out’ she pouted and took a closer look.

‘mark…’ you trailed off, ‘i found them last week, i asked to borrow his notes because i was late to class, and he drew all these things and looked like he tried to erase them… i don’t know, oh my god, i sound crazy’ you handed the notebook to her and went to sit on the couch again and grovel.

yeri stood near the light, doing the same thing you were and tried to find what you were talking about, ‘oh’ she said, lowering the notebook and moving over to you, ‘do you think these are about you?’

‘i don’t know, if they were don’t you think he would be trying to hide it better? but how many people does he know that are late to class and oversleep!?’ you cried.

yeri’s eyebrows crease in deep thought, then it hits her, ‘maybe… he wanted you to find them’

‘why couldn’t he just tell me all of this himself?’ you questioned, second-guessing everything.

‘i’ve only met mark a handful of times and let me tell you,’ she placed her hand on your shoulder, ‘he is the most awkward person, ever, this could just be his way of flirting’

you didn’t say anything and continued to stare at your roommate, still standing with mark’s notebook. ‘you should talk to him about it’ she said, you stood up abruptly, eyes going wide.

‘no way dude, i can’t’ you tried justifying yourself but yeri cut you off.

‘ugh’ she groaned, ‘i forgot you are almost as awkward as he is, you like him though, don’t you?’ you gave her a little nod, embarrassed by the sudden interrogation. ‘next time you see him, just ask him about it, the worst thing he can do is say no and you both move on with your life, just a little misunderstanding’

you sighed and nodded again, agreeing to ask him about it so yeri would get off your back. you grabbed your phone, knowing mark had texted you earlier you finally decided to bite the bullet and answer him. four messages from mark went unread:

‘y/n, will you be free tomorrow to work on the project?’

‘y/nnn where did you go, i know you are awake’

‘or are you? smh, damn sleepyhead’ your mind screamed ‘AGAIN WITH THE NICKNAMES’

‘u better not be late tomorrow, i can only take so much european writing without you (  •̀ - •́  )’

you wrote and deleted your message to him about ten times before settling on a basic:

‘sorry mark! i (surprisingly) did not fall asleep, just talking with my roommate, i should be free tomorrow to start the project („• ֊ •„)’

three text bubbles popped up and he immediately texted back

‘gr8, c u tomorrow, get some rest’

the next day was an off day from classes, you and mark had discussed meeting somewhere in the library. but that would hinder you from asking him about his little drawings so you told him to come to your apartment, perfect knowing yeri would not be there. yet, it was as imperfect as perfect could get, the setting would be right, but your thoughts were all over the place. not planning out how this could go, most, if not all of your ‘plans’ were half-assed. you’d just have to wing it this one time.

mark showed up when he said he would, which was exactly a mark thing to do, you were just unprepared. stressing out as the minutes counted down, you opened the door and let him inside, he smiled and walked towards the couch, placing his things on the coffee table. ‘shall we get started?’ mark said, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

‘so, the project is over any story of our choosing, did you have one in mind?’ he asked, turning towards you on the couch. fuck, he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek, it smelled like mint and coffee.

‘oh yeah, i thought we could do icarus’ you answered, hoping he would agree, the story just hitting a little too close to home right now. in a sense, mark was your sun, and you were icarus, flying a bit too close every time you were near him. getting burned with reaching to conclusions that he actually liked you, getting your hopes up that he felt the same way, hoping to not fall to your death and lose him as a friend if this all was just a misunderstanding.

‘that's a great idea! i think we should be able to get through this project quickly with all the information we can get on the story’ he beamed, and you smiled back, slightly faltering from the nervousness running through your body.

‘are you okay? you seem out of it…’ he asked, more so concerned with you than the project.

you sighed, terrible at keeping your emotions from coming out, mark took notice to your anxious behavior. it was now or never. ‘mark’ you said his name like you both were already in a relationship and about to give him the ‘we need to break up talk’, you could tell he felt the exact same when he started fidgeting beside you. ‘can i ask you about something?’

‘of course, anything’ he answered, voice wavering in concern. you knew he was staring but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look anywhere in his direction, fearing that if you did, you would chicken out. you mentally screamed at yourself to stop and not do anything to jeopardize your friendship with mark. you had to remind yourself ‘the worst he could do is say no’.

‘oh, by the way, i forgot to ask, do you have my notebook?’ you could tell mark was trying to ease the tension, but because of the mention of that damn notebook, it only made it worse.

‘yeah about that…’ you started, having no idea how to ask about this, ‘i uh, wanted to ask you about something i saw in your notebook…’

mark, tilted his head to the side in confusion, ‘like some of the notes i left? i tried to be as thorough as i could…’

you picked at the skin on your fingers, ripping away the flesh in order to try and calm yourself down, ‘erm, no, something else i saw… some, um, drawings…’ you wished for nothing but this couch to swallow you whole and never spit you back out. you couldn’t tell what mark’s reaction was since you refused to look at him, but the silence gave you more answers than what you initially asked.

you peeked to the side, mark now had his head in his hands, rubbing his temple, cheeks dusted pink, you knew you caught him in something. ‘dude… this is so embarrassing’ he laughed. you didn’t say anything in response, just wanting him to continue explaining himself. ‘i thought i erased those, oh my god. how much did you see?’ he asked.

‘i think almost all of them…’ you rubbed the back of your neck, picking at the hair back there.

‘oh’ he said, his mouth turning into a perfect o. ‘that was not the way i wanted to tell you’ mark stated, still acting shy next to you. if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack, it would’ve been endearing.

‘tell me what?’ you whispered, turning away from him so he wouldn’t notice the pink dusting over your cheeks.

mark stared at you, now sitting up and his shoulders straight, ‘that um, that i like you’ he said, ‘i don’t know i got bored in class and doodled in my notes, after i realized how stupid and cheesy it felt i erased them and tried to forget… guess i didn’t erase them hard enough’ he smiled at the memories of it all. ‘i wanted to tell you, but i didn’t know how to go about it, i’m not good at things like this, i don’t know, confessing i guess… i wasn’t sure if you felt the same, so that’s why every time i tried to tell you i liked you, my plans always fell through’

mark grabbed your shoulders and lightly forced you to face him, taken back by surprise your ears grew hot, now staring into his eyes he smiled, ‘but you’re here now and asking about my lovesick doodles, and i want to tell you… that i like you… i like you so much y/n, studying with you and being with you in class and outside of class, you are cute, funny, caring, and you work so hard for your classes i wish i had the will to stay up at ungodly hours to finish any of my essays, we like the same books and we talk about the nerdiest stuff no one else would… i think you’re perfect’. he stopped, his eyes looking into yours trying to search for any reaction, he looked desperate. ‘sorry, i, uh, got a little carried away there’ he cheeks bloomed into a deep red.

‘mark’ you felt wetness pool at the base of your eyes and roll down your cheeks, not even realizing you were crying mark reached out and whipped the tears away with his thumb. ‘i really like you too… that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me i-’ he cut you off, throwing himself onto you in a huge bear hug, making your back crash into the couch due to the weight now on you.

he got up, now hovering over you, he stared deeply into your eyes, ‘y/n… i want us to be a couple or something? whatever you are comfortable with, i want to be able to read you any stupid 100 year old story any time you’ll let me’

your eyes softened, gazing into his it was like a thousand stars shining in the night sky, you could see and feel every emotion he was talking about. pure love. there was no doubt, no sun to scorch your waxed wings, withstanding fear and questioning. with him you could now fly as far as he would take you.

‘oh mark’ you said breathlessly, throwing your arms around his neck, yanking him down so his lips could meet yours. it took a second for him to realize what was happening, but soon enough he was moving his lips in synch with yours. his hand still placed next to your head, holding himself up, as his other one moved to your face to lightly caress your cheek. after a minute or two, you could barely breathe, so you broke the kiss in order to regulate your breathing. you look up at mark, who continued to stare at your lips, ‘mark, you’re the one who is perfect’

this time he initiated the kiss, putting his body weight more on you, his hand now moving to explore your body further, you could tell mark was excited as you could feel his bulge on your thigh. his tongue licked over your lips, silently asking for access, which you granted immediately, letting your tongue slip into his mouth, tasting the mint and coffee that he had previously consumed.

‘mark’ you whispered, lust overclouding your senses, ‘i want you’

mark audibly groaned, your words obviously having a certain effect on him as he pushed his hips into yours making you moan in response. he kissed your lips again, moving onto your neck, sucking brusies into the sensitive skin there. mark got off of you and sat up, removing his shirt to which you followed, throwing the clothing somewhere on the floor. going back into position, mark kissed your chest, grazing your breast that was still covered by your bra. he didn’t mind, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible, that was until you decided to take it off anyways, throwing it somewhere over your shoulder. mark went back to work, sucking on one nipple, while twirling and pinching the other between his fingers, earning moans from you.

mark suddenly stopped, lifting his head to look at you, ‘do you want to go further?’ he asked sincerely.

