#I don’t remember seeing it and I need to see more! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 21 hours ago

Text

Worst Behavior

Art in the center by Houhai673 on lofter

pairings- stepbrother! Sukuna x f! Reader & Toji x f! reader

summary - Sukuna’s dad married your mom while you were in high school, and you hated each other on sight. He endlessly picked on and tortured you. So much so that he became a fucking YouTube sensation from prank videos starring you! You come back home for summer break after a bad breakup, and of course annoying ass Sukuna is there, with his stupid smirk, ready to pick on you again, only to be derailed when he sees you're going out with his old friend Toji for a date. Turns out, Sukuna has had it bad for you for a long time, and making you hate him was the only way to guarantee you stay far away, but can he keep up the act?

content/warnings - MDNI, tw- stepcest, lots of pining, kinda one-sided lol, Sukuna is an asshole to you, reader hates him. Enemies to ????- ton of sexual tension, jealous ass Sukuna. This chap- fingering, squirting, a little bit of degradation, jealousy, unspoken feelings, pining, sexual tension, MORE panty stealing lol??? Sukuna being a WHOLE mf yandere, he's lwk psycho and toxic, Toji being hot- wc - 6.9k

<<<part one

part two

“What’re you even doing in here?” You tug back a bit, but he just drags you back down, and soon you find yourself completely straddling him right over one of his big ass thighs in the middle of the night.

Your heart races as he runs his thumb across the mark Toji left, humming softly as his red eyes hone in on the spot, his other hand right on your hip. When you involuntarily whine out, you bite your lip and curse, you can’t let him think you like this! You don’t like it, do you?

“Sukuna, are you fucking drunk?” You whisper, remembering both of your fucking parents across the hall, he exhales, his breath ghosting over your breasts, making your nipples press against your bra, glaringly apparent. You don’t want to admit how good his hand feels on you, nor the sweet ache between your thighs.

“Am I drunk…” he sighs, feeling your heat right on him, pressing his thigh up harder to watch the effects on your pretty face, furious that someone touched you.

He’s always mad when you date, when you get new boyfriends, he can’t ever say it, so instead he just scares the shit out of them without you knowing. But Toji sure as hell wasn’t one to be scared off by him, and he didn’t even wanna know how far it went with you both, if he knew Toji, he probably went as far as you would let him.

“Why do you care if he touched me?” Your question barely registers, still staring at the giant bruise forming on your neck, his fingers pressing on it until you gasp.

“Did you cum?”

“Sukuna!?” You smack him right in the face, honestly making him leak pre, he’s already hard from your cunt on him, the stinging of his cheek and your little scowl makes it worse. “The fuck?”

“Fucking brat,” he grips your wrist then, brutal and tough, you’re trembling at the sensation, the pricking pain of his grip, hand enwrapping it now. “Ya like smacking me, don’t ya?”

“Your face is extremely smackable.” You jerk back your wrist, tits bouncing in that bra, he doesn’t bother to hide the way it affects him, slipping his fingers down your bare tummy then, making it tremble when you feel the roughness of his fingers.

“So, did you cum?” He asks again, voice deep and incomprehensible, scowling right at you now.

“You need to know? Yes, I did. Your friend has thick fingers.” He exhales, and before you can think, he’s got you lifted up on your knees, fingers brushing you over your panties. “Ah!”

“Slutty little brat,” he huffs, slipping two fingers underneath your waistband, feeling the drooling wetness pour as he barely brushes your slit with the backs of them now. “Why are ya so fucking wet still then?”

“C-came s’much,” you’re rocking your hips, fingers pressing against his chest now, as if to shove him away, but your body is not listening. Your eyelashes flutter shut just a bit while he smirks up at you like the asshole he is. “What’re you doing!?”

“Gonna see how slutty you are, step sis-”

“I swear to god!” You smack him again, but you don’t move your body away, no you spread your thighs, letting him slip two calloused fingertips up and down you, from your hole to your clit. “You’re a freak.”

“I’m a freak, huh?” You nod again, glaring, acting like you’re not dying to have them inside you, but he knows you’re full of it, as your cunt soaks him with just his stupid fingertip.

“Messy little thing I bet, tch.” He’s shoved the panties aside now, sliding two in deep, curling them to the knuckle, you scream out, before he uses his free hand to cover your mouth, raising a slutty ass eyebrow - why is all of Sukuna slutty!? “Want your mom and my dad to hear you scream?”

“F-fuck you, don’t want you,” you’re mumbling against his palm, spreading your thighs fucking wider, as you feel him pressing that spongy spot, pressing up and down over and over. He hits this delicious fucking pressure, you can hardly stand how good it feels, the pleasure spreading through your body. “Don’t want you.”

“Sure ya don’t, but your slutty cunt does. Smack me again, huh? Watch what happens,” he’s whispering those words as he looks up at you, his eyes dark in the dim lights that just your little strand above your bed holds, flashing as he pumps them in. “Bet I make you soak your bed.”

“You’re so annoying and… fuck you… and…” You’re screaming into your own palm this time, as he uses his ring finger and his middle, making lewd fucking squelching noises, over and over, up and down. It’s too much pressure, you jerk away then, and he sits up, tugging you back.

“Ah- ah, don’t run from it,” fuck can he stop talking like that!? Could your cunt stop liking it so much? “I just wanna know how much my slutty step-sister cums.”

“Don’t call me it, freak, you’re- i’m gonna pee, stop!?” You’re hissing the words as his fingers go quicker, cunt gushing down them, down his palms to his wrist, when you hear it - fucking footsteps echoing outside your door, shadows moving across underneath where light shines through.

“Never cum forreal then, huh?” You’re panicking then, but Sukuna is smirking like the shithead he is, fingers not stopping despite the clear presence of one of your parents out there.

“You’re so s-stupid.”

“Can hear your messy cunt across the street, probably woke ‘em up.” You almost slap him again, but you don’t want to make noise, instead leaning forward, biting the shit out of his neck, sinking your teeth into his skin. He hisses at it, tensing, his fingers halting for a moment. “God, ya think that hurts? You’re so pathetic.”

“I hate you,” you’re grinding against them, cunt pulsing and gripping his fingers as you hear the water running, cursing internally at the situation he has put you in. “Get out of my r-room.”

“I like your bed, it’s comfy,” you’re laying across him as he’s relentless, you feel it starting, so intense you wanna stop it, biting his neck again to muffle your cries, while his free hand yanks at your hair. “Cum, now.”

“No!”

“Now.” You bury your face, shaking your head again. “Stubborn fucking brat, do it now.”

“Fuck you, hate your fingers - hah liked Toji’s better- ah!” He’s done then, he leans back and angles his fingers just so, and hits so deep you’re shattering, cumming so hard you barely muffle it with two hands.

You’re squirting down his fingers, he moans softly at the feeling, the sight he can barely make out as he pulls back, looking down and seeing his hand coated as your eyes rolled back. You’re gushing everywhere, he didn’t even expect it from you, almost cumming from the sight, swallowing nervously and allowing one moment where he didn’t talk shit.

He never thought he’d get to touch you.

“F-fuck…” You’re tightening up now that you’ve released, cunt gripping him and sucking him, making him wonder just how good you’d feel around his cock, he eases them out then, eyeing you under his pink lashes.

“Made you a fucking wreck, look at you, aw.” You’re scowling but you’re shaking violently from it, whining as you’re now empty, he puts them right in his mouth, sucking you off them then, his cheeks hollowing.

“You’re nasty, I swear to god Sukuna.” He chuckles now, yanking your hair so hard you gasp, your slick all over his lips.

“Calling me nasty huh, when you’ve got your cunt all over me? All over your bed too, couldn’t help yourself?”

“Shut up,” he’s right next to your lips, threatening to close the distance, you feel the cool air of your room hit your bare cunt, feel the mess you made. “Doesn’t mean shit.”

“No? Did you squirt for him too?” You look away, making him tug your hair even harder. “Asked ya a question.”

“Shut up.” He’s chuckling, infuriating you to no end, sighing as he looks down at your lips now, brushing his saliva coated thumb across them.

“Couldn’t hold back, could you, bet you’re still drooling out of that little hole,” you shake your head, as much as you can with his firm hold, as he exhales, the breath hurting your bitten lips. “Seems like Toji didn’t get you off enough, not when you made that much of a mess.”

You shove at him now, when he presses your back on the bed, flipping your positions. You suck in a breath when he tilts his head, running a hand down your body slowly. “What’re you doing? Thought I was a gremlin, huh?”

“You are, and a mean little brat too, short stuff.”

You pinch his nipple now, making him glare down at you, jaw clenching. “Yeah, roided out giant.”

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a girl who just pissed on me.”

“I did not!?” He covers your mouth with a palm again, torturing you with his other hand brushing your panties back over, soaked and sticky. You grip his wrist, brows lowering in a scowl.

God he wants to tell you you’re gorgeous, that you’re so sexy he can’t get his fucking mind off you, that your taste is so good he wants to bury himself against your perfect cunt. But he can’t just say that, can he? Be vulnerable when he finally gets a chance to see you like this, feel you like this, he can only smirk down at you and taunt you into a pretty furious glare.

“Why don’t you stop me?” He whispers, husky and lewd in your ear as he leans down, rubbing your soaked, sticky panties against your cunt.

“Shut up.” You’re arching your hips, hating him more and more with every touch, every breath.

“Loved cumming for me, bet you played with your pussy thinking about it.”

You scoff now, shoving at him, his stupid heavy weight feeling far too good. “Hah, you fucking wish, I never have.”

He exhales, his breath ghosting across your collarbones, as he eyes your tits in your lacy bra. “Yeah I don’t believe it, saw the way you looked at me when we first fucking met.”

‘This is Sukuna,’ your mom was introducing him to you, you’re exhausted from finals now, yawning from an all nighter, when you see him.

He’s stupid tall, well over six feet, so tall your head falls back to catch sight of him, with insane red eyes and a face that is far too attractive. His lips are parted, eyes wide when he first meets you, you’re literally in a big sweater and some shorts half asleep as your first introduction.

He looks a lot like his dad, and you two have gotten along well so far, of course you miss your dad, but a long time has passed and you want mom to be happy. But you’ve heard about his son, he’s a little older, in the college you’re going to next year, he honestly is hot as fuck, but you shove all that down. You clear your throat, looking down at your feet now, nervous.

‘What’s up,’ he manages, eyeing you intensely, the way you shift your hips, how you tug on your sweater nervously. ‘You’re fucking short.’

You gasp, glaring then. ‘Everyone must be short to you, jolly pink giant.’

‘What now, brat!?’ his fists clench, as you raise a brow, and your mom sighs.

‘You two are going to be family soon, maybe you could try the introductions again?’ you crush that hope when you run upstairs, and slam the door.

You can’t stand that boy.

The memories hit, of being told a stranger was now family, of being so enamored with his looks you were shy, only to inevitably learn the asshole your ‘stepbrother’ was. That was the beginning of the two of you hating each other, the pranks started coming along a few months later.

You hate him, remember?

It doesn’t matter if he’s got your cunt pulsing around nothing, it doesn’t matter if you are thinking of licking yourself off his lips. You can’t fucking do that, you can’t and shouldn’t want it, especially with them in earshot from you two. His teeth sink into the soft flesh of your breast then, you’re gasping out at it, tugging at his hair, his huge hands squeezing your ribcage.

“What’re you doing,” he pulls up then, eyes unreadable in the dark, lips leaving trails of saliva when he pulls back. “Gonna leave a mark.”

“Good, I’ll add to your collection.” You smack at his head now, he just grins and nips the spot again.

“Weirdo.”

“Freak.”

“Me!? Whore.”

“Slut.”

“Ugh!” You’re biting back another moan when he sucks your flesh into his hot mouth, and you're lost, hands entwined in his silky pink locks.

“Fuck…” it's his turn to lose it, to rut his leaky cock against your mattress, as he grips a tit in his hand, squishing it. “Would ruin you.”

“Ruin me, yeah whatever. Sukuna you’re so full of yourself,” you bite back a moan, wishing he didn’t feel so good on you. “So you can use your fingers, what’s it matter? Go away before you bruise me.”

“I’ll leave a better mark than him,” he’s pulling back again and you see it, a blossoming bruise forming across your skin, his white teeth flashing. “Much better, will last for weeks.”

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” He tugs your bra down, lips capturing your nipple now, you let out a squeak he chuckles at.

“Ya sound like a dumb hentai ad when you moan.”

“Oh I am so done.” You shove the big ass man until he rolls, falling on your floor and cursing, you tug the blanket up — embarrassingly covered in dark spots from your cum — leaning over to watch him curse, all six foot five of that man sprawled along your carpet.

You laugh so hard you snort.

He stands then, quickly leaning over you and gripping your chin, cutting off your laughter so quickly, your heart pounds in your chest, you can hear the blood rushing in your ears when he leans so low. You struggle to find that hatred, those years of anger at him in that moment, when you just want him to kiss you.

“You’re an annoying little brat, ya know that? Should make you cum till you’re covered in tears,” he’s swiping his thumbs over your cheeks, your lips part with desire at the words. “Till you can’t move, can’t sit, can’t fucking walk anymore.”

You say nothing then, because you’d be fucking lying if you acted like you didn’t want exactly what he was whispering. Your eyes shoot up to his, the ruby ring the only remnants of his red color with his pupils blown out.

“Why would you want to? With me, a fucking gremlin, a stupid brat, huh?”

He pauses, swallowing, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, you two hear the door to your parents room shut, echoing with a resounding thud, and he pulls away finally. He walks over to the door, carefully opening it and peering out, he looks at you with an unreadable expression before he just leaves with no word.

What the fuck was that!?

You sit up then, taking off your bra and ruined panties, tossing them in the hamper and walking over to your dresser, snatching out a big shirt you stole from Sukuna years ago to sleep in. You look at yourself in the mirror for a moment, trying to fucking process just what happened with him, before shoving it down, feeling awful about it.

You can’t feel that way, you have to forget whatever it was, whatever he did to make you cum harder than you ever have. And how it would have just taken another couple of touches on your body and you’d have fucked him right in your bed, Sukuna of all people!?

The fan overhead does nothing to cool you down, a thin sheen of sweat sticky on your brow, when you eye something on your bed in confusion. Black panties you had on earlier, you pick them up as you’re about to make your now messy bed, then look in horror when you see it.

Did Sukuna cum in your panties!?

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

*****

Breakfast is as awkward as you can imagine, he’s already done a prank on you when you walked out of your room this morning, laughing like a dick when you try to snatch his phone up. You haven’t been on his stupid channel in some time which has been pretty nice, but here he is, torturing you after the asshole decided to jerk off with your used panties?

You can’t say anything, your parents have friends over already, it’s supposed to be a pool party for the holiday and everyone’s here. Family, their friends, some of your friends and Sukuna’s start showing up too, and god if he’s not even more obnoxious around them. Your girlfriends are fawning over Sukuna like they always do, when you all are dressed in your bathing suits and everyone starts grilling out.

You could almost enjoy it, almost have fun if it wasn’t for the fact that Sukuna made you squirt last night, and every time he raises a slutty eyebrow it’s like he remembers it. Every smirk and flick of his tongue on his lips damn near confirms it, while he’s shirtless in swim trunks, his stupid chiseled body glistening with some oil your friends slathered on him.

Fucker loves the attention, pretentious ass.

The doorbell rings when you’ve run inside to grab beers and seltzers to bring em out to the cooler for everyone, you set down the heavy packs with a huff, opening the door and then smiling when you see Toji. He’s got trunks slung over his forearm, those glossy lips tugged up at the corner as he leans against the doorway.

“Hey doll, I’m late as shit.”

“It’s fine Toji, I haven’t even gotten in the pool yet!” You lean up and kiss his cheek then, feeling the stubble brush your lips.

“Tease,” you giggle and he kisses your lips instead, a hand on the bare skin of the small of your back. “You look so hot in this, fuck.”

“Thank you, I didn’t know if it looked okay,” you pull back to tug at it a bit, and his mossy green eyes slip down your body. “Sukuna said I look like a gremlin like usual.”

“Sure he did.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, stepping inside and eyeing over your shoulder. “Want help with those?”

“Yes please.” You feel bad suddenly, knowing Sukuna had been knuckles deep inside you last night, when you really wanna get to know Toji. He’s so stupid and fucks everything up constantly, far even for him.

Forget it all.

Toji lifts em then, bringing both cases out for you, Sukuna really has the audacity to glare at him, just earning Toji’s smirk when he finally introduces himself to your mom, she is friendly as she always is. Sukuna’s dad is not as friendly, he may be much nicer than his son, but you see where Sukuna got all the attitude from, but Toji literally gives no fucks.

He smirks right at everyone, wrapping an arm around you then, you can feel Sukuna’s eyes just burning holes in your back when you’re pressed against him. “I gotta go change real quick.”

“Sounds good.” You peck at his lips this time, a quick nervous one with so many eyes on you two, it’s not like you’ve ever had a boyfriend very long with Sukuna torturing and scaring them all away.

“He’s hot!” Your friend comes up to you and says, you giggle and nod.

“Surrounded by hot men, let me be you,” your other friend is pouting, looking over at Sukuna. You shake your head. “Oh you know he is. You just can’t say it.”

“He’s gross and a dick. No thanks.”

“You’re gross too, brat.” You jump then, how’d he get so close so fast!?

“Yeah, well not as gross as you, creep.” You shove at him then, when the asshole drags your ass in the pool. You rise up and sputter as he throws back his head and laughs, the cold ass pool chills your skin, goosebumps raising. “I hate you!”

“Yeah, whiny ass brat, I know.”

“Don’t laugh!” You scowl at all of them, they hide their giggles, but even your parents are holding back a laugh. “Help me out.”

“Oh, fine.” He bends down, reaching a hand when you snatch his wrist up and tug his ass in too. He’s sputtering just like you did, big thick ass floundering so hilarious you die laughing.

“Hah! How’d that feel, dick!?” You shove at him under the water now when he hauls you up in the air and throws you across the fucking pool like you’re a volleyball. “Ugh!”

“How’d that feel, brat?” He taunts, soon everyone is just laughing at the two of you, deciding to all hop in aside from your step dad who’s grilling, and your mom sipping a beer and laughing still at you.

“You’re such a jerk.” You mumble when he steps closer, you’re shivering still as the cold water rushes over your skin, hair in strings from how wet it got.

You’re beautiful.

He hates that he thinks that way about you, that you’re the only person he’s thought that singular word for, when he just threw said girl across a damn pool, and all he can see is how the sun illuminates your pretty skin. How it glows under the soft light, the way your eyelashes are spiky and dripping water. He wishes it was just those pretty titties bouncing up and not more.

He swallows as you scowl, like you always do. It’s not as if he’s given you any reason not to do so, aside from that pretty fucked out look he can’t get off his mind last night. The way he desperately sucked your juices that remained sticky on his fingers and jerked it again to you, only to see Toji with his arm around you and want to fucking cut his hand off.

Sukuna has always been this way for you, but it gets worse, and the problem is he doesn’t feel guilty, not for wanting you when he met you already grown up. He doesn’t feel whatever ‘family’ shit his dad wants him to because you’re not really, but he already knows how awful you feel. The way you have avoided him all day, not like he helped pranking you this morning.

How else can Sukuna even show his affection? Aside from just being a dick all the time, aside from taunting you and tossing you in pools? It’s not like it’s returned, he’s not even sure if last night was real, you actually letting him touch your perfect body, the one so close he feels the heat of it even under the cold water undulating around your pretty tits.

“What are you looking at?” You demand, with your bratty voice that just makes his dick harder, crossing your arms under your tits.

“Just that you look like a drowned rat.” He smirks and lies - not telling you that he finds you the most beautiful thing in existense, that your friends don’t have shit on you, that literally no one does.

He can’t say it, it makes it worse, what even could happen if he did? It’s not like you don’t have years of hating him behind your belt, and now you clearly found someone even he can’t scare away. The thoughts of you being with someone else makes him sick, he wants your cunt to remember his shape.

He looks down now, the mark he left just barely apparent where your little bikini top slipped down too much, precariously trying to bare a perk nipple. You look down then, swallowing audibly as he salivates damn near. It takes everything not to make a public spectacle and bring your body against him, grip one of those pretty tits and swipe a thumb over that mark.

You tug your top to further cover it, blushing furiously. “What’s wrong, huh? Something bothering ya?”

“Nothing at all, was a mosquito bite. I hate mosquitos, such pests.” His scowl makes you smile that much bigger, when you eye Toji climbing in, your friends hone in on him this time, whispering about how big he is so loud he can even hear. He’s chuckling when he steps up, you turn away from Sukuna to head across the other side of the pool when he tugs on your wrist. “What?”

He leans low, lips against your ear now. “New nickname instead of gremlin or short stuff.”

“What’s that?” You glare at him as he grins.

“Waterfall.”

“Oh I can’t stand you!” You yank your wrist as he chuckles like the infuriating jerk he is, instead going over to Toji who hands you a drink. “I need one, thank you.”

“Mmm, no problem doll. I think your mom likes me.” He waves at her now, you smile.

“She does!”

“Sukuna’s dad always thought I was getting him in trouble,” he’s known Sukuna way longer than you, since they were in middle school. Toji takes a sip of his beer then, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “It’s nonsense.”

“But you were trouble! I’ve heard stories.” His lips quirk, that scar stretching just a bit as he looks down at you, standing dangerously close.

“What’ve you heard hmm?” he’s leaning against the pool wall, the scents of the grilled food start flooding your senses now. Your tummy rumbles, making him laugh just a bit. “Hungry?”

“I didn’t eat breakfast because stupid ass Sukuna pranked me.” He snorts a bit at that, drinking some more as you eye Sukuna’s dad flipping the burgers. At this point your grandma is pretty drunk, shouting your name across the pool, you smile and wave back at her.

“So what did you hear?” He waves at your grandma too, making you laugh.

“That you two were breaking into your teacher’s room after school, and taking shit. Oh and you all released like a hundred chickens at once?”

“That was end of the year pranks, it was all Sukuna. I got dragged into it.”

“Uh huh sure.” He brushes back a little bit of your hair, drying from the warm sun, before brushing a finger across your cheek.

“You think I’m the bad influence here, doll?”

“I think it was a team effort.”

“Hmm…” he trails off, and eyes Sukuna, staring at the two of you for just a moment with an unreadable expression, before he’s back to talking with his friends. “I guess we both were little shits, but he’s still one.”

“You can say that again.” You peek back at Sukuna, who flips you off, earning a middle finger right back.

“You two are so close y’know.”

“We are so close.” Your words are teasing, but the memories hit again, the memories you would rather keep completely under lock for the rest of your damn life, refusing to acknowledge they exist.

The cook-out goes on, your grandma at some point is being just a menace, she’s flirting with people you kinda love that for her. Your aunt is stoned off her ass, getting yelled at for smoking a blunt by your mom, it’s a typical get together. Sukuna is throwing a foot ball around the yard with a bunch of your little cousins, and something about that gives you pause.

Big ass jerk Sukuna, smiling and tossing a football with kids is arguably adorable, he played extremely well in college, so well you thought he may go pro, but you suppose youtube made him rich so he just went with that. You don’t know as much about him as you suppose you should.

How can a man be so fucking infuriating, really?

As everyone starts to leave, Toji is getting changed, dragging you into the bathroom when he opens the door and you’re about to get changed yourself. You giggle when he does, he lifts you up like nothing and sits you on the sink, your hands grip his strong shoulders when he plants a kiss on you, you still smell the scent of chlorine from the pool and the mix of the coconut scent of the sunblock.

Your body is all jello from the pool and the heat, the perfect feeling for getting kissed by him. You lose yourself in it for a bit, quiet smacks of hungry lips, his hands gripping your waist. He pulls back a bit and presses you closer, you’re blushing when you feel him under his shorts.

“Another date, what ya think doll?”

“I’d love one.” He smirks and kisses you again, a little more hungry, and to be honest you have very little experience thanks to your annoying fucking ‘step-brother’, so you’re a little nervous as your hand trails down his chest.

“Ya gonna jerk me off in your parents bathroom? Really?” He’s taunting you, and you pout now.

“No, now that you said it that way!”

“Shit, no, bring it back.” He’s tugging your hand back down as you giggle just a bit, curiously touching his thickness - and fuck he’s thick. You bite your lip and he kisses you again, rutting his cock against your hand, just the thin material of those gray shorts as a barrier. “Fuck…”

“Mnh…” You’re crying out into his lips when he’s running his fingers down your breasts, tugging at your bikini top.

That’s when you really panic.

What if he saw Sukuna’s stupid fucking mark!?

You two aren’t exclusive or dating yet, but still! And imagine explaining - oh yeah, my dickhead stepbrother fingered me last night! Oh and he came in my panties, it’s all very silly hehe! - Yeah no.

Now you have time to think about it, when the door knob twists, and you pull your top up a little nervous, blushing. “Use the other bathroom!”

“Just get out brat.” You scowl now, hearing his voice, and Toji’s cock twitches in your hand, you realize you’re still stroking it.

“Go to one of the others!?”

“Then I’ll drip through the house.”

“Oh god.” Toji chuckles and you about could hear a fucking pin drop.

“Is that Toji in there?”

“No! That was me.”

“Out, now.” You’re so irritated, you’re twenty one not a fucking baby anymore, Toji helps you down and opens the door then, to a furious Sukuna, just an inch taller than Toji and a half inch broader maybe. “What are you doing in there?”

“I was helping her unhook her bathing suit, calm down buddy,” he pats Sukuna on the shoulder with an easy grin, looking back at you. “I’ll call you about that date, I’m gonna head home.”

“Sounds good Toji,” you smile and give him another kiss as he walks off, leaving Sukuna glaring even more intensely, like he’s gonna fucking actually kill you. “Sukuna, I'm not a baby.”

“Tch, are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. I am tired of you acting like some big brother, you’re not, okay?” You shove him now, and that’s when he’s locked himself in the bathroom with you, making you gasp, reaching around to grab the knob, only to be turned and pressed against the counter, facing the mirror.

His big arms, lined with thick black tattoos wrap you then, his hair is this dusky rose color from the dampness still on the thick strands, huge hands slipping around your body, taking you over. Your head falls back, eyes meeting his and narrowing, he’s tugging that bikini top down until your breasts spill, bouncing just so for his vision, and you feel it - his hardness on the small of your back.

Momentarily frozen, you finally gather yourself, pushing at his stupidly strong arms to get them off you, just making your tits jiggle more. He grabs one, thumb brushing over your bruise, you ignore the wetness between your thighs, the memories of last night flooding your stupid brain.

“Sukuna, the fuck?” He leans lower, gently plucking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his breaths hot against your cheek as your heart races.

“You fucking him, huh?”

“What’s it matter if I am? What do you care, panty thief.”

“I didn’t steal them, tch,” he squishes a breast in his huge ass hand, rough and calloused, hurting so good you want more. You arch without meaning too, earning his exhale, while he studies that spot in the mirror hungrily, thumb pressing it to make it hurt even more. “You left them on the floor, you’re messy. Your cunt and your room.”

“You’re such a pervert, why were you in there!?”

“You probably liked what I did, huh? Freaky little slut…” You’re done for when he finds you, toxic ass Sukuna feeling your slick cunt over his fingers, rubbing and groaning softly, barely a breath, tickling the shell of your ear.

“You call me a slut? Look at you,” your head falls back against his hard chest, hips moving up and down. “Can’t stop touching me, why? You don’t even… mnh… find me… attractive…”

“Hah, you’re fucking stupid too,” he rubs your slick bottoms, feeling the sticky arousal pool and drip. “What are you so wet for, him?”

“Yes, him, finally gonna - ah - get some without you blocking me, you f-fucking psycho…” you wish you weren’t close from him rubbing you over your soaking wet bikini, wish you didn’t love him licking the side of your neck. Wished his stupid smile wasn’t so attractive in that mirror.

“You wanna fuck Toji so bad, huh?” You moan into your palm now, the other hand braced on the polished marble of the sink, eyes fluttering shut as he presses that material up between your lips. “Asked ya a question.”

“Y-yes I do. Don’t want you.” You yank his hand off then, before you go too far, but he just slips his fingers in your mouth instead. You suck on them without fighting it at first, as he watches your lips wrap them, leaking hot sticky precum against your sun warmed skin. “Fuck off Sukuna.”

“Such a liar, you’ve always been.”

“Me!? You.” You turn now, shoving him back, just making him bend at the waist and lean low, thumb brushing your lips. “What's been your problem since you came back? Some new form of torturing me?”

“You torture me, constantly.” You blink in confusion shaking your head then, as his eyes are so bright red they’re hard to look at. He cups your face, it feels so small in his big hands then, as your breath catches.

“How do I torture you?” Your voice is a hushed whisper, your tits are hastily shoved in your top, while you realize he’s just seen all of you again. You’re shoving him harder, but he doesn’t move. “Answer me, how have I ever? You’re the bully.”

“You’re right, I’m the bully,” you are so confused by him then, he sees it on your pretty face.

You don’t even know the torture you’ve put him through all these years, can hardly be with someone because of you, the times he has, he’s just thought of you or pictured you. Being too beautiful, too fucking perfect, smell too good, feel too good, fuck he even loves your voice. He loves your writing he’s found snooping pathetic in your room, he loves how sweet you are to everyone but him.

He loves how mean you are to him.

“You really don’t know shit about me, huh?” You blink in confusion again, tilting your head, he’s too close, his hands are on your face, yours are wrapping his thick wrists.

It’s too intimate.

More intimate than his fingers inside you, to look into his eyes like this, not mocking or taunting, but so serious as they study your face, as they dart all around your face. You bite at your trembling lip, unsure of just what to say in that moment, unsure of everything you know.

Why do his hands feel so good? Why does the way he’s looking at you destroy you?

“You just hate me, huh?” You swallow nervously, looking down. “Look at me, brat, look at me when you tell me.”

“You have been horrible to me since the first day we met, how did you expect me to like you?”

“Right,” he pulls back then, letting you catch your breath, his fists clenched at his sides now. “Of course that’s what you think.”

“You’re confusing, hitting some fucking quarter life crisis?” You expect a smirk, a chuckle, a scowl, not the tensing of his jaw, not the way he’s looking down at you right now. “I’m not a slut, either.”

“No?”

“I’m a virgin, you dumb ass.” He falters now, swallowing nervously.

“You’re a what?”

“Make fun of that too, hard to fuck when your jerk ‘step brother’ threatens every man you like just to make you miserable.”

To think he could have you first makes his cock throb then, it’s toxic and horrible, and if Sukuna was a good person he’d feel terrible. But all he can think of now is how badly he wants to be your first, fuck your only, have you cumming so good you pass out, but he’d keep going. Nothing could stop him once he finally got you, when he finally busted in your pretty cunt.

He’d put so many kids in you, you’d never leave him.

