okasuka

[okasuka]

kill me

“Wayne. L/N. Together,” the teacher barked, slapping a few papers down on the desks. “Move it.”

You sighed under your breath and dragged your chair across the floor, dropping into the seat beside the new kid. Damian Wayne, or whatever his full government name was. Tall, sharp-looking, way too serious. And annoyingly quiet.

“Sup,” you said dryly, not expecting much.

Damian just nodded stiffly. No ‘hi’ back, no smile, nothing.

The teacher stalked around the room, handing out test results. You already knew it wasn’t going to be good. When the paper landed in front of you, you winced. Big, fat 45% circled at the top in aggressive red pen.

“Y/N,” the teacher said loudly enough that a few people turned around, “you’re capable of more than this. If you actually revised, you’d see that.”

You bit your lip, nodded silently, and shoved the paper into your bag without looking at it again. You could feel Damian glance at you, but you didn’t meet his eyes.

He looked down at his own paper. 98%.

Of course.

“You must take great pride in mediocrity,” Damian said after a moment, voice low, almost clinical.

You turned your head sharply, giving him a glare. “Sorry I’m not a genius like you, mate.”

“I did not mean to offend,” he said, sounding absolutely like he meant to offend. “Merely an observation.”

“Yeah, well, observe this—” you muttered, flipping him off under the table.

Damian blinked, almost amused. Almost. “Charming.”

The teacher started rambling about the next unit, but you weren’t listening. You were doodling on the side of your notebook, half thinking about soccer practice later, half thinking about how much you hated feeling like a complete idiot. First getting smoked by a couple of the boys on the pitch, now this.

“You play sports,” Damian said, out of nowhere.

You looked up. “How’d you guess?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “You carry yourself like someone with too much energy to waste.”

You raised a brow. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

“It is what it is,” Damian said. “Are you good?”

You leaned back in your chair, chewing your pen cap. “Good enough.”

“Good enough,” he repeated. “Mediocre again.”

You glared at him harder this time. “What’s your problem?”

“No problem,” he said simply. “I merely dislike wasted potential.”

You scowled and went back to doodling, jabbing the paper so hard your pen almost ripped through it. “Not everyone’s some rich boy prodigy, you know.”

Damian tilted his head, studying you. “Clearly.”

“You’re lucky you’re new,” you muttered. “If you knew me properly, you wouldn’t even be talking.”

“I disagree,” he said. “Most people here talk too much and say nothing. You, at least, are honest.”

You blinked. “That’s… the weirdest backhanded compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

The bell rang, and you were out of your seat before it even finished. Grabbing your bag, you stalked toward the door. Damian caught up easily, matching your pace without even trying.

“You do not revise because you believe you are already losing elsewhere,” he said casually, like he was commenting on the weather.

You stopped dead in the hallway, staring at him. “What?”

“You believe you have already failed at what you care about. So you sabotage the rest to avoid disappointment,” Damian said.

You swallowed hard, feeling the hot prick of embarrassment in your chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” he said coolly. “I know that you are better than a 45%.”

You hated how much you wanted to believe that.

You shoved your hands into your hoodie pocket. “Whatever, shrink.”

He smiled — a real, actual smile this time. Sharp, quick. “You should play against me sometime.”

You scoffed. “Bet you’re crap at soccer.”

“Try me,” he said, eyes gleaming with challenge.

For some reason, you found yourself smiling back. Just a little.

A few days later, the classroom was hotter than hell, the windows cracked open but doing nothing to help. You were stretched out in your seat, tapping your pencil against the desk while the teacher droned on about something you couldn’t be asked to care about. Shorts were technically against the uniform code, but you got a pass because you were ‘representing the school’ at matches.

Damian noticed immediately—the bruises.

Your shins were peppered with them, some fresh, some older and yellowing. And just above your ankle, where your sock slipped down, a strip of blue muscle tape clung tight to your skin, peeking out from your shoe.

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “You are injured.”

You didn’t even look up. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“You should not be playing in that condition,” he said, voice neutral but with that underlying tone, like he was judging you again.

You snapped your head up, meeting his gaze with a cold look. “Did I ask for a physio session, mate?”

Damian didn’t flinch. “You asked for nothing, clearly. Even help.”

You shoved your books into your bag a little rougher than necessary. “Bruises happen. Part of the game. Not everyone’s wrapped in bubble wrap.”

“It is not strength to ignore injury,” he said coolly. “It is stupidity.”

You froze for half a second—because the part that stung was that you knew he was right—but you forced yourself to scoff instead. “Keep talking, rich boy. See how far it gets you.”

The bell rang, saving you from saying something you might actually regret. You bolted up, slinging your bag over your shoulder without even glancing at him.

Your so-called friends—bunch of jocks and a couple of cheerleaders—were already waving you over by the door. You plastered on a half-hearted smile and jogged over.

They were all golden tans, perfect hair, designer shoes. You were… not.

You stuck out like a sore thumb among them, your bruised legs, scruffy trainers, and taped-up muscles a different kind of battle armor.

As you walked down the hallway with them, laughing at some dumb joke one of the boys made, you felt Damian’s gaze on your back. Heavy. Sharp. Like he saw everything you were trying so hard to keep together.

You didn’t look back.

You just laughed louder.

After school, the sun was hanging low and heavy in the sky, casting long shadows across the cracked pitch behind the gym. A few of the guys from the team had thrown together a ‘friendly’ match — nothing official, just bragging rights on the line.

You were there, of course. You had to be there.

It started out light, everyone laughing and shouting, cleats scraping against worn grass. But it didn’t stay friendly for long. It never did.

You were pushing harder than everyone else — sprinting after every ball like your life depended on it, sliding into tackles without thinking, throwing your weight around like you could make up the difference between “good enough” and “the best” if you just tried hard enough.

Damian was leaning against the fence, arms crossed, just watching. He hadn’t said a word since last period. Hadn’t tried to talk to you when you stormed off with your so-called friends. But now? His eyes never left you.

You missed a goal by inches — the ball curved wide — and immediately shoved off a defender’s shoulder to sprint back into position. Your chest was heaving. Your legs burned. But you didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Another play, another tackle — you skidded across the grass, catching your shin hard against someone’s boot. You barely flinched.

Damian’s jaw tightened.

By the time the whistle blew — if you could even call it a whistle, it was more like a kid yelling “game over” — you were standing on the edge of the field, doubled over, hands on your knees, sucking in air like you were breathing through a straw.