‘yes, mark, please’ you breathed, curling your fingers around his broad shoulders, lightly bringing him back towards your chest. he chuckled at your eagerness, peppering kisses down your stomach, finally reaching your buttoned up jeans. ‘can i take these off?’ you nodded, he unbuttoned your jeans and yanked them down and off, leaving them on the floor with the rest of the clothes. he could see the wet patch that formed in your underwear, earning a moan from the boy on top of you. mark ghosted over the spot with his finger, making you twitch in response due to the light, yet scandalous action.

he slid your underwear off, leaving them somewhere on the couch. you watched him silently as he stared at your core, looking like a man who had been without water for at least a century. he dove in, licking a strip up your pussy, making you moan out in response. mark continued to lightly suck, adding a finger into the mix. he slowly pushed it inside your opening, wetness gathering at the base of his finger, ‘you taste… it’s perfect… you’re perfect’ he whispered, gazing up into your glossy eyes, overtaken by craving him. he added a second finger, stretching you out. ‘mark…’ you groaned, feeling him hit the sweet spot inside of you made your head spin and insides twist. ‘i’m gonna come…’

‘not yet’ he whispered, he exited your core, earning a whimper from you due to the sudden loss, ‘don’t worry, i’ll take care of you’ he kissed your cheek, standing up from the couch in order to take his own pants off. you could see his member throbbing inside his briefs, you swore you almost started drooling. mark came back down to lay on top of you, kissing you again, more sensibly, softly, slowly. savoring the moment with you, the delicate and gentle touches almost making you cry again from just how sweet he was, how much he showed that he cared about you.

he broke the kiss, you stared into his eyes, caressing his cheek gently, mark melted into your touch, closing his eyes and burying his face closer to your grasp. ‘you are so beautiful’ you stated to him. his skin kissed by the sun, the features adorning his face; making up gorgeous art on a blank canvas that someone like da vinci would be furious not to know of such beauty.

‘do you want to keep going? we don’t have to if you don’t want to, i want to take my time with you, with us…’ he explained.

you cut him off with a peck to his lips, making his smile grow wider, ‘yes, i want to if you do… i feel the same way’ he kissed you, much like you did with him, confirming his feelings yet again.

he slid off his briefs, leaving you both fully naked in each other's presence, since the sun had started to set when mark came over the only light provided was the soft glow of the lamp behind you on the side table, making the sweat that graced his chest shine. ‘if you get uncomfortable please let me know and i’ll stop’ he whispered, you nodded in response, heartbeat picking up due to his kindness. he sighed and carefully lined his member up with your entrance, the shakiness of his hands having him try a couple of times to get it in, you could tell he was nervous.

he slowly pushed inside, giving you ample time to adjust, ‘that’s it’ he breathed in your ear once fully inside, ‘fuck you’re so tight… so perfect’ you moaned at his words, digging so far deep into you and leaving many traces in your mind, words you’d never forget. he readjusts your legs, giving him deep access into your womb, now in a missionary position. mark started moving, slowly thrusting into you at first, you wrapped your legs around his back, trying to keep him as close as possible, which he didn’t seem to mind. his lips moved to yours, the simple kisses shared spoke volumes-no hesitation, the pastel feeling of everything you both never said to each other, lost on fleeting glances in class, heart doodles on paper, and the way he would read to you without argument, buying you coffee, smiling whenever you’d enter the room. the soft kisses subdued any fear you held over this relationship. you loved him.

mark occasionally groaned into your mouth, and in return you moaned, sharing sounds and soft touches over each other's body. ‘you’re taking me so well like you were made for me. fuuck’ he keened at the way you held him inside. he started moving faster, but still acting as careful as ever with you. his hips snapped down on yours, earning strained grunts from you, head spinning as he continued to hit your sweet spot in all the right ways. ‘y/n’ mark moaned, ‘i-i love you’. you cried, the barrier breaking open the flood waters, you silently shed tears into his shoulder, the hot tears running down his arm and chest. ‘i always have, e-ever since i met you’ his trusts started growing erratic, faster, snapping his hips into yours with a force that had you seeing stars. you could barely comprehend any type of language at this point. you were about to reach your breaking point, feeling the heat collect at the bottom of your abdomen, the rope you were holding onto ready to snap.

mark seemed to take notice due to your internal struggle of letting go, mumbling in your ear about a bunch of different phrases. ‘it’s okay baby, you can let go’ and ‘come for me’, it was at the point where he whispered ‘i got you love, i got you’ you felt yourself starting to slip from the rope, letting go and the rope snapped, letting it all out and moaning out marks name, locking your eyes on his. your toes curled, body threatening to collapse in on itself like a black hole with mark at the event horizon, wanting to suck him in.

as you tightened around him, his thrust grew more sporadic, out of rhythm, trying to catch his own release now. with one last thrust, he stilled and emptied into your womb, you could feel how deep he was and the hotness of his come filling you up so perfectly. mark panted, overcoming the mountain of exhaustion after reaching his peak. his forehead fell onto yours as you also tried catching your breath. mark smiled down at you, love filling his eyes, adoration shining in yours. ‘you’ he started, regulating his words to come out more clearly, ‘you are part of my existence, part of myself. you have been in every line i have ever read’

you playfully rolled your eyes, the audacity of this english major, ‘you did not just quote charles dickens while balls deep inside of me’

he laughed, as if that was a queue to pull out, mark left his place inside of you and went to the bathroom, returning with a damp wash cloth in order to clean you up. gently whipping you down, after he threw the towel into the laundry room. mark picked you up and walked you to your room, slowly slipping you into some fresh new clothes, while he put on clothes that yeri kept at the apartment for her boyfriend. surely she wouldn’t mind.

you both climbed into bed, eyelids growing heavy he held you in his arms, head resting against his chest in the quiet darkness, ‘mark’ you said, voice small, he hummed, ‘i love you too’

‘sleep in tomorrow, i’ll still be here’ he answered.

eyes crusted over and limbs numb, that was probably the best sleep of your life. you reached over to marks side of the bed, but it was empty, and you frowned. he said he would be here. you stretched and got up, slowly making your way towards the door, you opened it to an empty living room. you heard a sudden, but low crash of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. you walked slowly, not really knowing what to expect. but alas, speak of the muse, and he shall appear in the lines, your (now) boyfriend, mark, stood in front of the oven with a spatula in hand, flipping a pancake.

in the stillness of the afternoon, you didn’t make your presence yet known, and watched as he worked. the glow of the sun and the kitchen light reflected off of his hair ever so slightly, making it shine, it was as if only you two existed. he turned and smiled like he always did, ‘good morning sleepyhead’

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS GENERAL HCS DURING DATING ── .✦

a/n: my posts are barely getting engagement so it would be nice to reblog + like + cmmt tysm! Also

I’m so tired because I don’t know what I want to do with myself when like writing because I don’t have much ideas yk, (I do have a lottt of ideas just don’t want to like spam and idk how to like execute it correctly so ya) but I’m so grateful I’m back!

(Tags: batboys general hcs + fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Compliments: Dick will compliment you constantly, but they’re the slightly extra kind. “You look like you just walked off the cover of a magazine… Or like you’re about to rob a bank with your style, and I’m here for it.”

Date Nights: Dick is a hopeless romantic mixed a romantic flirty person. He'll plan elaborate date nights that are almost too perfect. You're having a candlelit dinner on a rooftop... until a mosquito swoops by, and you both spend 20 minutes trying to catch it.

Awkwardly Adorable: Dick tries so hard to be smooth, but when it’s just the two of you, he ends up tripping over his words, saying things like “I love you… like… in a non-creepy way… I mean, I know that sounds creepy but—“, “you know dick, you could’ve just told me you loved me no need for all that extra yapping.”

Sharing Food: He can’t resist sharing his food with you but will dramatically defend his fries. “No, you can't have any. This is the last one. You’ll be fine. It’s called 'the sacrifice of love.'”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Grumpy But Cute: Jason might be brooding and grumpy on the outside, but once he gets comfortable with you, he’s a sucker for giving you the best hugs. They’re just not as soft as you expect, because, well, he’s Red Hood and that’s not very 'soft' in his book.

Love Language: He definitely has a love language of throwing sarcastic remarks at you to show affection. “I’m just saying, you look so good, I might actually let you live longer than five minutes without me.”