He’d feel bad about that too, if he had a conscience, but when it comes to you, Sukuna is so obsessed he doesn’t care. He’s had cameras in your room before, he’s jerked it to fuzzy dark videos with hints of your tits. His collection of your things is so ridiculous, you’d probably be shocked where all your little things went, locked in a box under his childhood bed.

He should feel bad, but how can he? How can he keep going, and not have you, not mark every part of your body?”

“Nothing mean to say about it?” You ask now, trembling with his study, so intense it’s hard to breathe, the vulnerability of admitting that fact makes you nauseous.

Why is he just staring!?

“Say something, something mean. I’m a loser or whatever.” You’re damn near begging him to, but he doesn’t, instead he almost tenderly dances those fingers across each cheek, down the sides of your neck, watching you tremble under his touch.

He exhales in that moment, the movement tantalizing in its slowness, drinking in your scent, remembering your taste. He hears your quick, skipped breaths, sees the way your lips part as you feel his touch. You’re surrounding his every sense, clouding his mind further and further, while those fingers brush the gentle slope of your bare shoulders achingly slow.

“Sukuna, say something.” You need it, an insult, a dick comment, something to return the normalcy of your relationship.

But he doesn’t.

“You’re just gonna stare at me?” You shove at him, of course he doesn’t move, he just sighs, leaning too low, towering over you.

“No loser touched you huh?”

“No, because of you, idiot.” He smiles just a bit, making you even more curious that it’s his response. “What would you give a fuck for?”

“You’re right, I don’t care.” He walks right out of that bathroom, and you scowl at the door, before splashing your face with cold water that runs from the faucet, then sinking on the floor, hugging your knees.

What the fuck was he up to, some elaborate prank!? Or was there something you’re missing? It can’t be that he… feels anything. It’s a joke, you convince yourself of it, maybe you’re gaslighting yourself, but you can’t allow it to be any sort of truth, and sort of reality.

Fuck Sukuna.

*****

Sukuna’s got another pair of your panties, he doesn’t think you’ll miss them from the hamper, cursing at how much he hates you as he strokes his cock again that night. Why do you make him pathetic!?

‘Oh, ya think I’ll take it easy your first time, hah - that’s real cute’ Sukuna’s picturing it, his sooty pink lashes shut, as he lays in his bed and jerks his cock, whimpering as he runs his thumb over his tip, picturing taking you, fuck he’d have you cum on his face so much he’d drown.

Then he’d have you begging and pleading, only to fuck into you, take your virginity, make sure you would never want anyone but him. He can’t do it, he’s already going too far, being so fucking disrespectful and horrible, but he’s jerking it faster to the fantasy, of making you not hate him, of having you fucked out and whining, gasping and drooling.

‘Gonna ruin you, fuck up your insides, yeah?’ He can’t stop it, the obsession with you, but instead of you sleeping peacefully, you find your thoughts drifting to him as you toss and turn in your bed.

You can’t want him.

You shouldn’t want him.

You don’t want him.

Right?

tagsss- @sukubusss @quinny23 @flowerymenendez @valleydolli @gradmacoco @lolliibunny @chosolover32 @tiredasiandaughter @nanam1nz @sukunabish @valentinegab3 @heichouaack @throwmethroughawindow @mizuwki @omkookie @lemonadesforsale @dannaya @maybe-a-bi-witch @fl4weriesworld @karvokr @pillkits @yummycastiel @fl4weriesworld @kitty-yaps @kitassecretgf @deathrye @musiclover2119 @goldenfawnwriting @sttaejoon-blog @lil-cinn @keiiate @sageosimps @paradisestarfishh @ohohostinkyyyyy @blitziwitch @b0nez9 @sukunaforlife @mihauh @gojodickbig @ashlantismorning @erenspersonalwh0re @uncertainlyours @t4ters @msniks @lnette04 @salemsays66 @chxngminji @poopooindamouf @hellovanie

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theglassofmiddleearth · 9 hours ago

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Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 2)

This chapter is mainly Abby (Abel) oriented!) Each member will get a chapter since you guys showed so much support!

Part 1

Y/N awoke, gasping much needed air into her lungs as she sat up. Clasping one hand to her chest, she panted, reliving all her memories, as the flow of thoughts slowly settled into her mind.

‘Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re safe.’ A familiar voice whispered, gentle and soft. The owner of the voice had meant for it to be reassuring, but Y/N instantly recognised the voice. It was Jinu, the popstar demon.

But he was dead? All the Saja boys were meant to be dead. If they were still alive, this meant she had transmitigated before they debuted.

She had time to stop the events of the plot. She could make sure none of the boys died. Maybe she could even…

‘Gwi-ma…’ She whispered, eyes still fixated on the crisp white bed sheets she was sitting on. The sheets wrinkled as she grasped onto them, fists trembling in unspoken anger.

She almost forgot about the demon lord, the one who caused all this. He was the reason the men died. He was the reason so many people had died. All the innocent people who had lost their souls, just because Gwi-ma wanted more than he had.

‘She knows about Gwi-ma?’ Another voice, deep and dry mumbled, from her right side.

Y/N lifted her head slowly, eyes meeting Jinu’s hesitantly, concerned gaze. Wow, he was good at masking his emotions. Her gaze danced between all the men who were standing in the room. Each had a slightly different stance. Yet, each seemed to be leaning towards her, eager to hear her voice. To swallow up whatever noise she would make next.

‘Where am I?’ Y/N’s voice came out, a scarily, even tone. The room was unfamiliar, meaning that she was likely at the Saja boy’s own residence. It wasn’t too bad, it was a pent house too. She could tell by the way the room was almost fully covered in glass window.

In fact…

Wait.

This was the penthouse right next to hers.

SHE COULD SEE HER OWN MINI STUDIO SET UP, THROUGH THE TALL GLASS WINDOWS FROM HERE.

‘I need to invest in curtains.’ She mumbled, staring at the revealing scene of her apartment. Luckily for her, she had cleaned up just days ago, just after she finished up producing Golden. Otherwise, she couldn't imagine the embarrassment that she would be facing if the men saw her… personal belongings.

‘I hope you don’t mind that we’ve taken up residence near your home. It’s just that much easier for us y’know?’ The buff one smirked, sitting down on the bed, leaning towards Y/N’s face.

‘Alright enough with this pretty boy act. I’m not helping you kill thousands upon thousands of people.’ Y/N swung her legs over the side of the bed to stand.

‘What if-’

‘No matter how painful the memories are.’ Y/N snapped, whirling around, her body flush with rage.

She could see it. The shame, the flash of pain and sudden confusion in Jinu’s eyes. She chose to ignore the pang of regret that rippled through her chest. He dug his grave. He could lay in it for all she cared.

‘How do you-’ Jinu stuttered out before Y/N pushed him out of her way.

Grabbing a random jacket, she used it to cover her shoulders as she walked out of the bedroom, into the spacious living area. It was decorated with a modern feel, suitable for a seemingly new rising pop band. It looked to be fairly new in its decoration. No one had lived here previously. Y/N remembered this since the apartment before was empty of furniture. At least this meant they hadn’t taken the lives of anyone yet.

How pretentious.

Finding the front door, she stalked out of the apartment and into the elevator, pulling the jacket around her tight.

Her notebook.

It wasn’t with her, the guys must have taken it from her whilst she was out cold.

Y/N groaned, slapping a hand onto her forehead as the elevator doors opened.

‘You have some serious talent.’

Y/N blinked, as she was met with the view of Abby, waiting at the elevator door entrance.

‘How did you-’

‘Demon, remember?’ He chuckled, moving aside, gesturing for Y/N to pass through. ‘Besides, you left your note book so I thought I’d return it.’

Y/N gave Abby a once over, pondering his trustworthiness. She relaxed slightly, as she took back the notebook from Abby’s outstretched hand.

‘Y’know, Jinu’s pretty shaken about what you said.’ He kept talking, walking side by side with her as she walked out of the Saja boy’s apartment building and into the doors of her own building.

‘I stand by what I said. I’m not helping you kill people.’ She whipped around, jabbing a finger into the muscular man's chest.

‘Hey, look. I don’t actually care what happens.’ Abs shrugged, gently placing his palm over Y/N’s accusing finger. His face was soft, eyes sincere in a way Y/N simply couldn’t refute.

‘Then why are you here Abby?’ Y/N swiped her key card and punched in the top level into the elevator panel. To her displeasure, Abby had also slid into the elevator with her.

‘Call me Abel.’ He grinned, leaning back against the handrails, arms crossed. ‘I’m here because I wanted to walk you home. We’re here because Jinu wants to forget. You were right.’ He sighed as the elevator rose higher with a soft hum.

‘And you? The rest of the group?’ Y/N turned, mimicking Abel’s pose.

‘I’m here because Jinu’s my friend. Despite what your friends say about us, we do have feelings. Humans and demons are not all unalike. In fact, I’ve seen humans act more like demons than we do.’ His eyes glazed over, as if stuck in a memory of his own.

‘We feel more than just greed and shame, but you’re not ready for that conversation.’ The grip on his arms was tight. Y/N could see the way his fingertips were turning white.

‘I never said you couldn’t feel anything.’ Y/N turned back to face the opening elevator doors as the elevator happily dinged.

‘All I said was, I wasn’t going to help you kill thousands of people so Jinu can feel better, about his mistakes.’

‘I get that, and you’re right.’ Abel agreed, as Y/N walked into her apartment, gesturing for him to follow her.

‘But for some reason, I can feel that you’ll be the one to change it. All of it.’ Abel’s eyes trailed on Y/N’s form as she took off her shoes before flipping open her notebook. Y/N didn't take it to heart, yet to Y/N's ignorance, Abel was being genuine.

Y/N frowned, sitting on a bar stool at her marbled kitchen island. Pulling out a pen from her pocket she scribbled something down. The original song was already written in her notebook, the title and almost all the words. It seemed as if, she had written all the backbones of the songs in the movie already.

‘The girls are going to know you’re demons. If I can see the patterns, so can they.’ She pointed her pen at the man who sat down across from her.

‘Huh, you have more than one seat. You have friends?’ He chuckled, dodging Y/N’s thrown pen whilst catching it in one swift movement.

‘You want your stupid song or not.’ She snatched the pen back, grumbling. It seemed like these guys were intent on teasing her. What assholes.

‘I couldn’t care less.’ He grinned, before suddenly clutching at his head. The smile on his face was gone in an instant, replaced with one marred by agony.

‘Ah..’

Y/N stood, her stool being pushed back with an ear wrenching screech.

‘What, what's wrong?’ Y/N rushed over, hands hovering over Abel’s shivering form. ‘Talk to me!’

‘Ugh, just my head. Gwi-ma wasn’t too happy about that comment.’ Abel chuckled spitefully, pushing into his forehead with his index and middle finger.

‘He can hear your thoughts?’ Y/N frowned, leaning forward to observe the man in front of her. He seemed to be in genuine pain. She gently reached forward to touch Abel’s right temple with her fingers.

‘Yeah, he whispers in our minds. It’s how he controls us-’

A flash of gold and white blue. As if the strings she could see at the concert had suddenly erupted from her fingertips and rippled across Abel’s patterns in an instant.

‘What the.’ Y/N jerked her hand back, as if she had been shocked with static electricity.

A warm hand wrapped around her wrist, gentle yet insistent.

‘What did you do?’ Abel looked up in wonder, his eyes filled with slight suspicion.

‘What do you mean what did I do?’ Y/N blinked, looking between her caught hand and Abel’s glittering eyes.

‘I can’t hear him. Gwi-ma. My head, it’s silent… I can hear myself think.’ He sounded just as shocked as Y/N felt. ‘I haven’t been able to think on my own for years.’

‘I just, I touched your temple. I didn’t even-’

‘I have to tell the boys. We have to show them!’ He stood quickly, releasing Y/N’s wrist, taking large strides towards the elevator.

‘But, the song?’ Y/N blinked, waving her notebook.

‘Bring it with you!’

‘Okay but wait. Listen for a second.’ Y/N tugged at Abel’s sleeves. The man turned around, eyebrows raised. His heart thumped as his gaze flitted toward Y/N's hand.

‘Jinu wouldn’t be happy about this. He wants Gwi-ma to win.’ Y/N’s reminder, halted Abel’s excitement quickly.

‘Damn. I didn’t think about that.’ His eyebrows creased into a deep scowl.

‘Okay look. I’ll write you a debut song. But you have to promise me, you won't take souls.’ Y/N’s grip tightened on Abel’s shirt. He softened his stance and turned back to Y/N.

‘I’ll do my best darlin' ’He hummed, placing a reassuring hand over her fist.

‘Alright. I’ll write your song. Get your boys to come over. I’ll set up my studio.’

‘Really?!’

'Really.'

'You're serious? You'll write for us?!'

‘Offer ends in five minutes.’

‘OKAY OKAY.’

Y/N rubbed her hand over her weary eyes. Writing the song would take minutes. Recording, mastering and mixing would take hours. Maybe she wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

She heaved a sigh, walking over to her set up, spotting Abel waving his arms frantically around in the apartment next to her.

Wow, he was fast.

She continued watching the interaction between the men, smiling slightly at the sight. If she didn’t know, it almost seemed like a real boy band, rejoicing over finding their new producer. The way each was frantically grabbing phones and note books was actually refreshing. As if they were truly excited about debuting.

Y/N shook her head, sitting down in her gaming chair, booting up her PC. She still had to be careful. Abel was the only one she had actually spoken to. And who knows, he could also be faking it.

She failed to see Jinu’s figure, looking through the glass, his face bewildered as he peered at Y/N flitting around, testing all her equipment.

Tag list: @ajunoiseee @silverklaus @thesimppotato11 @devilchicc @imlost-sendhelp @tumblblob @arieslucy @maybeethan69 @t4naiis @6demonica9 @suzieq1948374 @katzline @justyourlocalfriendlydinosaur @1950schick @myjerseygirlblog @sky2lar @itsjustkhaos @nevermorekisses @valeriele3 @yoongi-tunes @reibelhearts @satansdaughter123 @iheartyourgrandpa @justanindiangirl12 @uniquecutie-puffs @xyndyn @akiqvq

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the-shedevil-writes · 2 days ago

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A Night to Remember (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: When Phoenix sets Bob up on a blind date with one of her closest friends, he’s already nervous. So when he finds her to be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s convinced he’s out of his league. But as the night unfolds, he starts to realize they may work together better than he ever expected. WORD COUNT: 3.7k WARNINGS: Super fluffy. First date/Blind date! Reader is a big nerd- D&D and comics. Nervous Bob. Kissing. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Bob sat with his thigh anxiously bouncing in the booth at The Hard Deck. In a white polo tucked into a pair of black slacks, he held a small bouquet of daisies mixed with a few other light blue flowers. All at the advice of Phoenix, of course, who sat in front of him currently.

“You’re gonna be just fine.” She said, looking down at her phone to check. “I’m telling you, Bob. You’re gonna get along.”

When his pilot had come up to him, saying that she was setting him up, it was like she had experienced a stroke of genius and needed to experiment. She told him that she was setting him up with one of her close friends who had recently moved to San Diego. And that just made him all the more nervous. What if things didn’t work out, and now Phoenix felt awkward bringing her friend around? Or what if things didn’t work out, and now Phoenix felt weird around HIM?

Bob didn’t exactly have the most experience with dating. He took a girl to prom once and went on a date or two after enlisting, but nothing ever came out of it. Next thing he knew, he was 30 and he felt like he was falling behind all his friends who were either getting married or had at the very least a boatload of experience. This blind date felt like walking into a minefield.

“Do I look alright?” He asked with wide eyes

“You look like your usual dorky self.”

Then her phone chimed, and Bob’s head whipped over to it. Phoenix looked and nodded. “She’s here. I’m gonna walk her in then… It’s all up to you, bud.” She tapped the table excitedly as she got up.

“Don’t say that.” Bob groaned, nervous out of his goddamn mind.

As she left and walked out the front doors, he looked down at the flowers that he had gotten. According to Phoenix, she liked blues and pinks. But they didn’t have any pink flowers… He hoped they sufficed. He gently moved some of the flowers with bent stems and fixed the arrangement so nothing was falling out.

After a moment, he looked back up and saw Phoenix open the door for someone. Her. His jaw dropped slightly, and he suddenly understood why Phoenix refused to show pictures. If he had seen pictures, he would’ve believed it was some kind of prank. She was gorgeous. She wore a simple, white dress with a square neckline that fit snugly on her figure. Her hair was down, and it gently blew in the beach breeze, then settled as she walked inside. His eyes traveled down her legs to see the little red heels she wore.

Dear God, what was Phoenix thinking, setting her up with him? His entire face turned pink, and he had to force himself to manually breathe. He watched Phoenix point him out, and his date turned and smiled at him. Bob quickly scrambled to stand at her beautiful smile like he was called to attention. Should he walk to meet her? Should he wait by the table?

But she was already walking towards him.

“Bob?” Her sweet voice called out as she got close enough.

He nodded nervously. “Hi.” His own voice sounded like sandpaper in his head.

She smiled again. “I’m Y/n. Phoenix’s friend.” She looked him up and down with a small smirk, and it made his heart pound in his chest. Was that a good look? Or a bad look?

Bob put his hand out. His internal thoughts screamed at him that a handshake was entirely stupid, but she took it excitedly. Then he remembered what was in his other hand.

“These are for you.” He said with his typical crooked smile, and he held out the flowers.

She gasped and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He silently prayed a thank you to Phoenix. Taking the flowers in her hands, they complemented her perfectly.

“Thank you so much. I’ve never gotten flowers on a first date. That’s so thoughtful.” She said

“Well, Phoenix helped me pick out which ones you might like.” He admitted. It felt like a dumb move to say that, but he kept to his guns. “Wanna- wanna sit down?”

She nodded and looked over at the booth before sitting down. Bob followed to sit across from her. Then he quickly realized-

“Wait! Uh- would you like a drink?” He asked

“Oh. A water would be nice.” She smiled

“Got it.” He nodded before awkwardly scooching back out of the booth.

When he made it to the bar, he was practically hyperventilating. There sat Phoenix, who watched him with a smug smirk. Bob got the attention of Penny first. He didn’t wanna make it seem like an excuse to talk to Phoenix. Maybe he was overthinking all of this.

“Hi. Can I get a water and a Diet Coke? Actually, make that a water and two Diet Cokes. Please.” Bob said. He figured he might as well get her something just in case.

Phoenix’s laugh finally brought his attention to her.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out, Floyd.”

His eyes widened at her. “What were you thinking? My first date in years, and you set me up with a girl I have no chance with?” He asked quietly through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes. “Just. Talk to her. You’ll see.”

Penny slid over the two Cokes and the water glass. He quickly scooped them up and walked back over to the table, looking back at Phoenix nervously.

Y/n looked up at him with eager eyes as he sat back down.

“You like Diet Coke?” She teased him about having two.

He chuckled nervously and slid into the booth again. “I do, but the other one’s for you in case you wanted something other than water.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You’re sweet.”

The words were so simple, yet his face turned a bright shade of pink.

She took a sip of her water, very obviously eyeing him up and down again with a small smile around her straw. After she swallowed, she started:

“So you’re Phoenix’s WSO?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I backseat for her. She’s great. Uh- she tells me that you’re her friend from school?”

“Mhm! We’ve been close friends since elementary school. All through high school, too. But then she enlisted, and I went to college. It’s been nice seeing her again.”

“What did you study?” He asked curiously. The small talk didn’t feel as painful as he had anticipated a blind date would be. She felt easy to talk to.

“Aeronautical Engineering.” She explained, “That’s why I moved here. Got a gig being a mechanic.”

Bob’s heart stopped slightly. She engineered planes- his first and greatest love. And that had to mean she was incredibly smart. Not that that surprised him. She held herself like she was.

“Wow. That’s- that’s awesome. We really owe you guys more appreciation. We get to fly cause you guys do all the math.” He said genuinely.

“I like you, Bob. You don’t gotta say all that.” She joked.

His face blushed harder, and his eyes widened. “No! No- I really mean it. It’s true. I couldn’t do what you do.”

She laughed at his nervousness and leaned forward to push his shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time.” She took another sip of her water and put her elbows on the table. “So, Bob, what do you like to do, other than boss Phoenix around?”

He looked down at his hands with a tight chuckle. He knew he should tell the truth. There would be no point in lying and acting like he was much cooler than he was. The conversation was going so well so far… but he felt like he could screw it up here. He didn’t hit the gym or go partying on the weekends. He spent most of his time alone.

“Well, uh- I come here every Friday with the squadron and that’s pretty fun.” He started to clarify that he wasn’t a complete loner, “I hike sometimes. But honestly, I play a lot of video games. Like… a lot of video games.”

It didn’t feel like a special answer. He didn’t feel interesting in any sense of the word. But he watched as her eyes brightened.

“What games?” She jumped to ask.

“Oh uh-” He couldn’t help his stammering, “I collect a lot of retro stuff. Mostly games for the Atari. Pac-Man, Galaga, that sorta thing. But I also play the usual Call of Duty, Battlefield, Counter Strike…” He felt like he was talking too much. Well, it was more than what he’d usually say on a Friday night with the squadron, at least.

“Oh goodness, I’m so bad at FPSs.” She giggled, shaking her head, “But that’s so cool that you collect all that!”

What. He swallowed and tilted his head, almost confused. She found that… cool?

She continued. “There was one summer where I spent every weekend trying to get myself on the scoreboard of the Frogger machine at the movie theater. Phoenix wanted to kill me.” She chuckled.

“Did you?”

“Third place. Still pisses me off that I couldn’t get higher.” She said lightheartedly.

“We’ll have to play it on mine sometime so you can beat my score.” The words had slipped out so easily. An implication that he wanted to see her again. He blinked, hoping it wasn’t too forward.

But instead of seeming weirded out, she nodded excitedly. “Yes! That’d be so fun.”

Bob smiled and let out a relieved sigh. This was going so much better than he assumed it would. By this point, he figured he’d screw it all up. He cleared his throat.

“What do you like to do besides fixing planes?”

She blushed and looked down at her drink. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“I just told you I spent my weekends playing Pac-Man.”

With a small laugh, she shrugged.

“Well, I’m a bit of a nerd. I collect comics and love superhero movies. I could talk your ear off about them. Also… god this is so dorky.” She started with a bashful smile, “I like playing D&D. So sometimes when there’s a campaign going on, I’ll spend my Saturday night doing that.”

“Like dungeons and dragons?” Bob asked

She nodded. “I know it’s totally nerdy, but it’s so much fun. Have you played?”

He blinked hard and shook his head with a smile. “No, but I’d like to.”

She just… completely and utterly out-nerded him. He looked over at Phoenix at the bar, who nodded at him like ‘I told you so’. This felt too perfect. Too good to be true.

Forty-five minutes later, they were both laughing in the booth. Bob didn’t want to say that he was surprised by how funny she was. But he didn’t expect to be laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes. She was just so unapologetically herself, and that came with witty phrasing and side jokes that punched hard. After their laughter subsided, he looked at her, and it just slipped out:

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

He didn’t want the date to end with just some colas at Hard Deck.

“I’d love to.” She smiled, “Haven’t gotten to see the beach much.”

He nodded and stood up from the table. After he gestured for her to go first, she walked toward the door. They both noticed the raised brow and glare that Phoenix sent their way.

“We’re going for a walk!” Y/n waved excitedly at her.

Phoenix smiled at that, seeming relieved that she wasn’t going home with him. Bob would never. He knew that taking a girl home on the first date was pretty normal these days, and he didn’t judge anybody who did. But his mother raised him to never do that. She’d probably kill him if he ever did. Knowing her, he didn’t want to test that.

“Have fun. I’m heading home.” Phoenix said as she signed her bar tab. “I’m trusting her with you, Floyd. If you do anything stupid, remember who’s controlling the jet you’re in tomorrow.”

Bob swallowed and nodded. He wouldn’t dare. But also the threat of Phoenix doing everything in her power to make him vomit in his lap was a genuine one.

“You got it.”

Then they walked out the door.

The night beach breeze hit, and her hair swayed softly. Lit by the warm lights pouring from inside the bar, she looked gorgeous in the night time. He wished that he could photograph her. The light hit her perfectly, and the shadows enhanced her features. His confidence felt strengthened from the success of the earlier conversation/

“You look really pretty tonight.” He choked out. “I-I should’ve said it earlier, but I was so nervous. Still so.”

She froze, looking up at him with an almost shocked expression.

“Thank you.” She said, and for the first time that night, she was the one blushing and not him. It felt good to make her suddenly shy. It reassured him that… maybe she could like him too.

Looking down at the ground, she suddenly reached out her hand. Bob looked at it and his head picked up with a small inhale. Quickly, he wiped his hands on his slacks, hoping they weren’t too sweaty. He walked forward and took her hand in his. His hand dwarfed hers just ever so slightly.

Fingers intertwined, they walked towards the beach. Suddenly, he was hyperaware of every function in his body. How sweaty his hands were. How his heart was thrumming in his chest. How his breath kept getting stuck in his lungs. And he was also very well aware of how her hand felt in his. There were small callouses that matched his- no doubt both from their lines of work.

When they reached the sand, he stepped forward in his dress shoes. But when Y/n stepped forward, her heels sank into the sand with a little ‘Oh!’ She wobbled unsteadily, and Bob quickly grabbed onto her waist to steady her. After she gained her balance again, she looked up at him. His arm was wrapped around her, and they both took in each other’s shocked faces. Until she started to laugh, and he joined softly with her.

“We can stick to the sidewalk.” He said, “I don’t wanna get your nice shoes all sandy.”

He gently moved them back to the sidewalk. She giggled and kicked her feet, letting sand pour out from her shoes.

“It’s a little too late for that.”

His eyes widened, looking down at her red heels that were now covered in an opaque sheen of dust. “I’m sorry-”

“No, no! It wasn’t your fault.” She laughed, “Come on, I’ve barely seen the beach yet.”

The starry night sky blanketed them as they started walking again, hand in hand. He tried to look around and not stare holes into her, but he also wanted little glimpses of her every now and then. The soothing rush of the ocean waves nearby hushed over them. The night was peaceful as they were the only two people on the beach. It felt like they could be the only two people in the world.

“Some weekends, the squadron all comes here, and we’ll spend the whole day just playing football.” Bob said softly, “Phoenix is really good.”

“That sounds so fun.” She said, “There aren’t exactly beaches back in Alabama. So it’s strange to be so close. Like on the drive to work, the ocean is just there.”

“It’s nice. It’s really nice.”

There was a gentle silence, and Bob wanted to keep talking, but then he couldn’t figure out how to continue the conversation. Luckily, the tension didn’t feel awkward. It just felt… different.

They walked near one of the small cliffs, and she looked to him with a thrilling look in her eyes. “Wanna go up?”

Bob nodded, “I think there are stairs. ”

Making their way around the other side, sure enough, there were wooden stairs embedded into the side of the small mountain. She climbed up first, and Bob drifted his eyes away to make sure he wasn’t looking up her dress.

Once they got to the top, the breeze was slightly stronger. And she turned back to face him as he made his way up, her hair blowing with a small smile. After a brief heart attack for Bob, she looked away and looked out to the ocean.

“It’s so pretty.”

He nodded and joined her at her side. “You should see it in the day. Or even better, in a jet. It’s great. You can see the whole stretch of beach, and the ocean goes so far back. It’s insane.”

She smiled. “Is it fun? Being able to fly?”

“Wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t.” He answered with his hands in his back pockets, taking in the view. “Though there’s the downsides. Like possibly dying.”

“You better not.” She lightly threatened with a raised brow. “I’d like another date.”

Bob’s head whipped over to look at her. Sure, he had mentioned playing Frogger earlier, but now she was initiating the idea of another date.

She giggled at his reaction and shook her head as she looked back out at the view.

“What? Are you surprised? Didn’t think this date was going badly… but if you think so-” She teased

“NO!” He practically leaped forward to hold her hand again. “No.”

She laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully again. “You’re cute.”

“I think this date is going great. Better than I thought. NOT THAT I THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA BE BAD JUST-” Bob stammered.

Her little teases had him completely flustered and off his game. And with her looking at him expectantly with a raised brow, he couldn’t help the nervous laughter that escaped him.

“I was scared that I was gonna mess everything up. If I’m not doing that right now.” He explained.

She took his hand and moved it to her waist, stepping closer.

“You’re doing just fine.” She reassured, looking up at him and putting her arms on his shoulders. “You should know that…” She leaned into his ear, “I was nervous, too.”

“No way.” He scoffed, naturally wrapping his arms around her waist now.

She nodded. “Uh huh! Phoenix showed me your photo, and I thought you were so cute.”

He looked away, unbelieving. A perfect girl like her being nervous around… Bob Floyd? That felt simply impossible. But when he turned back to face her, she was looking up at him in a way that was almost… antsy. She took a deep breath, and her eyes had an anxious glint in them.

Her hair blew in her face, but before she could fix it herself, Bob took his hand off her waist and gently brushed her hair behind her ear. Now he could properly see her pretty face, and he didn’t want to stop.

“Phoenix didn’t even show me a photo…” He admitted, “I think she thought that if I saw how… beautiful you are, I’d be too scared to do this.”

“Still scared?” She asked, coming a little closer.

He chuckled breathlessly, “Terrified.”

They both laughed, and it just happened naturally. Their faces leaned in closer to each other. She moved one of her hands from his neck to cup his cheek and pressed her lips to his. He sighed, completely relieved. It felt like if he didn’t keep himself in check, his legs would give out. He deeply inhaled her vanilla perfume, and she tasted like the Coca-Cola from earlier. The kiss deepened, and he pulled her as close as he could without completely squeezing her. When he felt her nails travel up the back of his head, he was done for.

She pulled back softly, and he looked down at her.

“Jesus Christ-” He murmured breathlessly.

Now that made her laugh. She leaned in again, and right before his lips, she said

“You’re telling me.”

They kissed again, and Bob wished he could do this forever.

They stayed out much later than they should’ve. Just walking, looking at the beach, talking, and of course, kissing each other every chance they got. A little past midnight, Bob walked her to her car. A small white sedan that was still parked at The Hard Deck.

“You okay to drive? It’s late.” He offered, standing by her door.

She nodded. “I’ll be okay. I know you gotta get up soon.”

There was a small silence, then she added.

“I’d love to do this again.” She said softly. A tilt of hope in her voice.

Bob smiled. “Me too… Phoenix gave me your number. We can schedule a day to play Frogger.” He had never found it so easy to talk to someone before.

“That’d be great. I’ll see you then.” She said.

He opened the driver's door for her, and that brought a smile to her face. She walked up to him and kissed his cheek before getting in.

Smack happy, he shut the door for her and waved her goodbye. As she drove off, he slowly trailed his way to his truck. He flipped the keys in his hand with a goofy smile on his face. It was like a high he’d never experienced before. The most beautiful, smart, and fun girl he’d ever met… wanted to do this again sometime.