And there was blood.

It trickled sluggishly down your left shin from a split in the skin where an older bruise had probably given way. Some of it had smeared across your sock. You wiped it once, half-heartedly, and started tightening the laces on your already battered cleats like you were about to go again.

“You’re bleeding,” Damian said, appearing beside you without warning.

You didn’t even look at him. “Cheers for the heads up.”

“You require medical attention,” he said sharply, eyes flicking down to your shin, then back up to your stubborn, tired face.

“I’m fine,” you bit out, yanking your sock higher like that would somehow make it true. “It’s a scratch.”

“A scratch that will get infected if you keep behaving like an imbecile,” Damian said.

You finally looked up at him then, scowling hard enough to crack concrete. “Why do you even care? Huh? You don’t even know me.”

Damian was quiet for a beat, studying you. His voice, when it came, was quieter. Less sharp. “I know what it looks like… when someone tries to destroy themselves to prove they are still worth something.”

Your throat tightened, but you shoved the feeling down. Shoved it deep.

“Spare me the psychoanalysis,” you said flatly, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Not in the mood.”

Damian didn’t follow you as you limped toward the school gates.

But he watched.

Watched every uneven step you took.

Watched like he was already planning not to let you destroy yourself — even if you didn’t want the help.

The next day was worse.

You barely survived the dragging hours of school, counting the minutes until you could get back on the pitch, back where missing a shot hurt less than sitting in a chair while teachers reminded you how badly you were failing.

You tried to bolt the second the last bell rang, but Mr. Kavanagh — your maths teacher — caught you just as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Y/N, a word,” he called, cutting through the stampede of kids in the hallway.

You gritted your teeth, sighed through your nose, and turned back.

“Look,” he started, flipping through a folder until he found your latest test. Another ugly mark. Barely scraping a pass. “You’re not a lost cause, alright? You’ve got potential. You just don’t apply yourself.”

You nodded, not really hearing him.

“If you put half the effort you do on the pitch into your studies—”

You dropped your gaze to the floor, jaw clenched.

He kept talking, but the words buzzed around your head like flies:

Not enough.

Not good enough.

Not smart enough.

Not anything enough.

You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder and turned around, walking off mid-sentence without a word.

“Y/N!” the teacher barked after you, but you didn’t stop.

You stormed through the corridors, your pulse pounding in your ears.

You didn’t know where you were going.

You just knew you needed to move.

Damian spotted you from the stairwell — the way you tore through the hall like you were going to war. His eyes narrowed immediately. He pushed off the wall, following you without hesitation.

You made it outside, behind the gym, heading straight for the pitch again. Of course. You were already stripping off your hoodie and digging your cleats out of your bag like you were about to go hard.

Too hard.

Too fast.

Not thinking.

“Y/N,” Damian called out, voice sharp.

You didn’t even turn around. “Go away, Wayne.”

“No,” he said, catching up, standing a few feet behind you. “You are about to do something reckless.”

“Yeah?” you snapped, shoving your feet into your boots, lacing them up with fast, angry jerks. “So what? Better than sitting around listening to people remind me I’m shit at everything.”

“You are not—” Damian exhaled sharply, struggling for patience. “You are not worthless.”

“Yeah, well, feels like it,” you muttered.

“You think punishing yourself will change it?” he said, stepping closer, voice low. “You think tearing your body apart will make you enough?”

You stood up so fast you almost lost your balance.

The tape on your shin pulled tight over the bruised, angry skin.

“I don’t expect you to get it,” you said, voice sharp with hurt you didn’t want him to hear. “You’re good at everything, right? Smart, strong, perfect. You’re not the one who’s—” You shook your head. “Forget it.”

Damian’s face hardened, but not with anger — with something almost like frustration. Like he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake the stubbornness out of you.

“You are not weak because you struggle,” he said, voice quiet but ironclad. “Weakness is pretending you are fine when you are bleeding out.”

You hated how the words hit you — like they’d gone straight through your armor, finding the one spot that was still raw.

You looked away, jaw tight.

“Don’t do this,” he said, softer now. “Not like this.”

For the first time, you didn’t move. You just stood there, fists clenched at your sides, your heart hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

And for once, you didn’t walk away.

Not yet.

The silence between you stretched, thick and awkward, until you finally let out a shaky breath and kicked at a loose pebble by your foot.

Damian, still watching you carefully, shifted his weight. “Where do you live?” he asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You frowned. “Why?”

“I am walking you home.”

You blinked at him, thrown off. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“It is not babysitting,” he said flatly, starting to walk past you, expecting you to follow. “It is ensuring you do not bleed to death out of pure stubbornness.”

You snorted despite yourself, rolling your eyes, and dragged your bag onto your shoulder again.

“Whatever, Wayne.”

You caught up with him, falling into step beside him. Neither of you said much for a while — just the sound of your trainers scuffing the pavement and distant cars rumbling by. The afternoon was cooling fast, the sky starting to stain orange.

You kept sneaking glances at him out of the corner of your eye. The way he walked — so composed, like he wasn’t just moving, he was ready. Like if the world threw something at him, he’d already be three steps ahead.

Somewhere along the way, when you weren’t paying attention, you realized you weren’t so tense anymore.

You weren’t rushing to get away.

When you pointed out your street, Damian nodded once, hands casually in his pockets. He stopped at the corner, just outside the sightline of your front door.

“This is good,” you said, suddenly feeling stupidly awkward. “Uh… thanks. For walking with me. I guess.”

Damian looked at you for a second, like he was weighing something. Then — barely, barely — the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile.

Not a smirk.

Not a mocking grin.

A real, tiny smile.

It completely threw you.

Your face flamed instantly, and you ducked your head so he wouldn’t see. “Okay, um, bye,” you mumbled, your voice cracking a little because of course it did.

Damian said nothing — just kept that same small smile as you practically tripped over yourself hurrying up the path to your door.

You didn’t dare look back until you were inside.

And when you did?

He was already gone.

[okasuka]

Title: Offside Feelings

Adil’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he left the changing rooms, his teammates still hyped over the 2-1 win. He barely paid attention, already unlocking his phone and opening WhatsApp. He scrolled past the team group chat full of celebrations and tapped on Aminah’s name.

Adil:

Yo, how did I do? You were watchin’ init, don’t lie.

He leaned against the wall outside school, bag slung over one shoulder, waiting for her reply. It came quick.

Aminah:

Looooool u want me to be real or gas u up?

Adil:

Don’t move mad, just say it.