Meme Sharing: Jason will share the funniest memes with you, and he will laugh harder than anyone else when you send him a reaction meme. You two could spend hours going through meme after meme while ignoring his patrol responsibilities.

Late Night Conversations: He’s always the first to text at 3 am just to say, “I’m not okay. Also, I think I might’ve made pasta in the Batcave, but it’s 80% burnt and half of the 20% is missing on the ground in other words, it’s fully burnt. You in?”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Puns & Dad Jokes: Tim is the king of puns. You might be mid-sentence talking about something serious, and he’ll sneak in, “Well, that’s egg-sactly what I was thinking.”

Organizing Everything: Tim will have a notebook just for your relationship. He organizes things like "future plans," "annoying habits to change," and “how we can both pretend to be normal in public.”

Overthinking: Tim might send you long, thoughtful texts about nothing and everything, then panic and delete them. Later, you get a short text that says, “Hey, I like you. It’s cool. Let’s go save Gotham.”

Netflix & Research: On date nights, Tim is all about watching a documentary on some obscure topic. You wanted to watch a rom-com? Nope. Tim says, “Let’s learn about the history of ancient pizza ovens.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Fiercely Protective: Damian will go full boss mode in a relationship. If someone even looks at you wrong, he’s ready to challenge them to a duel. You’ve never seen someone challenge a guy at the coffee shop to a sword fight over a latte until you met him.

Literally Shakespeare: He has this bizarre habit of reciting random Shakespeare quotes when trying to express his feelings. “My love for you is like a tempest, crashing and relentless. Also, I think you forgot to add sugar in my coffee.”

Jealousy: He’ll get jealous of even the smallest things. That random guy who offered to help you with your grocery bags? Damian’s glaring at them from across the parking lot, preparing his “You’re not worthy” speech.

Tenderness: Don’t be fooled by his brooding exterior. Damian will get you flowers (in his own way) — like a very dramatic single red rose that he purchased with the least amount of emotion possible, but you know he spent an hour picking the perfect one.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Grumpy But Loyal: Bruce is that partner who takes a long time to warm up to things, but once he’s in, he’s in 100%. He’ll still be grumpy, though. If you show up in a bat-themed shirt, you’ll get a raised eyebrow and a grunt that could probably level an entire building.

Affectionate In His Own Way: Bruce will bring you your favorite coffee without asking because he’s been paying attention to your usual order for the past six months. But if you say anything about it, he’ll act like he’s annoyed. “I’m Batman. I don’t do things for people.”

Overprotective: He’ll put the Batcomputer between the two of you if he’s feeling protective, even if it’s completely unnecessary. Someone bumps into you? Bruce is already three steps ahead, tracking their life history and figuring out their deepest secrets, just in case.

Romantic, But Quiet About It: Bruce can’t show his love through words, but the way he gives you his jacket when it’s cold speaks volumes. Of course, he acts like it was an accident. “I didn’t want you to catch a cold, that’s all. I’m not a softy, don’t read into it.”

GENERAL TRAITS FOUND IN THEM ── .✦

Matching Outfits: They’ll all pretend like they’re too cool for matching outfits, but one day they’ll catch themselves accidentally twinning with you, and neither of you can ever act normal again.

In Public: They’ll all act like they don’t care if you hold their hand in public, but if anyone tries to grab your hand instead, they’ll give them a glare that could freeze a person in place.

Batman’s Turtleneck: Every Batboy secretly loves when Bruce wears his iconic black turtleneck and glasses. They all think Bruce looks like a mysterious intellectual, and they might just start commenting on it to mess with him. Bruce is too focused on Gotham to care.

[littlemissrbf]

Summer Lovin’

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Fem!Reader

Y’all I am so late to the Bob Floyd hype train but I can’t stop thinking about giving him the full SoCal experience (Also is Bob actually from Montana or is that just a widely accepted hc ?)

(No use of y/n, fem!reader, reader is a SoCal native, language, for the purpose of this fic Bob is from Montana, reader has an annoying but loving uncle, I think this is gonna end up being a multi-part fic)

(Note: okay I made a lot of changes again because turns out, my memory is kinda shit and I completely forgot to add the parts with Maverick and the Rooster piano scene)

Part 1 [Word Count: 3.6k]

Next Chapter - Masterlist

Meeting a man like Robert Floyd had to be a moment of pure fucking luck.

The drive down to San Diego was a complete bitch. You were on your way to Naval Base Point Loma for your uncle’s retirement ceremony and of course, when you got there, you were stuck at the main gate because of your lack of military ID or spouse card. You needed your uncle to basically confirm that you are family and let you in. You grabbed your phone off its stand and snickered to yourself at the contact name from when he had this ridiculous mustache that he refused to shave

“Hey siri, call Wannabe Tom Selleck.”

After a few rings, he picked up,

“Ohh guess who finally decided to show up. Lemme guess, you need me to come buzz you in?”

“Yep.”

“Well what’s the magic word?”

You let out a groan and tried again,

“Can you please come get me, I’ve been driving for two hours and I feel like if I don’t stretch my legs in the next five minutes I’m gonna lose it.”

“Relax kiddo, I’m on my way.”

The ceremony started promptly at one and was over by two, your uncle spent the next hour showing your family around the base then you took family photos on the beach for a bit. At dinner, your relatives gave you the interrogation of a lifetime: asking about your school, work, and relationships. The last topic had you flustered as it had been a while since you’d actually dated anyone. Sure, you had some flings here and there, but nothing actually serious or worth bringing home to meet your family.

“You really ought to find yourself a military man just like your aunt, that way you only have to deal with him for about half the year, and you’d get the whole house to yourself while he’s away.”

Laughter erupted around the table, and your uncle smiled over his glass before speaking,

“Well that’s the case for about 20 years or so, then he retires and you’re stuck with him and his loud-ass snoring forever.” He lazily threw his arm around his wife, who rolled her eyes and smiled.

You reached out to hold her hand and asked, “Seriously Auntie, how have you put up with him for this long?"

She gave your fingers a squeeze and replied, “Well sweetie, he’s the love of my life, and I just have to remind myself of that sometimes. Especially when I’m thinking of smothering him with my pillow.”

The sound of laughter bounced around the restaurant, and you laughed along too, but your mind was still stuck on the idea of 'finding yourself a military man'. Of course, you wanted to find a good man to settle down with but it wasn’t that simple, it felt like literally every part of dating was a struggle for you, even meeting people was hard. And then there was the other thought, if you were to be with a navy/army/whatever guy who was deployed half of the year, is that something you could realistically handle. You'd never been in a long-distance relationship and you've heard the stories about military spouses who's partners cheat while away. Or what if he's perfect and you love him and everything is great- and then he gets stationed in another state. Then you would have to choose between staying close to your family or moving to stay close to him. Your uncle must have noticed you spacing out, or maybe he saw the way your eyebrows furrowed a bit as you pondered the hypothetical relationship with a military man. He took a piece of his napkin, rolled it between his fingers, and flicked it at you from the palm of his hand. It hit you right between your brows and you turned to him with a (greatly exaggerated) open-mouth face of shock, with a hand over your chest 'clutching your pearls'.

He threw his head back as he laughed at you,

“Geez Louise kiddo you’ve gotta lighten up a bit, maybe live a little.”

You scoffed “Gee thanks for the advice, any more suggestions on how to ‘live a little’ old man?”

Before he could respond to your sarcasm with his usual quips or a clever joke, a brilliant idea hit him like a brick, and you swore you could actually see the little lightbulb appear over his head.

“We’re going to the beach.”

The “beach” in question was actually a military-access beach on the north part of Coronado Island called “Breakers Beach”. Since it was a part of Naval Air Station North Island, it was only available to military personnel and their guests. You had given your keys to your aunt, who was ready to go home after a day in heels and her second glass of wine, so your uncle drove the two of you in his truck. Turns out, your little field trip to the “beach” was actually a little field trip to a bar called the “Hard Deck”.

You’d heard about it before in one of your uncle's stories, about two years back, he was arm-wrestling another officer at the bar when a man at the other end accidentally knocked over a drink. The wet counter caused his elbow to slip, he lost the match and got stuck paying for his buddy’s tab. Of course, he then grabbed the man from the end of the bar and dragged him outside by his collar (at least he had the "decency" to take him outside before bashing his face in). Turns out, the man was a Rear Admiral and the head of some program for fighter pilots, so maybe bashing his face in was not a good idea and probably would’ve resulted in a lifelong ban from the bar. They apologized, shook hands, and then did some shots together.

