Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Day 07: Red | WC: 329 | Rated: G | Warnings: None | Tags: Pre-relationship; Modern setting; No Upside Down; Fluff; Second meetings; open ended but in a good way?? | Note: Follows 'The Peppa Pig Lamp'.
Eddie usually doesn’t believe in fate.
He’s considered himself a skeptical person since the tender age of six, when the useless drunk he used to call a father decided to tell his child self that Santa didn’t exist.
His father may have broken his heart that day, but he also taught Eddie a very useful lesson –the only useful lesson that piece of shit actually taught him, really.
There’s no magic in this world.
Good things don’t just happen to you because you’re a good person, there’s no higher power watching over you and making sure you’re blessed with what you want just because you’re a model citizen and deserve it.
You need to fight for what you want, or else nothing’s gonna happen.
But when Eddie steps into that bar, and his eyes immediately catch sight of the man in the red sweater, sitting by himself on one of the booths and nursing a drink, he starts wondering if, maybe, his skepticism has been a little misguided by the disappointment he suffered all those years ago.
Because what are the chances of running into the same person twice in a row, in a place like New York?
The guy may be lacking a Peppa Pig lamp in his arms this time, but Eddie would recognize that pretty face anywhere; it drew him in in that store two days ago, and it draws him in again this time around too.
Misguided skepticism or not, Eddie’s never been one to just wait around for good things to happen in his life, and he’s not gonna start doing it now. So he lets the door close behind him and crosses the half-packed bar in determined strides towards Steve’s booth.
Call it whatever you want; divine intervention, fate, luck, or just pure and simple coincidence. Eddie honestly doesn’t care.
He only truly cares that, for some reason, Steve’s crossed his path again and, this time, Eddie doesn’t plan on letting him go.
pairings: richard "dick" grayson x gn! reader
summary: day 7- moving day-moving in with dick grayson is difficult when he keeps flirting and you can never be alone for too long
tags:fluff
“Help me, I’m stuck!”
“Oh, babe! Are you flirting, is this foreplay?”
“No, Dick! I’m trapped under a bunch of damn boxes. Help!”
Your boyfriend's footsteps can be heard running up the stairs at Mach speed. You hear him curse under his breath, then the sound of boxes being tossed around the room. A few seconds later and your head is free. You exhale loudly, glaring at him.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t stack them in here like a nutcase, Dick.” You point out and he smiles sheepishly as he reaches in and pulls you up from the mountain by your arms.
He holds you close to him, attempting to puppy dog eyes his way into forgiveness and what do you know, it’s working.
“Sorry, I was thinking I’d get to this room before you, so I could reach everything.” He lifts his hand to pat the back of your head. “You wanna lay back and watch your amazing boyfriend unpack the rest of the house?” He suggests, grinning.
You scoff at him. You two had only unpacked one room, the dining room. That was still the kitchen, living room, bathroom, study, and your bedroom to unpack. You love Dick, but he was most certainly going to get distracted and it would take much longer.
“I want to get it done today, Dick. That means we both need to be unpacking. Besides, last time you told me to sit back and just watch you—you ended up watching me.”
He smiles, unashamed.
“You look so good all the time. Can you blame me?” He sighs dramatically.
“I’m so relieved you agreed to move in with me, you know? Damian said you would never say yes. My disgusting lifestyle would scare you off.” He smirks, “Little does he know, you like it.”
You roll your eyes despite the smile widening on your face. His youngest brother, Damian, was fond of you. You’re not sure how you did it, but Dick was sulking for weeks when the young Wayne gave you his seal of approval—by saying he would “Punish Grayson if he ever messed this up.”
“It is truly abhorrent that you drink the milk right out of the carton. I can’t believe I kiss your mouth every day.” You tease in a dry tone.
He gasps, leaning his head down in silent request. You answer without hesitation, kissing him gently. He smirks into the kiss, deepening it for a moment, then pulling away.
“Can’t believe it either, sweetcheeks.” He laughs, though there’s a fond glow to his eyes, betraying his sincerity.