He couldn’t help but punch the air with a dorky ‘Yes!’ once her car disappeared. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket to see a notification from Phoenix.

PHOENIX: So how’d it go?

Unlocking his truck, he texted back.

BOB: Holy. Shit. I owe you for life.

PHOENIX: I told you, dumbass.

Once he got in the truck and shut the door, he opened his phone again. He found the number that Phoenix had sent him earlier and sent a text.

BOB: This is Bob Floyd- Text me when you get home safe. Had a great time tonight.

He was practically vibrating in his seat as he turned his phone off and started to drive home. His thigh bounced in his seat again. But instead of anxiety, it was out of sheer adrenaline.

His phone burned in his pocket. But he’d later see the message

Y/N: Home safe. Thanks for the best date I’ve ever been on.

And he’d be too wired to go to sleep.

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chrollohearttags · 20 hours ago

Text

𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 | 𝚎. 𝚓𝚊𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚛

studying has been taking up a lot of your time (and mental energy) as of late. Your boyfriend has just the plan to shut your brain off for the night.

black nurse!reader (fem descriptors), eren is a nursing student (a few years younger than reader also) fingering, neck kissing, choking, facefucking, rough-ish sex, squirting, missionary, slightly aggressive rennie 🫠, daddy is used once, nipple play, calls reader slut, spit play, fingers in mouth, creampie, multiple orgasms

word count: 5.3K

🎙️: some of y’all might remember this AU from Wattpad and I’m officially restarting it bc my muse for the others are shot right now. If you’re not familiar with it, I apologize in advance bc I promise it’s not this smutty and juicy in the slightest ☠️ I’m just in a mood. Also, this is my first fic in almost two months, please be nice or I’ll cry!

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“You know you play too fucking much, right?”

“Mmmm..nah, I don’t think I’ve played enough. Look at you. All tense and shit.”

if there was one word in the entire English language that you could use to describe your mood at the moment, it’d most certainly be irritable. To the highest degree..and granted, that could have been chocked up to the fact that you hadn’t eaten in hours, you’d been staring at textbooks and computer screens since four in the afternoon and your phone screen read nine thirty..and to really add the proverbial icing atop the cake, this annoying ass man would not leave you alone! Here it was only a week away from your BSN final; two from his N-CLEX exam and here he was bullshitting as per usual. It was how he approached most things in life, his mantra if you will. No need to stress, what’s meant to be will happen.

too bad, you couldn’t take on those sorts of ideologies when so much was at stake! Not when the results of these tests would determine your future as an RN and instructor, and his career as a nurse in general. You’d met Eren Jaeger almost three years ago when he was merely a patient at the office you worked for during your initial internship..earning clinical hours and experience in the field. He was most certainly the liveliest one you’d seen in Dr. Smith’s office and there was never an appointment where you didn’t leave in stitches because he’d made you laugh so hard. However, you pegged him as the rich kid, the son of a doctor with no ambition or common sense...always looking to make a joke out of everything.

so imagine your surprise when you were tasked with not only supervising an entire floor but the local nursing school recruits as well and the first person to come traipsing through those heavy double doors was him! And even more so, in six months time, he’d have you wooed and swept off your feet. That same charm and wit that had you cackling during his appointments were the same ones that made you nearly spit your drink out when you were on a date and eased serious tension among your staff after a rough night on the floor. Just being in his presence brought you immense comfort. However, at the moment…

“Look, Eren. I’m busy, find sum’ else to do, for real.”

you weren’t in the mood for any of it! This exam had been causing you immense stress and it seemed that no matter how hard you studied, retaining information was impossible. Nothing stuck and you were at your wits end..certainly not in the mood for childish antics.

”I’m trying but you don’t want to stop—“

“Maybe because everything isn’t a goddamn joke to me.”

Eren could see the frustration, hence why he had come up behind you, in a half assed attempt to make you scared and somehow wound up groping your chest in the process. Admittedly, he’d never seen you act like this..never even so much as raise your voice at him and here you were, lashing out. Part of him understood your feelings. He knew how important this was and although he wasn’t showing it, he was equally as nervous for his own test. But regardless, nothing was going to change tonight and especially by sitting here irate and snappy. The only thing he wanted to do was shut his brain off and wanted his beloved (y/n) to follow suit..and he was willing to make it happen by any means!

“Eren, what did I just say—“

one thing that he had learned since being together was that once your mind was resigned to something..there was no changing it. So rather than spend time arguing with you, he had another solution!

“..I heard you, I don’t give a fuck about all that right now…’just trying to help..”

“You’re trying to help me by fucking me? Righttt.”

“Yes, I think it’s a very helpful tool for relieving stress. Seen that somewhere in my text book or sum’..”

“Mmm, I think me and you were studying different materials..but sure, why not.”

seconds later, his hand was snaking around your upper body, clutching your throat with the other steadily pulling the chair back and his lips marking your neck with soft kisses. He was adamant in making sure that you got proper rest and a distraction. What better way to do so than to wear you down? Eventually, you’d find those large hands of his snaking around to the front, making home back on your plump breasts..soft, voluptuous and perky as they sat up in your tank top. He could see you visibly enjoying this little tease, indicative by the way your muscles relaxed. He’d continue to massage them until your legs almost instinctively parted.

That’s when, before you even had time to react, he’d spin you around to face him. His grasp still firm around your throat as he moved in for a kiss. Your tongues collided in a steamy clash; smacking against one another as you attempted to catch your breath. But he wasn’t leaving you much room to do so, less known, attest him right now.

“Exactly..now keep those legs spread and don’t move.”

the command was so absolute and matter of fact, it damn near caught you off guard! He’d never spoken to you in such a manner. It was always so playful, jovial and even a bit needy during times like this. But alas, you’d awoken this side of him and you were going to have a hell of a time ‘calming’ him down. Even so, you’d follow his order just this once and part those thick thighs until that plump center, sheathed by the smallest pair of shorts he’d ever seen. Your physique truly was something special…thick in all of the correct areas with stretch marks and a semi-pudgy tummy to match. Your belly ring dangled from the gentle force of him maneuvering you around.

“Eren..I—“

“Whatever you’re about to say, save it…you don’t always have to handle shit alone. I got you..just let me help, okay? I promise, you can trust me..”

he was aware of your past..how mean and cruel previous partners had been so he was very careful in how he approached you. He understood all too well that being overly aggressive would only prove to make you anxious or even shut down entirely. His intention was never to make you uncomfortable. Even so, he wanted to see you give yourself to him fully…trust that he would do right by you and not take advantage of the precious gift that was your love.

he would take great care of you to not only relax but feel pleasure like you’d never experienced it. Although you seemed a bit reluctant, you were ready for whatever he was going to toss your way! Assuring him that you were all his for the taking..

“Fineee…I trust you..”

without a moment of hesitation, he’d detach from your own mouth and move down your neck. Whilst those tits remained exposed, he’d prompt you to give each of those nipples a light squeeze in his place. Meanwhile, his own hands were busy gliding into your underwear, trying to locate that aching bud. That long, tattooed forearm gliding down the center of your torso as a result. It would also serve as a semblance of comfort when he inevitably brought you to ecstasy..

“Mmm..there we go, baby..fuck, you’re so wet already.”

“That’s because you were grabbing on my neck..”

“Oh you like that, huh? I’ll keep it in mind..”

you wouldn’t know it but when you first began dating Eren, he was completely inexperienced. Although he wore his confidence like a lapel pin, he was incredibly timid, shy and nervous when it came to intimacy. The first time you two actually had sex, he lasted all of three minutes before he forced himself to pull out and splatter you with a heavy load. Left a trembling mess, his entire face turned beet red as he just glared at you. He was certain you were going to leave him right then and there; flustered and apologetic, he’d try to make up an excuse as to why he couldn’t satisfy you to your full potential. However, you thought it was adorable! He’d worked up all of his courage to give you a night filled with pleasure and even though it didn’t pan out quite the way he imagined, he had made a complete turnaround since that night and had done good to broaden his sexual horizons. You grew together; learning one another’s ticks and desires, which he knew each of yours to a science. So much so, you practically melted within his grasp and wanted to see just how far he’d take it!

“Open your mouth f’r me, princess…” prompting you as he causally glided those fingers across your tongue. Your gorgeous brown eyes fixated on him in a lustful gaze..by this time, you’d come to completely face him with that tall, lanky frame hovering above. You were all but level with that rising tent within his sweats. Meanwhile, his opposite set of digits were good and preoccupied with your juicy cunt; tightening around the base of the knuckles and then releasing once he’d use the thumb to stroke your swollen clit. Such an awkward position to be in at the moment but it was well worth it for the amount of pleasure both of you were about to receive. Finally retracting the ones in your mouth, Eren would leave you with a trail of drool seeping down your lips and chest in the process. Looking fucked out and starved already without so much as even a single thrust yet..that was the type of desperation and submission he wanted to see from you..

“ ‘ren…lemme suck on that dick..”

although he was trying to maintain control, who was he to deny your very blunt request? After all, he knew if you were dripping now, this would inevitably have you overflowing. Just as the first hand did, he’d slowly withdraw from those tight folds and allow you to clean up the remnants before tugging at that elastic waistband. “oh shit..I knew you’d come around. Here, baby..”

suddenly, you’d feel that same grasp on the back of your head, tugging you forward so that he could align himself with the rim of those pretty lips. The softness brushing against the tip as he rubbed them around…teasing you. “There you go..kiss it—stick your tongue out..that’s it..” from there, (y/n) needed no further instruction. Without the guidance of your own hands, you’d take his entire tip into your mouth and begin to suckle. Suctioning in, enclosing the silkiness of those jaws around his cock. “Fuck..you don’t need me to tell you anything..just make me feel good, princess..like you always do—“

he was well aware of how deviant you truly could become when the need arised. From outside appearances, you always looked so poised and proper..never getting out of character and to some, you’d even come off as ‘boujie’. However, Eren got to see the multitude of your complex layers; dispelling the notion that you were dull or boring. Including this one..the very promiscuous side that would do whatever it took to get hers and make him climax too! When it came to the bedroom, you were adamant and steadfast in what you wanted and he had no issue fulfilling those requests. Eventually, you’d take another couple of inches before establishing a rhythm. It didn’t take long for the very audible sounds of slurping and gagging to emit as a result. You’d gaze up to see Eren’s head resting back on his shoulder blades; groans spilling out in a whiny huff as a result of it all. You could be rather relentless when it came to pleasuring him but he didn’t mind it one single bit, of course!

“Oh my—shit, baby. You take me so good..fucking your own face like that. I love it..”

those words only served as further encouragement and inevitably prompted you to cradle his balls in addition, knowing how sensitive they were. Giving them a light squeeze, you’d continue forcing his shaft between your jaws; the sloppy wet strings of drool pooling down your chest serving as a testament to how much you were enjoying yourself. Where limits should have existed, there were none and it wasn’t long before he’d find himself buried to the hilt of your throat with your forehead scraping his pelvis. With that salacious gaze fixated on him, Eren had to all but restrain himself from forcing a load down your esophagus. But to be fair, this was the outcome he desired so badly and kept pestering you for.

“F—fuck! You’re not playing fair, baby.. ‘gonna make me come if you don’t stop..”

that deep tone with breathy whimpers cried out as he struggled to maintain his composure. However, you weren’t interested in letting up when he so rudely disturbed your study session. He was going to pay for breaking your focus! In a quick slight of hand, you’d shift his member into your palm and his sack in between your lips. Making slow jerking motions until you’d lean back up and coat both with exorbitant amounts of saliva. Seeing how filthy and unabashed you had become for him was causing Eren to lose his mind. Sometimes, he felt as though he couldn’t keep up with you and this was one of those moments. Although this little sexual escapade was his idea, you’d seem to have taken full, unequivocal control of the situation.

“That’s exactly what I want…”

“Then gag yourself on this dick, baby..let that stress out.”

that look in your eyes screaming for him to give you every ounce of his creamy nut…wanting to swallow every drop. Eventually, you’d begin to writhe around against the desk chair, attempting to create friction and stimulation for your clit. Your nipples had once again become extremely hard and the slightest brush was driving you crazy. Eren had heard your response loud and clear, which led him to sandwiching your head between those same fingers that had once curled up inside of you. He’d prompt you to take his cock back into your mouth so that he could work out all of that cum of his own accord.

the pace mirrored that of heavy, rough strokes..ones you’d get to experience soon enough. Gag spit along with loud moans poured out as a result of his brutal pounding but you welcomed the sensation..even increasing it by reaching down and fingering yourself in his place. “..yeah, play with your pussy, baby..” It wasn’t even a full five minutes before you noticed his stride beginning to break and his toned legs trembling. The last couple movements were off kilter and choppy but soon, you’d have your reward in the form of his seed. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, damn—‘coming—“

in that very moment, (y/n) would find yourself held in place by the tight grasp of his palms as he allowed that thick cock to pulsate in the back of your throat. The warm fluid filled your oral cavity until he could muster another drop. The entire time, his loud groaning was permeating the room as well. Once he was able to regain his senses, Eren would slowly withdraw and examine the aftermath. That towering six foot something frame would take a step back to truly take in the beautiful sight in front of him. You were drenched from the neck to your belly button in silky fluids…that wrung out tank top sat idly underneath your breasts and those shorts were halfway around your thighs at this point. To say he’d make an absolute wreck of you would be an understatement.

“Lemme look at you…”

proudly displaying his work of ‘art’, you’d cup those saliva laden tits and squeeze them together with your tongue dangling. By the look on your face, something told him that you were more than happy he’d interrupted you! “Yeah..that’s how you should look. Happy as fuck.” Shoving his thumb between your puckered lips, he’d then bend down to shove his tongue into your mouth for a sloppy peck.

but something also told him that you couldn’t be satisfied with merely sucking him off. You needed—no, you deserved more.

“Are we done? If so, imma be disappointed.”

“Of course not, baby..I got you.”

Regardless of how lightheaded that orgasm had made him, he leaned forward and took you into his grasp. Hoisting you up in one fell swoop to carry you to the bed that was a mere ten feet away. Once he had you flat against the mattress, he’d make haste in disrobing you of those clothes to render you completely naked. He’d follow suit and tug his sweats until they reached his ankles so he could kick them off. Once the two of you were left with only your bare flesh, Eren wasted no time in pinning both your wrists and ankles behind your head. But not before propping your head up with a pillow. A position that led to excitement riddling your face. From this angle, you could watch it go in and out together. With you exactly where he wanted, your boyfriend began the descent down your torso to that plump center. Those fat lips drenched in slick whilst that aching bud protruded between them. He knew you were already overly sensitive so he didn’t want to keep you waiting for much longer but the selfish glutton in him just had to have a taste of that divine nectar.

“Just be patient with me..’need to make sure you’re good and ready first..”

immediately, your eyes would roll to the back of your skull and a nervous giggle arose as well. Make no mistake, he allowed you to have your fun but it was his turn to take control now. Delving headfirst between your thighs, Eren began his quick descent onto that swollen pearl and lapped around it. You’d immediately grasp at the sheets, eyes trailing to the back of your skull as those feet dangled in the air. He’d keep you at bay with a hand clutched around your throat as he continued exploring those folds with his tongue. For a split second, his head would raise to make eye contact with you.

“Fuck..you really needed this, huh? You’re already starting to come..” alluding to the fact that your juices were spurting out as he scooped his tongue inside of your hole and rubbed that sensitive clit. It seemed his skills grew better and better each time you two had sex. He was far more attune to your needs and desires, even more aware of them than you were sometimes.

“Y-yeah!..how’d you learn to do that?” “What can I say? I got a hell of a teacher...” tossing you a wink and a smirk because you truly did turn him out when it came to the bedroom. He’d continue lapping and tracing his tongue intricately throughout your folds until he received the beautiful payout of you squirting all over his face. Try as you might to harbor restraint, it was to no avail and of no use…that tight entrance would spasm before more would spill forth. Just to increase that pleasure, Eren added a finger in hopes of coaxing more out.

“Give me that cum, baby..that’s it. Make a fucking mess for me..” and you certainly didn’t disappoint. The shower of sweet juices continued for another minute or so before you’d lie there, spent and breathless from such an amazing orgasm. Once he’d gotten his fill, your boyfriend would return to the surface for air and to get a good look at your current state. “You taste so good..love making you squirt in my fucking face..” Breaking into a sadistic chuckle, he’d readjust so that his palms were stationed firmly on the backs of your thighs and that he was centered right between them..in that moment, he’d slide his throbbing member across the sensitive core and tease it for a moment. But you couldn’t handle that at the moment.

“Eren, please don’t play..I need you so fucking bad right now..”

nearly in tears from the pending overstimulation and the overwhelming need to be stuffed full of his cock. Your walls would ache and spasm in anticipation; so much so, he’d watch you reach for his hips to guide him in. But naturally, nothing with this man came completely easy…he had to mess with you a bit for all of the resistance earlier. Just as you went to grab him, he’d pin those wrists back in one fell swoop with one hand and use the other to press into your stomach.

“I know you do…that’s why you’re gonna beg me for it.” Immediately being met with a look of shock and a bit of infuriation. Even so, you’d remain there, lying in wait until he got what he wanted.

“I mean, you were being all fussy earlier..I’m not convinced you really deserve it..c'mon, princess…change my mind.” he was so assured of himself and honestly, you were in no position to attest. The desire grew stronger with every passing moment and if he didn’t deliver soon, you were bound to implode. “Fuuuck, Eren! Please—“ “That’s better but not quite..tell me how badly you need me to fuck you.” Besides, when he hovered above you like this, looking so fucking attractive and domineering, you felt no other choice but to submit. So setting your pride aside, (y/n) began to grovel..whimpering and bucking your hips to meet the friction of his shaft rubbing against your wet folds. You’d tell him how good he made you feel and that your body was his for the taking, unequivocally. Finally, that submission and trust he had craved..best believe, he was going to take care not to break it. After your speech, he’d seem content and proceeded to tap the head of that appendage against you before gripping the base and making one full glide across the outside and shoving it inside. Sucking his teeth and moaning as he made place between that flesh.

“Oh fuck…that’s it, gorgeous. Right there..”

you’d release a whimper of your own as you became acclimated to that thick shape. You’d clench around him once before releasing and he knew he couldn’t sit idle for long. With haste, he’d begin slamming his hips forward, quickly trying to establish some semblance of a rhythm so that he didn’t blow his load too quickly. Upon being immersed in that juicy cunt, he’d find his knees buckling from the sensation.

“..pussy’s so fucking tight..and warm..oh God, I love you so much..” his whiny yet deep moans complimented by the sounds of smacking flesh. With your hands now planted firmly on your asscheeks, per his instructions, you’d keep it spread open so that he had ample room to give you both the satisfaction you both desired. Suddenly, his strokes would increase in speed and depth; really stretching you out. Jolting that body around as those perky tits bounced from the force. “Fuck!… babyyyy…” “I know, baby. I know..you just look so pretty when I’m digging you out. I can’t help but fuck you this hard.” Cooing to you as he bent down to plant soft kisses along your forehead. You’d cry out, maneuvering your hands to his back, digging your nails into it..you’d never felt pleasure like this with anyone else. The way he made love to you was incomparable. Even when you fought against it, he knew your body’s needs and wanted more than anything to satisfy them.

“That’s right, princess..let me fuck that stress out of you..let that mind go blank. Just focus on taking this dick.” Whispering in your ear as you held him close.

eventually, your legs would coil around his waist and your eyes would trail to the back of your skull in a haze of sheer ecstasy. You didn’t know what to do with yourself..all except fall apart underneath him. Your body was a bundle of tight nerves, bound together by the building ecstasy and you were bound to explode any minute. Unfortunately for you, he wasn’t done teasing quite yet..instead, he had one more move he just had to try in hopes of sending you over the edge.

“Eyes on me, baby..yeah, I need to see that pretty face right now.”

garnering a smile as he leaned back up and maneuvered his arms to fall into the center of your torso. Suddenly, you’d feel a slight pinch of your nipples before he began to rub them slowly. Tracing tiny circles as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. It was very apparent you couldn’t handle it by the way that cunt twitched around his shaft..you were bound to explode at any moment. Mouthing off about how good it feels as he made alternating motions on those sensitive buds; rolling them between his fingertips, squeezing and even leaning down to suckle them for a brief moment. The sensation lasted for a few minutes before he’d return his attention back to ensuring you got your well deserved orgasm. This time, with a bit more aggression because he recalled how excited you’d gotten when he grasped your throat.

“Oh my God…fuck! ‘m gonna come—“

“Then do it..come f’r me, slut..give me what I want.”

the name sending you into an absolute spiral as he never spoke that way on a regular basis and would never think to disrespect you. But this was exactly what you craved. To be used and made devoid of all feelings except pleasure. Suddenly, you’d feel his fingertips squeezing your jaws as he increased his speed yet again..this time, feeding you the deepest, longest strokes he could muster. The two of you would spout off filthy, steamy remarks at one another through gritted teeth, intense glares and breathy moans as you reached down to aid him by stroking your aching bud.

“ ‘m so fucking close, baby. I don’t think I can hold it..”

“Fuck yes you are..that pussy’s gripping me so tight right now..goddamn.”

Eventually, those thrusts became rather sporadic and Eren was rapidly losing both his composure and stamina. The both of you were so near your peaks that it was only a matter of time before you exploded. You’d try to outlast him but as he maintained that clutch on your jaw, he’d lean down to spit into your mouth, letting that trail drip down onto your tongue as you stuck it out. He knew what was coming and he couldn’t be vexed to continue anticipating it so your boyfriend decided to assist with a little extra lubrication.

“Get yourself off..I’m not fucking waiting..” Without hesitation, (y/n) scooped that saliva out your mouth and onto your fingertips to massage that clit once more. You were rubbing so fast, your head began to grow fuzzy and soon, nothing but an image of static and blackness would fill your vision as you released all over him; voiding yourself of all those warm, sweet sticky juices as they sprayed his abdomen. Right above the incisions from some prior operations..he wore it as a badge of honor quite frankly. That a woman who once took care of him, was now having all of her wants and needs fulfilled. His cock sat idly inside of you until that stream became too powerful and all but pushed him out. That’s when he’d simply grasp the base of his throbbing member and tap against your slit.

“Shit! Oh my gosh..”

“Ahhh..fuck. That’s it..I knew if I got in it deep enough, you’d squirt for me again, baby. That’s my girl..”

“Fuuuck, it feels so good!”

You’d continue spraying until you convulsed uncontrollably. He was still in awe of the mess you’d made but there was still the task of releasing his own. Although he loved the sight of you in such a vulnerable state, he couldn’t let up. Grasping your hips once more, he’d tug you down onto it and continue drilling you with his cock. This time, to relieve himself.

“Hold still, I’m not yet…need to..come inside of you..”

clutching the backs of your thighs, Eren relentlessly shoved that thick cock back inside of you, pumping sporadically until he felt his own legs begin to quiver. It wouldn’t be long before his stride broke so he’d bend down to grant you one last kiss and sweet nothing. Cradling the side of your head into his palms in an intimate manner. With baited, sporadic breath and whiny cries, he’d pour his soul out to you. Becoming almost obiedient and subservient himself.

“I love you! fuck…I love you so much...”

“I love you too..”

“Am I making you feel good? Did I do a good job? Can I come inside of you..please, baby. Can I?”

and without hesitation, you’d nod your head profusely and grant him his wish. But not without sending him spiraling with your last statement.

“Yes, please! Come in this pussy, daddy..I need it.” And from that moment on, Eren fell to pieces. Collapsing his entire body weight onto your own as your legs coiled around his waist, ensuring he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted. His final thrust came in a sharp, forceful thud before he’d begin to pulsate and eventually, release every last drop of remaining semen he had to offer. Emptying his balls inside of you shamelessly. Already spent from his earlier orgasm, he’d let out an ear curdling grunt, allowing you to claw into his back because he knew he’d lost all semblance of control and had probably been a bit rough. However, none of that mattered..you both were utterly satisfied and it was apparent by the puddle of tears streaming down each of your faces. Never had either of you experienced lovemaking so powerful that it reduced you to literal tears.

eventually, he’d finish pumping the remnants into you and soon, find the strength to pull out. Once he was able to gather his own bearings, he’d turn his attention to you.

“Are you okay, princess? I'm gonna go grab you some water and a towel real quick—“

even insisting he’d help you to the bathroom afterwards to avoid an infection and get cleaned up properly. However, he was shocked to find that his words were falling completely on deaf ears! That’s when he’d turn around to see you sound asleep..completely knocked from the events that just transpired. All he could do was laugh to himself not only out of pure pride but the fact that you truly needed this reset. Although he admired and looked up to your hard work ethic, even the most brilliant of brains needed rest. Those test materials, patients and everything else would be there when you awoke..but for now, you could focus on yourself!

taglist: idenwhims @blaxcunicorn @valentineluvu @cocoacunt @charminstasia @star0bsessi0n @mrsackermanfeed @aquabby21

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echo-exco · 3 days ago

Text

(I’m posting this as a distraction until I finish my next fic, plus I don’t want to forget this idea.)

Hear me out.

What about a neglected!reader x K-pop demon hunters?

I just watched it (highly recommend it to anyone, it’s actually really good), and I couldn’t help but feel the need to see or write a neglected!reader for it.

MC could be some kind of bodyguard or “guardian” for the girls? Maybe we could make it more general (like a fourth member or MC helping the girls and Bobby with songwriting).

Overall, it’s just a random idea I had out of nowhere, but I’d really like to develop it more later. Maybe Gwi-ma made a deal with MC’s mom to get something from her? Her memories? So hunter!reader/kpop!reader basically doesn’t remember anything about her family’s neglect or anything about them at all?

I don’t know, I’m just way too entertained with this. Also, it’s kind of late and I can’t really come up with a concrete plot right now.

Think of it as a half-formed idea, I might bring it back in the future.

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honeybeegashii · 2 days ago

Text

Feral Devotion

⋆˚꩜｡Note: My first time posting something like this. But this fandom needs more Yautja x reader content. Please bear with me as I improve more in the future

Summary: Used as bait for the Elder Hunters. Instead of the intended hunters, you caught a different hunter interest. Despite not understanding each other, the warrior became fiercely protective.

You don’t remember being taken. Not exactly.

Just the after.

Heat like breathing inside a furnace. Metal walls and no windows. A hiss of hydraulics and something moving just out of sight. Bigger than anything on Earth. The air here tastes wrong. Heavy. Wet with ozone and blood.

Your wrists still ache from the way they strung you up, bait on a hook for something ancient and cruel. Tech-slick cuffs, research collars, chemical fog burned into your skin. You were never meant to survive. Just scream loud enough to lure something out of the trees.

Pheromones, they said. You’re appealing. Not because you’re beautiful—but because you’re biologically interesting. Like a scent that sets off alarms in a predator’s skull. You’re the kind of soft that makes instincts break down and violence feel holy.

But it wasn’t the elder hunters that found you.

It was him.

Didn’t expect the Young Blood who found you first. Young, yes. Raw, yes. But deadly. Already decorated in the blood of creatures older and meaner than he had any right surviving.

You remember the scream of something dying. Not yours.

You remember the drip of blood onto the metal floor, the snarl he made when he sliced you down from where you hung.

He didn’t kill you. He should’ve.

But instead, he touched your hair. Strange and clumsy. Just the very tips of his claws. He watched you the way humans watch lightning, awe and danger, like getting too close might kill him. And then, he took you.

Scooped you up in those terrifying arms like you were a prize. A trophy. A thing to be carried off and hidden in the dark corners of a starship.

You were unconscious most of the journey. The air too thin. The gravity too heavy. But sometimes you woke up long enough to see him, kneeling beside you like a shadow, fingers twitching near your face. Like he wanted to touch. Like he didn’t know how.

He doesn’t speak your language. But you feel what he means when he looks at you.

He wraps you in fabric stripped from his own gear. Tucks you into the warm belly of the ship like you’re an egg he means to hatch. He growls at the others who come too close, real warriors, Blooded ones. They snarl back, laughing, until he nearly kills one of them. Over you.

They think he’s gone feral. You think maybe he has too.

He shouldn’t have touched you. Should’ve left you strung up like a carcass. Should’ve let the others take the kill.

But he didn’t. He claimed you.

And now you live in the eye of a hurricane made of muscle and blood and devotion that doesn’t make any sense. Now you sleep on the pelt of some slain beast in the belly of his quarters, under the eye of a warrior who’s too young to know better and too wild to care.

You were bait. Meant to be hunted. But he got to you first.

And gods help you—he won’t let you go.

Next Part

#yautja #predator yautja #yautja predator #Yautja x human #yautja x reader #Predator series #Predator franchise #let me cook #I swear #Yautja oc #honeybeegashii.brainrot #beegashii.writing

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demie90s · 18 hours ago

Note

Can you write a reader x UConn team and reader has like no filter like they could be in the most serious moment and reader would say something out of pocket

Why she got a mic?

UConn WBB Team x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Me. The team’s walking HR violation. No matter the mood, you will say something that has the whole team side-eyeing, laughing, or questioning reality.

Word Count: ~ 0.5k

Genre: Comedy, Team Fluff, Mild Crack

Warnings: Cussing, chaos, suggestiveness, mentions of thirst, reader being out of pocket at all times

The mic wasn’t even all the way clipped to your jersey before you started talking.

“So like…y’all gon’ feed us after this right? ‘Cause I don’t wanna sound ungrateful but that little fruit tray y’all gave us pregame made me feel like a parrot.”

You were dead serious. Meanwhile, the rest of the UConn team was already doing synchronized neck turns to Geno, who stared ahead like maybe if he focused hard enough he could astral project into retirement.

The reporter chuckled awkwardly. “Right, well—uh—let’s talk about the game. You had a breakout performance in the third quarter. What clicked?”

You nodded solemnly. “I had to pee real bad so I was tryna hurry up and get off the court. Y’all saw me running? That was urgency. It’s called motivation.”

Laughter broke out across the room. Aubrey dropped her head into her hands. Nika was crying silently.

Someone else raised their hand—braver than most.

“You guys really shut down USC’s offense tonight. What went into that defensive game plan?”

You tilted your head. “I mean, yeah. I saw that. USC good and all…but not as good as us so like…I don’t really care. Sorry.”

Caroline leaned in with a PR-smile. “What she means is we watched a lot of film and trusted each other—”

“No,” you cut in. “That’s not what I meant. I said what I said.”

The reporter blinked. “A-And uh—Aubrey, you had a great night on the boards…”

You slouched in your chair. “Yeah, and yet still no date.”

Aubrey snapped her head toward you. “Yo—”

“I told her, I said, ‘If God see fit and we win tonight, you gon’ say yes’—and we did. We won. And she still didn’t say yes. So she fake but that’s between her and the Lord.”

KK was wheezing. “You need help.”