Aminah:

First half u were lookin decent still, good footwork n that. But ur finishing?? 💀💀 that one shot in the 30th min was criminal, bruv.

Adil exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a small grin.

Adil:

Nah ur violating 🤣 The ball moved last sec fam, the wind was against me.

Aminah:

U love an excuse 😂 Just say u bottled it.

Adil:

U chatting like u wouldn’t fumble under pressure 😴

Aminah:

NEVER that, don’t disrespect me. U seen me play, don’t cap.

Adil smirked, imagining the way she’d say that in real life, all confidence. He had seen her play—aggressive, quick on her feet, proper baller. Not many girls in school could keep up with her.

Adil:

Aight fair, u got tekkers. But my hold-up play? Be honest.

Aminah took a minute to reply. He could picture her thinking, biting her lip, probably chatting to her friends about what to say.

Aminah:

U weren’t bad, can’t lie. Strong on the ball. But u defo get vex easy 🤣 nearly squared up to that CB in the 2nd half loooool.

Adil groaned, rubbing his temple.

Adil:

Nah cos man was tugging my shirt the whole game 😤 Ref wasn’t even watchin.

Aminah:

Excuses again 🤡 just say u wanted smoke.

Adil:

Say swear u wouldn’t back it if someone was on ur case like that.

Aminah:

Pls, I’d finish them. U forget I watch UFC??

Adil chuckled, already knowing she was serious.

Adil:

Wallahi, u scare me sometimes.

Aminah:

As u should.

He shook his head, debating his next message. His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he typed, then deleted, then typed again.

Adil:

Lowkey nice seeing u there tho. Thought u weren’t coming.

He locked his phone immediately after sending that, heart racing a little. The second he checked back, she was typing. Then it stopped. Then started again. He swallowed.

Aminah:

Yh well… wouldn’t miss watching u move mad on the pitch 🤡 entertainment n that.

Adil smiled, shaking his head. She was dodging.

Adil:

Safe for coming tho. Next time I’ll actually score.

Aminah:

We’ll see init. Next time I’ll be on the pitch too, so don’t embarrass urself 😭

Adil:

Bruv I could never. Just don’t get me sent off tryna scrap someone.

Aminah:

Can’t promise that.

Adil laughed, pocketing his phone. He’d see her tomorrow anyway. Maybe he’d bring up the fact she came just for him. Maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, he was already looking forward to it.

Saturday Morning

Adil woke up to his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He groaned, rubbing his face before grabbing it. A Snapchat notification. From Aminah.

He unlocked his phone, eyes still half-shut, and opened the snap. It was a picture of her empty kitchen—no food, no signs of life, just a lonely counter. The caption read:

“nah this is violation, where’s the breakfast man”

Adil snorted, still lying in bed as he swiped to WhatsApp.

adil:

loooool ur house moving like a wasteland

aminah:

bro it’s a joke, i came downstairs expecting vibes n a full english n instead i got vibes n disappointment

adil:

u sound proper heartbroken 😭 u not gonna cook something??

aminah:

me?? cook?? bruv u actually rate me too much

adil:

swear down u don’t know how to cook?? disgraceful behavior

aminah:

say wallahi u actually wake up n chef it up

adil:

i can make eggs init 🤷🏽‍♂️ better than starving like u

aminah:

nah eggs r calm but i need more than that, i need waffles, pancakes, vibes, all of it

adil:

why u acting like ur a 5 star hotel guest 😭 just make toast n call it a day

aminah:

boring. if i was rich i’d just order food everyday tbh

adil:

that’s how u go broke in 2 weeks fam

aminah:

worth it if it means i never gotta wash dishes again

Adil laughed, stretching as he sat up. He checked the time—10:42 AM.

adil:

so what u actually eating then?? air??

aminah:

probs cornflakes no milk, peak times

adil:

nah that’s actually a madness, u need help

aminah:

i need someone to make me food man this is suffering

Adil hesitated for a second before typing.

adil:

pull up to mine, i got bare food here

She stopped typing. Then started again. Then stopped. He exhaled, staring at the screen.

aminah:

loooooool u moving mad

adil:

swear down i’m not, man’s feeling generous today

aminah:

hmmm

adil:

nah but imagine u makin me breakfast tho 🤔 lil eggs, lil toast, maybe some chai on the side… sounds kinda nice still

aminah:

pls shut up 😭 u think i’m ur personal chef??

adil:

idk u tell me 👀 bet u’d make it all nice as well, proper present it on a plate n that, lil smile on ur face cos u know i’d rate ur cooking

aminah:

ur moving mad, i’d serve u burnt toast just for chatting

adil:

nah u wouldn’t, u got a soft spot for me init 😏

Aminah left him on read for a minute. Adil grinned, picturing her rolling her eyes, probably debating her next reply. Then his phone buzzed.

aminah:

soft spot?? LOOOOOL u wish 🤡

adil:

so u denying it?

aminah:

100%

adil:

hmm 🤔 seems like something a liar would say

aminah:

u need to be stopped

adil:

nah u just don’t know how to handle the pressure 😏

Another pause. Then she snapped back.

aminah:

pressure?? bruv i literally play football, ufc, n boxing for fun, pls be serious

adil:

n yet u still fumbled my flirting, mad

aminah:

flirting?? that was flirting?? i thought u were just hungry loooool

Adil laughed, shaking his head. She was quick with it.

adil:

say less, next time i’ll make it more obvious 😏

aminah:

don’t, i beg

adil:

too late, u already signed up for this

aminah:

nah i’m logging out, goodbye

Adil smirked, watching as she went offline. Yeah, he definitely enjoyed winding her up.

Aminah tightened the straps on her gym bag as she walked, hoodie pulled over her head to block out the cold. Her body ached in that good way after a solid boxing session—except for her face, which was just straight-up battered.

Her reflection in a car window had made her pause earlier. A black eye blooming on one side, a bloodied gauze still stuck to her cheek from a nasty scrape, and her knuckles wrapped in bandages. She looked like she’d just walked out of a warzone.

She took the shortcut past the astro turf, the floodlights glowing against the dark sky. A group of boys were still playing, voices carrying in the air, boots thudding against the artificial grass. She didn’t think much of it—until a ball rolled to her feet.

She stopped, looking down at it. Then up.

Adil stood a few metres away, hands on his hips, head tilted. His usual cocky smirk flickered for half a second when he clocked her face properly.