“You’re stuck with me. We signed the lease together, that’s binding.” He whispers.
“So you’re never expecting us to break up and fight over who gets the house?” You ask.
He narrows his eyes at you playfully, hands moving to your waist.
“Never.” He replies confidently. “If we do break up it won’t be real and we’ll still live together until you agree to get back together.”
You laugh.
“Oh, so it’s going to be my problem?”
He nods, pushing on your hips to sway you around the room.
“Duh. It certainly wouldn’t be me breaking up with you.” He scoffs.
He isn’t looking anywhere but you, which is why you step back into one of many unpacked boxes, wincing at the blunt trauma to your ankle.
“Ow…” You mumble, turning away from him to make sure the box wasn’t dented. You forgot to label your fragile items and it was coming back to haunt you, not knowing which was going to be full of shattered glass if at all.
Dick scoops you up in his arms, carrying you out the room to your complaints.
“Put me down! We have to unpack–” You shout over his gliding around the house.
He grins down at you, adjusting his grip before gently lowering you on the one piece of furniture you guys assembled. A dining chair. He sets you down and moves to slide another chair in front of you and lifts your “injured” leg up.
“No can do, baby. You can’t work like this. I won’t let you.” He says so seriously. His bright smile on display the entire time. “I will finish up, and then we will cuddle on our new couch and fall asleep.” He explains, having planned your whole night.
You roll your eyes, but stay sitting to entertain him. He sees your begrudging acceptance and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks as he kisses you. His lips are light against yours, he applies more pressure with each kiss as he pulls away to come back again stronger, peppering your lips with his. If you had any sense you’d pull away and tell him to get to work, so you could at least have a bed to sleep on tonight, but you’re putty in his hands. You hum against him, eyes closing peacefully.
He’s happy to continue, easily distracting himself with you. He kisses you again, this time lingering and one of his hands falls to your neck, half cradling it as his lips move. Someone gags making you pull apart. Dick looks a little embarrassed and you open your eyes to…literally his whole family minus Bruce and Alfred standing in your new house.
“Disgusting. Quit eating their face.” Damian scowls.
Jason just chuckles, leaning on Tim’s shoulder who looks like he’s about to pass out. Of disgust or fear who knows. He didn’t like acknowledging his brother’s more…affectionate sides.
“Wow, Dickiebird. You couldn’t wait until the bed was built huh?” Jason teases, unable to resist a jab at his older brother.
Dick rolls his eyes, stepping back from you but leaving his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes it subtly.
“You’re just jealous, guys. What are you even doing here? Bruce didn’t call for a meeting or anything important did he?” He’s already fishing his phone out to check. No notifications.
“Nope. Nothing. We just thought we’d help you guys unpack.” Steph pipes up, looking unbothered about catching you two like that. You liked how calm she could be, at least you did until her eyes caught yours and you saw the sparkle.
“These guys just decided to follow us. They won’t admit it but they were jealous that I thought of coming here first.”
She’s clearly saving her words for a better, more beneficial time.
Cassandra nods from next to her, already holding a box in her arms.
“Do not spread lies. I was coming here on my own before you. I was the one who tracked their new house address.” Damian crosses his arms, looking around appraisingly.
Steph just rolls her eyes, and mutters something, which makes Jason argue back, then Damian. Tim and Cass move to another room to start taking things out and Tim mentions he’d set up your wifi router for you.
Dick sighs, but you can see the fond look in his eyes. How he appreciates them for coming. He looks down at you, and leans down to kiss your forehead.
“Too bad B couldn’t make it. We can invite him for dinner later, yeah?” He asks, hopeful.
You nod. Something thuds on the floor above.
“Did you throw a ring at me?” Jason shouts, confused.
“There was a ring in there?”
Dick shoots up, stiffly smiling at you before running out the room and upstairs.
Summary: You wished that Kyle could distinguish between argument and conversation.