Your uncle pulled up to the gate with his ID ready, the man in the booth took it and looked your way, and you handed over your driver's license. He looked between the two of you and asked for your "relation?" Before you got the chance to respond, your uncle smiled at the man and clapped his hand on your shoulder like he was showing off a new car at the dealership,

“Oh, this young lady right here is my beautiful niece who just so happens to be single.”

Then he fucking winked at the officer and brought his elbow up in a “nudge-nudge” gesture.

You felt your heart stop. The son of a bitch was actively trying to get you a man.

“Oh my god please no” you begged with your face now buried in your palms, but he was still going at it with the poor guy who just stood there dumbfounded.

“I’m just saying if you’re single and she’s single-”

You cut him off, “Sir, I am so sorry please ignore him.” But he just couldn't shut the fuck up,

“See? Look how polite she is, son I’m telling you this is honest to God girlfriend material right here!”

Finally, the poor man spoke up,

“I uh- already have a girlfriend sir.” he gave a little shrug as he handed back your IDs and opened the gate.

Your uncle didn't miss a beat.

“Well in that case, son, you just dodged a bullet cause she’s actually a handful, you have a good night.” he said with a grin, then slowly pulled through the gate.

You waited until you were out of earshot,

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

After a few minutes of driving in complete silence, you made it to the bar and he pulled into a spot. Realizing that your uncle was about to go boyfriend hunting for you in a bar full of Naval officers you pulled down the sun visor’s mirror to check your face and hair. You had dressed up and done a bit more makeup than usual because it was his damn retirement ceremony and you knew your family was going to take pictures. You picked one of your nice dresses, a blue short-sleeved one that cut off just above your knees and was perfect for the warm weather, you wore some ankle boots with a small heel and a purse to match. You had no idea if you were overdressed or underdressed, and honestly, you don’t really know which is worse. Your uncle had changed out of his dress whites before dinner and now he wore just jeans and a polo shirt, so between the two of you, you definitely looked overdressed.

Your uncle made his way over to you as you hopped out of the truck, and put both hands on your shoulders,

"Here's the game plan kiddo, we're gonna go in there, get some drinks, and have a good time. I don't wanna hear any complaining. You're gonna go put yourself out there and meet some guys and get their numbers. And if anyone starts giving you trouble, I'll take care of it."

You looked up at him, nodded, and gave a small smile. Despite all the jokes and embarrassing moments from the day, it was nice to know that he cared and would protect you no matter what.

You sighed and turned towards the bar, thinking 'fuck it, I've got this'

Dear lord, you did not 'got this'. You did not 'got this' at all. The bar was completely full of patrons and it wasn't even six yet, and it was loud. All the conversations, the multiple pool games going on, and the music playing in the background layered on top of each other.

Your uncle agreed to stay with you for a bit while you worked up the nerves to go out on your own, you sat together at the corner of the bar facing towards each other. Your uncle strategically sat down so that he was facing the TVs, and you were facing the other end of the bar where the pool tables were. There was a group around one of the tables, all in their khaki uniforms, there were about ten or twelve of them in total, but a smaller group of five stood closer to the table chatting. A woman at the center caught your eye immediately, she was shorter than the men around her, but she carried herself with no less confidence. She was talking to two men standing together, probably good friends, and another two stood next to her, probably her friends.

Your uncle turned around to follow your gaze, then turned around once he saw the group you had been watching

"Someone's interested, alright which one of 'em is it?"

"Calm down, I was just trying to figure out what their uniforms are for."

"They're probably pilots."

"How can you tell?"

"Bunch of little nerds, just look at the one with the glasses over there."

You raised an eyebrow, there were about ten faces you skimmed over and absolutely none of them had glasses.

"On a stool, to the right. Look but don't be obvious."

You rolled your eyes and shifted your gaze past your uncle to look for the "little nerd" and sure enough, there he was. He was sitting on a stool with a cup of peanuts, watching the conversation in front of him. His hair was sandy blonde and styled nicely, he wore the same uniform as the rest of the group, and he had some huge fucking glasses which would've been ridiculous had he not been so good-looking. He's pretty cute- but of course, it's the one your uncle makes fun of that would catch your eye, you smiled as you thought to yourself.

Then he turned, and suddenly he was looking straight at you.

You immediately looked down, startled by the sudden eye contact, after a beat you looked up to see if he had turned away yet. He didn't. When he caught you staring a second time, a small smile crept up on his lips, and raised his hand to give a little wave. Damn it he's cute. You smiled back, but instead of waving back you looked down again in embarrassment and started fiddling with your hair. Your uncle did not miss the interaction,

"Seriously, him?"

"Dude stop he's gonna hear you."

"I mean, you do you kiddo but he's probably only gonna ever want to talk about Star Wars, and video games, and books."

"I like those things."

You peeked over and sure enough, he was looking too.

"You like 'em little nerds."

"Okay stop saying 'little' and 'nerds' you old man or I'm gonna start introducing you as my grandpa."

"Ya know what, just for that you're on your own, I'll be over there watching the game and you're gonna go socialize."

He grabbed his beer and slid off his barstool, giving your shoulder two taps as a 'good luck' before making his way over to a booth near the TVs where he joined a group of patrons he recognized.

When you turned again to see if the man with the glasses was still looking he was now talking to the group of pilots around him. You watched as he stood up from his chair, took the cue that was being handed to him by the woman from earlier, and began to set up a game of 9-ball for the group. You were a bit disappointed that his focus was on something else but relieved that you didn't have to immediately go and strike up a conversation, you wanted to prepare a little.

The sharp sound of a bell ringing snapped you out of your thoughts, and suddenly everyone was cheering and thanking this man sitting at the other side of the bar. You have no idea what the hell that was about but before you could question it, the woman behind the bar was looking straight at you,

"Can I get you something to drink hun?"

You looked down at your empty glass, considered a second drink, then thought better of it. If you were actually gonna go talk to Mr. Glasses it was not gonna be while inebriated. You smiled back at her and asked shyly,

"Could I actually get something without alcohol?"

"Of course, sweetie. I can get you water, soda, or maybe a Shirley Temple."

You hadn't had one of those since you were a kid. It's ginger ale with some grenadine and maybe a cherry, nothing special, but the nostalgia hits you like a truck.

"Can I get a Shirley Temple please?"

"Sure thing, hun. It's on the old man's tab"

You laughed thinking she'd overheard your conversation, calling your uncle an "old man", then you noticed as she gave a cold look towards a man sitting at the other end of the bar. So that's what the bell means.

You thanked her before turning again towards the pool tables to see if Mr. Glasses was playing but instead, a tall blonde man held the cue and Mr. Glasses was off to the side next to another pilot with a buzzcut. The second you locked eyes again you smiled quickly, so you didn't seem rude, and then turned away.

'Every time I look at him he's looking at me.' you smile to yourself as the lady comes back with your drink. She's absolutely gorgeous, piercing blue eyes and a pretty smile, and the way she calls you "sweetie" and "hun" makes your cheeks heat up. You introduce yourself, shaking her hand and she introduces herself as 'Penny'. She asks what brings you to Breakers Beach and you tell her about your uncle's retirement and how he brought you here to basically find yourself a husband. She chuckles at this and tells you to 'be careful with those aviators' before shooting another glare at the man on the other side of the bar.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs, "It's a long story."

Then she rips a long receipt from the machine, and winks.

"Watch this," she says, with a devilish grin plastered on her face and she walked back over to the aviator that had pissed her off so much, that she'd warn you to stay away from them altogether.

Someone had pulled the plug on the music and the sound of groans and complaints filled the silence, you saw a tall man wearing sunglasses and an aloha shirt make his way over to a piano and sit. He had the same kind of ridiculous mustache that you'd picked on your uncle for but somehow this dude pulled it off. He started playing when the sound of the bell filled your ears again, this time more aggressively. The patrons cheer and start chanting "overboard" and three of the pilots from earlier make their way over to the man, two grabbing each of his arms and the third picking him up by his legs. They carried him to the door as Penny shouted after him, "It was great to see you, Pete!" When the men made it to the door they literally threw him "overboard" out of the bar, you hoped that maybe the sand cushioned his fall.

When you turned back to the pool tables Mr. Glasses and everyone else had vanished, you scanned the bar and found them huddled around Mr. Mustache on the piano who began to play a song from that old movie "Jamboree". Damn it that man could sing, and play. The whole bar lit up, everyone singing and dancing along to the music, and you just watched from the bar, as if you were glued to your seat. You steal another glance at Mr. Glasses as he sang along, when you locked eyes you began to copy his little dance of bouncing his shoulders up and down, he tilts his head and a huge, boyish grin spreads on his face.