You turned to her calmly. “Nah I need a girlfriend. Two different things.”

The reporter next to the stage was beet red now, trying not to laugh into their notes. “Okay, uh…next question—what was going through your mind during that final play?”

You crossed one leg over the other like this was Oprah. “I was thinking, if the world ended right then, we’d all go with it, so I might as well go out with a win. That’s real.”

Geno rubbed his temples. “Jesus Christ.”

You leaned into the mic again, like a closing statement. “Thank you. And please remember to feed athletes. We is hungry.”

The PR rep jumped in so fast her paper nearly flew off the table. “That’s it! Thanks so much, everyone!”

The moment y’all stepped backstage, Geno turned slowly.

“You know they record those, right?”

“Yeah Coach.”

“And they post them.”

“Mmhm.”

“You’re going to get us sued.”

You gave him your most sincere expression. “It’s okay. I got a lil savings.”

He looked like he aged ten years in five seconds.

Behind you, Aubrey shoved your shoulder, laughing. “Yo are you alright.”

You shrugged. “I’m just honest. And single. And hungry. Somebody gone address it.”

Just like that, you were back in the locker room, already hyping yourself up for post-game food and probably more chaos. Because filters are for water—not for you.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

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bucketsp · 1 day ago

Note

pazzi - best friends but real lovey dovey on each other and paige does anything azzi wants her to do in front of their teamates

the space between us

pairing : pazzi

content : fluff, slightt angst (friends to lovers, mutual pining)

a/n : thank you anon for this request 🙏 i changed it up a little bit, but i hope you still loveee. also based it off of 23 - 24 roster because i miss niknik and lili. thank you as well for the support on snow day and repped, if you haven't read those, maybe u should? please remember this is all fiction. enjoy reading!

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

from the day they met, it was always something a little more with them.

like the way azzi would ask, “can i sit here?” on every away-game bus ride, even though paige always saved her the window seat.

or the quiet, “can i have a sip?” as she reached for paige’s water bottle mid-practice. and paige never said no, she never even blinked.

they were best friends. that’s what they told everyone.

but best friends didn’t flirt like that, didn’t look at each other like this, didn’t act like it had always been them, a team of two, orbiting each other, no one else getting close enough to matter.

they didn’t need to say it out loud.

they had each other. and that was enough.

until it wasn’t.

it started with azzi spending more time with this girl from the track team. bree. funny, loud, magnetic in a way that drew people in. she was the kind of person who never hesitated, especially with azzi when she asked her out right at the door of the champions center, handed her a smoothie and said, “you free friday?”

paige saw it from across the court, of course. yet all she did was watch azzi smile back and say yes.

and something in her chest cracked open, soft and sharp at the same time.

not because she was jealous, not exactly. she was happy for her, but because suddenly she wasn’t the first one azzi told about her day, and suddenly the pre-practice routines were off, the stolen glances in the locker room or the shared inside jokes as the team was being told off by geno.

and paige didn’t know what to do with that.

so she did nothing.

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

practice the next day was tense. azzi kept looking at paige like she wanted to say something. paige kept pretending not to see it.

and then, during a full-court drill, paige fumbled a pass and muttered under her breath.

azzi jogged over, concern on her face. “you okay?”

“i’m fine,” paige said, too quickly. “you don’t have to check on me.”

“what does that mean?”

“nothing"

“paige.."

“just go, az.”

the silence that followed was deafening.

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

they didn’t talk for two days.

paige stayed late in the gym, long after everyone else had left. it was easier to be around ghosts than to look azzi in the eye and feel that ache in her chest grow stronger.

until friday night, when azzi walked in just as paige was lining up a free throw. she didn’t say anything, just caught the ball on the rebound and passed it back.

paige stared at her.

azzi crossed her arms. “you’ve been avoiding me"

paige swallowed. “i’ve been busy, march madness is coming up”

“you’ve been hiding"

a beat.

“maybe.”

“why?”

paige was silent. she caught the ball again, dribbled once. twice. then let it fall.

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

it starts at ted’s.

because it always does. late-night runs after big games, when the adrenaline’s still in their veins and no one wants to go back to their dorm just yet. it’s loud inside, a little sticky, the lights a shade too bright, but it feels like home. like uconn tradition.

paige sits in the corner booth with azzi pressed in beside her. her thigh is warm against paige’s. her hair’s tied back, but a few loose strands fall forward, and paige has to grip her root beer float like it’s keeping her alive.

they’re not talking. not really. just sitting in that kind of silence that’s not awkward, but heavy. azzi’s bouncing her knee. paige keeps glancing at her. she looks nervous. too quiet, too still in the wrong ways.

"paige,"

and even before paige could even look directly at her azzi's already leaning in.

slow.

intentional.

her hand brushes against paige’s jaw like a whisper.

and then she kisses her.

it’s soft. hesitant. it tastes like cherry coke and something sweeter. like hope.

and paige, she’s waited forever for this, dreamed of it, begged for it in silence.

but she pulls back.

just an inch. just enough.

"azzi, stop. you're drunk"

“i'm not, paige.”

paige tenses. "you are, what happened to bree?"

azzi looks down, then back at her. her eyes are clearer than they should be, considering how many fries she just devoured. “i have to tell you something.”

paige stiffens. her hands go cold, but she feels a little hope inside her.

“i never told you,” azzi’s voice doesn’t waver. “we broke up.”

paige’s heart stutters. “when?”

“a week ago.”

“why didn’t you say anything?”

azzi lets out a breath. “because i didn’t want to lie to you about why. or pretend like it didn’t matter when it did.”

paige stays quiet, letting her talk.

“she cheated on me,” azzi says flatly. “with some guy from the LSU football team. i found out the day after that scrimmage. i didn’t tell anyone.”

paige stares. “what?”

azzi shrugs, like it’s nothing. like it’s old news even though it’s clearly not. “i think part of me already knew. not about the guy. just… that she wasn’t the person i wanted to tell good things to. not anymore.”

and then she looks at paige.

really looks at her.

“you were.”

paige swallows. hard. her throat feels too tight. the air’s too heavy.

“you always were,” azzi adds.

paige’s eyes flutter shut. “then why’d you pick her?”

“because you scared the shit out of me,” azzi says. “and because i thought i had more time.”

it’s not perfect. it’s not a line. it’s just true.

“you’re sure?” she asks. “this isn’t about bree?”

azzi shakes her head immediately. “this has never been about bree. not even once.”

“she cheated on you.”

“and you stayed,” azzi says. “even when i made it impossible.”

paige covers her eyes. her voice cracks when she speaks.

“you don’t get to kiss me if you’re not sure.”

“i’m sure,” azzi says.

and this time when she kisses her, it’s different.

hungrier, deeper, like nothing else mattered.

and paige kisses back like she’s drowning. like she finally found the surface.

they don’t even notice kk standing there with her milkshake in hand, eyes wide as saucers.

not until kk blurts, “HOLY SHIT.”

paige freezes. azzi jumps a little, lips still inches from paige’s.

then the rest of the team explodes.

“FINALLY,” aaliyah yells from a booth behind them.

“i knew it,” nika says, pointing her fry at aubrey like she won a bet.

“i had money on them making out before the tournament,” ice mutters.

“you owe me twenty,” aubrey says smugly.

kk just stares. “yo. that was kinda hot.”

paige groans, hiding her face in azzi’s shoulder. azzi’s laughing now, full and free, her arm curling around paige’s waist like it’s always belonged there.

“i guess this means it’s official?” aaliyah calls out.

azzi grins, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“yeah. it’s official.”

and paige, with her heart finally whole in her chest, just nods.

“took you long enough,” nika says.

but paige doesn’t care.

because azzi’s still holding her hand under the table.

and this time, she’s not letting go.

#bucketsp #pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #lesbian #pazzi is real #pazzi fanfic #pazzi fluff!!#angst with a happy ending

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zyafics · 2 days ago

Text

FULL THROTTLE (EXCERPT)

my submission to my lil' campaign, make rafe great again, if anyone wants to join! this is for a longer fic for biker!maybank!reader that i have yet to finish, but i love her attitude, so i fear i must share it <3

content: angst angst angst, tensionnnnn

Rafe’s trying to reach you.

He knows you’re back on the island, and for the past few days, you’ve been letting his calls go to voicemails and his texts on delivered. At this point, you should block him, but for some reason, you don’t. You tell yourself it’s because Rafe isn’t the extra effort, but you know, deep down, it’s because you don’t want to.

It’s an aggravating line to dance on.

Rafe hurt JJ. While they’ve previously had squabbles, this time, it’s different. Before, you weren’t sleeping with Rafe, weren’t spending time with him, and you didn’t care for him. Now, inexplicably, it feels like a complete betrayal of your trust.

You hate it.

Trying to keep your mind off the Kook, you wipe down the tables from the previous customers with complete vigor. It’s a slow day at the diner, and most customers have been attending to corner booths that are not in your jurisdiction. Perfect. This brevity of waitressing allows you to stew in your emotions with little interruption.

The bell chimes, and since you’re the closest to the door, you lift your head to welcome the customer. However, it came to be some sick cosmic joke because the one person you don’t want to see steps through the door.

Rafe’s holding a bouquet of flowers—your favorite, actually—and his eyes sweep across the small bistro. When his gaze catches yours, Rafe offers one of his charming smiles, taking a leisurely stroll to reach you.

“Hey,” Rafe greets. Upon arrival, you notice he has his own battle scars—spreads of yellow-and-blue bruising covering his cheekbones and jaw, a testimony to your brother’s blows.

Half of you is proud of JJ for managing to procure such vicious swings, but the other half—quieter, more empathetic—is concerned over Rafe’s injuries. A juxtaposition of emotions, you blame Rafe for putting you in this position. You blame him for letting it get this far.

Because it’s easier than admitting the truth.

“Do you need something?”

He raises a brow, not recognizing your indifference as resentment. “What’s up your ass? Bad tips?”

You shrug, not answering.

“I got a few ideas to cheer you up,” Rafe offers with a cocky grin, trailing down the length of your body in a suggestive manner. On any other day, you would reciprocate his flirt with a tease of your own—bantering and sharing sharp-witted comments as forms of foreplay. But today, you just want him out.

“No thanks,” you answer blankly, turning back to your cleaning.

Rafe bristles at your curtness, but he dismisses it as professionalism for your workplace. He understands that. Honestly, he shouldn’t be here in the first place but it’s been days since you returned to Kildare, and you haven’t returned any of his messages and as much as he refuses to admit it—he misses you.

He holds out the flowers. “I got you these.”

You don’t turn around to acknowledge them. “For what?”

“Heard you won some big competition in Charlotte; thought you might like a congratulations.”

You falter, slightly, slowing your sweeping circles. You almost turn around, to take a better look at the flowers, knowing they’re expensive, fresh, and exuding a pretty scent—but you stand your ground.

“I don’t like those flowers.”

Rafe’s taken aback by the comment. He was certain he remembered the right ones. “I’ll get you new ones.”

“I won’t like those either.”

He blinks, trying to figure out if you’re messing with him, as some sort of cat-and-mouse game. But with your back remaining, and your attention reduced to a clean spot that’s spotless, he realizes it’s something entirely different.

You’re distant. Cold. You refused to meet his gaze, nor spare an inch of your time, and Rafe is reminiscent of another period where you did the same thing.

“You’re mad,” Rafe concludes, lowering the flowers to this side, holding them by the plastic wrapping. You spritz another round of disinfectant on the already-cleaned surface. “I did something.”

Saying nothing, you head to the next set of tables, but Rafe matches your steps. Now recognizing your detachment, he’s also picking up the irritation radiating from your demeanor.

“Maybank,” he calls.

“Is that all you came here for?” You finally turn around, but Rafe doesn’t feel any gratification. Your eyes are sharp, your expression unreadable. “Because I need to get back to work.”

“I…” Rafe doesn’t even have the capacity to speak. All he can do is stare, taking in your indifference, and a curling sense of agitation is employed in his stomach. He hates being pushed into a corner.

“If you’re not ordering anything, I’m going to ask you to leave,” you point to the door. With no argument, Rafe hesitates before dropping your flowers on one of the tables and exits the establishment.

You pick up the bouquet and drop it to the nearest waste bin.

Afterwards, you finish the rest of your shift. It was difficult seeing Rafe in your place of work, but it’s over. When the diner comes to a close, and you’re locking up, you step out to discover Rafe waiting beside his motorcycle.

You forgot how stubborn he can be.

He pushes himself off the vehicle as you attempt to circumvent him, stepping between two cars parked beside each other.

“We need to talk,” Rafe declares.

“I thought we already did,” you say apathetically. Before you go far, he pins you against one of the cars, arms on either side of your head, and his hardened gaze settles on you. You settle your eyes on his, tilting your head to the side, giving him that slow, irritating sense of detachment. “Throwing a tantrum?”

“You know that’s not the problem,” he grits out.

“I don’t see a problem at all.”

“We need to talk,” he repeats, irritation spiked his tone at your dismissiveness.

“You can talk; I’m not listening.” You attempt to duck under his arm, but Rafe moves it, quickly containing you. With a sigh, you lean back against the cool car door, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

His dark blue eyes study you. “You’re pissed,”

“I’m perfectly fine,”

“And you’re a terrible liar,”

“And you know me well enough to say that?”

“I know you pretty well, Maybank,” he declares, his words slow, drawing out the tension. All he needs to do is push your buttons to snap. His lips curl with a smirk. “At least, physically.”

Your jaw locks, but you refuse to let him rile you. “Charming, Cameron. Perhaps you should use it on girls who give a damn.”

As much as your relationship is undefined, the thought of Rafe with another woman stirs an ugly emotion inside of you. But you refuse to let it be shown.

He scoffs at your deflection. “Maybe I should,”

You roll your eyes, wanting nothing more than to appear like you don’t care. Especially if he’s talking about fucking other women. Both of your hands plant against his chest, giving a hard shove, but he barely moves an inch. You forget how strong Rafe is, how he doesn’t move unless he allows himself to be.

“Let me go,”

“Not until you talk.” He insists.

“About what?”

Rafe lowers his head to your level, closing the distance until he’s right in front of your face. Your breath hitches, heart stuttering. His eyes scan through your hardened features, loosening by his closeness, and he asks lowly. “What did I do?”

His unyielding attempt unnerves you. “You’re well aware of what you did.”

“So I did do something,” he deduces.

You don’t answer, shimmering in your renowned anger, and you break contact to look elsewhere, studying the flickering fluorescent sign of the diner. You trace the curve, and Rafe’s jaw ticks at your lack of attention. He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze back on him.

“Talk to me.”

“Let me go,”

“No,”

“Asshole,” you scowl, and Rafe grins.

“There she is.”

“You’re fucking irritating, you know that?” You shove him again, and while he takes a step back, he still cages you in. Anger fuses through your veins at your inability to change it.

“Because you’re being vague and distant,” he snaps. “If I fucked up, tell me. Stop giving me this prissy act like you’re too good for me.”

“Maybe I am,” you challenge with a skyward tilt of your chin, matching his hard stare. “Maybe this was all I needed to remind myself I should do better than fuck a Kook.”

His eyes narrows. “Shut the fuck up,”

“You shut the fuck up,” you hiss.

He slams his fist against the car, the loud thump booms beside your ear, but you remain unflinching. “Tell me what I did wrong!”

“You punched JJ!”

Rafe whips back. It takes a second for him to process, studying your face to recognize this was some random excuse. It’s the truth. “That’s what this is about?” He questions quietly.

“Of course it is,” you huff. “He’s my brother.”

He scoffs, looking elsewhere. He can’t believe you’re becoming reclusive and defensive without talking to him first. “Did he tell you what happened?”

“I didn’t need details. You punched him,”

“And he punched me,” Rafe retorts, showing his profile. “What do you make of that?”

It looks uglier on close proximity, the magnifying damage heightens. But you can’t seem to conceal the bitterness from your tongue. “He should’ve hit you harder.”

“You’re a hypocrite,”

“I’m loyal,” you correct. “I thought you would respect me enough to not stir trouble, but I’m guessing your pride can never be replaced with some considerations for a fuck buddy.”

“It’s different,” he declares. “He was the one who snuck into Midsummer. We got into an argument. We fought. It’s a guy thing—stop making it a big deal.”

You huff at his pathetic argument. “That’s your excuse? It’s a guy thing?”

Rafe’s getting agitated by your lack of comprehension, your refusal to accept it at face value. But he doesn’t want to disclose the full story. “What do you want me to say? You want me to apologize?”

“Are you even capable of such a thing?”

He exhales through his nose. “You know what your problem is?” He says lowly. “You’re using this as some pathetic excuse to break it off because you’re afraid.”

“I’m afraid?” You repeat, but your throat goes dry.

“Yeah,” Rafe nods. “You’re a coward.”

“Have you ever considered that I have more loyalty to my blood than who I fuck?” You snap, pushing at his chest. “That Kooks may not think the same way, but for me, for Pogues, it’s different? If you hurt my family, you’re done.”

“So that’s it?” Rafe challenges. “I mean nothing? What does it mean for you when he hurts me?”

Eyes slowly sweeping over his scars, unwanted emotions bubble inside you regarding his injuries. But you steel your expression. “What about it?”

Rafe scoffs at your coldness. “You’re such a bitch.”

“And you’re an asshole, we’re done,” you shove him off the last time, and this time, he lets it pass. Staggering back two steps, you use the opportunity to escape, fastening your steps until you’re out of the parking lot.

Rafe’s left at the side of the diner, fuming. He watches your silhouette grow smaller and smaller in the distance, and decidedly, he wants to do one last thing.

“Should’ve known better than to fuck a Pogue!” Rafe yells after you, full of rage, hurt, and insecurity. He needed something to cut you as deep as you done him. But you don’t respond, don’t entertain an answer, and uncross your arms just enough to raise your middle finger.

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uncuredturkeybacon · 2 days ago

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𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 || 𝚔𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you and kate didn't mean to soft launch

The morning before game day feels exactly like every other morning in the second year of your WNBA career — slow, sleepy, quiet. Kate’s already up before you, slipping on her hoodie and pulling her hair into a lazy bun as she pads around the kitchen, humming some vaguely familiar country song. You watch her from your spot on the couch, half-asleep under a blanket you never remember unfolding, cradling a mug of coffee she definitely brought you without asking. That’s just how it is. That’s how it’s always been.

Since Iowa. Since sneaking hand-holding on buses and late-night FaceTimes during long road stretches. Since the tears when her name was called on draft night and the breathless laughter when yours followed a few picks later. Since the Valkyries took you both — different teams at first, then finally, together again. Five years now. Two as pros. One married. But no one knows that part. Not really.

The league knows you're close. Your teammates definitely know. Close can be everything and nothing all at once. Best friends. Roommates. Ride-or-dies. Married? That one’s been just yours.

Until today, maybe.

You’re walking into Chase Center like you always do. Grey sweats, Jordans, one AirPod in, badge swinging from the lanyard they gave you your rookie season. Kate’s already gone in ahead — she always stops for every staffer she knows, and she knows all of them. You hung back, scrolling on your phone, texting your brother something dumb about his fantasy football team. Normal. Easy.

You don’t even realize someone’s filming her until you round the corner and hear her voice first — bright, full of that familiar midwestern cheer, just a little too excited for a morning shoot.

“Man…,” she’s saying, face animated. “A little dramatic right now, you know.” Her eyes are wide, her dimples deep.

“Do you have a favorite?”

“Chelley’s my favorite,” she says, head tilting, right hand clotting the strap of her backpack.

“Who do you want next off the island?”

She laughs, not wanting to name any names, left hand sliding out of her pocket to cover her face.

“I think there’s a specific person who has caused a little bit of drama in the villa and she might need to go. No names.” And when she laughs, there it is — silver. Not flashy, not big, not center-staged, but unmistakable. Her wedding band.

“Understood.”

“See you guys!” She walks away, jogging up the steps, waving goodbye to the woman like they’re old friends.

You take a breath. Step forward. The same girl turns toward you, phone already lifted. “Hey! You mind if I ask you something quick?”

You shrug. Smile, keep it casual. “Shoot.”

“Do you watch Love Island?”

You laughed, short and dry. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“I get pulled in every time. It’s, like, a toxic little ritual now.”

You moved your hand to mimic a spinning wheel—an endless cycle—and for just a second, your left hand slipped out of your pocket. The camera caught it. The light it. The dainty silver band, delicate against your skin, practically glowed under the overhead light near the door.

It was barely a second. But it didn’t need to be more than that.

Your team wins the game, able to lock the other team on defense, making their lives harder.

That night, you drove home in silence together. Her hand on your thigh. Your fingers loosely wrapped around hers. The night sky bled over the Bay Bridge as the stars glistening the skyline, and you rolled the windows down just enough to smell the salt in the air. It felt like the calm before the storm.

You lived in a quiet apartment near the marina. Two bedrooms, open kitchen, soft white walls lined with framed jerseys and photo booth strips from a million years ago. Home.

You were in the kitchen reheating pasta when Kate wandered into the living room, phone in hand. “Babe?”

“Mhm?”

She sat on the couch, brows furrowed. “Did you check TikTok yet?”

You frowned, spooning pesto around the bowl. “No, why?”

“Uh…” She turned the phone toward you. “We’re kind of blowing up.”

You set the spoon down and walked over, wiping your hands on a dish towel. The WNBA’s official TikTok account had posted a video captioned,

“Two bombshells have entered the Arena. Kate Martin & Y/N Y/LN give us all the Love Island USA tea!”

The clip was barely a minute long, clips switching between you and Kate. Her laughing. You denying it. But what the fans noticed wasn’t your answers.

It was the rings.

The comments were already in chaos.

Kate blinked at you, mouth half-open like she was trying to laugh but hadn’t quite committed. “So…”

You leaned over the couch arm and kissed her temple. “So.”

“You think they’ll let us stay mysterious after this?”

You reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “They’ll try. But I think the ring did the talking.”

She looked at you. Really looked. The way she did when you said I do in front of three people on a foggy hike during a vacation, both of you crying like idiots. The way she did after the draft, waiting for your name to be called, heart thundering.

“I don’t mind,” she said finally. “I kind of… like that they know.”

You smiled. “Me too.”

Your phones buzzed again and again that night. Mentions. Edits. Old clips from college resurfacing. Conspiracy-theory TikToks unearthing that one photo of you holding hands in the background of a locker room celebration your senior year.

You let it all happen.

For the first time in five years, you didn’t rush to shut the door behind you.

You sat on the couch together, legs tangled, bowls of pasta growing cold. Kate pulled you close, tucked her face against your shoulder, and sighed softly into your hoodie.

“Wife,” she murmured. “Guess the secret’s out.”

You kissed her hair. “About time.”

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #kate martin fanfic #kate martin fanfiction #wnba x reader #gsv #golden state valkyries #wbb #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #wlw #lesbian #wuh luh wuh

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0gl1tch0 · 1 day ago

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-AWAY! Fuck you. We’re done! And honestly this is a long time coming. Things have been shit, you have been shit, for so long. Looking back I don’t know why I put up with it. Momentum? But this, this is on another level. You got my family involved. Don’t fucking talk to my family! We’re done. Fuck you. This is goodb-

I only know one spell.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

I can use it on one person, and have them forget forget forget one thing, at one time. Use it on someone else and they remember, immediately.

It’s not the most useful spell. It can’t cover up anything with two witnesses. It can’t hide any memory indefinitely.

And I can’t use it on myself.

I would.

It’s hard to pick the one thing I’d use it for.

YOU wouldn’t believe it. I just got pulled over and I’m like super high. And I’m sooo nervous. Like this pig is definitely knows. But he goes back to his car to run my plates and he must have gotten a car or something, cause he just flipped on his lights and drove AW-

Susan is at the library on a Tuesday. She’s supposed to be at work, but she forgot. So she went to the library like she usually does on her days off. It helps her study. She’s earning an online degree in public health. She’s a good person trying to help. Plus, she doesn’t want to be a security guard forever.

But she does want to be a security guard for now. And the second I make someone else forget forget forget something, she’ll remember. She’ll be running back to work confused with no excuse. I suppose if I did it to her enough then the government would fire her. But I need her to keep her job, at least for now.

So I change what I’m forcing her to forget forget forget. She grabs her purse and starts sprinting out the door to her car. She doesn’t remember to log out of library computer though. I don’t let her.

-N we talk? If you’re busy it’s okay but this is important. Last night I was hanging out with one of the guys from work. I thought he was sweet, and we were having fun, I dunno. I was just so drunk. It started to rain and I was cold and I wanted to go inside but I just passed out on the ground. And he was laughing. He just left me there. My memory gets hazy after that. YOU-

It’s a funny thing, memories. Every time you think about them, they change. They aren’t records you play and put back on the shelf. They’re stories you tell yourself, over and over, memorizing the newest telling each time. Your biggest regrets? Those terrible things seared into your brain? You aren’t reliving a particularly bad moment. No, you spend the rest of your life telling yourself the same sad story, over and over, combing through the details looking for any little thing you could have changed. But it doesn’t matter. The ending is always the same.

Even if your mind slowly massages your recollection, reality brings back the pain you can’t forget forget forget.

Take Susan, for instance. She shot and killed someone. And she’s been retelling herself those every day since. I can see it, in the version history of the report of the incident on her computer. Certain truths become fuzzier. Certain falsehoods more distinct. Her memories of the biggest regrets of her life smoothing like wood, as she tries to sand away a chaotic hectic and jagged piece of her foundation into something she doesn’t hurt herself to touch. But the guy is still dead. The smooth shaft of wood still ends in the point of a spear. And she’s stabbing herself on it. Trying to forget forget forget.

Her boss says she’s a hero. The mayor is going to meet with her. Only she’s not going to remember the meeting.

I only have a few minutes before she runs back into the library and signs out of the computer. I won’t need half that to clean up after myself. I’m not the kind of person whose presence leaves evidence. Not anymore.

-ught about it. For a long time. And I. I dunno. I like you a lot. It’s just. I mean how would that even work? Maybe we should just be friends. CAN-

Getting into the restaurant will not be easy. I can’t sit down at a table without a reservation. Even if I cast a spell on the hostess, that won’t change whether or not the tables are full. And if I get a table, I have to order something. This isn’t a place regular folks can afford, and I can’t even scrap together regular people money. Maybe it slips the waiters mind and he doesn’t bill me, but I’m leaving here with my spell on the Mayor. I just need to get close to him for a moment.

One moment. That’s all any of us ever need. That’s all any of us ever get. We are all just a collection of what we did in a small list of moments.

-HIS is a really bad time. I’m sorry, my dog just died. I really can’t think about anything else right now. I don’t have the THOU-

Human beings, ultimately, are just a pile of chemicals. Big meaty lumps controlled by electrical signals powered by a series of gasses and fluids, flowing at a steady rate each and every second. We are a teetering balancing act of chemical input and chemical output, existing as a filter in a river of time while reality sifts through us.

It’s not the balance that makes us. It’s the imbalances. It’s the different needs and cravings at different levels. What does it mean when the introduction of someone’s scent increases our endorphin levels? How do we shape our lives if the thing we’re missing comes in a pill that the government can take away? What does it say about us if the thing we’re missing doesn’t come in any pill at all? What would you do to try and find balance? How good does something have to feel to be good enough?

We are all just piles of chemicals trying to bond.

And I’m standing in the bathroom because I let one chemical spill out.

I cut myself on my arm, walked into the front room, and asked if I could clean myself up. Of course security would let me through. I didn’t even need to use a spell to be left alone in here, although I’d planned to. Most people are inherently good, most of the time. And I erase a little bit of people to get what I want. What does that make me?

AND he’s dead. Oh my god he’s dead. I just found his obituary. It says he killed himself, Jesus Christ killed himself months ago. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, the best part of me. I think we were like… platonic soulmates. And he’s been gone. Just gone. For months! I can’t believe it. Please say something. I can’t take TH-

I’m not going to kill the mayor.

I could, maybe, I think. For a few minutes have him forget forget forget to breathe.

But I don’t want anyone to die. I just want there to be a little less hate. I want Susan not to have hated anyone who scared her while she was working alone. I want Susan not to hate herself for what she was expected to do while afraid. I want Susan not to hate herself for what she does now, just to get one evening where she feels good.

I want the first world to function less punitively. I want the world to understand decisions were little bursts of energy through couple soupy wrinkles of meat, and sometimes that energy misfires. Sometimes that meat is wrong.

But we don’t do that. We see something wrong and we hate it. We hate it like that will make it right. If the force of our disdain and the extremity of our punishment are extreme enough we can beat the things we hate into submission. We treat the human psyche like its only remedy is ballistic repair. Hit it to make it start working. If the signal is still fuzzy hit it again.

We hit each other and ourselves so hard and so often that the only remaining ways to cope are the exact things we hated in the first place. We hate the poor so we take their homes away. We hate the fat so we force them to stay inside where we cannot see them. We call addicts criminals and brand them for life, barring them from any alternatives that might feel good.

And the mayor? He needs people to vote for him. So he has to be the paragon of our hate. He has to embody it, to take that nebulous hate and through his pen channel it into legislation. In front of dozens of cameras he’s going to sign a bill that condemns those of us hurting the most to even worse cells at even worse prisons for even longer sentences. And he’ll do it with a smile, in front of dozens of cameras, shaking the thankful public’s hand.

But it won’t do anything. You can’t unring a bell. You can’t untake a pill or unpull a trigger. Susan won’t bring that boy back when she rethinks the story, when she takes pain killers, when she gets fired for having them or when she spends time in a cell. He will always be dead.

So I won’t let the Mayor do this. For three days the bill will sit in a shelf in his desk that I command him to forget forget forget.

That’s the best I can do. I just stop things from getting worse. I don’t know how to make things better. That’s not my part of the phrase.

No I think we could move in together. What’s the worst that happens, I have a shitty year there? I’m going to have a shitty year here. Besides, you’re my best friend. If we get into a fight I’m sure we can’t forgive and-

You only know one spell, and it isn’t even a high-level spell. But between its versatility and your creativity, you’ve still made a name for yourself.

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literary-dolly · 2 days ago

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pride & prejudice

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 11.3k warnings: ANGST, pining, enemies to lovers, violence, violence against reader, arguments/fighting, alcohol, murder

When you first meet Jason Todd he seems to be nothing more than an entitled asshole, but as the seasons change, you begin to realise maybe you were wrong about him. (Loosely inspired by the book/film Pride & Prejudice)

Winter

“Honestly, I can’t wait for you to meet him, I can’t believe you haven’t already.”

More often than not, it was endearing to hear Babs talk about her boyfriend. You would think that Dick Grayson had hung the stars in the sky the way she sang his praises. It almost made you sick, the way her eyes would get moony as she practically recited poetry about his charms, his kindness, and occasionally, his body.