“Yo,” he called, nodding at the ball. “U just gonna stand there or u gonna pass it?”

Aminah smirked despite herself and nudged the ball back with the inside of her foot. Adil trapped it, but his eyes didn’t leave her.

“Bro, what happened to you?” He walked closer, scanning her face. “Fam, did u get jumped or sum?”

Aminah huffed a laugh. “Nah, just a hard session. Coach paired me up with some mad aggressive girl.”

Adil whistled low, eyes flicking from her black eye to her knuckles. “Yeah, no. That ain’t just ‘hard session’ injuries, that’s ‘life or death’ injuries.”

Aminah rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up, it’s not even that bad.”

“Not that bad??” Adil gestured at her. “Bruv, u look like u lost a scrap with life itself.”

“Swear down, I should’ve just ignored that ball and kept walking,” Aminah muttered, adjusting her bag strap.

Adil grinned, but then his expression softened just slightly. “Nah but fr, u good? Looks painful.”

Aminah shrugged. “Hurts a bit, but it’s calm. Just part of training, init.”

Adil studied her for a moment, then shook his head with a small smile. “Nah, u move different. I rate it.”

Aminah raised a brow. “What, cos I take a few hits?”

“Cos u take a few hits and keep going like it’s nothin’,” Adil said, kicking the ball up with the side of his foot before catching it. “Most people would’ve called it a day. You? You’re just out here, strolling home like u didn’t just get punched up.”

Aminah smirked. “Told u before, bruv. I ain’t soft.”

Adil chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. U tryna prove a point or sum?”

“Nah,” she said, shifting her weight. “Just tryna get home before my mum sees my face and moves mad.”

Adil laughed. “Yeah, good luck explaining that one.”

Aminah sighed dramatically. “Gonna have to lie. Say I walked into a door or some dumb excuse.”

Adil grinned, stepping back towards the pitch. “Tell her u were protectin’ me in a street fight.”

Aminah scoffed. “Protectin’ you?? Bruv, you’d be the first one to run.”

Adil gasped, clutching his chest. “Wow. Disrespectful. After all I do for you?”

“What do u actually do for me?”

Adil smirked. “I provide entertainment.”

Aminah rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile. “Yeah, alright. Anyway, I gotta go before my mum actually disowns me.”

“Safe,” Adil called as she walked off, watching her go before shaking his head with a chuckle. “Moving mad…”

Aminah had barely taken a few steps before Adil called out, “Oi, why u walking like that?”

She froze for a second, then kept moving like she didn’t hear him.

Adil jogged up next to her, walking backwards so he could face her. “Nah, nah, don’t try it. U limping, bruv.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“It’s minor.”

Adil squinted at her, then down at her legs. “Nah, why u moving like a 50-year-old uncle after five-a-side?”

Aminah exhaled sharply, adjusting her bag. “Bruv, I got kicked in the shin during sparring. It’s calm.”

Adil gave her a deadpan look. “U defo not walking like it’s calm.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “What do you want me to do? Crawl home?”

“Nah,” Adil shrugged. “I’ll walk with you.”

Aminah stopped. “Huh?”

“U heard me,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Ain’t like I got anywhere else to be.”

Aminah stared at him for a second, then shook her head with a smirk. “Moving like a hero.”

“Man’s just being a gentleman, init,” Adil said, falling into step beside her. “U should be grateful.”

“Grateful??” Aminah scoffed. “I never asked for this.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust u not to collapse halfway home.”

Aminah gave him a side-eye. “U rate yourself too much.”

Adil grinned. “And u don’t rate me enough.”

Aminah laughed, but it was cut off by a slight wince as she took a bad step.

Adil caught it immediately. “See. Man’s instincts are unmatched.”

“Shut up,” she muttered.

“Nah but real talk,” Adil said, glancing at her properly. “U sure you’re good?”

Aminah hesitated for a second, then sighed. “Yeah. Just sore, innit.”

Adil nodded, keeping pace with her. They walked in comfortable silence for a bit, the streetlights throwing long shadows on the pavement.

“Y’know,” Adil said after a while, “not many people would take hits like that and still show up the next day.”

Aminah smirked. “U saying I’m built different?”

“Something like that.”

“Good.” She nudged his arm lightly. “Bout time u recognised.”

Adil chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, u actually move mad. But I rate it.”

Aminah just grinned, the limp in her step feeling a little lighter as they walked the rest of the way home.

Adil was mid-sentence, about to make some dumb joke, when Aminah suddenly stopped walking.

Before he could ask what was up, she turned to him, still smirking a little—but there was something else in her eyes. Something softer. Then, without warning, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Adil froze.

For a solid second, his brain just stopped functioning. Aminah? Hugging him?? Voluntarily??

Her arms were tight around him, and he could feel the tension in her shoulders, like she wasn’t used to doing this. Like it took effort.

“Thanks,” she muttered against his hoodie.

Adil blinked, still processing. Then, finally, his arms came up, resting lightly around her back. “Uh… yeah. Safe.”

She pulled away quickly, clearing her throat like she hadn’t just caught him completely off guard. “Alright, I’m going in before my mum loses it.”

Adil just nodded, still slightly baffled. “Yeah. Cool. Get some ice on that leg, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off, walking up to her door.

But as she stepped inside, Adil caught the way her shoulders tensed. The way she hesitated for half a second before crossing the threshold, like she was bracing herself.

Then the door shut behind her.

Adil stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where she’d been.

That wasn’t just tiredness. That wasn’t just pain from training.

Something else was up.

And now, he was gonna have to figure out what.

Sunday Night

Aminah lay in bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, when Adil’s message popped up.

adil:

u got plans 2moro?