When the song ended, the crowd erupted with howls and applause, and Mr. Mustache began to do this funky little victory dance as the whole bar chanted the word "Rooster" over and over again. Mr. Mustache is apparently Mr. Rooster now.

The crowd begins to trickle back to their tables and you notice the group of pilots that had previously staked their claim on the pool tables now decided to make their way toward the bar for some more drinks. But Mr. Glasses decided to stay at the pool tables, he picked up the cues and began cleaning up a bit. You feel a little tug on your heartstrings, he must be awkward, he has to be. You had hoped he'd come up to you at the bar and strike up a conversation, you're pretty sure any other man would have by now with the number of times he's caught you stealing glances at him.

You thought back to your uncle's little pep talk, looking through the crowd you could see him chatting with a group of people, all of them smiling and laughing with each other. He was right, you're on your own this time and it's time to stop worrying and go live a little.

"Fuck it" you thought, you're just gonna walk up to him and introduce yourself then try to have a good conversation and hopefully get his number. If it goes well, great! And if it doesn't, then at least you know that you tried. You gather up the last bits of courage you can muster and you finish the last few sips of your drink. You wave a quick goodbye to Penny, slip off your seat, and start walking over to finally go meet Mr. Glasses.

He looks genuinely surprised when he notices you make your way over to him, when you're a few feet apart you manage to get out a small "Hi" which comes out way higher than you intended. Before you can introduce yourself, his eyes light up as he asks,

"Oh did you want to play?"

He smiles and extends one of the cues to you. You couldn't help the little sound of confusion that slipped out of your mouth,

"Huh?"

"Well, I noticed you look over a few times and I thought that maybe you just really wanted to play billiards."

"Oh"

Oh? Are you fucking kidding me- you'd just spent the last hour stealing glances and blushing at this guy from across the room, and he thinks it's because you just 'really wanted to play pool?!' You literally haven't played pool in years but now that he offered it would be too awkward for the both of you if you declined. But it's too late to turn back now, you decide that making yourself look like a fool in front of him is a price you're willing to pay if it means you can actually get to know him.

You smile sweetly as you take the cue from him, softly brushing his fingers with your own, and you introduce yourself.

"Oh I'm Bob. Bob Floyd."

"Bob?"

"It's uh- short for Robert."

"Robert Floyd" you repeated.

You thought for a second, then tried your luck,

"Would you mind if I called you Robbie?" you asked, tilting your head.

"No, not at all." he shook his head and a pink blush spread to the tips of his ears. He looked down and fixed his glasses with nervous fingers before looking back up at you. "I don't mind."

You smiled as you had your own little lightbulb moment.

"Tell you what Robbie, let's play 9-ball and whoever loses has to buy the winner a drink."

He stared at you for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open, then he swallowed and looked down quickly to pick up the cue chalk. He met your eyes again (oh god he has gorgeous eyes) and he smiled, confidently now, and replied

"You're on."

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

(Author's Note: oh this is already wayyy longer than I had planned. I've never really written a fic before and I kinda just use the dividers when I don't know how to move from scene to scene. Let me know if you have any writing tips or suggestions! - update: I just went in with a whole bunch of edits to fix the grammar and dialogue + added some scenes to make the fic a bit closer to the movie scene)

[kitkatscabinet]

MID DAY MADNESS

pairing: platonic batfam x batsis, kyle rayner x batsis! reader

summary: Turns out you are worth the burden of putting up with your family, you're so worth it he'll even put a ring on it.

word count: 2k

a/n: part 2 of early morning meetings but can be read standalone

Cassandra’s stare is heavy on your back as you pace, but you don’t dare to turn and meet her gaze head-on; you can’t handle the judgment or the pity.

What if you tripped? What if you ugly cried and it ruined all the photos? What if Bruce makes that constipated face during the vows again, like he did at Tim’s graduation? What if you forget your vows, or you stutter? What if you forgot how to breathe?

You grab the vanity for balance and take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help. Your lungs feel empty, the soft material of the dress you’d fallen in love with suddenly clinging to you like a vice. The exorbitantly expensive heels have long since been kicked off, even as Babs tries to coax them back on your feet as Steph finishes pinning your veil in place. 

Your heart is pounding like a drumbeat in your chest, and every minute sound feels as loud as a gunshot. The mirror displays a goddess, radiant and elegant. But you don’t feel like her. Not right now.

“You're not panicking,” you whisper to yourself, trying to manifest some sort of mind over matter response. “You’re not panicking. You’ve fought assassins. You’ve faced alien invasions. You’ve dealt with Damian. You’ve—”

“Oh wow, she is really freaking out.” Steph murmurs to Cass, which you barely hear over your mad ramblings. 

“This is insane,” you mutter to no one. “I can’t do this. This is insane. God, what if I throw up? That would be poetic. Gotham’s sweetheart and a Wayne at that, vomiting on the groom before saying I do. Great headline, excellent optics.”

Cassandra interrupts by taking your hands in hers, forcing your attention on her. “You're okay,” she signs "You're just in your head.”

“But what if—”

It’s Barbara’s turn to interrupt your spiral next. “Then you breathe. And you keep going.”

Her voice is far away. Distant. As if someone pressed cotton into your ears. 

You love him. You love Kyle more than anything. He’s waiting for you. He’s probably grinning like an idiot, fixing his tie wrong, because he always does. Because he wants to look good for you. Because he loves you too.

The door bursts open without warning, ricocheting off the wall with a bang. You’re so keyed up on nerves that you let out a screech, nearly throwing your bouquet at Dick’s face. 

“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE!” Barbara shrieks from the corner, but it’s too late. Dick, Jason, and Tim fall into the room like a chaotic hurricane.

Jason has two champagne flutes in one hand, fending off Tim’s fussing with his other as the younger boy attempts to fix Jason’s tie. The two squabbling loudly, Tim looking as if he’s about to sit on Jason just to get his way. Dick is… well, he looks more liable to burst into tears than you do. 

Dick’s crossing the room with a sniffle, looking like he wants to cup your face but knows better than to ruin your makeup. “You’re so beautiful.” He gasps, voice wobbling, “Kyle’s the luckiest man in the galaxy. He’s definitely gonna pass out when he sees you, little bat.”

Tim snorts. “I give him ten seconds. Tops.” But you’re too keyed up to find any humour in the situation. 

“Damn. You look like you’re about to be sick,” Jason comments, handing you one of the champagne glasses before Dick punches him in the arm. 

“I am going to be sick.” You collapse into the nearest chair.

“Relax,” Tim says. “It’s Kyle. He’d literally marry you in a dive bar if he could.”

“Yeah, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” Jason pauses, “Or you could just take off, Bat plane’s fueled up.” The hope in his voice lets you know exactly how much he's not joking.

“You are so not helping,” you hiss, trying not to laugh, because it’s either that or burst into hysterical tears, and Steph will kill you if you smudge your makeup. 

Damian steps in after them, a scowl marring his face, “sister, I attempted to stop them, but these imbeciles were intent on harassing you.”

You audibly coo then, nerves momentarily forgotten as you take in how adorable your baby brother is. “Oh, you look so handsome, Dami.” (You suspect it’s only the fact that it's your wedding day that stops him from kicking up a fuss when you lean down to place a kiss on his forehead.)

A guilty-looking Duke pokes his head in from behind the doorframe, and you motion for him to come in with a soft smile, pulling him into your side for a hug.

“You look really pretty.” He hugs you back before pulling away, studying your face with a look of concern. “Are you ok?” The question is quiet, a private conversation just for you, as the rest of your siblings squabble in the background. Affection swells in your being, momentarily overcoming your nerves.

“Just… nerves. Everyone will be staring; it’s just a lot. And what if I trip? Or say something stupid? Or I ugly cry so hard I throw up?” As the what-if scenarios spiral out of control again, so too does your anxiety. 

“Hey, hey, hey, breathe,” Dick steps forward, taking your hands in his. “Deep breaths. C’mon, do it with me.” You glare at him, thoroughly unimpressed with the patronising tone. “Come on,” he urges again, over-enunciating like you’re five. “In through the nose… out through the mouth…”

“I hate you.”

“That’s fair,” he says. “But breathe anyway.” You do. Slowly. “You’re just nervous because, for once, it’s not a mission,” he says, gently now. “It’s not a rescue. It’s not a strategy. This is for you. You deserve this. Kyle loves you more than anything in the world.”

“I know, he’s the only thing I’m not nervous about.” You admit, “Everyone’s expecting something perfect. It’s like I’m supposed to be a fairytale princess and a Wayne but also myself—”

“You don’t have to be anything but you,” Damian scoffs. “That’s who Rayner fell in love with. That’s who we all love. You’ve already won. The rest is just a show.”