She was right though; you and Babs had been friends for as long as you could remember, it was absurd that you were yet to meet her long-term boyfriend. Phone calls and photos hadn’t really been enough to capture a true image of him, who he was and what he stood for. Babs meant the world to you, however, and you were determined to meet the man who had crashed into it so suddenly.

‘Suddenly’, you’d believed, until she’d informed you that he did in fact used to be the Robin to her Batgirl. You’d barked out a laugh at the time, there was nothing sudden about the relationship in that case – Babs had been pining over him for as far back as your mind would stretch.

It had been a rocky few years for your relationship, your time at Gotham University had separated the pair of you, forcing you to become little more than a library recluse, drowning in books on any given day. Babs had been equally as busy, rebranding herself as Oracle and working so diligently with the Bats most days until the sun came up. It was never anything less than an honour that Babs had trusted you with her identity, the identities of most of them – she’d claimed it couldn’t hurt to have someone like you, a journalist, on the inside if needs be. Deep down, you knew she just wanted to have someone to talk to about it who didn’t dance around every evening in a spandex suit.

Degree finished and countless more hours on your hands, Babs had welcomed you back with open arms, your relationship immediately rekindling to a mirror image of what it had been in your youth. Even Jim had been ecstatic to see you, pulling you into a bear hug when you’d appeared on the doorstep.

This is how you ended up where you are now – nursing a drink in some shitty Gotham dive bar as Babs practically vibrates beside you, anticipating the arrival of her beloved. As hard as it is to resist the urge to wallow in the dingy, depressing lighting, it’s difficult to remain glum with your best friend so excited at the mere prospect of her two favourite people finally meeting. You’d resolved to try and make a good impression, working your utmost to disregard of any animosity you held for excruciating small talk.

“Oh, there he is! Dick!” Babs calls, waving a hand out enthusiastically. Dick saunters over to the table with a million-dollar smile plastered across his cheeks. The images hadn’t done him justice and you can’t help but feel proud of her as he materialises in front of you. He was, admittedly, hot. Jet black hair swooped almost too perfectly against a seamless California tan, defined muscle decorating any visible parts of his physique. Peppy, is the word that comes to mind, and instantly you can see how a man like Dick Grayson would have enraptured your friend so.

“Nightwing,” you whisper, all tongue in cheek as he settles at the table, “Nice to finally see the face behind the mask.”

So much for a good first impression.

You don’t miss the way Dick’s smile falters for just a second or how his body seems to go rigid – or the soft slap Babs throws against your shoulder. It’s amusing to watch, as Dick and Babs eyes flicker in silent communication, Babs offering him a delicate smile to let him know that you were trustworthy.

Clearly, otherwise you wouldn’t know in the first place.

Babs, out of nothing other than good manners, repeats your name to Dick as soon as it becomes apparent you aren’t going to offer it up out of goodwill any time soon. She throws a teasing smile in your direction before adding, “She’s always like this, it’s been a blessing and a curse over the years.”

In spite of your brashness, Dick extends his hand politely, flashing you a stark white grin and a bemused look, “It’s nice to finally meet you. You may as well of been hiding behind a mask too up until this point, ya’ know?”

Begrudgingly, you shake it. It’s frustrating, how difficult it is to remain prickly against all of his oozing charisma. Disarming is what it is, with how quickly his demeanour seems to be crumbling your defences – you can imagine Dick Grayson is a man used to being adored.

Ice broken, the conversation begins to flow smoothly, allowing you to slowly loosen up with every passing phrase. Dick politely asks about your time as a student, making it clear he’s listened diligently to the scraps of information Babs had no doubt given him, and you give him the same courtesy of asking about his day job as opposed to his night one. As your eyes travel between the couple in front of you, you can’t smother the flicker of warmth that makes its home in the pit of your stomach; they look good together, and anyone with a working pair of eyes could see they were absolutely smitten.

“Oh, Babs, I hope you don’t mind, I invited Jason. He’s been a bit down in the dumps recently. Thought a bit of socialisation might do him some good.”

Instantly, you throw Babs a scrutinizing glare, trying to assess if this has all been some ruse to set you up with some random her boyfriend has decided would be a good fit for you. Instead, all you see on her face is genuine surprise, if not a smidge of happiness.

“Of course, Dick, Jason is always welcome – I’ve tried to tell him the same.”

As if on cue, the bar door slams open, ricochetting against the wall behind it. A man who could only be Jason, based on the way Dick and Babs’ faces light up, seems to practically storm in, stopping sharply on his heel to survey the room before his eyes finally land on you.

Naturally, the first thing there is to notice about him is his sheer size, towering over you, your companions and likely everyone else in the bar as well. But its more than that, the way he seems to fill the space, not just with the throes of muscle that seem to be a constant cycle of tensing and relaxing down his neck, arms, jaw – but through an aura, glowering, almost dark. The hair on his head is such a shadowy black it’s striking even in the dim light of the bar, but what’s even more noticeable is the tendril of white that curls its way forward to rest on his brow. His features, you think, wouldn’t be amiss on some kind of Greek statue, distinct and severe. What catches your attention the most, however, is the deep frown etched into his brow, matching seamlessly with a similar snarl of disgust on his lip – you’d think he’d stepped into a sewer with the repulsion that seems to emanate off him.

Without even an acknowledgement, Jason simply marches over to the booth and plants himself in the only empty space directly beside you.

“Jason! I’m happy to see you, in person anyway. How you feeling?” There’s an impossible degree of kindness in Babs’ voice, you think, for a man seemingly so vehement at even being here in the first place. Your impression isn’t helped by the curtness of his response.

“Fine.”

“Jay, you want a drink from the bar? I was just going to –”

“No, I’m not planning on staying long.”

You have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from admonishing the man for his sheer rudeness, his nerve to come blazing into your evening and sap every smidgeon of happiness out of the room without a care in the world. Concern is written plainly across Dick and Babs’ faces, but you can’t pretend to share the same sympathies. To you, Jason seemed to be nothing more than a dickhead with an attitude problem.

“Jason, this is an old friend of mine,” Babs offers him a smile, “I think the two of you would get along pretty well.”

“Oh great, a friend,” Jason’s words are practically lethal, “How on Earth should we celebrate such a momentous occasion?”

“I’m guessing it’s not one you get to celebrate much,” the words spill out of your lips before you can stop them, nothing more than a quiet mumble, but Jason’s head snaps to the side in an instant. There’s a fire that rims his greenish eyes, and there’s not much more that you can see in them other than downright murder. His fingers begin to lighten from his chokehold grip on the table in front of you.

“Who are you and why are you talking?” Jason bites, eyes quickly returning to the chip in the wood you wouldn’t be half surprised if he created with the intensity of his stare.

“Oh, you know, nobody you should care about. By all means, take centre stage. You’ve practically done it anyway.”

Dick’s voice comes out nervously, a hand scratching the back of his head, “Easy, guys.”

“I’ve sat down and said fuck-all,” Jason spits, “I’m not the one making bitchy comments about guys I don’t even know.”

“Bitchy? What is this 1813?” You turn your body to face him directly, edging on shouting. You try to ignore the flutter of regret in your stomach when he does the same, his figure casting a shadow across the entirety of, well, you.

“Well, I like to think of myself as a pretty modern guy but if the shoe fits.”

“That’s enough,” Babs’ voice is swift and severe when it rises, and Jason must be familiar enough with her to know to snap his mouth shut as you do, the pair of you shuffling back to how you’d been seated before. “We’re trying to have a nice evening, not start a war. Jason, why don’t you go get a drink at the bar?”

“I said I don’t want a fucking –”

Babs sends him a particularly pointed look, at which Jason seems to huff and hoist himself out of the booth. Dick is quick to follow, sliding out and trailing in the footsteps of his counterpart.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, you practically lurch forward to Babs, “Who the fuck is he and why –”

“You need to calm down,” Babs’ voice is as stern as it had been only seconds before, and you’re fairly certain you can feel your jaw drop.

“I need to calm down? I need to calm down? Babs he –”

“He’s my friend. Whether you like him or not,” her voice softens ever so slightly, and she reaches across the table to grasp your hands, “I understand he can be difficult, but so can you. He wasn’t being any worse than you were.”

You can’t muster the words to form an answer, instead opting to slump down into your seat with a few breathless grumblings. You cast your eyes over to the boys at the bar, and based on the way Jason’s shoulders are hunched forward, you can imagine he’s getting a similar tirade from Dick. That thought comforts you at least.

When they return, Dick slots himself next to you with a bubbly smile, Jason collapsing opposite him next to Barbara. There’s an awkward silence that seems to engulf the table, until Dick’s eyes begin to shine as he starts on the story of some thug he’d arrested the other day and the chaos that followed. It’s almost manageable like that, Dick happily chittering away as Babs listens intently, leaving you and Jason to glower in silence.

It’s brief, but for just a second, your eyes meet Jason’s. It’s only as you look up from the table that you realise, he’s staring, and you can’t help but feel a little burned by his gaze. If anything, you would say its apologetic, and ever so slightly longing. You watch as his lips part, almost as though he’s about to say something, but instead he just reclines back in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest and ripping his eyes away to stare at the poker table across the room.

The rest of the evening continues in that stead, and as time ticks over you find it easier to edge yourself back into the conversation, offering up small stories or observations of your own. To your surprise, even Jason pipes up every half an hour or so, mostly to offer some snide remark that sends Dick and Babs into a fit of giggles.

The four of you stay until the bar closes, a worker coming to awkwardly rush you out onto the street into the smoggy Gotham night. Babs and Dick turn to chatter to each other hurriedly, no doubt trying to orchestrate where they would be staying this evening, leaving you and Jason to stand awkwardly to the side swinging on your heels like petulant children.

Eventually, Babs sighs and turns to the pair of you, a stern look in her eye, “I need to go home with Dick to check out a case he’s been working on, I promised him I would a few days ago.” She pauses before turning sharply to Jason, “Can I trust you to walk her back home without starting a fight?”

“I don’t want him to know where I live!” You throw your arms up in exasperation, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Wow,” Jason’s chuckle is bone-chillingly dark, “Charming. I’m charmed. Truly.”

“You’re not walking on your own,” Babs snips, before tempering, “I’m sorry. I forgot about this, but it’s important. Please can you do me a favour and just go with him.”

“Do I get any say in this?” Jason quips, back half turned to the conversation.

“No, you don’t,” Babs replies firmly.

It’s not long after that Dick and Babs depart, Babs offering you what seems to be a look of both sympathy and warning as the car pulls away from the sidewalk, leaving you and Jason alone in the silent early morning air, refusing to even cast a glance in each other’s direction.

The only word to describe the walk back is painful.

It’s completely silent, bar for your mingled breathing, and the occasional call of directions on your part. Not a glance is shared, the pair of you pacing side by side without any acknowledgement of the other. You have to pretty much jog to keep up with Jason, who if he notices, does not seem to care.

Time seems to drag impossibly slowly until you reach the door of your apartment building, and you swallow your pride as you turn to face him. He seems to recoil slightly as you meet his eye, clearly not expecting such a direct confrontation.

“Uhm, thank you,” you sigh, almost defeatedly, “I wouldn’t really have wanted to walk back on my own. And,” you pause, scrubbing a hand over your face, “I’m sorry, for how I acted in the bar.”

Just as before, you watch as his lips part ever so slightly, like there are words bubbling on his tongue attempting to fight their way forward. His eyes almost seem frantic as they flitter up and down over you with a confused kind of scrutiny.

Then he turns and walks away.

You don’t stop watching him until he disappears around the corner at the end of the street, not once turning to check if you’re still stood gaping like a fish behind him. The rage that burns through your veins is hot and fast, and you nearly slam the door off its hinges as you make your way into the building.

Never before have you met such an arrogant, entitled, rude caricature of a man. Not one who would so shamelessly put on the performance Jason had this evening. It was foolish of you, you think, to believe that the two of you could have come to some kind of level-footing.

As you climb into bed, attempting to quieten the anger that seems to course through every limb, there is only one desire that twists in your stomach.

To never see Jason again.

Spring

It was only so long, really, until you got invited to a Wayne gala.

Babs had requested you come as her plus one, seeing as Dick was (naturally) invited regardless. It had taken no shortage of begging on her part, pleading and harassing you with various different threats and promises until eventually you’d lapsed and agreed. To most, you can imagine, it would be a great honour – but you can only seem to focus on the way your toes seem to be splintering against the heels that had been dashed away into the back of your closet until exactly three hours ago.

The beauty of Wayne Manor cannot be understated, with its grand archways, decadent furniture and collection of gargoyles crooning mercilessly overhead. It reeks of an almost sterile air of perfection, not a single decoration out of place, every member of staff working diligently and only answering with a set of perfectly rehearsed responses that you were certain had been tailored to every possible whim. It’s a battle with your more inquisitive nature to venture beyond the contained room in which the party takes place, longing to explore the vast halls and the secrets that must be embedded within them.

Bruce Wayne does moonlight as a bat, after all.

Babs had been by your side for the first hour or so, pleasantly making your introductions to the wealthy of Gotham, many of whom you’re sure could skyrocket your career forward with nothing more than a click of their fingers. You try your best to be pleasant and accommodating, laughing at their jokes and basking their minor achievements in glowing praise. It’s deceptively easy, at this point, to slip into your professional persona, the voice echoing from your throat one that you can barely recognise as your own.

You can see Babs becoming impatient at your side, longing to go and mingle with a few others across the room who you could hazard a guess were some of her more super friends based on the way they lingered around Dick Grayson. You’d been assured that Dick was typically the life of an event of this calibre, enrapturing guests with his charms, but instead he had been left fairly stationary by a leg break in two places, wincing from his spot in the corner as his cast pokes out the bottom of his suit trousers.

“Go,” you’d huffed with a giggle, “Go see them. I’m going to get a drink anyway.”

“I won’t be long,” she assured before barrelling away. It was sweet, the way Dick’s eyes seemed to light up when he saw her approach.

Without Babs at your side, however, it seems impossible to mix with the elites. To them, you are nobody, and without an ‘in’ into their conversations, you may as well be dressed as one of the wait staff. You opt instead to haunt the walls, trapsing round the shadows of the hall with a flute of champagne in hand that seems to empty itself far too quickly.

“I can show you where they keep the bottle, if you like,” a gruff voice calls out from beside you, and your stomach twists when you realise that it’s Jason, slotting himself between you and the wall. He looks, well, good. His suit is clearly tailored, as you would imagine it would have to be for a man of his stature, and there’s a loose red tie knotted somewhat haphazardly around his neck. In any other context, it would scream of laziness, but somehow, he seems to make the whole affair work for him.

“That’s oddly generous of you, you feelin’ okay?” You keep it curt, barely sparing him a glance and instead keeping your eye fixed on the couples swaying about the dance floor.

“That’s oddly presumptuous for someone who doesn’t actually know me at all,” Jason’s words lack the bitterness they had the evening at the bar, instead dripping out like smooth velvet, and seemingly somewhat amused.

“I think I know enough to make a judgement on your character,” you quip, downing the last of your champagne and placing it politely on the tray of the closest waiter with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“Is that so?”

“It is, I’m afraid.”

“Dance with me.” It throws you for a loop when he says it, offering a hand out at your side. He looks somewhat amused as you must stare at him like he’s grown a second head, but still waves his fingers insistently.

Speechless, and albeit a tad shaken, you take his hand as he guides you to the dance floor. It’s swift as he spins you to face him, a hand settling loosely on your waist. You swallow a gulp before bringing your own to settle on his shoulders, and as the music starts up again the pair of you begin to sway in tandem. You’re certain he must be able to feel how tense you are beneath his palms, but if he does, he doesn’t mention it.

“I’m…” he starts, clicking his head to the side in frustration, “I’m sorry. For my behaviour that night. It was… rude.”

“It was,” you agree, not faltering at the sharp look he sends your way.

It takes him a few seconds to find the words, and you almost feel pity for the way he seems to struggle. Eventually he lands on, “I’m not known for my first impressions.”

You bark out a laugh at that, startling some of the other guests beside you. Jason’s eyes seem to widen in shock, but when they settle there’s no contempt in them.

“You can say that again,” you pause before adding, “But I appreciate your apology.”

He does little more than grunt in response, as the pair of you continue to rock back and forth. You would have expected it to be awkward, given your previous encounter, but you can feel yourself beginning to relax into his hold. He still appears tense, and you can feel his fingertips biting ever so slightly into your side, but there’s nothing about him that would suggest any kind of animosity.

“No offense,” you hum, just quiet enough for only him to hear, “What are you doing here? This doesn’t exactly scream of your scene.”

He chuckles lowly, spinning you in sync with the rest of the crowd, “No, it’s not. I usually avoid these things like the plague. I’m doing it to keep the old man off my back.”

“The old man?” You question, throwing Jason a quizzical glance. He too, looks confused at your admission.

“My old man. Bruce Wayne.”

You pretty much stutter to a stop on the dance floor, staring up at him with wide eyes. You’re not sure how it hadn’t clicked into place until this very moment, what with Nightwing being the one to introduce the pair of you – but you had never for a second considered that this Jason could be that Jason.

“You’re Jason Todd?” It comes out as an exhale, and Jason casts an obvious glance in your direction.

“Aren’t you meant to be a journalist? I thought you’d figured that out already.”

“No, I’d heard the news that you were…” you falter, watching as he seems to brace for the words that follow, “back from your, ah, imprisonment. That was what they said in the papers, correct?”

The look he throws in your direction is a grateful one, despite the shared knowledge that you both know what really happened to him. Babs had told you the bare bones of the story. It was enough to know that the man in front of you had travelled all the way from the grave to be here tonight.

“Me and Bruce have our differences,” Jason offers, and it’s the bluntest you’ve heard him all evening. A warning, not to press any further. You decide that it wouldn’t be the smartest idea to divulge your knowledge that this revelation would also make the man in front of you Gotham’s infamous Red Hood.

The two of you continue to dance for the next few songs, making casual but polite conversation amongst the crowds. Scarily, you begin to feel that his company might not be so deplorable after all when he dares to crack the odd joke or two, developing a sneaking suspicion he may be genuinely sorry about what had happened at the bar.

“Okay,” you huff out, sinking forward into him ever so slightly, “I think I might have to call it quits on the dancing for this evening. My feet feel like they’re about to tear in half.”

He doesn’t reply but instead guides you towards the edge of the room on his arm with more poise than you’d have thought him capable of, allowing you to perch down on a chez-lounge and give your tired body a brief reprieve. You sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Jason lets out an awkward cough.

“Look, I have to go and talk to some people,” he almost cringes as he says it, and it’s near enough a look of abject horror on his face, “But… thank you, for the dance.”

“Thank you,” you reply earnestly, meeting his eyes with as tender a look you can muster. Under your glance, he seems to mellow, the corner of his lip even quirking up ever so slightly.

“I’ll… I’ll catch you around,” He bumbles, “Maybe even see you later.”

“I would like that.”

And with that he’s gone.

You feel the loss of his presence almost instantly, and the emptiness that accompanies it is what surprises you most of all. You decide to stay put for the time being, most of the socialites so drunk at this point that they couldn’t object to your own lack of decorum without blatantly highlighting their own.

You remain perched for at least half an hour, grateful for yet another glass of champagne that gets thrust in your direction. You’re fairly certain you can make out Babs across the room, Dick draped dramatically across her wheelchair with an exuberant smile. The time passes fairly quickly as you glance over the hall, people-watching with the ever so slight buzz of alcohol muddying your thoughts.

“You might have just taken the best spot in the room,” a deep timbre echoes out from beside you, and of every person in the world it could have belonged to, you weren’t anticipating it being Bruce Wayne.

“Mr. Wayne,” you shoot up instantly, cringing at the way your ankle rolls in your heel. He only lets out a deep chuckle before motioning for you to sit again, occupying the spot next to you with his looming presence.

“I must admit,” he begins, all smile, “I was unfamiliar with your work before you appeared on my guest list, but you are indeed, incredibly impressive.”

You can’t do much to fight the blush that rises on your cheeks, “Thank you, uh, sir. That’s very kind. I’m only just starting out really, but it’s an honour to know my work has been recognised.”

“You will come to me,” he places a warm hand on your shoulder, “that is, if you need anything. Any friend of Commissioner Gordon and his family is a friend of mine.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you,” you confess, wishing you had been slightly more sparing with your alcohol consumption in the past few hours. That being said, there was no part of your evening plans that had involved chatting with Bruce Wayne himself.

You dare not mention his other career path, not to his face. Not when you couldn’t be sure if Babs had divulged such information or not. Not that she needed to, he probably knew anyway.

“I must confess,” Bruce sighs, a tired smile drawing on his features, “I do have other motivations for coming to speak to you.”

“Oh?”

“I couldn’t help but notice you were dancing with my son earlier,” Bruce begins with a tut, “I get so little from him. I figured I would inquire about his, ah, connection with you instead.”

“Oh, oh, no,” you burst out almost too eagerly, “Me and Jason? This is only the second time we’ve ever met.”

“Is that so?” Bruce questions, a curious quirk on his brow. It only makes it all the more sudden when a stormy disposition seems to cross over his features, “In that case, I suggest you keep it that way.”

There’s little you can do to mask the confusion on your face at his remark. Sure, Jason had been more than a little rude on your first encounter, but he’d been nothing other than pleasant to you this evening. You weren’t unfamiliar with the Red Hood and his methods, under no illusions regarding what Jason was or wasn’t capable of.

“May I ask why you say that Mr. Wayne?”

“Ever the journalist,” Bruce hums, “My son has turned himself into a man not to be trifled with, and in that effort has made himself an outcast to both me and my family. I am aware you know of my family’s activities, Miss, and as a result you no doubt know of his. However, it is not Jason’s choices that bother me most, it is the pain that he inflicts upon those around him.”

The question stutters out of your mouth before you can stop it, not even sure you wanted the answer, “What is it that he’s done? To your family, I mean.”

Bruce doesn’t open his mouth to answer but instead nods to Dick now tucked away in the corner of the hall, struggling to steady himself on his broken leg. To most, Dick’s smile would be enough to ensure them that he was okay, but your multiple encounters with him at this point are enough to let you glimpse the pain in his expression.

“Jason tends to be destructive, and as much as I try to guide him, I’m beginning to fear there isn’t much else he knows anymore. It isn’t the first time he’s done such damage, and it won’t be the last.”

It’s sickening, the way that the universe chooses that moment for you to lock eyes with Jason, leaned against the bar. Swiftly as a growing forest fire, his eyes are a quiet smoulder when they lock with yours, only to grow into a blaze at the image of Bruce sat next to you. You feel at an impasse, two sides of you being tugged in opposite directions.

You look away from Jason quickly. If what Bruce was telling you was true, you had no reason to spare him a glance. Hurting Dick meant hurting Babs. Hell, Dick was a friend, and you couldn’t stand for the idea of someone hurting him either. A spin on a dance floor and a few uptight compliments wouldn’t change that.

“My advice, if you would take it,” Bruce sighs, beginning to stand, “you seem like an intelligent young woman, and you have a bright future ahead of you. I would make an expressed effort to stay out of Jason’s sights in your shoes, I fear it is not a particularly safe place to be.”

Your conversation ends fairly abruptly after that, Bruce shaking your hand and slipping you a business card with a reminder that he would be keen to help with your career given the opportunity. It’s difficult not to trust him, with his warm smile and kind words – you find it almost impossible to believe that his speech couldn’t have been without some kind of merit.

“So, you finally met him?” Babs wheels next to you when Bruce is out of sight, pressing a teasing elbow into your side. Her face seems to drop when she scans across your own, your turmoil clear as day, “Hey, you okay? What did he say to you?”

“Oh, nothing too crazy,” you snap yourself out of it, “Just work, really.”

The look that Babs gives you is enough for you to know that she doesn’t quite believe what you’re telling her, but your saviour appears in the form of Dick Grayson, hobbling over to join you with sweat practically dripping from his brow.

“Congrats,” he slaps an arm around your shoulders, positively beaming, “You just survived your first Bat interrogation.”

The two of them continue to chatter for a few minutes, and you can’t help but scan the room for Jason himself. It’s an odd sensation, and you can’t pinpoint why exactly you care where he is, but you can’t seem to settle without setting your sights on him.

You rejoin the conversation just as Dick turns to face you, “…Anyway, we were thinking of heading back to mine to chill, we’ve done our bit. Bruce can’t complain. Obviously, you’re more than welcome, we just need to find Ja – ”

“Actually,” you plaster on the brightest smile you can concoct, “I’m really not feeling too good. Definitely had a bit too much champagne. I might call it a night, I have work tomorrow, you know.”

“That’s fine, I get it, I get it. We can drop you back home –”

“Honestly, it’s fine, I think I’m just going to call a cab. Thank you though, it’s been a wonderful evening.”

You can only hope that Dick and Babs will chalk your eagerness to escape up to the alcohol as you make your departure, rushing to collect your bag and coat as quickly as you can in stupid fucking heels. As soon as you’re out of the hall, you peel them off your feet and set off at a brisk pace to try and get out of Wayne Manor as quickly as possible.

Until you collide headfirst with what may as well have been a wall, with how stiff and unyielding it seemed to be.

Jason stares down at you with an emotion you can’t quite name, and you’re reminded of just how big he really is. How imposing it would be to see him, clad in a red mask, glaring down towards whoever might be his latest victim. You think about what Dick must’ve felt, as his own brother battered him so.

“One final dance for the road?” He questions with a quirk of his lips, but you can see the nervousness in his eyes. It transforms swiftly into something else when you respond.

“No, I don’t think I will, actually,” you snap, pulling yourself out his way and continuing your mission towards the end of the driveway.

You’re thankful for the silence, that he doesn’t attempt to chase you or catch you in some kind of confrontation. You make it halfway down the drive before he finally calls out.

“What did Bruce say to you?” It’s quiet, and you can barely hear it behind you from the ruckus of the party inside. There’s something about it that pangs in your chest, but you steel yourself and continue walking, without even a glance behind you.

It’s only when you hail the cab that you turn around to face him, and unlike last time, he’s still there. Alone. Stood outside the manor with nothing other than hurt radiating off him. It’s surprisingly easy to turn away, ripping the car door open and slipping inside.

You climb over to the other seat so you don’t have to watch him as you pull away.

Summer

If someone had told you 6 months ago that you would be sat on the roof of Nightwing’s apartment building, surrounded by all sorts of metahumans and vigilantes, having a barbeque – well, you probably would’ve laughed in their face.

It’s hard to believe, as you’re reclined on a sunbed, cocktail in hand, best friend at your side while her boyfriend flips burgers in his, quite frankly, egregious Kiss the Cook apron, that things could be going so well. Bludhaven hadn’t ever been on your list of top holiday destinations, but basking in the hazy summer sun is more than enough to make up for it. It’s raucous, as you would expect many young superheroes crammed into a small space trying to cook a banquet of food would be, but the grouch within you can’t even seem to care about the chaos.

It’s jarring how well life seems to be going. Babs and Dick had pushed you to contact Bruce about working with Wayne Industries on some insider reporting, and the man himself had accepted your proposal with open arms. He’d even doubled the amount you got paid for the pieces as a ‘tip’, a token of thanks for your time dedicated to the cause. As a result, your writing had been the talk of the town since, and you had every major paper scrambling to offer you an exclusive contract.

You and Babs are closer than ever, and to your surprise, you’d integrated fairly seamlessly into their wider friend group as a regular staple of their gatherings. Sure, you were much quieter in comparison to the Titans and other various young heroes, but they seemed to enjoy your presence, nonetheless. You’d even spent some time at Wayne Manor with Dick and Babs, finally meeting the other members of the family after hearing about them in excess.

You’d run into Jason a few times.

It never failed to be an awkward encounter, often comprised of curt greetings and nothing more. Jason showed no signs that your rebuff had scorned him but, as expected, any trace of the warmth he’d shown you that night at the gala seemed to have disappeared promptly. You were just as cold, often refusing to look him in the eye on the rare occasion he would enter a room that also contained you. It was baffling, that he still had a place beside Dick and Babs and the rest of them, given the only increasing rumours you’d heard once being integrated into the super-community about his mistreatment of those closest to him. You’d never brought the topic up to either of your friends, primarily out of fear that they would attempt to see beneath your distain for something deeper – you didn’t have to mention it, they were ever lenient on Jason’s behaviour and seemed to welcome him with open arms at every opportunity.

Which is why you’re unsurprised, later in the evening when most of the heroes have gone home or out on their various patrols, that Jason appears on the roof next to Dick overlooking the city, a quiet conversation muttering between the pair. Your eyes catch him, Jason, for just a second as he turns ever so briefly to watch you sprawled out with a book in hand. Your eyes meeting is enough to drive him away again, jaw grinding as he turns to look forward.

Good, you’re glad your presence is enough to piss him off.

You continue that way for the next hour or so, tearing through your book until the words begin to blur into a splodge of ink on the page. The steady cooling of the dusky air is a welcome reprieve from the blazing sun, and it doesn’t take you long to drift off, your last waking feeling being that of your book dropping onto your chest.

It’s significantly later when you blink yourself awake again, the moon settled comfortably against the Bludhaven skyline. You instantly take note of the blanket that’s been draped over your body, curled between your fingers, and take a second to scan around the rooftop in search for any other waking body.

To your chagrin, the only figure that comes into view is Jason, sat with his legs dangling over the side of the building and a cigarette clutched tightly within his fingers. It’s almost picturesque, watching him inhale and exhale with a stream of smoke, the plains of his face framed by the moonlight. It strikes you that he’s likely in his element, perched on a rooftop shrouded in the darkness of the night, and it pains you to admit just how beautiful he looks.

Without even a glance in your direction, he simply chuckles mockingly, holding the cigarette up plainly for you to see, “Been trying to quit for months now.”

“Maybe you should try harder,” it’s snide and a bit pathetic and you know it, but you can’t seem to mellow the bite in your words. He simply laughs and returns to taking slow drags, barely even acknowledging that you had said anything.

Quickly, you begin to gather your things together, pulling the blanket tightly around your body as you make your way to the door back inside, wishing to be out of this awkward situation and less than stellar company as fast as you can.

It’s Jason’s voice that stops you, “You never told me.”

“What?”

“You never told me what Bruce said to you.” There’s an odd resignation in his words, and his voice remains remarkably even, not giving away any hint of whatever emotion was hidden beneath his words.

“I’m sure you can guess,” you huff out, drawing your hand away from the door to turn and face him.

Wordlessly, Jason hoists himself up from the side of the building and starts to make his way towards you. He stops a comfortable distance away, not enough to be an imposing presence, but so close that you can see his fingers fidgeting in front of him.

“I just want to know if what he said to you is what changed your mind about me,” Jason bites, “or if it’s always just been how you felt.”

“Why do you care about how I feel, Jason?” It comes out far harsher than you intended. He only scrubs a hand over his face in response, and you’re not sure if it’s a laugh or a whimper that crawls its way out of his throat.

“Do you really not see what’s going on here?”