Word Count: 1.3K
Notes: Aaaahh I’m new to Kyle Rayner as I’ve just started reading his runs but I really liked him and wanted to give him a spin. He’s probably my second fav lantern (after Hal) and I’ve got some kinks to work out with nailing his personality, but I’ll get it with a bit of practice. I was trying to keep him in line with his dreamer/romantic side ya know? Anyways, first week down already folks!
(Additional side note: posting this early tonight cause of a killer migraine so please be patient with tomorrow's upload. )
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Even if you were yelling at him, Kyle thought you were beautiful.
The sun caught your hair in the morning light, and his eyes traced the sleep still in the corner of your eyes. There were lines on your face from the pillow, and your lip was sucked between your teeth.
"Kyle? Are you listening?" you sigh softly, and he responds with a faint smile.
"You're beautiful."
You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling. "Great. So, you're not even listening." you sigh. His smile wavers slightly. He knew you wanted to talk about something heavier than he would like for the first thing in the morning, but he couldn't help but try to steer it away from that. After all, you had said that you didn't intend to stay the night last evening, that you came over just to talk, but you ended waking up beside him the next morning. Surely, he could talk you out of this if he swung it correctly. His lips quirk up again, making his eyes light up with a playful warmth.
"I am listening," he defends. "I just can't help if you look beautiful this early in the morning."
"I'm not in the mood for flattery, Rayner." you sigh, hands on your hips. "I'm trying to have a serious conversation right now. You're not taking anything into account, which is the exact reason we keep having this argument." You throw your hands up in the air, clearly frustrated.
He puts his hands in front of him, making a soothing motion. "Woah, woah, we haven't been having arguments, we've been having conversations," he corrects sternly. "Those are two very different things, babe. We're okay."
"You always say that," you groan. "What kind of discussion ends with the tears, Kyle? This isn't a conversation if I'm the only one talking. You keep dodging the questions, the situation, and it just gets worse!" you say frustrated, hands coming to cover your face. "I shouldn’t have even stayed the night. I knew I shouldn't have stayed the night." you groan, a well of regret and shame writing around in your stomach as your pinch at the bridge of your nose again.
"Hold on," he interjects. "It's not a mistake. We're a couple, that’s what couples do."
You sigh through the nose at that. "Yeah? If we're a couple, why have I been sleeping at my place for the last week? Why haven't we gone on any dates? Why haven't we been calling? This is more than a rough patch, which you already refuse to acknowledge. We're essentially broken up. It was a long time coming, and if you actually stopped to listen for a moment, you'd realise that too. We need to break up." you say a matter of factly, slightly out of breath from your rant.
You didn’t want to say that. Hell, if you had asked yourself from a year ago if you wanted to break up with Kyle Rayner, the answer would have been an immediate 'Hell no'. You just couldn't do it anymore, the constant speed that your relationship had been progressing. Kyle took you on dates like he wanted to be married to you yesterday, despite only recently hitting your one-year anniversary. Don't get it wrong, you weren't complaining about him being in love with you, especially after the disappointing string of partners before him. He made it seem like you held up the sun and kept the world from collapsing. Like you were some goddess that could solve anything with a simple touch.
But that was exactly the problem.
He treated you like a martyr, like someone who could do no wrong. You were sick of being the princess stuck in the tower. Want to go to Gotham for a show? No, too dangerous, didn't you hear about the crime rate recently? How about going to Metropolis to visit your old college friend? You've got to be joking with him. Do you know how many superpowered maniacs tear through those streets on a daily basis? Coast City? It was essentially the walking dead every now and then and he wasn't going to risk you being there when it happened (plus Hal Jordan). No, you were to stay right here, in Los Angeles.
That kind of care was endearing at first, until you began to feel disconnected. from everything. You weren't some damsel that needed to be protected, god damnit, you were a fully functioning adult, not a child. But no. Kyle Rayner had to be there, had to be your knight in shining armour, had to keep the walls padded. It started to feel like you were dating a parent instead of a partner in the way that you would act and lash out to try and get him to relax his reins a little. He'd always just stand there, taking blow after blow without actually listening to your words. Just throwing back compliments, dodging the conversation skillfully and downplaying the situation. It was like dating a broken record, the same dismissive positivity on loop 24/7.