“When did you get so eloquent and wise?” You reach for Damian again, his unexpected words of support nearly being the thing that finally gets the waterworks going. 

“Who are you and what have you done with the demon brat?” Tim eyes him warily, and you nearly smack him for it, but Cass beats you to it. 

Bruce appears in the doorway, knocking to gather the attention of his rowdy children. The furrow in his brow eases the second he lays eyes on you. For a few moments, he just stares at you, drinking you in. Then, in a soft, reverent voice, he says, “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Dad—” you croak, lower lip wobbling dangerously as he opens his arms. You cross the room before you even realise you’re moving, hugging him tight. He’s warm and solid, a steady, comforting presence that never fails to make you feel like a little girl again. 

“Ready?” he asks as your siblings finally filter out of the room, and all you can manage is a nod. 

“You’re going to be alright,” he murmurs, his voice rough in that emotionally constipated tone. “And Kyle is one lucky son of a bitch to get to do this with you.”

You laugh a little, then nod as you take his hand. His grip is steady and grounding, just like it was when you were little and scared of the dark. Just like it always is. “Thanks, Daddy.”

His expression softens. “Always.”

“I love you,” you whisper, curling your hand into the crook of his elbow and leaning against his bicep.

“I love you too, sweetheart, and I’m so, so proud of you.” You very kindly don’t point out the way his eyes mist up a little. Until he decides to tack on quietly "even if you picked a Lantern."

“You had to ruin it.” You glared, making the normally stoic man pout. Your adult father, pouting. 

“Just making sure that you’re sure, darling. You deserve to be happy.”

“I am happy dad, Kyle makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“He better keep it that way, or they’ll never find his body,” Bruce mumbled petulantly, and you can't help but giggle, feeling more loved than you ever have despite the threat on Kyle's life.

The gardens of Wayne’s manor have always been extravagant, but Stephanie and Damian have transformed them into something out of a fairytale. White chairs line the self-constructed aisle, flower petals strewn about from an enthusiastic Dick littering the soft grass that you prepare to walk over. 

“Would you all stand for the bride.” The officiant proclaims, the music swells, and heads turn to you and Bruce as your heart pounds in your ears. 

Bruce stands with you on his arm, suited to perfection, expression unreadable but eyes glassy with emotion. However, Kyle pays little attention to his father-in-law because the second he lays eyes upon his bride, everything else disappears. 

You’re smiling, looking at him like he hung the stars. But Kyle knows the truth. You hung the stars in his sky. You are the stars, you’re everything that’s brilliant and bright and beautiful in this galaxy and the next. 

Hal leans over, whispering in his ear, sounding amused, “Don’t cry, man. You’ll ruin the whole ‘cool Lantern’ thing.” It’s far too late for that, the tears already sliding down his cheeks silently. Not that Kyle even hears him, his entire focus devoted to the love of his life walking toward him.

“Hi,” you mouthed, smiling giddily at Kyle as you watched him sniffle. 

“Hi,” he whispers back, voice cracking a little as you take your place across from him, and you reach to grab his slightly trembling hands in yours. 

“You look so handsome.” You can’t take your eyes off him, and neither does he seem very inclined to look away from you. It’s like he doesn’t even want to blink for fear of missing even a second. The officiant starts to speak, welcoming the guests, but you hardly pay him any attention. How could you when Kyle was staring at you like that?

You’d both decided to save your personal vows for each other in private, not wanting your personal feelings and lives plastered all over some tabloid. You both repeat the vows after the officiant quickly, still never looking away from each other.

“You may now kiss —” The officiant doesn’t even finish the sentence before Kyle is surging forward, one hand cupping your jaw and the other wrapping around your waist as he kisses you deeply. Hal and Guy let out jeering whoops, and only the presence of Gotham’s high society and paparazzi prevents you from flipping them off. 

Kyle can practically feel the daggers Jason’s glaring at him from his place behind you, but for once, he doesn’t care. You’re his wife now and he’s going to kiss you goddamnit. 

“Ok, that’s enough,” Jason grumbled beneath his breath. 

You sigh against Kyle’s mouth, pulling back a little, just enough to rest your forehead against his before Jason has a meltdown. He’s staring at you desperately, like he’s trying to sear this moment into memory. 

Behind you, Dick lets out a loud sniff, pretending not to wipe at his eyes while Steph not-so-subtly fans her face. Damian mutters something about “unnecessary public displays of affection”, but even he can’t entirely suppress the soft smile tugging at the edge of his mouth when you turn to look at him with the happiest smile of your life. 

Jason, meanwhile, is still scowling. “Seriously, Kyle, if you don’t stop touching my sister, I will ruin your honeymoon.”

Kyle doesn’t even glance at him. “Worth it.” Because you were worth it, you were worth everything, even putting up with your batshit insane family.

[dirtyvulture]

The Maid - Part 3

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 3973

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: I am so glad everyone is enjoying this fic! Now we get to see who's guesses from Part 2 were correct...

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Things with Wanda have become increasingly difficult lately. Your temper inches shorter and shorter with every argument the two of you have, which seem to be almost every conversation now. After your night out with Natasha, which felt dangerously normal, you realized what you were missing with your own wife. But the two of you had been together for nearly a decade–surely there were bound to be rough patches, right?

“I have to work late tomorrow night,” you say as the two of you get ready for bed, and as soon as the words come out of your mouth you regret it.

“Late again? Really, Y/N?” Wanda shoots back. “I already made the reservation for our dinner. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Reschedule it?” you suggest, trying to hide your frustration. How many dozens of dinners (and anniversaries) had she stood you up?

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not doing that,” Wanda says, angrily climbing into bed and turning away from you. “If you can’t put the effort in to remember when we have dinner dates, then we’re not going to one.”

“You literally forgot our anniversary,” you respond, finally losing control of your temper.

“I did not forget,” she argues. “I had other plans that you forgot. And don’t use that tone with me. You’re not the one who should be annoyed right now.” Anger flares up inside you, but you hold your tongue. Arguing further with her would be pointless. You crawl onto your side of the bed and look over at your wife, balled up and small-looking under the covers.

You loved her. That was never a lie. But sometimes you wonder why you allowed her to cause you so much pain. Was it just to further prove your love to her? And how much more of it could you take?

***********************************************************************

After Natasha returns from picking up Wanda’s dry cleaning, she neatly hangs up the half-dozen dresses in the closet and begins dusting the house from top to bottom. It’s not an exciting chore, but due to the vastness of your home and the few people living in it, a lot of dust has accumulated and even she knows Wanda’s not exaggerating when she complains about her allergies acting up.

Natasha starts in your bedroom, carrying around a small stool to help her reach high places. She gently pats the dust off a plush teddy bear sitting on your dresser. She gets on her knees to brush the floorboards running along the perimeter of the room. Although the work is painfully dull, she finds satisfaction in the way her duster fibers turn grayer and grayer. She cleans the glass doors of the china cabinet with a special wipe, smiling at a little ceramic turtle perched on a shelf at eye level. She waltzes through the kitchen, which needs the least cleaning because she spends the most time there, but pauses to give special care to the rainbow-colored plastic cow looking out the window.

In the living room is a massive bookshelf that takes up an entire wall’s worth of space.Natasha doesn’t even know where to start, but she hops onto her stool and begins dusting the spines in every row. When she gets to the end of the fourth row, a title catches her eye: Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. She had read the book for the first time in its native Russian, and while it may not have been a child-friendly novel, it did bring back more fondful memories of her childhood.

She takes it off the shelf, surprised at its weight. It’s over 500 pages, but much heavier than she remembers. The front cover swings open and something big and metal falls out, nearly landing on her foot. Natasha gasps in surprise as she pulls her leg back, her eyes widening as she stares at the revolver on the floor.

She opens the book, finding a huge rectangle cut out of the center of the pages to house the weapon. Whose gun was this? Neither you nor Wanda struck her as physically violent people. Maybe it was for protection? 

The garage door rumbles open.

Natasha scoops up the gun with shaking hands and puts it back in the book, shoving it onto the shelf again. She grabs her duster and continues to dust the shelf.

“Natasha? Are you here?” Wanda’s voice rings out.

“In the living room! Good afternoon, Mrs. L/N!” Natasha responds, not turning around and staring at Crime and Punishment as if the gun will go off on its own.

“Why are you dusting our bookshelf?” Wanda asks. 

“I’m dusting the whole house,” Natasha answers. “Just want to make sure every area is clean–”

“You read?” Wanda interrupts.

“I can, yes.” Natasha has no idea where the conversation is going and her stomach twists in knots.

“I mean, do you read for fun?”

“Yes,” Natasha lies.