“No, Jason, if I knew what was going on –”

“I like you, okay? I’ve tried my best to make it obvious, I really have. And trust me, I don’t want to, but I do. You’re beautiful, you’re talented, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks because you know who you are. I like how opinionated you are, everyone else in my life fucking dances around me like I’m about to explode – but you don’t. I was rude at the bar because I wasn’t… I wasn’t expecting you, and I tried to make it up to you at the gala and then Bruce –”

“Bruce told me the truth, Jason.” The fumbling words are all that you can manage, your brain spinning at the revelation that Jason had just laid bare in front of you. Everything feels jilted, and surprisingly the only feeling whirring around your chest that you can articulate is anger.

“I don’t know what Bruce told you,” Jason’s practically pleading, “But I just wish you would judge me on me rather than what everyone else has to say.”

“Jason. You don’t know me,” your words are slow, but it does little to soften the viciousness tainting them, “you think you can – what? Just waltz in after months of being rude and judgy and – and after hurting my friends and act like all of it was okay because you like me? I haven’t been able to judge you on what you have to say because you never talk to me!”

The warm summer sun is long gone now, replaced with a chilling breeze and an ever so slight smattering of rain. The only word to describe Jason is speechless, but you don’t miss the way his fists curl at his sides. You practically leap sideways as he spins round with a number of cusses, pacing back and forth with what at a glance seems to be pure anguish.

“Hurt?” He spits out, all venom, “Who exactly have I hurt?”

“Well, Dick, for starters –”

“Dick? Oh, of course,” Jason lets out a bitter chuckle, “Of course, I hurt the golden boy.”

“He had a broken leg!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, and in an instant Jason is on you, so close you can smell his smoky cologne and the lingering touch of burnt leather.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” It’s nothing more than a ghost of a whisper, and he’s so close you can almost taste the words on his tongue.

“Real romantic by the way,” you refuse to back down, instead only edging closer and angling your chin to lock onto his eyes blazing down into your own, “I like you but I don’t want to. I didn’t realise I was just so deplorable.”

The rain is blinding now, hammering down around the pair of you, eliminating anything in your eyeline other than him. You’re both soaked to the bone, locked in a standoff neither one of you is willing to back down from. His hair is flattened to his forehead, and his shirt has plastered itself across his shoulders – you don’t dare to consider what you look like, clad in nothing other than a blanket and casual swimwear. It’s only then that you register the jittering of your entire body, and you can’t pinpoint whether it’s the cold or the sheer rage coursing through your veins as the source.

Both of your heads tear to the side at the soft call of your name, the silhouette of Babs highlighted from the doorway back into the apartment. Squinting through the rain, you can make out the shock and concern marring her features, and you instantly jump back from your stalemate. Jason takes a similar course of action, turning on his heel to march inside without a second thought.

He makes it halfway before he stops and turns to stare at you.

“You shouldn’t just listen to everything people tell you. I thought you were smarter than that. There are two sides to every story.”

And then he disappears inside.

Autumn

All the glee of summertime had been quick to disperse. Life seemed to pass by in a blur: work had slowed considerably as Gotham herself seemed to ready for hibernation, you had moved to a different apartment, nicer but nestled significantly further away from everything you’d become accustomed to. Babs had taken on a lot more work with Batman which seemed to consume the majority of her waking life, and with the loss of her constant company went Dick Grayson too. You still texted daily, but in person visits had become disappointingly scarce.

You’d be a downright liar if you said in every spare moment that your thoughts didn’t trapse back to your encounter with Jason. It reeled like film in the back of your mind whenever your eyelids fluttered shut, a constant rerun of every minute detail – the way his hands seemed to ring, the flexing and rolling of his shoulders as he paced, the hurt in his eyes as you’d unleashed a tirade onto him on what was supposed to be a relaxing summer evening.

It was nothing more than professional curiosity, you’d told yourself, your desire to know more. To glean some kind of insight into the other side of the story that Jason had preached. It was in your nature, journalism and the like. However, it was much easier to pretend that the world had alienated you from the answer, forcing you away from your work and friends, than it was to admit that you had run away because you were scared.

Which is why it took months for you to finally ask Babs to meet up for a coffee, rather than her asking you. The air had begun to bite as you lingered in the street, longing for a familiar face, even the nip of the cold bringing back persistent traces of that night. A sigh of relief materialises in a faint cloud of vapour as Babs appears round the corner, throwing her arms out for a hug as soon as she’s close enough. It’s uncharacteristically awkward as you settle down at a table, Babs doing little to hide her expectant stare as the barista places your drinks down in front of you.

“What did you want to –”

“Jason.” The slight curl of her lip at your mention of his name is enough to throw you, her knowing look pressing forward into what feels like every inch of your body.

“What do you want to know about Jason?” Babs offers, tracing her finger around the rim of her mug casually. If the display is supposed to make you feel less under pressure, it does nothing to alleviate the hammering of your pulse.

Your brain goes blank. “Uhm – how is he?”

Babs seems unable to stifle the laugh that barks out, bringing her coffee up to her lips, “You invited me out for coffee to ask how Jason is?”

You take a deep breath and muster all you can to steel yourself, allowing a smidgeon of your work persona to bleed in. “That night on the roof. He said some things and – and I never got any clarification. I just have some things I need to know.”

“How come you’re asking me and not him?”

“I don’t think Jason and I are in a place to be asking each other deep and thought-provoking personal questions,” you wince as the words tangle themselves on your tongue, and you can’t subdue the simmering feeling of disappointment that seems to accompany them.

Babs’ pauses for a second, as if weighing in her options, before eventually letting out a soft sigh and offering you a tender look, “Go on, what is it you want to know.”

“At the gala,” you begin far too quickly, grimacing at your own eagerness, “Bruce told me that Jason was dangerous. I’d already figured out that he was, you know, but the way Bruce painted this picture. It was like Jason was a monster, like he chose to hurt everyone close to him. He told me that he broke Dick’s leg.”

“Jason did break Dick’s leg,” Babs states plainly, and you can feel yourself deflate, “Jason broke Dick’s leg to save him. Dick was trapped in rubble, and he was losing oxygen fast. He was, he would’ve, died if Jason hadn’t gotten there before any of the rest of us could. The only options were to break Dick’s leg – who was unconscious by the way – to get him out or leave him to suffocate.”

You’re practically speechless. Never before has your mind stuttered so suddenly to a halt. All you can seem to do is gape at Babs as her jaw seems to clench; anger wasn’t a familiar emotion in your relationship, but you had seen it enough to recognise it.

“Bruce and Jason have a fractious relationship at the best of times, and they were certainly not going steady back then. Bruce showed up and saw Jason manhandling Dick out of a collapsed building with a broken limb and assumed the worst. God, it was awful, only Tim could stop them fighting and eventually Jason just disappeared. The first time any of us saw Jason after that was the Gala, and that was only because he promised Alfred.”

“Did Bruce ever find out the truth?” You’re practically reeling as all of the puzzle pieces begin to fall into place, Jason’s distance from his family at the Gala, his hurt at your insinuations about him. You’d treated him atrociously and this whole time he was the one that had been hurt.

“We told him straight away. We told him as it happened. But Jason and Bruce have this blindness when it comes to each other, they can only see what they want to see. Bruce refused to hear anything other than that Jason had brought the building down and Dick with it.” There’s a rawness in Babs’ voice, and a pearly ring of wetness dampening her eyes.

“But I’ve heard so much about…” you pause, contemplating the weight of your words, “It’s not just Bruce. I’ve heard everyone talk about him and the things he does, like he’s some kind of sadist. Like he kills people for fun and –”

“Jason does kill, there’s no doubt about that,” Babs’ tone hitches slightly, shifting to something more resolute, “but it’s not just for fun or how he gets his kicks. He has an ethos, a system, the same way Bruce or Dick or any of us do. Agree with it or not, he’s trying to make things better in his own way.”

It’s a harrowing feeling, every synapse being excavated and laid bare, the devastating realisation that all was not as it had seemed. Jason had been right, you should’ve known better than to presume. “I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?”

Babs wastes no time reaching over to take your hands in hers, some of the warmth returning to her gaze, “No, you haven’t. You acted on all the information that you had and that’s all we can do. But you can –”

“No,” your reply is instant, and Babs draws back in surprise, “I can’t. Not after all this. I’ve hurt him, I can’t imagine he wants me in his life. And I still don’t know him. I just –”

Babs calls your name softly as you begin to gather your belongings, hastily sipping down the last of your drink and scanning desperately for the nearest exit. She doesn’t attempt to say anything, just offers you an almost infuriatingly tender look. You quickly mutter your goodbyes, a small smile and a promise to text later, before rushing out into the Gotham traffic.

It had been easy to be so righteous, so comfortable in your position, but now every noise and sensation felt like a slap. A kick while you were down. It had been so simple to deny anything you had felt towards him, any kind of attraction, from your high horse; to look down and tell yourself that you had been wronged and anything you felt was out of nothing more than a lingering feeling of pity.

It’s overwhelming, the sensation of missing out on an opportunity, a friend, and maybe something more that made itself so scarce in your life to begin with. It’s shame, you think.

You can’t help but think that if you were Jason Todd, you would never want to see you again.

Winter

Gotham in the winter is a sight to behold: flickering lights casting a yellow haze over the murky skyline, the cold lick of the coast sneaking its way into the alleyways and street corners, an entire civilisation cloaked in a dreary blanket. It was much kinder from inside the warm glow of your apartment, staring out at the figures on the street below fighting against the elements.

Life had continued, as it always does. It had taken you some time to process what had happened with Jason, mourn the prospect of what could’ve been. Bruce had offered you a full-time position at Wayne Industries. You’d turned it down. Told him you wanted to ‘explore different avenues’ this early in your career, and in spite of the suspicious look he’d given you, he’d assured that there would always be a position for you if you desired.

Instead, you had taken a role at a local up-and-coming paper focussed on exposing corruption within Gotham’s elite. It was perfect, the hands-on kind of work you had favoured during your studies, and the success was already beginning to blossom. Babs and Dick had been nothing but supportive: you weren’t as involved with their ‘super-gatherings’ anymore, finding the whole group to be a tad overwhelming, but they still made time for you each and every week in the same dingy bar in which Babs had first introduced you to everyone.

Everything didn’t feel right yet, but it was getting there.

Being nestled in your apartment in the evenings alone didn’t feel so glum anymore, instead lighting a warm flicker in the bottom of your belly. You were working on a big piece, the biggest you’d written so far, scouring into the Falcone family and some of their more illegitimate dealings – papers sprawled across every available surface, a few stripes of ink now decorated your dining room table. You were certain you looked a wreck; sleep hadn’t come easy the past nights – you were in limbo. Until the article was published and in the public eye, there was little to protect you from anyone who had questions about what you were looking into. You’d even gone out and brought a gun. As a result, there was little that could drag you away from your laptop, a desperation to finish your work that felt somewhat like your life depended on it.

Which is why when there’s a hammering at your front door at 1am, it becomes difficult to breathe all of a sudden.

“Miss?” A gruff voice calls out, “Heard you had some interest in a friend of mine. I have some information that might be of use to you.”

As quietly as you can, you scramble for your keys. Dick had given you a small device, some kind of button, when you’d told him and Babs about your new job and its dealings – he’d assured you that as soon as you pressed it there would always be help on the way. It’s impossible to stifle the gasp of relief as you finally feel the tiny device roll between your fingers, pressing it down hard and watching as it illuminates your apartment in a soft blue.

“Miss? We know you’re in there,” the hammering gets much louder all of a sudden, and you dip down behind the couch, drawing yourself into a ball, “This can be much easier for you if you just let us in.”

From across the room, you can see your phone light up, and you thank the lord that you’d put it on silent – it’s Babs, you can see from the cheesy lockscreen of you draped across her lap after some raucous night out. The men, multiple of them now, continue to scuffle outside your front door as they no doubt contemplate the best method to enter and beat the shit out of you. You could make a run for the gun now, but if they came in you would be cornered in your bedroom, nowhere to escape to.

“Right, lady, you’re starting to piss me off,” A new voice calls out, “I’m giving you ten seconds to come out before we come in.”

Ten seconds is a long time for a vigilante, right? Normally, you’d pride yourself on your ability to think on your feet, but unfortunately the only course of action seems to be waiting out the storm. The idea of leaping out the window dances across your mind briefly, but with no fire escape and a 40ft drop it wasn’t the most thrilling concept. Quickly, you reach out and snatch your pen off the table – it was sturdy, metal, a gift from Jim Gordon when you’d graduated – it wasn’t sharp by any means, but with enough force it could definitely do some damage.

You grimace at the thought.

All at once, a barrage of sound erupts in your ears; the door swings open and groans as the hinges splinter bit by bit, the thundering of footsteps is instant, you can count one, two, three sets of steps against the creaking floorboards. It all happens far too quickly, one of them calling out a signal to the others that they’ve found you, and you’re hoisted to your feet, both arms held tightly by a brute on either one. You swing from side to side with as much force as you can muster, kicking out and screaming, relishing as you hear a deep groan from your right.

Nothing prepares you for the swing of a fist, though.

You’ve never been punched before, surprisingly, and it strikes you that maybe its one of the only things movies do justice. It’s less the impact itself, but more the way that your head wrenches to the side that sends you reeling. Before you can even recollect yourself there’s a hand clamped around your jaw, tugging your face back upwards. Most of the man’s face is covered, donned in all black, but there’s a cruelty in his eyes that collapses your chest. It’s disgusting, the way one of his fingers hooks around your teeth, keeping you trapped like a fish on a line. You contemplate spitting in his face, but as if out of instinct, you snap your teeth shut.

It makes you retch as he pulls back, the thick, hot metallic sheet that coats every surface of your mouth. Abject horror is the only phrase to describe the look of the man opposite you, clasping his mangled finger gingerly to his chest. Before you can revel in your small victory, another slap sends you clattering across the floor, wood splintering beneath your fingertips.

If a punch was a bee-sting, a kick to the ribs is a bomb going off.

“You fucking bitch!” The man hollers, drawing his foot back for another swift kick. His boots must be metal capped, you think.

“Haven’t you heard? Bitch is so 1800s.”

It’s a rough modulated voice that draws you from your stupor – it’s difficult to make out shapes through the tears that have spilled over, but if the shrill whimpers of the men around you are enough to go by, you’d say help has arrived. The pause gives you enough time to shuffle back against the wall, gradually shifting to something akin to a sitting position.

“Hood,” One of the goons whispers, and you’re not sure if its double vision or the man is actually trembling, “What – this isn’t your turf –”

“Don’t care. Goodbye.” The echo of a gunshot is so much louder up close, and you can’t help but slam a hand over your mouth as the giant of a man seems to crumple to the ground, brains splattered all over your bookshelf. One of the other goons attempts to make a run for it but is stopped by a gloved hand that shoots out and catches him by the throat. It’s a horrible wheezing sound that sneaks its way out of his windpipe, all while the Red Hood takes his time strapping his gun to his thigh, before bringing his other hand around languidly to snap the goons’ neck.

It’s all so quick, you think, not like the long-winded tit-for-tat action movie sequences where they trade blows, it’s just sheer overwhelming force. A black hole that’s come to consume anything that dare move in its presence.

It’s Jason.

Out of your peripheral you can make out the man, your main attacker, breaking from his stupor. You recognise the way his hands begin to curl in his pocket, a hand wrapping around an all too familiar shape that he begins to draw outwards painstakingly slowly. Before you can clamber to your feet, the gun is aimed straight for him, a clear shot, and Jason seems to realise just as you do that the man’s finger is contracting on the trigger.

You can’t even process your own movements, let alone pain, yet you feel your feet underneath you, pushing you forward. The cool feeling of the pen between your fingers feels so familiar yet so absurd, and with all the force you can muster you slam it round into the side of the man’s throat. It’s so much worse, watching death this way; Jason had the decency to make the others quick, but here you were watching a man bleed onto your rug as he stares at you with surprise and your engraved pen in his jugular.

It’s only seconds before he flops to the ground too.

Jason’s there before your knees can buckle, wrapping a solid arm around your waist and holding you up like a puppet on a string. As much as you try and move your tongue, it’s like lead in your mouth, and you can’t do much more than stand there gaping as Jason checks your injuries.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” You didn’t know a modulated voice could sound so tender, “I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time.”

“Jason, I –” It sounds so wet and broken, barely recognisable as your own voice.

“I know,” he coos, bringing a hand round to cradle your less injured cheek, “But you did so good, so good. You saved me.”

The tears begin to flow promptly after that, and you wonder if the Red Hood often has people sob into his chest, and if he ever lets them. Slowly, he lowers the pair of you to the ground, and as soon as you hit the floor it feels as though every drop of energy has been drained from your body.

“I’m so sorry,” you hiccup, “I’m sorry about what I said and –”

If you’re not mistaken, he laughs, and even through the robotic filter you can hear the hint of amusement, “You’re an idiot.”

“What?”

“You’ve just killed a man and you’re worried about apologising to me over an argument we had months ago.”

You let out a wet laugh, “Can’t help it. I don’t want to like you, but I think I do.”

“Maybe we should start again,” Jason hums, pulling off his helmet. You know deep down that he’s just trying to distract you from the weight of your evening, and you’re sure that it will hit you when the brain fog begins to wear off – but right now, you can’t seem to care. Clearly, a near death experience has changed your perspective.

You mumble your name quietly, offering your hand out to him, “I’m a journalist, I’m allergic to cats and I have a kill count of one.”

Jason only barks out a laugh, those mesmerising green eyes finally rimmed with mirth rather than rage, “I knew there was something I liked about you.”

Spring

You’d never thought that such a dingy, depressing bar tucked away in the veins of Gotham could feel so much like home – but the regulars at the poker table wave each time you step through the front door, the bartender smiles while she pours your regular and asks how your latest article is coming along. But your favourite part, without a doubt, is slumping in after a long day at work and seeing your closest companions huddled together at your booth in the corner looking up at you with beaming smiles.

You slide into the booth next to Jason without a word, and his arm drapes itself across your shoulders automatically. It’s still new, the pair of you sharing bashful smiles at every intimate moment, but there’s a love that burns in your chest brighter than any feeling you thought yourself capable of.

“You guys are disgusting, I hope you know,” Dick whinges, letting out a chuckle as Babs punches him hard in the arm.

“Be quiet, you,” Babs chuckles, “Our plan finally came to fruition.”

You narrow your eyes at her across the table, quirking your head to the side, “I knew it. You did want to set us up.”

“Well that was obvious from the get go, Princess,” Jason chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I like to think we gave them a challenge though.”

“I certainly didn’t think you would develop a body count on the way,” Babs brows go up and she sends a grin in your direction.

“That’s my girl,” Jason whispers, throwing a grin in your direction, “What a fearsome thing to behold.”

“God, I love it when you quote Pride & Prejudice to me.”

“I know you do, baby, I know.”

This has been a WIP for sooooo long, like since before I even started this account. I don’t know if it’s obvious but I really struggled to finish it, I had absolutely no idea how to leave it. But oh well 🤷‍♀️

also im SORRY for making Bruce the BAD GUY it was the only way i could make it work in my head 💔

If you liked it, well, like it - a reblog is always appreciated. If you don’t like it, leave me alone.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd fic #red hood fic #angst #dcu #dc robin #dc fanfic

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kdh-tally · 1 day ago

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Huntr/x and The Saja Boys being Jealous

Prompt : How Huntr/x and the Saja Boys would react to their partner being flirted with. @erisanix

Author’s Note : I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this 😭 Hope you enjoy!!! So it was only after writing this (and preparing to publish this) that I realised you probably meant partner as in the reader... I'm so sorry- and will rewrite this if you want

Abby when someone flirts with Mira

The two of them are working out.

Neither of them need it but Abby insists that they work to keep their muscles in shape (insert unnecessary flexing here)

Some dude decides to work out next to them and when abby leaves to grab them water, the person takes their chance to talk with Mira.

His first reaction is to laugh.

Like, genuinely finds it funny.

How did anyone have the audacity to flirt with Mira???

“You’re trying to flirt with her?”

“Oh… you’re serious.”

He’d walk over, arm casually slipping over her shoulder as she glares at the person trying to make a move on her

He wouldn’t say a thing first and would just stand there smiling.

Normally, most people would use their brains and back off once they see that:

1. Mira isn’t interested

2. This huge guy with muscles in standing by her like a body guard and could very much easily beat them up

However, lets say the person keeps going

While Abby knows fully well that Mira can handle herself, he likes playing knight-in shining armour.

“She’s taken” he’d smirk condescendingly at the person (who is now shaking in their boots)

He doesn’t get jealous so much, but will get competitive.

It also gives him an extra EXTRA confidence boost knowing that he (and romance ig 😒) is actually Mira’s boyfriend.

“You think she’d want you? Try again in your next life.”

(He wouldn’t say this in front of Mira of course cause she would obliterate him)

Once they’re gone, he’s gentle and playful again.

“I feel bad for them”

“Why?”

“Don’t you remember how long it took me and romance to convince you to go out with us?”

“Yea-”

“And you liked us” he pointed out in disbelief “That poor person bro. They stood no chance” he’d shake his head dramatically watching the flirter walk away defeatedly.

Romance when someone flirts with Mira

They were both in the practice room. Mira testing out new lyrics with him and Romance just watching her.

A new staff member, who wasn’t briefed on any of the relationships between the groups, attempts to make a move on Mira.

Romance is smiling the whole time.

He doesn’t take the person seriously.

“Oh, you like her? Cuteeeeee. Same.”

Would hug Mira from behind mid-conversation (knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to attack him for the PDA in front of the innocent (and flirty) bystander), his chin resting on her shoulder as he more or less stares at her in awe.

“Isn’t she just perfect?” he’d say, looking smugly into the flirter’s eyes.

He, like Abby, is so confident in his position as Mira’s boyfriend that he has no need to be jealous.

And to be honest even if he did feel jealous, he used to be a powerful demon. Hiding a dead body wouldn’t be that difficult for him.

He wouldn’t mind outflirting the flirter to their face.

He would also let Mira do most of the rejecting.

He lowkey finds it attractive when she goes all “Sorry but I’m already in a relationship”

His head is filled with hearts and flowers and all he can think of is ‘she loooooooves me~~’

But, If Mira gets visibly annoyed or uncomfy (and that would take a lot to happen), his smile turns sharp.

“You can leave now,” he’d say, eyes narrowed as he more or less forces the person away with his sharp gaze.

His tone is so obviously threatening.

Later, he’d make Mira and Abby laugh about it.

“You know I’m prettier than them, right?” he’d tell the two while laying across their legs on the couch.

Mira would roll her eyes but she wouldn’t disagree.

Abby would give romance a proud high five (or whatever it is bro’s do…)

Definitely throws in some extra flirty lines that night, just to remind her of the whole encounter.

Mystery when someone flirts with Zoey

The only Saja boy that would get seriously jealous.

This could go two ways though.

He could either get super protective over Zoey to the point where it’s lowkey animalistic…

I’m basically saying he might start barking at whoever is flirting with her 😭

Based off of his behaviour in the movie i’d feel like he’d try to freak the person out so they’d leave 💀

The more likely option would be for him to just freeze.

Doesn’t speak. Just stares.

You can feel how uncomfortable he is with the entire situation.

Lets say the two are hanging out after practice hours and they encounter a group of fans, one of them thinking they actually have a chance with Zoey.

I feel like Zoey would be completely oblivious to the fans' intentions cause she just wants to believe in the good of everyone.

Remember how she said the Saja boys were magicians even though it was really obvious they were demons 💀

Mystery, after attending to his own fans, just stands behind Zoey and watches,

He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him but it obviously does.

He can’t stand still.

Crosses his arms.

Shifts weight between his legs.

Backs up a step only to come back up.

He won’t interrupt the conversation. Honestly he might just leave.

But Zoey usually finds him sulking in a corner later.

“You okay?”

“Why must you be so nice to people?” he be all frowny while flopping around on the floor”

“Thank you? she let out a small laugh before sitting by him and moving the hair out of his face.

“I don’t want you to be nice to everyone…” he’d be all flustered but still very upset. “Just me.” a small pause, “and huntr/x and the saja boys i guess…”

She ends up comforting him because his jealousy would manifest as confusion and anxiety.

Poor boy fears she’d still leave him because he used to be a demon.

Starts to lowkey improve his posture and fix his hair next time they're out.

He thinks no one notices but zoey does.

Jinu when someone flirts with Rumi

The pouty jealous one.

Not in a sad and anxious way like Mystery, but more in a ‘stop giving them attention Rumi~’ way.

Doesn’t react at first. He’s quiet, watching and assessing how serious the situation is.

If Rumi laughs at something the flirter says?

His jaw drops in disbelief. Like her audacity??

“Wow. Guess I’m just a background character now.” • Said this to no one but himself. He said it outloud.

Will walk up after the conversation ends like:

“So… did you have fun Rumi?”

“Who was that?”

“Do you like them more than me? Be honest. I can take it.” (He cannot.)

Rumi: “You’re literally the only person I want Jinu.”

Jinu, perking up instantly: “Okay :)”

Still clings to her for the rest of the day, just in case.

He could get super protective though.

They’d probably be out on one of their dates that apparently aren’t dates…

They’d stop for food at a restaurant and the guy taking the order is just so annoying and persistent about getting Rumi’s number.

At this his eyes sharpen, jaw clenches slightly. You’d only notice if you knew him.

He does not interrupt. He’d look to see how Rumi handles it.

If she looks uncomfortable?

He steps in immediately with that low, casual tone he has “You okay Rumi?”

He’s not even trying to be threatening. He’s kinda just making in known that he is the boyfriend.

Even Rumi is flustered with just how protective he’s being.

When they’re walking back to the company, his hand hasn’t left her waist at all.

“Some people just don’t seem to know when to stop talking” he’d mumbled under his breath.

Mira when someone flirts with Abby or Romance

If they flirt with Abby:

Someone’s trying to compliment his abs and muscles.

The person is being all sweet n touchy like

“Omg! You must work out really hard~~”

And he can see Mira seething in the background so he tries to make the interaction seem as friendly as possible.

She's watching it all happen with the flattest expression known to mankind.

Abby's being polite. He’s all smiles like “ooh thankyou :D”

Mira’s patience is running out FAST.

She's standing there, arms crossed, eyebrows twitching.

In her brain she’s absolutely berating the person.

“Can’t they tell that he’s taken??’

However she’d also be in denial about her jealousy.

“Like what do you mean jealousy? I was just worried that the person was wasting their time on you muscles brain” is what she would say if ever confronted about the situation.

She’d eventually calm down until Abby chuckles at one of their jokes.

Her head slowly turns and her eyes are comically wide.

She lowkey looks deranged…

“You think they’re funny?” • “No– I was just–” • “Mm.”

She’d kick him out of her car and leave him stranded on the street.

Eventually walks up casually, a hand on Abby’s bicep.

“Sorry, this one’s taken. But nice try.” Smile = threat.

Later in private?

She’s berating him.

“You’re such an attention seeker”

“I didn’t do anything..” he’s flabergasted

If they flirt with Romance:

Mira doesn’t even pretend to be calm.

The issue here is Romance is the type to flirt back. Not cause he’s a man whore or anything but he just loves when Mira acts all possessive about him 💀

She’s standing behind Romance while the flirter is mid-sentence, her arms crossed, lips pursed.

She’s giving them the look she normally uses to scare off demons before killing them off.

Romance obviously finds it hilarious and adorable.

Mira does not.

She doesn’t speak, just raises one brow at the poor soul.

This person must be blind or something cause they just keep talking???

Oh yea- Where did they meet the flirter?

The two went shopping for books. Yes. Books.

Romance thinks the best way to learn about human culture would be by reading as many novels as he can get his hands on.

This leads to the shop owner flirting with him as they try to recommend good books to read.

The flirter slides him a very steamy looking book and winks at him “This looks like something you’d enjoy if you know what I mean”

When the person keeps talking, Romance is smirking. • “You’re gonna die~” he whispers, all happy.

Mira steps up between them. • “If you value your ability to walk and want to keep your store, I suggest you shut up.”

Romance: 🥰

He won’t shut up about it later.

“I’ve never felt more loved.”

“You threatened violence for me.”

“Tell me again how you’d break their legs.”

He’s just a girl.

Actually he’d probably love saying “I’m just a girl” 💀

Zoey when someone flirts with Mystery

She’s oblivious at first.

Like I said up above, she’ll probably think the person is just being friendly.

“Oh my god, Mystery, they said you have pretty hair! Isn’t that sweet?” • Mystery is trying not to freak out

Eventually, she catches on.

She’ll see the flirter get all up in his space. They’d try to touch his hair, or interlink their arms, literally anything to have physical contact.

Mystery is physically recoiling.

“Wait a damn minute…”

Her whole vibe changes.

Remember how she “ended” mystery in the movie?

“You’re just my type 🤩 Oh well” stabs

Yea that switch up is how she’d treat the flirter.

Her voice is still sweet, but it’s weaponized sweetness.

“That’s my boyfriend.”

One sentence. That’s it.

The air gets colder. The fan who was flirting? Gone.

She then turns to Mystery like nothing happened.

“You okay?”

“You scared them away.”

“Good.” sips her drink

She becomes extra clingy later too. Not because she’s insecure.

She’d do it to reassure him that she wouldn’t be going anywhere regardless of how many people try to flirt with him.

Random compliments and forehead kisses.

“Your hair is pretty by the way.” she’d say this while tying it up into a bun to admire his face. “I’m the only one allowed to touch it though”

“Of course Zoey,” his voice is practically a whisper as she clings onto him.

Rumi with someone flirts with Jinu

They went to the movies together. A new lego movie came out and the last one Jinu saw was years ago so he begged Rumi to take him to see the new one.

She goes to collect popcorn, leaving Jinu to take his seat, and when she returns, someone is in HER chair. Flirting with HER boyfriend.

She’d try really hard not to react.

She wants to be chill. Really, she does.

But the moment someone says “Hey, what’s your name?” and reaches out to his arm?

She’s considering summoning her weapon and wiping their head off clean.

My girl is staring daggers.

Probably the most over protective in the group (could rival Mira)

After all, the guy died for her. Why would anyone even think they could try to flirt with him???

Stares daggers.

Jinu is too polite (and oblivious. The guy used to be a 400 year old demon. Anything he used to know about flirting is now irrelevant)

He smiles. Maybe even giggles just because of how nervous he is. • That is what breaks her.

She walks over calmly, “Sorry. That seat’s taken.”

If the flirter protests? “By who?

“By me. Go find another one.” Rumi’s losing her patience and the movie is about to start.

“I actually like it here,” they’d lean a tad bit closer to Jinu to spite Rumi.

Let’s not forget that Rumi is half demon though!! “That wasn’t a suggestion.” Her voice gets a bit more dangerous and unstable.