You were going to snap eventually.
It was wearing you down, the constant affirmations that everything was fine when it was not. Then it had begun the months of him putting you on that pedestal. Like all things it was fine at the start, but soon you became your own worst enemy. Soon you were chasing the perfect version of yourself that only Kyle could see, burning yourself out to be that person until you turned to see the damage you'd done to yourself. When you'd ask him to stop, that you were human like everyone else and had negative emotions, there was a small upset flicker across his face. He just couldn't understand why you'd be sad or angry or frustrated after a long day of work. Don't you love your coworkers? Why are you mad at your cubicle partner? You were the most understanding person on the planet, so surely you understood where they were coming from.
You had decided that you were done with the love bombing. You could see in the way his eyes looked at you, the dreamy expression on his face even in the midst of your fights that he was in love with the idea of you, not actually you.
And you would be lying if you said that it didn't hurt.
While you're standing on the other side of the bedroom, lip worried between your teeth his thoughts are running wild. However, no matter how fast they race, there isn't a pulse of panic that can course through his body. You both had always managed to fix any bumps in your relationship, and Kyle knew you were the best thing that happened to him. He wasn't going to let go anytime soon, and he was convinced that you wouldn't either. When he sees the start of the tears on your waterline though, his heart clenches. His lips tilt into a frown and he comes around to your side to lift your face, but you gently tip your chin out of his grip.
"Babe, why are you crying?" he asks, heart sinking at just the idea of you being sad. Sure, you sometimes cried during your conversations, but he knew that was just your way of expelling energy, of getting the bad emotions out of your system. They were disrupting your perfect relationship, so you were releasing them, he knew that. You just shake your head, choking down a hiccup.
"That's it, Kyle." you whisper. "This is it. You just don't get it." You frustratedly sigh, turning away from him to get your keys and purse thrown on his dresser from last night. "I'm gone. This has to be an official break up, we can't keep doing this." you choke out, voice thick as you throw your coat on, not caring that you look ready for the walk of shame out of his apartment. He tilts his head curiously as you pass him, your throat bobbing as you swallow.
"Goodbye, Kyle Rayner." you say, before you all but sprint for the door.
He sighs, running his hand through his hair. As he hears the front door slam, he exhales, disappointed. He was hoping he could take you out to that brunch place you liked near the park, and then go feed the ducks. It always seemed to make you smile, radiant and full of life. He mulled your words over in his head, a flash of panic shooting through his heart for a second. Were you actually going to leave? No, you wouldn't do that. Not to the perfect arrangement you two had. You were made for each other.
Break up?
Surely you just meant that you were taking a break.
a/n: is this… an angstober post… on time? yeah, baby, that’s day 07 - you still don't get it on the actual 7th day! omg, i feel so grown up and put together right now. i had a very specific idea for this, and i hope y’all enjoy it. as always, feel free to hit me up on the dm’s! oh, we also have a masterlist know, hehe.
summary: sometimes, you just gotta put the ‘fun’ in ‘funeral’. and sometimes, you just have to put an end to things, even if they are with the one that makes you feel a petite mort over and over.
word count: 1.7k
warnings: angst. unprotected p in v. pulling out (just don't, use actual contraceptives, please). oral (f receiving). mentions of death.
Joel Miller found his way between your legs quite often, and thank God for that. Life during a fungus pandemic wasn’t really easy, and everyone had to find some pleasure in order to fight another day. For Joel, that wasn’t always sex — it could be a cigar, maybe an old stereo that played good music. As for you, during most of your life, sex was just a bargaining chip, but that all changed when you realized that, if done correctly, it was immensely fun.
But now, whenever you and Joel would meet, sex was always the number one option. The two of you found solace in each other, and, again, thank God for that.