“You ever read Crime and Punishment?” 

Natasha just wants Wanda to leave her alone. “Yes.”

“A little advanced for you, don’t you think?” she says, and Natasha doesn’t even feel the need to defend herself from the cruel comment. She still hasn’t faced Wanda and wonders if she’s holding another revolver pointed at her back.

But Wanda is still waiting for an answer, so Natasha draws herself taller and says, “I’m Russian. I read it in high school.”

“Of course.” Wanda shifts her weight and the floor creaks. Natasha tenses and closes her eyes. “Well, I pay you to clean my house, not read my books. So keep your hands off my copy. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Footsteps indicate Wanda is going to another room.

Natasha has never been genuinely scared of Wanda until now.

***********************************************************************

It’s laundry day in your household, another chore Natasha completely despises due to the sheer amount of bedding you and Wanda seem to accumulate. Wanda insists that she wash the sheets in every guest room, despite the fact that you and her only sleep in the master bedroom. While Natasha is certain she knows the real reason, she overheard her telling you it was to prevent bed bugs. 

Still, Natasha knows better than to question your wife and falls into the routine of stripping every bed, washing one load at a time, and redoing all the beds. The laundry machine is so noisy, she doesn’t hear the garage door open, nor the footsteps down the foyer. She doesn’t listen to music while she works, afraid Wanda will accuse her of being distracted, so she hums the soundtrack to Mamma Mia. 

When the next load finishes, Natasha gathers up the bedding in her arms, almost smothered by the heat from its tumble in the dryer. She precariously walks up the stairs, trying to remember which bedroom the sheets are from, when she hears a thump from the master bedroom.

Natasha freezes. She thought she was alone in the house. Maybe you had snuck by while she was in the laundry room, and clearly she didn’t learn her lesson from the last time she walked in on you and Wanda to stay away. Heart pounding against her chest in anticipation, Natasha inches towards the door and peers through the crack.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me,” Wanda moans, followed by the repetitive banging of the headboard against the wall. Natasha shifts around to get a better view of the room, straining to see what’s going on. She catches a glimpse of Wanda on her knees, moving in and out of her view, someone holding onto her waist from behind. 

“I want you to put a baby in me,” Wanda pants, and her partner grunts in response.

While the two of you had no children that Natasha was aware of, she wonders if that was an intentional decision or perhaps you two were waiting for a better moment. Kids would certainly give you a reason to stay with Wanda, and maybe that was exactly what she was planning. 

Natasha hates the way she keeps watching, wanting more material to fuel her never-ending fantasy of being betrothed to you.    

“Honey? Are you here? I’m home!”

“I’m upstairs!” Natasha calls. She hears you tramp up the steps as she patiently waits for you in the bedroom. You poke your head through the door first, the top few buttons of your shirt undone, and although the exhaustion from work is evident on your face, you perk up when you see her.

Especially with what she’s wearing, or lack of it.

“I hope you had a good day at work, baby,” Natasha says, turning around to face you. She’s wearing the red lingerie set you bought her for her birthday. It hardly leaves her assets to the imagination and she can feel your gaze lingering on her body. She’s never felt so appreciated or wanted before.

“It was a good day that’s only getting better.” You step into the bedroom, hastening to take off your clothes. Natasha comes over to help you and you easily scoop her up in your strong arms, and she wraps her legs tightly around your hips. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you whisper, your mouth hot on her neck as you nip at her skin.  

You walk forward until Natasha feels her back bump into the vanity. You rest her on the edge and spread your legs to jerk yourself to full hardness. Natasha struggles against the impatience in her core, wanting nothing more than for you to fill her to the brim. She watches the veins in your muscular arm pop out as you move your hand back and forth faster, your cock swelling to its large size.

Finally, Natasha cannot wait any longer. “I need you,” she begs, swatting your hand away and sliding forward, ready to practically fall on your dick. 

“Careful, baby,” you warn with a chuckle, gripping onto her thighs and stepping forward to find the right angle to insert yourself. 

Natasha sighs in relief when you enter her, holding onto your shoulders in case you get any ideas of pulling out too far. Her walls clench around you tightly, drawing a moan from you and you press your hips forward until your whole cock stretches her out. Natasha loves how much you fill her, how you soothe the empty throbbing in her. She must be the luckiest woman in the world to have you like this.

The vanity bumps against the wall with every thrust. Natasha squeezes her thighs tighter around your waist, trying to hold you in as long as possible. She runs her hands up and down your broad back, digging her nails into your shoulder blades when your thighs meet hers.

“When are you gonna put a baby in me?” she asks, her lips crashing heatedly onto yours.

You grunt with another deep thrust.

“You would look so beautiful carrying my child.”

Natasha’s blood goes cold when she hears Wanda’s partner. Because it’s not your voice.

It’s Vision’s.

She angles herself to see better and feels sick to see her stomach when she sees your wife and Vision tangled on the bed together. She can’t bear to watch another second and flees down the stairs, the bedsheets still in her arms, not even caring if they hear her. 

She has to find a way to tell you. That was the least you deserved.

***********************************************************************

You stand in the dim hallway, watching as Wanda whips around, grabbing her coat and Louis Vuitton purse. “Where do you think you’re going?” you ask.

“I’m not allowed to leave the house now?” she bites back, not even looking at you.

“It’s Friday night,” you point out.

“So?” 

“Friday nights are our nights,” you stress, and Wanda finally looks at you when you raise your voice. “It’s been that way for years, unless you’ve been so bored of me you haven’t noticed.”

“You can survive without me for one night,” she shoots back. “I have a dinner night with the girls–”

“Don’t go,” you say, your tone changing from anger to pleading. “Please. We hardly spend any time together since I started the new job here and–”

“That’s not my fault,” Wanda clips. “That was your decision. Moving here was also your decision, in case you forgot.” You don’t miss the way she stresses the blame on you. “You thought it would be better for your business, and you’re still in the red. I gave up my old friends and relationships to be here with you, and then you have the audacity to act like this is my fault.”

“I asked if you wanted to stay, and you said you were fine with moving,” you remind her, although you are uncomfortable at the truth of her words.

“I said I was fine moving because I thought it’d make you happy,” Wanda says. “But it looks like out of the two of us, I’m the only happy one here.”

You know it’s wrong, but you can’t help but be frustratingly jealous of your wife. Even waking up every day is now a struggle for you. You’re buckling under the pressure of work, unable to meet the deadlines or find the capital to pay your mounting debts. The only person you have to support you is Wanda, but she’s always off partying with her new friends or going to some made-up meeting meant to give her a false sense of significance. You’ve never felt lonelier, and it scares you that the only person you have may be slipping away.

“I’ll be back tonight.” Wanda whips out to the garage and clearly doesn’t want to hear any more protest from you. You stagger back and collapse onto a sofa, holding your head in your hands and feeling a burning sensation in your eyes.

Natasha peeks around the corner of the kitchen, wondering if you remember that she’s still here. “Y/N? Is everything okay?” she asks.

“No,” you say, forcing yourself to laugh. “I’m sorry if you heard any of that. That was very unprofessional of us.”

“It’s okay.” Natasha inches out so you can see her. You’re rubbing your eyes and she’s startled to realize you’re crying. Not knowing what to do, she retreats into the kitchen, grabbing a handful of rambutans from the bottom drawer of the fridge and a box of tissues and brings them to you.

You laugh when you see her offerings. You pat the sofa cushion next to her to indicate she is welcome to join you. “Have you had one of these before? I can show you how to eat them.” You peel off the furry red exterior, revealing a pearl-colored center. “You just eat this part. It tastes like a grape.”

Natasha takes one and follows your example. When she bites into the center, the taste is not as exotic as she expected but quite mild, reminding her of an oversized, fleshy grape. “It’s pretty good,” she says.

“My favorite.” You peel open another one, leaving the exterior on a pile on the table.

Natasha has another one and anxiously looks around the room, as if Wanda is still in the house. “Y/N, I need to tell you something,” she finally has the courage to say, heart pounding in her chest.

“Yes?” There’s a soft crunch as you bite through your rambutan. 

“Wanda’s cheating on you with Vision,” Natasha blurts out, with no build-up whatsoever.

You are completely silent, chewing the fruit as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever eat. 

“I saw them together in bed yesterday.” Natasha now realizes how foolish she sounds. What if you didn’t believe her? What if you thought she was lying in order to get you for herself? She could’ve taken a picture (as weird as that would’ve been) to provide actual proof. 

“I know,” you say, to Natasha’s shock. “I know she’s cheating on me with Vision.”

“You do?” Natasha is stunned. She wonders how long you’ve known, and why you’ve never acted out on it.