Once they’re alone again, she teases him about it.

“Did you like the attention?”

“Nooo– Rumi, no, I was scared. ☹️”

“You were giggling.”

“IT WAS A PANIC GIGGLE!!”

The next time they go out, she’s in his hoodie. Hair down (out of the braid 😋). Holding his hand. The message is clear: • Don’t even look in his direction.

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tarotwithcherwi · 2 days ago

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July Channeled Message From Higher Self & Spirit Guides | pick-a-card 🌿🦋

Hello loves, welcome to your channeled message from your Higher Self and Spirit Guides—a gentle pick-a-card reading for the month of July

I’m wishing each of you a wonderful month ahead.

May these messages bring clarity, comfort, and connection exactly when you need it. 🤍

With care,

—cherwi

**Note: close your eyes, take a deep breath, & focus on the pile or two that you feel most drawn to. remember don’t over think & just use your intuition.

Pile I. > Pile II. > Pile III.

Pile I.

// pontia protodice & clear quartz //

Song(s): Say Yes To Heaven — Lana del Rey & Rather Be — Clean Bandit (ft. Jess Glynne)

⟡ Cards Pulled: Page of Pentacles, Six of Cups, Ten of Swords, Wheel of Fortune (rx), Nine of Wands (rx), Nine of Pentacles

✦ Themes this Month: cleansing, emotional healing & releasing, inner work, soft discipline, unfinished cycles, glow up

With clear quartz as your crystal messenger this month, you’re being guided to clear the noise and clear any clutter mentally or physically. This stone is about clarity and purification; it helps amplify truth and your own healing energy, and this July it's helping you see the past clearly for what is not what it felt like. It brings light into shadows and allows you to gain wisdom from clarity. Hold onto clear quartz this month when you are ready to let go of something emotionally heavy, use it to journal your thoughts and emotions throughout the month, or use it to cleanse your space.

There is a glow up happening for my pile I’s. This is the month where you show up for yourself intentionally. Whether it’s waking up earlier, eating more balanced, working out more consistently or even clearing your space, you’re making room for the new.

Whatever you are working towards, you are becoming more magnetic and confident. You might not feel like you are doing much, but your guides are saying this is transformation. Networking events, hangouts, job interviews, and other opportunities will flow to you easily. This is month where you are meant to be out and about.

You might feel there’s a return to the past— people, memories, or pieces of your inner child asking for your attention. Some of these moments will be pleasant, some will not. The Ten of Swords & Wheel of Fortune (rx) tells me this month you will recognize a cycle that you will have to choose to release, even if it means not getting the closure you thought you needed.

The lessons this month are to rebuild your self worth, nurture your inner child, and release any lingering past baggage without needing every answer. Closure might not have been straightforward, but the cycle has ended to start a new chapter.

ᯓ✦ Channeled Quotes/Messages(s):

you’re not going backward stop trying to rewrite the past consistently is louder than doubt you don't have to carry the weight that isn’t yours feel your feelings & release them trust divine timing is your best ally you are never alone in your journey don't underestimate small shifts; they add up keep going, don't look back

⋆˚ʚɞ Messages & Signs: 111, 11:22, birds flying in pairs, “go with the flow”, clocks glitching, sudden mood swings out of nowhere, electronic glitches, 12:21, divine timing delays that are blessings, squirrels, 10:10, 999, 12:34, seeing butterflies with white or pale wings, baby photos, rewatching old shows, mirrors, broken glass or glass reflections, people from your past reaching out

“I grow even in stillness. I heal without needing the final word.”

Pile II.

// morpho & amethyst //

Song(s): Paradise — Coldplay & Titanium — David Guetta (ft. Sia)

⟡ Cards Pulled: The Moon, The Lovers, Knight of Wands (rx), King of Swords (rx), Ten of Cups

✦ Themes this Month: fog before clarity, surrender, divine alignment, shadow work, lack of movement

This month Amethyst is your crystal messenger, it carries the energy to help with intuition, emotional protection, and connect you to spirit—it whispers to your higher self through gut feelings, dreams, and signs when you least expect them. This stone helps walk you through the veil of fog and uncertainty. Sleep with amethyst near your bed or meditate with it when you're unsure. This will help you tune in instead of overthinking or spiraling. July is asking you to move intentionally and listen.

Uncertainty, delayed action, choices, and fog are in the soup for my pile II’s. Don’t be surprised if you feel sleepy, dreamy, indecisive, or closed off this month. A lack of motivation and inspiration could be holding you energetically hostage.

However, your spirit guides and higher self are guiding you to dig inward to make decisions that isn’t logical but felt. The Moon & Lovers shows a crossroad between dream and reality, choices and alignment. It’s a liminal space, where you are told to make an aligned choice. This is choice that is meant to serve you not others.

Ten of Cups shows that fulfillment and harmony are within reach this month. But, only when you stop trying to force your path to look like others and start building structure from within. You are being asked: What do you want? How are you going to make it happen? This isn’t a race, rather a realignment test. You’re told to drop the comparison olympics. Your journey is uniquely yours. Your spirit guides are protecting and guiding you even in moments of doubt.

ᯓ✦ Channeled Quotes/Message(s):

remember the universe is always working in your favor you were not supposed to stay the same you are spiritually protected the art of surrendering is trusting the process the grass is greener wherever you are seasons of rest are sacred as seasons of bloom stillness isn’t delay, its a doorway the answers will come you are worthy of love and happiness you won't miss what’s meant for you even if you hesitate

��˚ʚɞ Messages & Signs: “trust the process”, couples appearing around you, moon phases, stars, black cats, crane fly, “stagnation is movement”, 888, 11:22, 222, 717, 11:11, 828, hearing songs that feel like they’re “answering your question”, rings/circular objects, hazy/foggy weather, purple/pink flowers, soft floral scents, dreams about crossroads/trains/elevators, birds circling or staring at you

“Even in confusion, I trust the path is unfolding for me.”

Pile III.

// swallowtail & tigers eye //

Song(s): Headlock — Imogen Heap & Bulletproof — La Roux

⟡ Cards Pulled: Ace of Wheels (rx), The High Priestess, Queen of Cups (rx), Three of Wands (rx), The Lovers (rx)

✦ Themes this Month: courage, self-trust, emotional blockage, progress, instability, rebuilding foundations, leaping into the unknown

With tiger's eye as your companion this month you’re being handed the strength to act even when scared or when the path looks unclear. This stone is fierce with clarity, risk taking, and courage. This stone will help you spot opportunities where you saw obstacles and help you move through fog. Carry tiger's eye when you need courage to speak up, make a decision, or whenever you travel. It will be your spiritual “pep talk” reminding you courage isn’t without fear, but it's the decision to do it with fear.

Stepping into the fire is pile III’s theme this month. Emotional messiness, mixed signals, and a sense of chaos around finances, purpose, and close relations is all in a mixed bag. But, your guides are letting you know this is about preparation & initiation. You are being asked: How far are you willing to go? Can you leap before the safety net appears?

You are being called to act from intuition rather certainty. Because certainty is not guaranteed. You are meant to move even when fear and failure strike. The High Priestess is your own inner knowing peeking behind the veil. You know what you need to do, you're just afraid of it not working out and people’s opinions. (spoiler alert: it never mattered)

The Ace of Wheels (rx) and Lovers (rx) is about rebuilding your path and those you associate with. You might struggle with communicating your needs to others or even yourself. You might have arguments with those who don’t see your dreams. But, your guides want you to know, you do not need a solid foundation to begin. Start messy. Start with shaky hands. Start before anyone claps. And, just when you feel things aren’t moving—unexpected communication, wild dreams, surprising shifts will change stagnation to direction.

ᯓ✦ Channeled Quotes/Message(s);

free yourself from your past self, you deserve to vibrate higher ask for more, the universe always provides it all works out you will know its right when it gives you energy fear is not a stop sign, it's proof you’re close to something real it’s okay if you don’t feel ready, perfection doesn’t = courage you radiate confidence, strength, and self respect take a leap regardless on whether you can see the whole staircase or not mastery takes failure you are not behind, you are becoming in your own time

⋆˚ʚɞ Messages & Signs: vivid dreams, dark red & gold colors, clouds, “balance”, bees, red cars, 222, 444, feathers, familiar scents, lavender scent, candles, “believe in your own power”, chills, sudden cramps/goosebumps, 333, 555, 144, tigers, hawks, dropped calls/miscommunication glitches, flickering lights, smelling something burnt or smoky, gold jewelry, ladders

“I act even when afraid. I trust the next step will reveal itself as I take it.”

Please don’t repost or copy without credit. Thank you!! 🙏

**pictures used belong to their rightful owners**

#tarot cards #tarotcommunity #tarot reading #pick a card #tarot pick a card #higher self #divination #spirituality #tarotblr #tarot #spirit guidance #pick a picture #spiritual growth #intuitive guidance #intuitive messages #pac tarot #cherwitarot ꒰𖤐࿐˖#cherwipac ೃ⁀➷ೃ

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barnesonly · 1 day ago

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── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Lust ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──

professor!bucky barnes x reader

summary: You’re a literature student. He’s your English professor — brilliant, composed, and entirely off-limits. But the more you write, the more he notices you. And what begins as admiration quietly unravels into something far more dangerous.

word count: about 13k

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI. curse words, mutual desperation, age gap, dirty talk, praising kink, semi-public sex, fingering, PiV, unprotected sex.

Part 6 | Previous Part

The morning light slanted warm and golden through your dorm window, stretching across the floor like a sleepy cat. You were at your desk, hands brushing a light layer of powder across your face in the small mirror propped up against the textbooks you still hadn’t quite tackled over the weekend.

Your hair was mostly dry after your quick shower, and you ran your fingers absently through it while you stared at yourself, making sure you didn’t look as tired as you felt. Despite spending most of the weekend tangled up with James—doing everything but sleeping—there was that pleasant sort of ache lingering in your body and the tired-but-happy hum that had followed you right into Monday morning.

Behind you, Sarah was in full chatter mode, her voice like a familiar, upbeat soundtrack you’d learned to listen to and tune out at the same time.

“…so then Maddie texts me at like two a.m.,” she was saying, already rummaging through her bag, her phone lighting up her hands every few seconds with new notifications. “And I’m like, girl, you cannot come over now—I have class at eight. Get your shit together.”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured distractedly as you capped your lip balm, then grabbed your hoodie off the back of your chair.

Sarah paused mid-rant to look up at you. “You okay? You’re quiet this morning. Did you even sleep?”

Your heart skipped—for a split second you wondered if you looked as lovesick as you felt. “I’m fine,” you assured her, slipping the hoodie on and checking your reflection one last time. “Just… had a long weekend.”

That was the understatement of the century.

Sarah grinned, clearly satisfied with your answer as she went back to typing on her phone. “Well, you better wake up. Professor Carter is a nightmare on Mondays. Remember that time she threatened to give a pop quiz just because nobody answered her?”

You laughed under your breath and started packing your bag—laptop, notebook, pen, water bottle—making sure you had everything you needed. The room felt comfortably familiar as you moved around it, Sarah humming to herself and the light outside shifting slowly into full morning.

“You know,” Sarah added offhandedly, “I feel like you’ve been… I dunno, a bit happier lately.”

You froze for a second before tugging the zipper on your backpack closed. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she teased, her grin mischievous as she finally glanced up at you. “Your guy must have been nicer lately…”

Your face warmed and you rolled your eyes, swinging your bag onto your shoulder as you headed for the door. “You have no idea,” you muttered, mostly to yourself—a little smile pulling at your lips despite your best effort to hide it.

“See!” Sarah laughed, breezing past you into the hall. “That’s exactly what I mean. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

And as you followed her, your heart thudded just a little faster—already knowing this Monday was going to be very, very different.

You and Sarah fell into step together as you crossed the campus, the morning air crisp and bright. Students were already crisscrossing the pathways like hurried birds, backpacks bouncing and phones glued to hands.

“You sure you don’t want to come with me for coffee after class?” Sarah asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’d love to,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “but I have that lecture right after. Next time?”

“Next time,” she agreed easily, already spotting one of her friends up ahead. “Alright, gotta run—see you later!”

“Bye!” you called after her as she broke away into the crowd.

You slowed your pace, enjoying the brief pocket of solitude before your next class—until a familiar voice called out your name.

“Hey!”

You glanced over your shoulder and spotted Theo jogging up to you, hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his jacket, a boyish grin on his face. “Hey,” you greeted him back.

“Going to Barnes’ lecture?” he asked, falling into stride with you.

You nodded, hoping the heat you felt in your cheeks wasn’t obvious. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Theo replied. “Figured I might as well go with someone who knows where they’re going.” He chuckled, and you couldn’t help but smile at his easygoing energy.

“You act like you haven’t been on this campus long enough,” you teased.

He just shrugged. “I may or may not have a bad sense of direction.”

You laughed softly as you followed the familiar path toward the arts and humanities building together, making light conversation. But under the surface, you couldn’t help feeling a flicker of anticipation—knowing exactly who was going to be waiting at the front of that lecture hall.

Theo pushed the door open for you when you arrived, and you murmured a quick “thanks” as you slipped inside.

Your heart gave a small, involuntary thump as you scanned the mostly empty rows, the professor’s desk already neatly arranged with papers.

And sure enough, there he was—James—leaning against the podium, looking up just as you walked in.

The tiny, fleeting smile that crossed his face when his gaze found yours was enough to make your stomach flip—right before it faded into something more neutral as his eyes briefly shifted toward Theo.

You felt James’ gaze follow you as you and Theo moved further into the room. Students were slowly trickling in, voices murmuring, chairs squeaking.

You chose your usual seat and Theo—still chatting as he pulled out his laptop—slid into the chair right beside you.

The second you glanced up toward the front again, you caught that subtle shift in James’ expression. His brow tightened, gaze fixed on Theo just long enough for you to feel a flicker of guilt, even though you hadn’t done a thing.

“Looks like Barnes is in a mood,” Theo whispered, leaning closer.

Your lips twitched. “You shouldn’t be complaining. Especially after last week.”

Theo grinned at that, but you felt the heat creep up your neck anyway.

„I’m not,” he huffed.

You busied yourself setting your notebook on the desk, all too aware of the professor’s stare. And sure enough, as the last few students took their seats and the room quieted, James pushed off the podium with that measured grace you’d come to recognize—hands tucked into his pockets as he began pacing slowly at the front.

“Alright,” he started, his voice warm and smooth and unmistakable. “Let’s pick up where we left off last time.”

As he spoke, that dark blue gaze kept drifting toward you. You could feel it like a physical touch, stirring a familiar ache low in your belly.

You shifted in your seat, telling yourself to focus—but that was easier said than done.

James kept lecturing—smooth voice spilling across the room as he flipped slides and scrawled points on the board—yet every so often, his gaze would drift back to you. It was subtle, practiced, like he knew exactly what he was doing without even thinking about it.

And god, every glance had your heart skipping in your chest.

By the time the lecture was winding down, you were already gathering your things slowly, hands unhurried as you tucked your pen into your pencil case and stacked your notebook neatly.

Beside you, Theo was shoving his laptop into his backpack.

“You ready?” he asked, casual.

You paused. “Um—you can go ahead,” you said quickly, trying to sound breezy. “I’ve gotta talk to Professor Barnes about something.”

“Oh,” Theo blinked, shrugging a strap onto his shoulder. “That’s cool. I’ll wait for you.”

Your stomach dropped.

Of course he’d say that.

You forced a smile. “No, seriously—you don’t have to wait for me.”

But Theo was already shrugging again, leaning back against the seat. “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Your gaze flicked toward the front of the room just as James dismissed the class.

Students shuffled past him toward the doors, voices loud and chairs scraping—but his eyes were already on you, sharp and knowing.

And just as Theo was texting something on his phone, James pushed off the desk and crossed the room toward you, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze burning a path straight to you.

“Hey,” he greeted smoothly as he stopped at your row, his voice lower now, carrying that unmistakable edge. “Can I talk to you for a second? About your grade—the B- one?”

Your breath caught.

Your eyes slid to Theo, then back to James.

He held your gaze, but a second later, his eyes shifted—pinning Theo with a look so blank and unimpressed that Theo straightened up a little.

“Oh,” Theo said, like he’d finally gotten the message. “I’ll—I’ll wait outside then.”

James inclined his head in a curt nod, and only after Theo grabbed his stuff and slipped past him into the hall did James finally look at you again—a muscle flexing in his jaw as he spoke.

“God,” you breathed out, a soft, relieved laugh slipping past your lips. “I thought he was never going to leave.”

James’s gaze softened, just a little, as one brow arched. “Persistent guy,” he murmured, voice quiet but laced with amusement.

You chuckled, tucking your notebook into your bag and swinging it onto your shoulder. “He means well, I guess,” you said, then glanced up at him properly, your lips twitching into a smile. “But I’d much rather be here with you.”

That pulled the corner of his mouth up into a subtle smile—that one only you ever seemed to see. “That’s good,” he replied, hands slipping into his pockets as he shifted his weight comfortably. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get rid of him.”

Your heart did a little flip at the faint possessiveness in his tone, and you tilted your head at him, feeling that same flutter you always felt around him.

“You didn’t need to worry,” you said softly.

James held your gaze for a lingering moment, his eyes warm despite the professor mask he always wore. “I’m not,” he answered, then let out a breath that was almost a quiet laugh. “Not really.”

You smiled, fingers brushing the strap of your bag as you stood there together, the quiet hum of the emptying hallway around you like its own little world.

James’ gaze stayed fixed on you, his voice dropping a shade lower as he spoke. “You know…” he began, eyes searching yours, “my last lecture today got canceled. You can come by my office if you want.”

Your breath caught, a familiar thrill sparking in your chest at the invitation. “Is that so?” you teased lightly, brow arching as you bit back a grin.

He shifted a little closer, hands still tucked casually in his pockets but his tone warm, intimate in a way that was meant only for you. “Mm,” he murmured. “Figured we could use the time. Unless,” his mouth tilted in that way that made you weak, “you’d rather spend it with Theo.”

You let out a quiet laugh at that, stepping closer yourself so there was hardly any space left between you. “That’s not even a question,” you replied, voice soft. “Your office sounds a lot better.”

James held your gaze for a long, charged moment, that little satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Good,” he said, voice a low hum. “I’ll be waiting.”

And god, the way he looked at you—warm and possessive all at once—had your heart racing as you nodded and followed him down the hall.

Your cheeks heated just a little, and you had to look away before you gave too much away in the middle of an empty classroom. “See you later, Professor,” you murmured, savoring the title like an inside joke.

“See you,” he replied, gaze lingering on you as you finally turned toward the door.

The quiet of the hallway greeted you as you stepped outside, the usual buzz of students a few doors down. And of course, there was Theo—hands tucked into his pockets, one shoulder against the wall like he had nowhere better to be. The moment he saw you, his face brightened.

“There you are,” he said casually, straightening up and brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes. “So, are you gonna fix that grade or what?”

Your lips twitched into a smirk before you could stop yourself, all too aware of what you’d really been up to over the weekend. “I already did,” you replied breezily.

Theo’s brow arched, his easygoing grin making a brief appearance. “Oh, is that so?”

“Mm-hm,” you said, shifting your books in your arms and tugging your bag higher on your shoulder as you started to walk toward the stairs. The sound of your heels clicked softly against the tiled floor. “Wrote up some extra credit. Took care of it over the weekend.”

He fell into step next to you, hands still in his pockets. “Huh,” he muttered, sounding half-impressed and half-curious. “That was fast.”

“Yeah,” you agreed simply, your smile impossible to hide as you kept your gaze trained ahead, savoring the unspoken secret that still made your pulse race.

“Good,” he replied at last, a touch of amusement in his voice as you rounded the corner toward your next lecture together—him completely oblivious to what “extra credit” had really involved.

———

A few lectures later you were free.

You took your time packing up—sliding your notebooks into your bag one by one, lingering over each tiny task as your heart thudded with anticipation. It wasn’t like you had anywhere else to be. Except, of course, back with him.

The familiar thrill rushed through you as you wove your way across campus. The afternoon light glinted across the windows as you cut through the halls, feet carrying you almost automatically toward his classroom. Every step felt like a secret, every corner you turned making your pulse jump a little faster.

When you reached his door, you paused for a breath, fingers toying with the strap of your bag like you weren’t dying to just go in already.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you eased the door open and slipped into the empty classroom. The door clicked softly behind you, sealing the world outside, and there he was.

He glanced up the second you stepped inside, his gaze locking onto you like you were the only thing that mattered. The tension in his shoulders eased instantly—a look you’d come to recognize—and a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.

“There you are,” he greeted, voice rich and low as he set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“Here I am,” you echoed, your lips curving as you locked the door.

For a heartbeat, you just stood there, drinking him in—sleeves pushed up to his elbows, collar undone just enough to hint at warm skin, dark eyes fixed on you like you were all he could see.

And then you moved.

You crossed the room slowly, savoring the way his gaze followed you, and with a deliberate softness you hopped up onto the edge of his desk. Paper rustled under you, but neither of you cared.

James was already pushing back his chair, unfolding to his full height as he closed the small distance between you.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured as he came to stand between your knees.

His hands were gentle at first—one cupping your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone like you were something fragile—and you couldn’t help leaning into his touch.

“Missed you too,” you whispered, eyes fluttering as you felt his breath warm against your lips.

He bent his head and kissed you—slow and unhurried, like he was savoring every second, mouth melting into yours with a possessive sweetness that made your heart stutter.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer until there was no space left, only the quiet sound of your breaths catching and the delicious pressure of his mouth against yours.

“I thought about you all day,” he murmured between kisses, his hands sliding up into your hair, tilting your face just the way he liked so he could deepen the kiss.

“I couldn’t concentrate,” you admitted breathlessly against him, legs locking loosely around his waist, feeling him hum low in his chest.

“That’s my girl,” he growled softly, lips dragging down your jaw as one broad palm flattened against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured into the curve of your neck, and you let out a shivery little sigh, arching into him as his mouth pressed a trail of warm, deliberate kisses along your throat.

Your hands slid up to cradle his face, tugging him back up so you could kiss him again—deeper this time, a kiss that told him you’d thought of nothing but this since you left his class earlier.

He broke the kiss slowly, lips brushing yours one last time before leaning back just enough to look into your eyes—gaze dark and full of heat.

“God, I missed having you like this,” he murmured, hands still possessive on your hips. Then his gaze dropped, roaming down your body with a hunger that made your breath catch.

“Let me see you,” he coaxed, voice low and rough as his hands slipped lower, fingers brushing the hem of your skirt.

Your lips parted in a shaky breath as he began to ease the fabric upward, slow and deliberate. “That’s it,” he murmured, thumbs stroking circles into your thighs as more of your skin was revealed inch by inch.

You gripped the edge of the desk, pulse fluttering as he finally bunched your skirt up around your waist, dark eyes fixed between your legs.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he told you, voice edged with something deliciously raw as one hand drifted up your inner thigh. “Look at you… already trembling.”

A quiet whimper slipped past your lips as his fingertips skimmed higher, teasing up the softness of your inner thigh before finally hooking into the waistband of your panties.

“Lift for me, sweetheart,” he urged, eyes locking onto yours as you obeyed, hips tilting up just enough for him to draw your panties down your legs—agonizingly slow, the fabric sliding across your skin like a caress.

“Good girl,” he praised huskily, hands steady and sure as he tugged them all the way off, then tucked them into his pocket like they belonged there.

Your cheeks were burning, breath unsteady as he stepped back just a fraction, gaze drinking you in—skirt pushed up around your waist, legs spread for him, every bit of you aching.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, hands trailing up your bare legs again—feather-light at first before his palms settled warmly on your knees and began to ease them further apart.

“Already so wet for me too,” he added, voice turning darker as his thumb brushed against you, making your whole body jump.

Your hands were trembling against the desk now, breath catching as you nodded, eyes fixed on his face—and the wicked glint in his eye as he bent a little closer.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thumb stroking slow and deliberate. “Just keep those pretty legs open for me, baby. Let me take my time.”

And god, you were going to let him do whatever he wanted.

He held your gaze for a charged moment longer, thumb tracing a slow, tantalizing path up the slick heat between your thighs before he finally pressed just a bit more firmly—enough to make your hips jerk, breath spilling from you in a trembling gasp.

“That’s right,” he growled under his breath, utterly captivated by every tiny reaction. “You’re so sensitive already… can’t hide a thing from me, can you?”

Your fingers dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles going white as he began to circle your clit with that maddeningly deliberate touch. Warmth rushed through you in waves as your legs threatened to close—and he just spread you wider with his hands, gaze locked on where you were most exposed.

“Uh-uh,” he chided, low and dark, one corner of his mouth twitching into a wicked smirk. “Keep them open, sweetheart. Want to see you.”

Your body was trembling now, heat racing up your spine as he kept going—slow, practiced strokes that built the pressure in your belly until it was dizzying.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss along the curve of your jaw as his fingers moved faster, slick and sure. “And I love knowing you’re mine, every inch of you… mine.”

You tilted your chin toward him, lips parting for his kiss even as you squirmed against his hand. The way he kissed you—deep and possessive, all heat and hunger—only added fuel to the fire licking through you.

“You feel that, baby?” he murmured into your mouth as one finger pressed inside you, followed by a second, setting a steady rhythm that had your back arching into him. “That’s it—take me so well, just like you always do.”

A shivering moan broke free from your lips and into his, your hands clutching at his shoulders now for something solid to hold onto as his fingers curved just right, stroking that perfect, aching spot inside you.

“You’re gonna come for me right here,” he ordered—voice so low and sure it sent a thrill straight to your core. “And when you do, I want you looking at me. Got it?”

Your nod was desperate and breathless. “’Mm-hmm, James—please,” you gasped, every nerve burning, every movement of his hand winding you up tighter and tighter.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised with a dark, satisfied murmur, mouth brushing your ear as his fingers drove you higher. “Come on, baby… let go for me. Let me feel you.”

And with a trembling, helpless cry of his name, you shattered around him—his fingers still moving through your release as you clenched around him again and again, his other arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close while you fell apart.

Your trembling hadn’t even fully stopped before you felt him shifting closer, his hands still warm and sure against your skin.

“You did so good,” he murmured into your hair as you clung to him, your breath shaky and your body still humming from the aftershocks.

And then you heard the metallic click of his belt unbuckling—slow and deliberate—as he stepped back just enough to free himself.

Your eyes locked onto his hands for a breathless second as they moved to his zipper, anticipation making your stomach twist with a deeper, needier ache.

“You want it, baby?” he asked, voice dark as his hands slipped around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the desk, his thumb tracing the inside of your knee.

You could only nod, lips parting on a breath that felt like a prayer.

With a quiet growl, he guided himself to you—hot and hard and so perfectly familiar—and then he was pushing into you inch by slow inch.

Your lips fell open on a soft gasp as you took him, hands flying up to grip his shoulders.

“There you go,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands tightening on your hips to keep you anchored.

He paused when he was fully seated inside you—so deep you could feel every ridge and heat of him—and pressed a kiss to your lips like he couldn’t help himself.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped as he began to move, long, deep strokes that had your thighs trembling and your back arching into him.

Every slow thrust pulled a new sound from you, his name whispered into the quiet, dim light of his office.

“You’re mine,” he groaned against your neck, one hand threading into your hair as he rocked into you—unhurried, deliberate, making sure you felt every perfect inch of him.

And you were, god, you were—his low voice in your ear, his hands on you like you belonged nowhere else, the deep, devastating slide of him through you over and over until you were dizzy with it.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and all you could do was hold on as he fucked you slow and deep—like he had all the time in the world to unravel you completely.

His hands were gripping your waist so tight you were sure you’d wear his fingerprints for days. The two of you moved together like it was the most natural thing in the world—your bodies perfectly in sync, the slick slide of him making you bite back whimpers every time his hips ground into you just right.

You were clinging to him, eyes fluttering, lips parted against the sharp edge of his collar as you fought to keep yourself quiet in the empty classroom. The blinds were pulled, the door locked—the entire campus might as well have disappeared.

“You’re perfect,” he growled under his breath, voice like gravel as he kissed a trail up your throat.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him in closer, moaning into his mouth as he fucked you deeper and slower, every deliberate thrust lighting up your whole body.

“God, James—” you breathed, rocking into him, already trembling on the edge of losing it entirely.

And that was when the knock came.

Both of you froze like you’d been plunged into ice water—your heart jumping into your throat.

Your eyes went wide, breath held as James’s hands instinctively covered your mouth, his gaze pinned to yours.

A sharp voice from the other side of the door followed.

“Professor James? Are you there?”

You couldn’t help the panicked shiver that went through you—feeling him still hard and pulsing inside you, both of you trapped in this perfect, terrible tension.

James stayed perfectly still, his palm firm over your lips as if expecting you to cry out just from the adrenaline. His dark eyes were locked on yours, his brow drawn together in a fierce frown.

Your hands tightened on his shoulders, nails pressing into him, every nerve on fire as you tried not to breathe too loudly.

Another knock—louder this time—and you heard a faint rustle outside like someone was leaning closer to the door.

“Professor?” the voice called again. “Sorry to bother you, just need a quick word.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you felt dizzy, eyes pleading up at him in a mixture of lust and fear, a trembling ache still humming between your legs even as you were scared out of your mind.

James’s thumb brushed your cheekbone gently, his lips ghosting your ear as he whispered so low you could feel the vibration of it through your entire body:

“Not a fucking word.”

And you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to go utterly still—trapped in that dark, dizzying hush together as someone stood just on the other side of the door, so close they could have heard your racing hearts if they listened hard enough.

Your breath was caught halfway up your throat as you stared at him, pulse thundering in your ears, still trembling from the aftermath of what you’d just been doing.

James pulled out of you carefully—his hands still gentle even though there was a sharp edge of panic tightening his movements—and you bit back a sound at the loss, hastily tugging your skirt down over your aching thighs.

The knock came again—sharper this time—and James cursed under his breath before leaning close.

“Window,” he whispered urgently, eyes dark and serious.

Your stomach flipped. “What?!”

“Go out through the window,” he hissed, already reaching to straighten his belt and smooth his hair with a hand.

You stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “James—are you serious? What if someone sees me?!”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the window as you tried to fix your shirt. “I don’t know—be careful,” he urged, his voice a fierce whisper as another knock sounded.

“Oh my god,” you whispered back, feeling the adrenaline surge like fire through your veins. “You want me to jump out like a fugitive?!” you squeaked, heart racing, the whole thing so absurd you could hardly believe it.

James shot you a wild look over his shoulder as he moved to intercept whoever was knocking. “That’s exactly what I want,” he muttered. “And don’t break your neck, please.”

You swallowed hard as you crossed the short distance to the window. Thank god this was the ground floor—you only had to swing a leg over the sill and drop a few feet into the grass.

Your hands trembled as you undid the latch, the cool breeze instantly spilling into the room.