She stretched, wincing slightly as the ache in her muscles flared up again, then typed back.

aminah:

was gonna hit up forbidden planet but that’s cancelled now 🙃 u?

adil:

loooool why u cancelling?

aminah:

bruv. look at my face. u think i can walk into central lookin like this?? the public will call feds on me 😭

adil:

nah real talk, u do look like u got into a scrap w a brick wall

aminah:

appreciate the love n support, truly 😐

adil:

always here to uplift u x

aminah:

stfu. anyway what u doin?

adil:

gotta go some fam thing. long dayyyy

Aminah frowned, a sinking feeling creeping in.

aminah:

…what fam thing?

adil:

some brown function ting, i don’t even know man, my mum just told me i gotta be ready by 6

Aminah stared at her screen. No way.

aminah:

don’t piss me off. where’s it at?

adil:

some random hall, starts w an ‘R’ or sumthin

Aminah groaned, pressing a hand over her face.

aminah:

nah u taking the piss, i’m going to one in that rosemere hall place. tell me ur not going there.

adil:

LOOOOOOOL ur done out here

aminah:

i actually wanna cry

adil:

nah this is perfect. we can suffer 2gether x

aminah:

suffer? ur face is calm, bruv. i’m the one who’s gonna get moved to by every auntie for lookin like this 😭

adil:

wallahi they r gonna cook u

aminah:

“beta, what happened to your face?? are you fighting on the streets?? this is why no one will marry you” 😭😭 i can HEAR it already

adil:

loooool nahhh i’m actually crying. tell them u were defendin my honour or sum

aminah:

pls. ur honour isn’t worth this suffering

adil:

wow. the betrayal.

aminah:

bro i was lowkey excited to go comics shopping n now i gotta deal w nosy uncles analysing my bruises like it’s a case study 😭

adil:

f in the chat

aminah:

long day man

adil:

eh at least i’ll be there, i’ll back u when the aunties move mad

aminah:

gonna hold u to that

adil:

obv. anyway go sleep, u need rest w that battered face 🤡

aminah:

ur blocked.

adil:

nah u love me really.

Aminah rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

aminah:

gn idiot.

adil:

gn boxer x

She locked her phone, sighing. Tomorrow was gonna be a madness.

Monday – The Function

Aminah sighed, arms crossed as her mum gave her yet another disapproving look.

“You look like a boy,” her mum muttered in Urdu, eyeing her up and down.

Aminah just shrugged, standing firm in her baggy black shorts and oversized UFC shirt. “I’m comfortable,” she said simply, adjusting the strap of her crossbody bag.

Her mum sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You should’ve worn the shalwar kameez. You already look…” She gestured vaguely at Aminah’s face. “And now this?”

Aminah rolled her eyes. “It’s not that deep, Mum.”

“It is that deep when every aunty will be staring.”

“Let them stare,” Aminah muttered, slipping on her trainers.

Her mum sighed again, clearly knowing this was a lost battle. “Just behave yourself, please.”

Aminah didn’t respond. She was already bracing herself for the madness that awaited.

The function was packed. Rows of aunties and uncles occupied every table, kids ran around in fancy suits and dresses, and the smell of biryani mixed with perfume clogged the air.

Aminah felt the stares before she even made it halfway in. The aunties, draped in their embroidered outfits and gold jewellery, gave her slow once-overs, their expressions hovering between disapproval and intrigue.

She ignored them, pushing her hands into her pockets as she scanned the room.

Then she spotted Adil.

He was leaning against a table, looking just as bored as she felt, dressed in a crisp white kurta with sleeves rolled up. His eyes flicked up, and the second he saw her, his face split into a grin.

“Oi, fighter girl!” he called, waving her over.

Aminah smirked, walking up to him. “Oi, white kurta? U tryna impress someone?”

Adil scoffed. “Nah, my mum forced it. Said I had to ‘look respectable.’”

Aminah snorted. “Can’t relate.”

Adil glanced at her fit and grinned. “Nah, u actually don’t care, do u?”

“Not even a little bit,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “I already got cussed out by my mum for this.”

Adil chuckled, shaking his head. “Might as well own it, then.”

And she did—until the aunties started getting brave.

They weren’t subtle about it.

Two of them sat nearby, whispering loudly enough that it was clear they wanted to be heard.

“Look at that girl. No shame at all.”

“Shorts? In a gathering like this? Astaghfirullah.”

“Maybe if she dressed properly, she wouldn’t have bruises all over her face.”

Aminah clenched her jaw, staring straight ahead. She’d been expecting it, but it still hit different when it actually happened.

She could feel Adil tense next to her. For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then, under the table, his hand moved.

Slowly, he placed it over hers, resting on her side of her leg.

Aminah blinked, caught off guard.

He didn’t squeeze, didn’t say anything—just left it there, warm and steady. A silent “I got you.”

Aminah swallowed, glancing at him.

Adil was still looking straight ahead, jaw tight, but his thumb brushed lightly over her skin. Like he was trying to reassure her without making a scene.

She exhaled quietly.

Then, just as quietly, she turned her hand over, letting their fingers curl together.

Adil nudged her lightly. “Oi.”

Aminah blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Huh?”

“Come on,” he muttered, nodding towards the side exit of the hall. “Let’s cut.”

She hesitated for a second, glancing around. The aunties were still in their own world, probably waiting for another opportunity to cuss her existence.

Adil must’ve seen the hesitation, because he grabbed her hand and gave a light tug. “Let’s go, bruv.”

Aminah let out a breath and nodded. “Say less.”

They slipped out the side door, the cold air hitting her immediately. The music was still thudding inside, but out here, it was quiet. Calm.

She pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text.

aminah: going home x

A minute later, the reply came.

mum: okay x

Aminah smirked. Definitely dancing. If her mum had any real objections, she would’ve called.

She slid her phone into her pocket and turned to Adil. “We walking nowhere for vibes, yeah?”

Adil shoved his hands into his pockets, starting down the pavement. “Basically.”

They walked in silence for a while, just the occasional sound of their trainers scuffing against the concrete. The streetlights flickered above them, the night quiet except for the distant hum of traffic.

But Aminah still felt… off. The voices of the aunties echoed in her head. No shame at all. Maybe if she dressed properly, she wouldn’t have bruises all over her face.

She swallowed, staring down at the pavement, her arms crossed.

Adil glanced at her, then kicked a small stone ahead of them. “You’re mad quiet.”

Aminah shrugged. “Just tired.”

Adil hummed, but she knew he wasn’t convinced. “That what we’re calling it?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Bruv, why do brown people chat so much?”

Adil huffed a laugh. “It’s their sport.”

“Nah, it’s a full-time job for them,” she muttered. “Like, let me breathe, bro.”

Adil tilted his head, watching her. “U really let them get to u, huh?”

Aminah exhaled sharply. “Not even like that, it’s just—” She hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I dunno. Just annoying, innit. Like, I can’t even exist without it being some big discussion.”

Adil nodded slowly, kicking the stone again. “Yeah. I hear that.”

Aminah stared ahead, her fists clenching slightly. “Like, what do they even want, bruv? If I was soft, they’d say I was weak. If I fight, I’m ‘too much.’ If I dress up, they say I’m trying too hard. If I wear this, I ‘have no shame.’ Like, swear down, they just want me to be miserable.”