“She’s cheating on me with half the fucking neighborhood.”

***********************************************************************

One month earlier…

“Need a hand?”

“No, I think I’m good, thanks!” You roll out from under your car, your arms and face covered in grease and oil. A skinny man stands on the sidewalk, surveying your propped-up car on the driveway.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks.

“Not sure,” you respond, reaching for a rag in your tool bag and wiping off your face. “It won’t start though, so I’ll probably have to get it towed to the shop.” 

“Need a lift?”

“Uh…” You glance back at your empty house. Wanda was out until nightfall, although you wouldn’t put it past her to be gone until tomorrow. Despite the brand-new house the two of you had just moved into, she didn’t seem to want to spend much time in it.

“It’s no trouble,” the man insists. “I live over at the end of the street. You can call me Vision.” He comes forward to shake your hand. 

“Y/N,” you introduce. “Well, I’d really appreciate it. We just moved here and my wife’s out of town right now, so I don’t have many friends I can call on here yet.”

Vision waves off your comment. “You have neighbors! That’s what we’re for, right?”

You call a tow truck and join Vision in his purple Camaro with a yellow racing stripe along the center of its hood to tail your vehicle to the shop.

“What do you do for work?” you ask, genuinely impressed with his sports car. He didn’t seem like the type to own one.

“Oh, I’m retired,” he says, effortlessly shifting the gears and the vehicle purrs in response.

“Really?” He hardly looked a few years older than you.

“Corporate life just wasn’t for me,” he says. “It paid very well though, so I retired early and bought the house out here. It’s just me though, never found the right person to settle down with.”

“It’s not for everyone,” you admit, because sometimes you wonder if you even found the right person.

***********************************************************************

After the mechanics determine your car needs an overnight stay to repair, Vision drives you back home. He drops you off and speeds down the street to his own. You find him to be a little quirky, but harmless. You head inside for a much-needed shower. When you’re done, you wrap a towel around your waist and step into the bedroom to find some clothes. You pause when the front door creaks open. 

Excited to greet your wife, you rush out to say hello from the top of the stairs, but stop in your tracks when you realize she’s brought someone in.

“Oh, Y/N isn’t home,” Wanda says, her voice carrying through the foyer.

“This house is huge!” It’s Steve. Your heart bangs against your chest and you retreat to the bedroom, unsure where to hide. The closet seems like a decent spot, and you nestle in between your hanging jackets as you hear Wanda and Steve stomp up the stairs together. You peek out through the crack in the door.

“Ours was built first, but it looks like this one has a lot of improvements that we could’ve used,” Steve goes on.

“Yes, yes, it’s very nice,” Wanda says. They walk into your bedroom, Wanda behind him with a mischievous glint in her eye you recognize all too well. “I wish Y/N could be around more,” she continues, and you fight the urge to burst out of the closet. “Like you said, it’s such a big house and it feels so lonely in it without another body to keep it warm.”

You see Steve’s gaze travel along the walls and over your furniture. To his credit, he does seem genuinely impressed with your home. He always struck you as a simple man, maybe even a little bit ignorant at times. But now you were about to see if his ignorance was true or an act.

Wanda approaches him so closely you’re sure her body is rubbing against his. 

“Y/N isn’t here, but maybe you can keep me company for a while?”

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve jerks away from Wanda when she puts her hands on his hips. 

“We can be quick,” Wanda insists, taking off her jacket. “No one has to know–”

“Wanda, stop it,” Steve says, sounding angry. “I have a wife and kids at home and you’re married to Y/N–”

“So?” Wanda replies, and it makes your stomach clench with how dismissive she is. “I’ve been married to Y/N for four years and I’ve been cheating since day one.” She shrugs. “Honestly, the only reason I settled down is for the thrill of it.” She holds her hand up, the wedding ring you gifted her with three months’ salary glinting in the light. “It’s much more exciting to get what you’re not supposed to have, right?”

“You’re disgusting,” Steve says. “Stay away from me and my family.”

He hurries out of the bedroom, but Wanda doesn’t go after him at first. She puts her jacket back on and admires her reflection in the mirror, clearly a little frazzled by Steve’s rejection. How many people hadn’t rejected her? You always had a hunch, but had never heard Wanda admit it outloud before. How could you be so stupid this whole time?

Your body starts to vibrate with rage and you accidentally knock a jacket off its hook. While the jacket falls soundlessly to the floor, you can’t see well enough to catch the hanger and it lands with a quiet thump on the carpet. You look through the crack, holding your breath as Wanda’s head whips towards the closet. 

The next few seconds are so tense you want to vomit.

But then Wanda turns back to her reflection, fluffing out her hair, and leaves the bedroom.

***********************************************************************

Your paranoia kicks in like a drug that won’t let you rest. You buy cameras and sprinkle them all around the house, in the trinkets and knick knacks Wanda insisted on showcasing in every room. The teddy bear on your dresser in the bedroom. The ceramic turtle in the china cabinet in the living room. The plastic cow on the windowsill of the kitchen window. You monitor them religiously, but it doesn’t take long for more evidence to show up.

Vision is the most frequent offender, visiting during your long nights at work or sometimes in the middle of the day. Steve never sets foot on your property again, although sometimes the camera in the potted plant by the front door picks up the conversation of Wanda trying to convince him to come over. As nice as Steve was to turn down your wife’s advances, he never came to tell you what she had tried to do with him either.

There are some visitors you don’t even recognize. And Wanda isn’t a stranger to women either. She brings over Agatha, her supposed HOA nemesis, and many of the ladies who would greet you so kindly and fawn over you every time they saw you working in the front yard. You would bet money that she was also fucking some of her girlfriends on their trips away.

And now you have it all on camera, your wife fucking multiple strangers in your own home. The proof didn’t make you feel better; in fact, it made you feel worse. All that time, effort, and money you had spent trying to cultivate the perfect relationship with her when she would turn around and fuck the first thing that looked at her. 

It made you so angry you couldn’t see straight. But you knew you couldn’t act hastily. You would formulate the perfect plan to get out of the marriage and leave Wanda behind, even if it meant leaving her for dead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Whomp whomp. So...was it who you expected? Or worse? 🤭And I think we collectively owe Steve an apology.

Next part is here!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[lolasangelz]

almost still

w/c: 470 something

a/n: sorry for the late post i forgot to schedule this one!! i havent wrote since thursday

send in requests :))

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

the house wasn’t loud, for once.

the kids were all down - grayson tucked against a stuffed bear too big for him, maggie curled in her crib, maddie clutching a well-loved blanket, and emerson finally out cold after insisting he wasn’t tired. georgia had barely made it out of the room before one of them stirred, but now, it was quiet. peaceful. still.

or almost still.

rafe was in the kitchen, back turned, sleeves pushed to his elbows. the dim light caught the edge of his jaw, the line of his shoulders. he was drying the dishes she’d meant to do an hour ago.

she leaned against the doorway.

“you’re doing chores for once,” she said, teasing.

he glanced over. “don’t look so surprised.”

“i’m always surprised.”

he smirked but didn’t say anything. just kept drying. one dish at a time, deliberate.

gigi stepped inside, bare feet silent on the tile. her shirt was oversized, soft from a hundred washes, and her hair was still damp from the bath she barely had time for. she looked tired, and she was, but there was something else tonight - a kind of weightless calm.

“they all asleep?” rafe asked.

“for now.”

he set the last dish down and turned to her. she was close. close enough for his fingers to find her waist and tug her in.

“you’re so pretty like this,” he murmured.

“like what?”

“quiet. soft. mine.”

her breath caught a little. even now, all these years later, he could still do that- wind her up with a word.

“you never said things like that before,” she said, not accusing, just honest.

“i didn’t know how to,” he admitted. “you scare the shit out of me.”

gigi blinked. “i scare you?”

“you always have. you’re stronger than me.”

she laughed. “you’re literally stronger.”

“not like that. you stayed when i gave you a million reasons not to. you kept this family together when i was halfway out the door.”

her fingers found the hem of his shirt. she held it there, looking up at him, eyes soft but sharp.

“you came back,” she said. “that has to mean something.”

he nodded.

“it means everything.”

his hands slid beneath her shirt, rough palms on bare skin, grounding her. her heart kicked hard.

“i wanna be better,” he said suddenly, like it had been sitting in his chest for too long. “i know i mess it up. but i look at you with them, and i think... god, we’re lucky. i’m lucky.”

gigi didn’t cry -not really- but something in her throat tightened.

“you say that now,” she whispered, “wait until maggie starts kicking at two am”

he leaned down, kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, the corner of her mouth.

“i’ll be right here,” he promised.

and for once, she believed it.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