“God,” you whispered to yourself, heart thudding as you hitched your skirt up and swung one leg over.

“Careful,” James urged in a rushed whisper.

You slipped outside, crouching as you hit the grass and glanced up at him one last time.

“Don’t get caught,” he mouthed.

Your lips twitched despite the panic as you pulled your jacket tighter around you and hurried along the wall—trying to look as casual as possible—heart pounding, breath shallow, feeling like you’d just pulled off a prison break as you disappeared around the corner.

And up in the classroom, James was finally unlocking the door, already fixing his face into an innocent, professional expression as if nothing at all had just happened.

Your heart was still thudding painfully against your ribs as you hurried across the quad, weaving between scattered groups of students without really seeing any of them. The chilled air didn’t help—your hands were trembling as you dug your keycard out of your pocket and pushed into your dorm building, your face feeling too hot for comfort.

God, that was so fucking close.

Your steps were quicker than usual as you took the stairs two at a time, every sound around you feeling too loud. Every time someone glanced your way in the hallway, your stomach flipped—as if they somehow knew what you’d just been doing, like they’d seen you slip out of that window.

Or worse—like whoever had knocked had heard something before you two had stopped.

Your brain was racing as you reached your door, key sliding into the lock with shaky fingers. What if someone really did see you sneaking out? What if they went back and told someone? What if they connected the dots?

The door clicked open and you stepped into your room, leaning against the wood as you shut it behind you and pressed your palm flat over your pounding heart.

Your thoughts kept circling: who was that outside? Did they wait long enough to hear anything? Could they recognize you if they looked back outside and caught you rounding the corner?

God, you hoped not.

“Are you okay? You look like shit.”

You spun around to see Sarah sitting cross‑legged on her bed with her laptop perched on her knees, eyes narrowed at you like you’d just stumbled in from a war zone.

“Oh—hey,” you managed, breathless as you set your bag down a bit too carefully.

Sarah raised a brow. “Hey? That’s it? You sure you’re okay? You look like you just ran a marathon.”

Your hands went up in a vague shrug as you kicked off your shoes. “Long day,” you offered, hoping your voice didn’t give you away.

“Long day,” she echoed slowly, leaning forward. “And by long day you mean what exactly?”

You avoided her gaze, rubbing at the back of your neck as you tried to keep your face neutral. “Nothing crazy,” you mumbled. “Just… had to deal with some stuff on campus. Took forever.”

“Uh-huh.” Sarah’s suspicion didn’t waver, lips twitching like she wasn’t buying it one bit.

You grabbed your phone and tossed yourself onto your bed, face buried in a pillow to hide the heat creeping up your neck. The ghost of his hands on you still tingled across your skin, and you couldn’t stop replaying the frantic moment over and over again—the knock at the door, the sound of someone calling his name, the two of you freezing like deer in headlights.

Your phone buzzed against the sheets, yanking you back to the present. Heart skipping, you rolled over and grabbed it.

James | 3:21PM

God, that was close.

Your heart gave a painful thud.

You | 3:21PM

Yeah. No shit.

A moment passed before another message came through.

James | 3:21PM

You okay?

You stared at the question for a long second, lips pressed together. Were you okay? Almost getting caught like that had scared the hell out of you—your hands were still a little shaky.

You | 3:22PM

More or less. That scared the crap out of me. Pretty sure I aged ten years.

His reply was almost instant.

James | 3:22PM

Me too.

That one admission hit you hard—especially coming from him. Calm, composed, always so sure of himself. Except this time, he was just as shaken as you.

You | 3:22PM

That was too close, James. Way too close.

There was a long pause this time. You could picture him, brow furrowed, running a hand through his hair the way he always did when he was thinking too much.

Finally:

James | 3:24PM

I know.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you searched for the right words. The room felt too quiet, your heart thudding loud in your chest.

You | 3:24PM

What if someone heard? What if they saw me leave?

More typing bubbles appeared and disappeared before his next text.

James | 3:25PM

They didn’t. You’re safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Your stomach twisted—you knew he meant it. But this wasn’t some easy game. One slip, one wrong move, and everything could blow up in both your faces.

You | 3:25PM

That was way too close, though. Too risky.

That message hung in the silence for what felt like forever before his final reply appeared.

James | 3:26PM

I know.

And you could feel the weight behind those two words as if he were right there beside you—knowing that what you had was dangerous and fragile and so damn close to breaking if you weren’t careful.

You let your phone drop onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, breath shaky, heart still pounding as the reality of what almost happened began to fully sink in.

———

By the next morning, the knot in your stomach still hadn’t disappeared. The entire walk across campus felt surreal—like you were on autopilot, hands tucked into your pockets, your thoughts still spinning wildly around yesterday.

And him.

Theo kept up a steady pace beside you, backpack slung over one shoulder, humming something under his breath. But you barely heard him. Every little detail from yesterday—the rush of hands and lips, the sudden knock at the door—was on repeat in your mind like a song you couldn’t shut off.

“You okay?” Theo’s voice cut in gently, making you blink.

You glanced at him. “Yeah, yeah,” you answered a bit too quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite feel real.

He didn’t look convinced but let it slide as you crossed into the lecture hall together. Students were already filing into their seats, the usual hum of conversation filling the room.

And then you felt it—that magnetic pull.

Your eyes drifted up to the front of the classroom where James was leaning against his desk, hands gripping the edges casually, gaze scanning the room as if nothing had happened yesterday. Nothing at all.

But when his eyes found you, the smallest flicker crossed his face—so fast it was barely there.

Your heart thudded in your chest.

Theo followed your gaze without thinking and then glanced back at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, lower this time.

You swallowed and nodded, breaking eye contact with the professor as you pulled out your chair. “I’m fine. Really.”

Theo watched you for a beat longer before shrugging and slipping into the seat next to yours.

He set his backpack down with a quiet thump and began pulling out his notebook, but his gaze kept straying toward the front of the room.

Every so often, almost like clockwork, you glanced up at James—a quick flicker of your eyes that lasted a heartbeat too long before you made yourself look back at your notes again.

Theo didn’t comment.

He sat there, tapping his pen lightly against the edge of his desk, and you were too busy flipping blankly through your notebook to see the way his brow had creased, or the way his mouth had pressed into a thin, thoughtful line.

Out of the corner of his eye, he kept watching you—the subtle way your shoulders tensed when James spoke, the way you held your breath when those sharp blue eyes scanned the classroom, and how you immediately seemed to exhale when they moved on.

He noticed the tiny things you probably thought you were disguising.

Your hands fidgeting in your lap when the professor walked past your row. The way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear even though it wasn’t in your face. The faint color high on your cheeks that didn’t match the chilly morning outside.

And most of all, that careful, too-casual way you weren’t looking at him.

Theo didn’t say a word—not then, not as the professor started his lecture in that same measured voice that filled the hall, nor as you stared straight ahead like you were giving the class your full attention.

But Theo’s gaze kept returning to you.

The puzzle pieces were starting to fit together in his head, slowly and quietly.

And you had no idea at all.

You were too caught up in the lingering buzz under your skin, in the way yesterday kept playing over and over in your mind—hands and lips and whispered warnings you probably still felt against your neck—to notice the way Theo was studying you like someone trying to read between the lines.

He never broke the silence. Never asked the obvious questions that had started to form at the back of his mind.

He just sat there, listening to the scrape of his pen on his notebook and the professor’s deep voice as it filled the room—and kept his thoughts to himself.

The professor’s voice cut through the din of the crowded lecture hall one last time—“That’ll be all for today”—and just like that, the spell was broken. The usual shuffle of students packing up, murmuring to each other, and dragging their feet toward the door filled the air.

You took your time, hands moving slowly as you tucked your pen into your notebook, feeling strangely detached. The faint scratch of your zipper was louder than you expected as you closed up your bag, pulse a little too fast for such an ordinary moment.

When you finally glanced up, Theo was already watching you—leaning casually against his chair, one brow arched ever so slightly.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound more breezy than you felt.

His mouth curved into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing,” he replied, voice light. Too light.

That one word hung there between you, deceptively simple, and something about his steady gaze made you suddenly feel like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

Your eyes flicked toward the front of the room before you could stop yourself.

James was leaning against his desk in that effortless way of his, hands braced against the edge as a couple of students clustered around him with questions. Even from this distance you could see the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint smile that tugged at his lips as he spoke.

Your chest tightened just looking at him.

And when you dragged your gaze back to Theo, his brow had twitched—just a tiny shift. He held your gaze for a beat too long then glanced toward James, then back at you. “You wanna go up there and ask him something again?”

Your stomach flipped.

There was nothing accusing in his voice. In fact, if someone overheard, they’d probably just assume he was offering to wait while you clarified an assignment. But under that casual tone, there was an unspoken weight, an observation threaded between every word.

Your lips parted, then pressed together, a faint flush prickling up your neck.

“No,” you answered, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel as you hitched your bag higher onto your shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Alright,” Theo said simply.

He fell into step beside you as you moved toward the exit, hands in his pockets, gaze straight ahead—unbothered, at least on the surface.

And as the door swung shut behind you, you felt the weight of his quiet scrutiny lingering, sharp and discerning. Whether or not he had you figured out completely, one thing was clear: Theo wasn’t as oblivious as he let on.

The hall was busier now, students spilling out of classrooms, voices bouncing off the high ceilings as everyone shuffled toward their next lectures. Theo matched your pace easily, hands stuffed into his pockets, his stride loose and comfortable like nothing was on his mind.

“You really pay attention in his lectures,” Theo commented casually, his tone light—almost offhand—as if he were making small talk.

Your heart skipped, hands tightening around your bag strap. “I do?” you shot back, forcing a little laugh as you kept your eyes fixed straight ahead.

“Mm-hm,” Theo mused, that easy little hum of his making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Every time Barnes looks your way, you seem to straighten up like you’re about to be quizzed.”

Your stomach fluttered nervously. Every time? You glanced at him from the corner of your eye but Theo was just strolling along like this was nothing, like he hadn’t noticed more than he was letting on.

“I mean, he’s a good lecturer,” you replied carefully, trying to sound breezy. “Makes it easier to focus.”

“Easier to focus,” Theo echoed, his lips quirking. “That’s one way to put it.”

You felt heat crawl up the back of your neck and shifted your bag higher onto your shoulder. God, had you been that obvious?

“You seem to like him,” Theo continued, his gaze fixed ahead as the two of you maneuvered around a group of students huddled outside a classroom.

“Don’t most people like him?” you asked, maybe a bit too quickly.

Theo only gave a small shrug. “Some people do. Some people don’t. You, though…” His voice trailed off just long enough to make you look at him.

He was watching you then, one brow raised ever so slightly, eyes thoughtful—not accusing, not teasing. Just… curious.

“You look at him different,” he said finally, voice pitched so low it was almost lost beneath the hum of nearby conversations.

Your heart thudded hard at that, hands curling into fists around the strap of your bag.

“I do?” you replied softly, hating that your voice sounded smaller than you intended.

Theo’s gaze lingered on your face for a breath before the corner of his mouth lifted in a gentle smile. “Hey, I’m just saying,” he added lightly, as if he hadn’t just peeled back a layer you’d been carefully guarding. “He’s kind of… intense. A little hard to read. Makes sense someone might be drawn to him.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, searching for any sign that he knew more than he was letting on—but Theo only smiled a bit wider before pushing open the door to your next classroom.

The familiar hum of conversation and the scrape of chair legs against the floor greeted you as you followed him inside. It felt strangely loud against the nervous energy still buzzing in your chest.

“You grabbing this one?” Theo asked, jerking his chin toward the back row—your usual spot.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile as you slipped into the seat.

He slid into the chair next to you, casually dropping his backpack at his feet and pulling his laptop free.

Your hands were already reaching into your own bag for your notebook when your phone vibrated in your pocket—just once, sharp and insistent enough to make your heart jump.

You glanced at the screen under the desk.

James | 9:31AM

Hey, I thought you were gonna stay for a moment after the lecture. Everything okay?

Your stomach flipped.

Of course he’d noticed you hadn’t come up to him—usually you’d catch him before leaving, even if just for a quick word.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard as you glanced sideways at Theo. He was already logged into his laptop, eyes fixed on his screen, but there was that subtle, knowing curve at the corner of his mouth that made you feel like he was more present than he seemed.

You lowered the phone into your lap and quickly typed back.

You | 9:32AM

Sorry, wanted to but Theo was waiting for me. Didn’t want him to catch on.

You paused before hitting send, heart thudding as you reread it.

The message disappeared with a tiny whoosh.

You stared at your phone for a long second, nerves tangled up as you waited for the typing bubble to appear.

Beside you, Theo shifted in his seat, rubbing a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on his laptop like he had no interest at all in what you were doing—but every part of you felt hyper-aware of him.

And just as the professor walked in and started the lecture, your phone vibrated again in your palm.

James | 9:33AM

Figured. Don’t worry. We’ll catch up later. Come to my office when you’re done with your lectures, okay? Wanna talk about yesterday.

You bit your lip, a small smile tugging at your mouth even as guilt pricked at you.

That familiar ache settled into your chest as you tucked your phone away and glanced up at the front of the room, forcing yourself to focus on the professor’s voice—all the while feeling the weight of Theo’s unspoken questions and the lingering, secret heat of James’ message under your skin.

———

By the time the last lecture of the day wrapped up, your head was already somewhere else. The professor’s parting words barely registered as you slid your notebook into your bag, hands moving quickly—more quickly than they needed to.

Your phone felt warm in your pocket, that last message from James still lingering in the back of your thoughts like an invitation you couldn’t wait to answer.

“Hey,” Theo’s voice pulled you back as you stood, shrugging your bag onto your shoulder.

You glanced up to see him already waiting for you at the end of the row, hands tucked into his pockets in that easy, casual way he always had.

“Yeah?” you replied, forcing a light smile as you fell into step with him toward the door.

“You free now, right?” he asked, pushing the door open for you and matching your pace as you moved into the hallway. “I was thinking we could grab some lunch—or maybe coffee? My treat,” he added with a shrug.

You paused just long enough to register the offer. Normally, you’d say yes without a second thought—Theo was easy company, someone who never pressed too hard—but right now your chest felt tight with an entirely different kind of anticipation.

“Oh,” you began, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you kept your gaze trained ahead of you, avoiding his eyes. “That’s really nice of you, but, uh… I actually have to take care of something after this.”

“Something?” he echoed, tone light but laced with curiosity as you descended the staircase together.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, hoping it sounded casual. “Nothing serious, just—stuff for a friend.”

And god, even saying it out loud sent a thrill up your spine—one you hoped he couldn’t hear in your voice.

Theo was quiet for a moment as you wove past a couple of students hurrying the other way. Then he nodded, lips twitching into a small, knowing smile as he glanced at you sidelong.

“Ah. Friend… Got it,” he drawled, like he was letting you off the hook. “Guess I’ll catch you next time then.”

“Next time,” you agreed, breath slipping out in a subtle sigh of relief.

But as you kept walking, you felt the weight of his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he finally peeled off toward the courtyard, hands in his pockets, that easy posture never quite fading.

Your heart thudded faster as you kept going—past the familiar halls, past the windows that let in the bright spill of afternoon light—and all you could think about was him.

James.

By the time you reached his classroom, you paused for a breath and glanced around, making sure no one was lingering nearby. Satisfied, you knocked softly and pushed the door open, stepping inside and easing it shut behind you before turning the lock with a quiet click.

He was already watching you, gaze steady and unreadable as you crossed the room.

“You came,” he murmured, and you felt a tiny, breathless smile tug at your lips.

“Of course,” you replied, hands twisting around the strap of your bag before you set it down on one of the front desks. “We didn’t really talk after… yesterday.”

He nodded slowly, rubbing a palm over the back of his neck as if there was a tension there he hadn’t shaken.

“About that,” he began, voice pitched lower now—serious in a way that made your stomach flip. “That was close. Too close.”

Your mouth went dry as you glanced up at him, remembering the knock on the door, the way his hand had clamped over your mouth…

“God,” you breathed, heart skipping, “I thought we were screwed.”

James’ eyes darkened, hands braced on the edge of his desk as he studied you. “It was one of the other professors,” he explained. “Looking for me. Nothing more—and I don’t think she heard anything.”

That knot in your chest loosened a fraction at his words, but the unease still coiled there.

“You sure?” you asked quietly.

He held your gaze for a moment before answering. “I’m sure,” he said, but then his brow furrowed, and there was a flash of something rawer in his eyes—something like guilt. “Still, it was too fucking close.”

Your fingers traced the smooth grain of the desk as you listened, lips pressing together. “Yeah,” you agreed softly. “Way too close.”

James exhaled, pushing off the desk and stepping toward you until there was hardly a breath between you. His hands rose—gentle this time—to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones like he was grounding himself.

“If something had happened,” he began, his voice a hushed rasp, “if someone had walked in and seen…”

Your heart thudded harder at the thought, breath catching as you looked up into his gaze.

“James,” you whispered, hands lifting to circle his wrists, “nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened,” he echoed, leaning his forehead to yours, his warm breath feathering across your lips. “But if it had—if someone had heard or seen you—I don’t…” His jaw tensed as the words trailed off, leaving the thought hanging between you, thick and unspoken.

Your chest ached with a strange mix of affection and fear, and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I know,” you murmured, the tension trembling in your voice. “And I hate that we have to worry about this.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved—he just held you like you were something fragile, like if he let go, the world might come crashing in.

“You don’t deserve this,” he said finally, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin. “Any of it. I hate that I put you in this position.”

Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, holding him just as tightly. “Hey,” you whispered, voice fierce despite the softness of the moment, “you didn’t put me anywhere. I chose this. I chose you.”

That broke him.

James’ eyes searched yours like he couldn’t quite believe you—like he needed to feel it in his hands, taste it on your lips to make sure it was real. “And I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he breathed, voice strained with honesty. “God, if anything ever did because of me…”

You reached up and threaded your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer until your lips brushed his. “Nothing will,” you murmured, kissing him gently, lingeringly—hoping he felt every bit of the trust you felt for him.

And when he kissed you back—slow and aching and careful—you felt it too. The weight of his fear, his devotion. The fragile, secret thing you were both holding onto with everything you had.

Your hands stayed tangled in his hair as you pulled back just enough to look at him, really look at him—at the faint crease between his brows, the way his mouth was set in that tense, guarded line you’d come to recognize when something was weighing him down.

“James,” you whispered, voice trembling with the weight of everything swirling in your chest. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so much. You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

That admission was raw and naked—and you felt it in your ribs, in your bones, like a trembling thread pulling you toward him no matter what.

But instead of melting into your words like you hoped, he closed his eyes and gave the slightest, aching shake of his head.

“Don’t say that,” he breathed, his hands tightening on your face as though he needed the contact to stay upright. “You deserve so much better than this—better than sneaking around, better than worrying every second if someone’s going to walk in.”

Your heart squeezed painfully at the way his voice broke around the edges.

“James,” you urged, hands smoothing down from his neck to cradle his face, thumbs brushing along the sharp curve of his cheekbones. “Stop. Please.”

But he didn’t stop.

“You deserve someone who can kiss you in the middle of the street,” he went on, his gaze flicking away like he couldn’t bear to look at you as he spoke. “Someone who can take you to dinner, who can introduce you without fearing they’ll lose everything—without fearing they’ll drag you into the fire too.”

That was what this was, you realized in that instant—it wasn’t just worry for himself or even the secret you’d been keeping together. It was guilt.

He thought he was ruining you just by loving you.

Your throat tightened, eyes stinging as you watched him wrestle with it—all the quiet, relentless weight he carried just to have you in his life.

“James,” you said again, softer this time, forcing him to look at you as you smoothed your hands along his jaw. “I don’t care about any of that. None of it. None of the things you think I deserve—none of that matters to me if it means I don’t have you.”

His blue eyes searched yours, pain flickering across his face—like part of him still tried to believe you but the other part was too scared to.

“You don’t see what this is,” he murmured, hands trembling faintly as they held you. “What it could do to you if it ever went wrong.”

You did. And you hated it. Hated that this was where you’d ended up—tangled together in the shadows of his empty classroom with fear nipping at your heels, when all you wanted was him.

When all you ever wanted was him.

“I see you,” you told him fiercely, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his. “And I see everything that could go wrong. But I also see you every time you touch me like this—like I’m all that you’ll ever need—and I swear to God, that’s enough for me.”

James’ brow furrowed deeper at your words, his breath hitching as he listened, and you felt his hands flex against your skin like he was holding on by a thread.

“You are enough,” you whispered. “More than enough. And I’d take this—take you—every single time.”

For a long moment, he was utterly still, his eyes locked on yours as though he was looking for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt—and when he didn’t find it, when all he saw was you looking at him like he was the only person in the world, something in him finally gave.

His hands slid back into your hair, tugging you close, his mouth crashing into yours with a low, aching sound you felt all the way to your heart.

And you kissed him back, hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt, holding him like you never wanted to let him go—like you’d take every shadow, every risk, as long as you could keep this one, fleeting thing that mattered most.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, hands still trembling against his chest as you held his gaze.

“I really mean it, James,” you whispered, voice thick with all the feelings crowding your heart. “I want you. Always and forever. I love you and I don’t care about anything else.”

The way he looked at you then—like he was terrified you’d change your mind—made your chest ache. His hands were still tangled in your hair, thumbs stroking the side of your face so carefully you felt it all the way to your fingertips.

“You have no idea,” you continued, breathless but steady, “I’d do anything to make this easier. God, maybe I could transfer. Or drop this whole thing and just—”

He cut you off before you could even finish, a sharp breath leaving him as he shook his head, eyes dark with something that looked too much like fear.

“God, no,” he murmured fiercely, leaning in so close his forehead brushed yours. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you even think it.”

You blinked up at him, heart thudding hard in your chest as you felt his hands tighten against you.

“You’re so fucking talented,” he went on, his voice hushed but so full of intensity that it sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re brilliant. Don’t ever throw that away for me.”

And there it was—all the weight he’d been carrying, every ounce of guilt that kept him up at night. You saw it all in the way his brow furrowed and his mouth pressed into a tense line, like it physically pained him to even imagine you giving up your future for him.

“You’re going to do amazing things,” he whispered, thumb grazing along your cheekbone like he could memorize the feel of you. “And I’m not going to be the reason you lose that.”

Your heart twisted at his words—because god, didn’t he see? Didn’t he know that none of those things mattered if you couldn’t have this too?

“You don’t understand,” you whispered back, hands gripping the front of his shirt as though you were scared he might disappear. “None of that feels real without you in it.”

He held your gaze, something raw and aching flickering in his eyes as he searched your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

And then, so softly you almost missed it, “That’s exactly why I can’t let you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment you could only stare at him—feeling that bittersweet swell of love and sadness all tangled together.

“You mean that much to me,” he added, hands trembling just slightly as they framed your face. “More than anything. Even if it means I have to wait. Even if it means I have to watch you chase every dream you ever wanted first.”

Your eyes burned, hands fisting tighter into his shirt like you could will him to understand—but he already did.

And when he bent his head to kiss you again, so gentle and so careful like you were something priceless, you felt it in every inch of your soul.

That no matter what happened—no matter where this all led—James would put you first. Always.

He rested his forehead against yours for a long, aching moment, breath fanning gently over your lips like he was trying to find the right words. When they finally came, his voice was quieter—softer—but trembling with the weight of them.

“Maybe…” he began carefully, hands still cradling your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. “Maybe we need to slow this down.”

Your heart stalled, a strange cold blooming in your chest as you searched his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

James exhaled slowly, thumb brushing your cheek as though he could soothe you with that one small touch. “I mean—we need to take a step back,” he murmured. “Not because I want to, god knows I don’t. But you deserve to focus on your future without worrying about someone finding out. About me ruining this for you.”

The words hit you like a chill. Slowing down was the last thing you wanted. Every time you were apart, it felt like you were holding your breath until you could see him again. Every stolen kiss and whispered conversation had felt like lifelines—not distractions.

You stared up at him, hands trembling at your sides. “James…”

He kissed your temple so gently you almost broke. “I just want to do this the right way,” he continued, voice low, threaded with guilt and fierce, protective care. “And god, I hate the idea of making you feel scared or trapped. You mean too much to me to ever risk that.”

Your eyes burned as you looked at him, heart aching with a kind of impossible softness. The way he was looking at you—as if your happiness mattered more to him than his own—it took all the air from your lungs.

And even though every part of you screamed that you never wanted to slow this down, that you didn’t care about the risk, you could see what this was costing him too.

“You really mean that,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything.

He nodded, pressing his forehead back to yours like it was painful to hold back. “I do.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you couldn’t help yourself. “I hate it,” you confessed softly. “I hate the thought of not seeing you as much, of not—”

Your voice broke, and he held you closer, hands rubbing up and down your back like he wished he could take it all away.

“Me too,” he breathed, voice rough. “More than you know.”

And you believed him—you could feel it in the way his arms stayed wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go, in the way he held his breath when you finally whispered:

“Okay.”

That single word felt heavier than anything you’d ever said, but you knew it was what he needed to hear. Even if it shattered a part of you inside.

James’ hands flexed against you, lips brushing your hair like a quiet thank you. “You’re so fucking brave,” he whispered. “And I promise you, sweetheart, this is not forever.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your face into his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat ground you as you nodded.

“Okay,” you breathed again—softer this time, like you were trying to believe it too.

“You should go,” he said again, this time softer, hands slipping reluctantly from your waist as though his touch was already a memory. “Before anyone sees.”

Your stomach dropped at the sound of it—so final, so careful—like a door swinging shut that neither of you wanted to close.

For a moment, you just stared at him, lips parted, a hundred things you wanted to say swirling in your chest. But the knot in your throat was already making it hard to breathe, and his gaze—that gentle, tired sadness in his eyes—told you more than words ever could.

“Fine,” you finally managed, voice trembling as you forced a shaky smile you didn’t feel.

He held your gaze like he might reach for you again, hands flexing at his sides, the muscle in his jaw ticking like this was hurting him too.

And god, it was.

You slipped your bag over your shoulder, every movement slow and aching, like you could stretch this last fragile moment forever if you took your time. But then James gave you a small nod—the kind that left no room for argument—and you knew you had to go.

“See you,” you whispered, stepping backward toward the door, hands trembling against the cold knob as you forced yourself to turn away.

The hallway felt too bright, too loud, like stepping into a different world.

Your fingers dug into your bag’s strap as you moved on autopilot, one foot in front of the other. Every sound around you—the scrape of lockers, distant laughter, someone pushing past—felt muted beneath the dizzy hum of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

By the time you made it outside into the crisp air, you were trembling—shoulders hunching instinctively as if to hide.

God, you hated this part—hated leaving him, hated how much it already hurt.

Your breath hitched, the ache you’d been holding back burning its way up your throat until it was impossible to breathe around it.

You kept your eyes fixed on the path in front of you as you hurried across campus, head down, vision going glassy with tears.

Every step back toward your dorm felt heavier, your chest tighter, like something fragile and vital had been left behind in that classroom—wrapped up in him and his hands and his voice.

And god, you felt so empty without it.

By the time you reached the dorm building, you couldn’t fight it anymore.

You paused halfway up the staircase, leaning into the wall, palm pressed to your face as a shaky breath broke loose—then another—until a choked sob slipped out before you could stop it.

Tears pricked hotly at your eyes as you pressed your forehead against the cool wall and fought to catch your breath, trembling with every ragged inhale.

And all you could do was stand there for a long, aching moment, hands trembling against your damp cheeks, knowing that walking away hadn’t made anything easier—it had only left you feeling raw and hollow in a way that scared you.

When you finally made it back to your room, your hands were trembling so hard you fumbled with your key in the lock. Every breath felt too short, your chest too tight, and you didn’t even realize there were tears on your face until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the tiny mirror by the door—eyes red-rimmed, lips trembling, shoulders tense.

When you pushed the door open, Sarah was sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping through some notes, humming under her breath—but the second her gaze lifted and took you in, her expression changed completely.

“Oh my god,” she was on her feet in an instant, crossing the space between you in two quick steps. “Hey—hey, wait—what happened? Are you okay?”

You could barely choke back a breath as she reached for you, her hands gentle but firm on your arms like she was scared you’d collapse. And maybe you would have.

Your lip quivered, chin trembling as you just shook your head, trying to hold it together. But the dam you’d been trying so hard to patch up all the way back was breaking, faster and faster, and you didn’t have the strength left to stop it.

“I…” you managed, voice wrecked and shaky before you broke off entirely.

Sarah pulled you into her arms without another word, wrapping you up so tight you could feel her heartbeat against your cheek. That’s when you really broke—a jagged, aching sob tearing up your throat as you buried your face against her shoulder.

“Hey, shhh,” she murmured into your hair, her hands rubbing slow circles on your back. “I’m here. I’m here. Whatever happened, I’ve got you, okay?”

You clung to her like a lifeline, shoulders trembling with each uneven breath, hands bunched into the back of her shirt as if she were the only solid thing left.

“I’ve fucked up,” you choked out after a few breaths, voice raw and shaky. “Sarah, I’ve fucked up so bad. I got into such a fucking mess.”

“Hey, hey,” she pulled back just enough to look at you, hands cupping your face gently so you had to meet her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Your lips parted, the words right there—all the tangled, messy feelings you’d been carrying for what felt like forever. The secret. Him. The way you loved him so much it scared you, and the way it had all started to feel like a house of cards just waiting for the smallest breeze to knock it all down.

But you couldn’t say it. You weren’t sure you even could if you tried.

Instead, you just shook your head again, eyes stinging as more tears threatened to spill. “I can’t,” you whispered, the words cracking. “God, I can’t even tell you. It’s just—it’s too much.”

Her brow furrowed, worry etched across her face, but she didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Just gathered you up again without hesitation, one hand smoothing the back of your hair as you clung to her like you might disappear otherwise.

“It’s okay,” Sarah murmured against your temple, voice soft and sure. “I’m here. Whatever it is, you can tell me—I’m here.”

And you felt it in the way she held you—steady and warm, her presence solid enough to lean into when everything else was spinning out of control.

Part 7 soon 💋

tags (tysm for all the love and support, If you asked to be tagged and I didn’t tag you it means I couldn’t for some reason 💔): @iamthatonefangirl @hiraethmae @im-feeling-blue-today @beforemdnight @just4w3irdo @bloodmocha @lovinqbella @its-in-the-woods @muchwita @iyskgd @harrietandcats @shortandb1tchy @luv4kook @grovelingmen @buckybarneswife125 @xamapolax @glitterspark @azrielsgirll @mortallydistinguishedwolf @shaheea @simp4f1 @voidanima @buckytakethewheel @thatsbucknasty @herejustforbuckybarnes @sebastians-love @wntersoidiertk @emcharra @user911224 @stell404 @peanutbutt3rcup @heymydearheart @s-sh-ne

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