Adil was quiet for a second, then sighed. “They want you to be easy.”

Aminah looked at him. “Huh?”

He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. “Easy to understand. Easy to control. Easy to show off to other aunties. But u?” He glanced at her with a small smirk. “U don’t make it easy for them.”

Aminah scoffed. “Yeah, well. That just means more headache for me.”

Adil nudged her lightly. “Yeah, but it also means ur real.”

Aminah exhaled, staring ahead. She didn’t respond, but the tightness in her chest eased—just a little.

They kept walking, the quiet of the night wrapping around them, and for a moment, everything felt a little lighter.

Adil kicked another stone, then glanced at her, his expression shifting. He seemed to be debating something for a second before he just said it.

“So, like, are we gonna do something about this or what?”

Aminah blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness. “Do something about what?”

“You know.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “Like, this… whatever this is. Us, bruv.”

Aminah paused, eyes narrowing as she tried to process what he was saying. Was he seriously bringing this up now? “What are you talking about?”

Adil was clearly struggling with his words now, his face turning slightly pink under the streetlights. “I mean… like… we’ve been chatting, and, like, the vibe’s been there for ages. So, I’m just wondering if we’re gonna do something about it or just… leave it, y’know?”

Aminah’s heart skipped, and she felt a rush of heat flood her chest. Was he really stuttering right now? Adil, the one who always talked like he had the world figured out, was flustered.

She took a slow step toward him, narrowing the space between them, her eyes locking onto his. “So, you wanna do something about it?”

Adil swallowed, looking like he was trying to figure out how to answer without completely embarrassing himself. “I mean… yeah, but… I don’t know if you—”

Before he could finish, Aminah leaned forward quickly, cutting him off. She kissed him, soft and brief, just enough to send a rush of warmth through both of them.

Adil froze for a second, then his hands hesitantly moved to her waist, pulling her in a little closer, as if to make sure she was really there.

When they broke apart, Aminah was smiling, feeling a little more grounded than before. Adil, on the other hand, looked like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

He finally managed to speak, his voice a little hoarse. “So, uh… that answers my question then.”

Aminah grinned, leaning back slightly to look him in the eyes. “Yeah. Thought I’d save you the trouble of figuring it out.”

Adil just stared at her, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bruv. I’m actually lost for words. This is mad.”

Aminah laughed, nudging him lightly. “Yeah, well. You’re not the only one.”

They stood there for a moment, the air between them still crackling with energy, and it felt like everything else—everything that had weighed on her all day—had finally melted away.

[okasuka]

scrap writing bruh

Title: “Come to Bed, Damian”

Damian Wayne was never one to put his personal life first. As the newest Batman, he had an unyielding commitment to protecting Gotham—his father’s legacy weighing heavily on his shoulders. Each night he fought through the city’s dark streets, battling villains and dealing with criminals in a way that only he could.

But tonight, something felt different.

As he entered the large Wayne Manor, a familiar scent lingered in the air. The warmth of the house contrasted the chill of the night outside, and the low hum of the lights illuminated the hallways. It was quiet, save for the soft padding of footsteps that followed him into the foyer.

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly. It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to wait up for him, but tonight… something was different. He was exhausted, his body covered in bruises and cuts from the latest patrol. His suit, usually pristine, was now torn in several places, a result of the fight he’d had with the Joker’s goons. Yet, no matter how battered he was, he couldn’t help but admire how she managed to make him forget everything.

He turned the corner to the living room, and there she was—his wife, Y/N, standing by the dimly lit fireplace, her eyes locked on him with a mischievous glint. She wore a sheer, lace robe that barely covered her body, and a soft smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Her eyes roamed over his form, noting the blood that stained his suit and the exhaustion in his posture.

Damian’s pulse quickened. She always knew how to get to him.

“Damian…” Her voice was soft, smooth, and seductive, cutting through the tension in the room. “You’re home late.”

“I had… matters to attend to,” Damian replied, trying to mask the fatigue in his voice. But she saw right through it.

Y/N stepped forward, her heels clicking on the polished floor as she closed the distance between them. Her fingers trailed lightly across his chest, and for a moment, Damian felt his heart race. “I can see that. You look like you’ve been through hell,” she said, her eyes scanning his injuries.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, though the bloodied gash on his shoulder said otherwise. He had learned long ago to endure pain without complaint, but there was something about Y/N that made him feel vulnerable in the best way possible.

“You’re a terrible liar, Damian,” she teased, her fingers gently brushing against his wound as she made her way to the kit that was already set up on the coffee table. “Come sit.”

He hesitated, but Y/N’s voice had a commanding yet gentle edge to it that he couldn’t refuse. With a sigh, Damian sat on the couch, his body aching as he did so. Y/N wasted no time, kneeling in front of him and pulling the first aid kit toward her.

She was always so efficient, tending to his wounds like she had done countless times before. But tonight, there was an undeniable heat between them—one that lingered in the air, thick and palpable.

As she worked, Y/N’s hands moved expertly over his body, applying bandages and ointments where needed. But her touch was never just practical. There was an intimacy to it, a softness that made him feel as though he could finally relax, even for a moment. She glanced up at him through her lashes, her voice a low murmur.

“You know… you’ve been gone for hours, and I’ve been waiting for you.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Waiting for me? For what?”

Her fingers paused on his chest, lingering for a moment longer than necessary, as her lips curled into a sly smile. “To come to bed with me.”

Damian’s breath caught in his throat. His first instinct was to reject the idea, to push away the temptation and focus on his duties. But as she leaned closer, the sweet scent of her perfume mixing with the warmth of her skin, his resolve began to weaken.

“You’re injured,” she continued, her voice dipping lower as her gaze wandered to the bloodstains on his uniform. “You need rest.”

Damian was no fool—he knew exactly what she was doing. She always knew how to get him to relax, to give in to the moment. The problem was, he didn’t want to fight it.

“I’ll rest when the city is safe,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Gotham will be fine without you for a few hours,” she replied, her voice a seductive purr. “But I think you need me more.”

Her hands moved from his chest to his shoulder, applying pressure in a way that sent shivers down his spine. She could always make him feel things he hadn’t known he needed. The sensation of her touch, soft and teasing, began to cloud his thoughts.

“I’ll take care of you,” she whispered. “Come to bed with me, Damian. Let me help you relax.”

He could feel his resistance slipping away with each word. Her presence was intoxicating, her words like a siren’s call, and the way she looked at him, so confident and alluring, was enough to make him forget his obligations.