You weren’t religious (really, who could be during the apocalypse?), but Joel made you see Heaven.
Everytime Joel knocked on your door, you knew you were in for a mind-blowing night. Your moans were quiet, as Jackson was a small community and any screams could be heard in the dead of night for miles. But it was hard to keep quiet as his hands and mouth kept pressing and licking you in all the right places.
“Joel, o-oh, J-Joel”, you moaned, one hand reaching at the headboard above you and the other tugging on his graying hair.
He had once said the best way to get to know a man, really get to know one, is to find out how he eats his girl’s pussy. According to Joel, there’s nothing worse in God’s green Earth as a man unwilling to put his mouth on what was, also according to Joel, the most perfect part of the human body. He was always so willing to eat you out, you were sure he was the most stand up guy out there.
“Come on, baby, I know you got in ya”, he murmured, kissing your thigh, putting one of his long fingers inside of you, stretching you out and making that vision of Heaven appear before your eyes once more. His mouth reattached itself to you, going right to the money maker.
As he licked your clit with just the right amount of pressure and movement, a second finger entered you, curling up with the first one and awakening that spot in you that made you a goner in just a second. This was your third orgasm of the night. It was ridiculous. You were dripping so much you could feel it down your ass and going straight to your freshly washed sheets.
You were still gripping on the sheets when Joel raised himself, his large body hovering over yours. You didn’t see it, no, you kept your eyes closed. Instead, you let yourself, with those heightened senses, just feel him. His thighs against you, your body falling just a little towards him due to the pressure of his knees on the mattress, his hands on either side of your torso. His smell, mixed with your own. You felt his lips on your neck, then your cheeks, then on your mouth. Your hands instinctively flew to cup his cheeks and make the kiss deeper.
You really hoped you weren’t falling in love with his man. He had much too much baggage, and he already had enough things to worry about, with his daughter for all effects and purposes, Ellie. He was much older, more complicated than you could ever wish for a man you were involved with. Therefore, no love. No, this couldn’t be love.
But, God, you really did fall in love with his cock.
It wasn’t bigger than you were used to, but certainly girthier. This cock made you wetter than any other, and it belonged to a man decades your senior.
When you felt it throbbing against your leg, there was nothing to do other than to open yourself up as he slowly, oh so slowly, entered you.
You both moaned in unisson. Joel murmured your name, and you finally opened your eyes to meet his brown ones. “You’re so beautiful, baby”, he said in a low tone and began to move his hips. “So wet”, he thrusted and you moaned his name louder, hands gripping his shoulders with enough force to leave nail marks.
You crossed your legs around his waist, changing the angle to make him go deeper. Joel loved missionary and all its variations. He would never admit it, but he was a boob man through and through. The visual stimulation was really important to him, and that was proven by the fact that his eyes couldn’t leave your tits as he pounded harder and harder into you, making them bounce with every movement. You were sure your nipples were perky, too, as they always did when you felt this aroused.
Joel was nearly drooling on your chest.
After a few more thrusts, he grabbed your hips and turned you around, so that your ass was up in the air. You smiled against the pillows and looked over your shoulder just as he entered you again. That smirk turned into a perfect ‘o’.
Your hips moved against him too. After all, Joel was an old man, and you couldn’t let him do all the work now, could you?
He was manhandling you with such force you weren’t sure you’d be able to move in a way he didn’t want you to. He pushed your head back against the pillows as his body fell on top of yours, mixing up with the position once more.
His mouth was close to your ear, and he took full advantage of that to nibble on your ear lobe. “You look so pathetic, all unraveled like this, baby.” he spoke in a whisper, his pace still punishing inside of you. “All mine, huh? All mine to ruin?”.
You shook your head yes as best you with his hand still pressing your skull into the pillows and his full body weight atop of you.
“Nuh uh, silly girl. Need to hear you say it. Tell me, baby. Tell me who’s the one who makes you come undone, sweetheart”.
“Y-you, Joel, hmm, it’s all you”, you half-spoke, half-moaned.