Damian’s hands moved to the sides of her face, gently pulling her closer, his lips brushing against hers in a slow, heated kiss. The taste of her lingered on his mouth as he pulled back, eyes locked on hers.

“Fine,” he muttered, surrendering to her pull. “But only because you’ve earned it.”

Her smile was victorious as she helped him to his feet, wrapping his arm around her waist as they made their way upstairs, leaving the shadows of Gotham behind them—if only for a moment.

Damian lay on his back, the weight of the night settling on him. The sheets around him were warm, the soft glow from the lamp on the nightstand casting a gentle light over the room. His body ached, but it wasn’t the physical pain that kept him awake. It was the quiet in his mind—the constant swirl of thoughts, strategies, and plans that never seemed to stop.

His phone lay in his hand, the screen illuminated with notifications he hadn’t even bothered to read. He scrolled aimlessly, his mind disconnected from what he was seeing, until a soft, familiar pressure settled against his neck.

Y/N was lying next to him, her bare body pressed against his side, the warmth of her skin contrasting against the coolness of the room. Her lips brushed lightly against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Damian,” she whispered softly, her breath warm against his skin, “you’ve been staring at that phone for an hour now.”

His jaw tightened, his fingers absentmindedly swiping across the screen. He didn’t respond, knowing full well she was right. He was trying to shut out the constant buzz in his head, but it was impossible to focus on anything but her.

“You’re not fooling me, you know,” Y/N continued, her lips trailing over the curve of his shoulder, her fingers lightly grazing his chest. “I can feel how tense you are. What’s really on your mind?”

He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulder as if to release some of the stress that had built up throughout the night. His thumb stilled on the screen, but his eyes remained glued to it. He hated feeling like this—vulnerable, exhausted, and torn between his duty and his personal desires.

“I have too much to think about,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual. “I can’t turn it off.”

Her kisses grew bolder, more insistent, moving from his neck to the exposed skin of his chest. He could feel her body shifting against his, the heat of her touch almost overwhelming. She pressed herself closer to him, her lips brushing over the edge of his jaw, her hands now trailing down his torso.

“You don’t have to think right now,” she murmured against his skin. “Let me help you forget, Damian.”

His breath hitched as her lips found the sensitive spot just beneath his ear, and he could feel himself growing more aware of her presence. Her fingertips traced the lines of his abs, teasing, light, and slow, until he had to force himself to concentrate on the phone again—if only to distract himself from her touch.

“I’m not sure it’s that simple,” he said, but even his words lacked conviction.

Y/N laughed softly, the sound low and playful. Her hands moved up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, her lips now grazing the edge of his jaw before she kissed him fully, her tongue teasing his lips in a slow, sensual rhythm.

“You’re always so serious,” she teased, breaking the kiss but staying close enough that he could feel her breath against his skin. “You think too much. Sometimes, you just need to feel.”

Damian’s grip on his phone tightened, the desire to hold onto something that gave him control warring with the ache of wanting to give in to her. He could feel the heat of her body, the way she molded to him, and his mind screamed at him to let go. Yet, part of him resisted.

She was persistent, though, and that was one thing he could never resist. Her lips trailed down his neck again, this time moving lower to his chest, her teeth grazing the skin just above his heart. Every touch, every kiss, was calculated to unravel him.

“Damian,” she breathed against him, her voice low, inviting. “Let go. I’m here with you. Just focus on me.”

His grip on the phone faltered for a moment as her hands slid lower, her fingers finding the waistband of his sweatpants, teasing just enough to make his mind start to lose focus. His pulse quickened, and he finally set the phone down on the nightstand with a low sigh, his resolve cracking.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, his breath shallow.

Y/N smiled against his skin, her lips ghosting over the sensitive spot beneath his collarbone. “I just want you to relax, Damian. Let me take care of you.”

His body was already responding to her touch, betraying his efforts to remain focused. He knew what would happen if he let go completely, and part of him wasn’t sure he could handle it. But as she kissed him again, slower this time, a promise in every movement, his control slipped further.

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, his voice rough.

Y/N pulled back slightly, looking up at him with an expression full of affection. “You don’t have to deserve it. You’re mine, Damian. And that’s all I need.”

His breath hitched again, and this time, he didn’t stop himself from pulling her closer, his hands tangling in her hair as his lips found hers once more. The weight of his responsibilities, the city, and his role as Batman seemed to fade, just for a moment, as Y/N took him into her world—one where nothing mattered but the two of them.

And, for the first time in hours, Damian finally felt like he could breathe.

Y/N’s breath was shallow, her hands pressing insistently against Damian’s chest as she lay half on top of him, her body flush with his. The quiet night seemed to close in around them, the only sound the soft thrum of their hearts and the occasional rustle of the sheets as their bodies shifted.

Damian, his eyes heavy with the pull of sleep but his mind still racing, moved his hand to her wrist as she slid it lower, her fingers brushing dangerously close to areas that would no longer be appropriate in their current, exhausted state.

“Y/N…” His voice was low and strained, a warning that was barely more than a whisper. He gently but firmly pulled her hand away, guiding it back to the side of his chest.

She looked up at him with an exaggerated pout, her eyes wide and innocent—though Damian knew better. He could feel her body pressed against his, her heat seeping into him, and her soft lips were dangerously close to his ear.

“You’re no fun, Damian,” she said, her voice a playful mix of teasing and frustration. “I’ve been waiting all night for you to stay with me, and now you’re leaving me alone again tomorrow?”

Damian’s eyes flickered with a mix of guilt and frustration. He hated leaving her like this—hated leaving her at all—but he knew the city needed him. Gotham was a living, breathing entity, and if he didn’t keep it in check, chaos would ensue. His responsibility always came first.

“I have to go, Y/N. There’s work to be done,” he said, though it was clear his voice wavered. His free hand moved to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb grazing her soft skin. “Gotham doesn’t sleep.”

Her lips quirked in mock disappointment, and she shifted to straddle his waist, her legs on either side of him as she leaned down to kiss his neck. “But what about me, Damian? I need you here. I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Her hands moved again, this time more deliberately, as if testing his resolve. She slid them lower, her fingertips skimming dangerously close to his hips, teasing him with the lightest pressure.

“Y/N,” Damian’s voice was stern now, his body betraying him with a slight shiver as her touch lingered dangerously close to his waistband. “Stop.”