Not to your surprise, all of his weight disappeared as he pulled out, leaving you on the bed as he finished off alone, on the side, not even bothering to cum on your tits, face, or ass like any other guy would’ve. Not even caring to let you see him cum, which sucked.
He had started up with this new habit of pulling out and leaving right after. But not this time, no. You wouldn’t let him.
“Come back”, you said almost purring and turned on the bed, stretching in the sexiest way you could.
His eyes analyzed you for a long time before he approached the bed again. He didn’t sit down, instead he stood, fully naked, looking down on you at the end of your bed. He looked glorious, like a Greek deity or a model from the days before the outbreak. Did you love him? Probably not yet, but you would someday if he let you.
You sat up on the bed, naked. Did he like your figure as much as you liked his? You were much younger than any other woman old enough for him. Some would say you were inappropriately young, but you knew they didn’t care for you or Joel beyond the gossip and the fun remarks.
“You don’t come in me anymore”, you said, trying to look innocent and confident at the same time. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No”, he simply said, collecting his clothes. You waited for him to continue, and when you realized he wouldn’t, you kept on talking.
“You used to at least cum close to me”, you tried to crack a smile and lighten the mood, as verborragic and honest as you always were. You and Joel hardly talked about your situationship or whatever this was. “Maybe we could try something like that again, because, y’know, breeding is not just a kink and someday I really want kids and…”
“You still don’t get it, do you?”, he interrupted you, and you realized he sounded defeated more than anything else. He sighed, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “There’s no we, and there’s no future”.
You weren’t gonna be the one to break the silence. Not this time. With him, the silence was always loud, and you felt as if it was a physical entity that put itself in-between the two of you.
He put his head in his hands, still emanating exhaustion in every possible way.
“I won’t have anymore kids”, his tone was harsher than ever.
“Joel…”
“This ain’t about age, even though that sure is a problem. This isn’t about this batshit post-outbreak world, either”.
The words unspoken were louder than anything he could have ever said.
Sarah.
You closed your eyes. All the future he could have had flashed before your eyes. How old would she be now? Perhaps she’d even be older than you.
He hardly talked about her, but you picked up on a thing or too. Especially last year, on his birthday. What a horrible day that was. You now realized that Joel’s future died the day of the outbreak, at the same moment his daughter did.
Even though it ached, the truth was clear and simple: you couldn’t sacrifice the future you could still have for Joel’s eternal mourning. You wanted more than to survive. You wanted to live. And here, in Jackson, you could actually do that.
Your eyes were watery, but you refused to cry. In the quiet, you knew you didn't have to say it. The silence was loud, and it said enough.
Joel stood up and looked around the room. He seemed to avoid looking at you, knowing what would happen once he did. He liked and cared for you, even if he didn’t want to. The wonderful sex was part of it, not the whole thing. His eyes finally met yours, and without saying a word, you knew what he meant. This is over, isn’t it?
Your gaze was locked with his, and your mouth was drying. Yet, you replied, without a word. Yeah, baby, yeah, it is.
Flufftober 2025 - Day 06 & 07 (Alt. 10): Late Night Talk & And They Lived Happily Ever After
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Timmy Turner, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Danny Fenton, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Timmy Turner
Words Count: 4,541
Chapter: 6/31
Summary: When the Turners finally cross the line and hurt him, Timmy, in tears, doesn't know who else to call but his only big brother figure, Danny Fenton.
Danny, who has been living between his friends' houses after his parents discovered his secret identity and tried to shoot him, ignores everything and goes to Timmy's rescue. As soon as he sees him, he decides then and there that his main task will be taken care of Timmy.
So, they abandon their dimensions, which are no longer safe for either of them, traveling to the place with the highest crime rate ever and showing up at the door of the richest man with a problem of adopting homeless children, who also leads a team of masked vigilantes to fight crime.
Or,
Timmy and Danny are adopted by Bruce Wayne and become part of the most dysfunctional and unique family. In the process, they create chaos.