Y/N pulled back, feigning innocence, her eyes wide and playful. “What?” she asked, her voice a soft hum of mischief. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his fingers curling slightly at her wrist. “Don’t act innocent,” he said, his voice low and a little breathless. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

She smirked, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before moving her hand away from the danger zone, though not without a playful little rub against his side. “Maybe,” she teased, “but you’re the one who’s keeping me up. I’m just trying to get you to stay, Damian. You always put Gotham before me.”

The guilt gnawed at him, but it wasn’t enough to sway him. He sat up slightly, still holding her wrist, his tone firm despite the pull of temptation in the air. “You know I can’t stay. I have to keep going.”

Y/N’s expression softened for a moment, a flicker of understanding passing through her eyes. She sighed and leaned her forehead against his. “I know. I just… I miss you, Damian. I want you to stay here with me. Even for a little while.”

Her voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable. She wasn’t the teasing, playful woman he was used to in these moments. This was the side of her that showed her true feelings—her desire for him, not just in the heat of the moment, but in the quiet of the night when they could simply exist together.

Damian’s heart clenched as he looked at her. He hated seeing that look in her eyes.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised softly, brushing her hair back from her face, his thumb gently grazing her skin. “I always come back.”

She gave him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, soft and slow. “I know you do… but just once, can you stay? For me?”

Damian’s resolve began to waver as he stared at her, his breath still heavy. He knew how much she needed him here—how much they both needed moments like these. But duty came first. He wasn’t sure if he was doing this for Gotham or for himself anymore.

With a final, reluctant sigh, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a sly grin once more, and she moved off him, settling back beside him in bed. “You better,” she whispered, pressing her body into his once more, her hand sliding over his chest, though this time more gently.

Damian closed his eyes, the weight of the situation settling in. He couldn’t stay, but in that moment, he allowed himself to be close to her, even if it was just for a little while longer. And as she snuggled into his side, wrapping herself around him, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace—a peace he would carry with him when he stepped back into the chaos of Gotham.

Damian slowly stirred awake, the soft warmth of the sheets tangled around him and the gentle rise and fall of Y/N’s chest against his. His mind was still hazy from sleep, but he could already feel her presence beside him—her body fitting perfectly against his. He felt a soft pressure on his lips, and when his eyes fluttered open, he saw her: Y/N, with a mischievous smile playing at her lips, leaning over him, kissing him lightly.

Her kiss was slow and tender, a gentle caress that made his heart swell with warmth. Damian smiled as he met her lips, his eyes still half-closed. The world felt like it had stopped in that moment, just the two of them, entangled in each other’s presence.

“Good morning,” she whispered, pulling away slightly but not far enough to lose the connection. Her hands rested on either side of his face, fingers softly brushing through his hair.

Damian hummed softly, his smile growing, though his voice remained groggy. “Morning. I didn’t expect you to wake up this early.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” Y/N replied playfully, her lips curling into a grin. “I wanted to wake up with you. For once, I don’t want to waste a moment of our time together.”

Damian leaned up to kiss her again, a little more lingering this time. As he pulled away, he sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I should feed Alfred… the cat. He’ll get angry if I don’t.”

Y/N chuckled softly, nodding. “Of course, can’t have that. You’re always thinking about everyone else.”

“Someone has to,” Damian teased back, his lips curling into a sly smile.

As he swung his legs out of bed, Y/N got up too, heading to the kitchen with the same easy grace that had captivated him for years. Damian followed her, stretching his muscles and trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep.

When he entered the kitchen, he saw Y/N already at the stove, preparing breakfast. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the air. The warmth of the kitchen contrasted with the cool morning air coming through the open window, and for a brief moment, Damian forgot about the weight of his responsibilities. He let himself be here, in this moment, with her.

As Y/N bent over to flip the bacon, Damian walked up behind her, his hands instinctively reaching for her waist. He pulled her gently back against him, his chest pressed to her back as he wrapped his arms around her, letting his fingers trail down to her hips.

“Damian…” Y/N said, her voice soft but teasing, as she straightened slightly to look at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

He nuzzled his face into the back of her neck, pressing a kiss to her skin. “Just appreciating you,” he murmured, his arms tightening around her. “You make everything feel right.”

Y/N laughed quietly, but before she could respond, Damian’s hands moved lower, squeezing her butt with a light but firm touch, a silent declaration of the intimacy and affection he felt for her. He always loved moments like this—when everything was stripped down to the raw, intimate connection between them.

She stiffened at first, a surprised gasp escaping her lips, before a playful smirk appeared. “You’re getting bold this morning, aren’t you?”

Damian gave a low chuckle, his voice full of affection. “Only because you make it impossible not to.”

He pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek, his hands never leaving her waist. Y/N’s teasing smile softened into something more tender as she leaned into his embrace, allowing herself to melt against him.

“I was going to make breakfast for you,” she said softly, but there was no frustration in her tone. “But it looks like I’m the one being spoiled this morning.”

Damian’s arms tightened around her, and he nuzzled her hair affectionately. “You deserve it. Always.”

For a moment, they stood there, the world outside fading into the background as they enjoyed the simple quiet of each other’s company. The smell of breakfast filled the air, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. They were together—just the two of them.

“Now, about that breakfast…” Damian murmured, pressing another kiss to the side of her neck. “I think we could use a little more time, don’t you?”

Y/N chuckled softly, her fingers brushing against his, before she turned in his arms to face him, a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re impossible,” she teased, but the affection in her tone was unmistakable. “You know that?”

“I know,” Damian said with a grin, his lips hovering just inches from hers. “But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” she agreed, her lips finally capturing his in a soft, lingering kiss that left them both breathless.

And for a moment, the world outside the kitchen could wait.

Damian and Y/N stood close together in the kitchen, the quiet morning now heavy with unspoken tension. The soft sounds of sizzling bacon and bubbling coffee filled the air, but it was as if everything else had faded into the background.

Y/N’s heart raced as Damian pulled her even closer, his hands finding her waist with a gentle but insistent grip. Without thinking, she leaned into him, her lips meeting his in a kiss that started slow but quickly grew more intense. His mouth moved over hers with a hunger she hadn’t expected, and she melted against him, her breath shallow as she kissed him back.

The world around them seemed to disappear as their bodies instinctively pressed closer together. Damian’s hands slid up her sides, his touch light but firm, tracing the curve of her waist before they found the back of her neck, guiding her deeper into the kiss. Y/N’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as she breathed him in.

She pulled away just slightly, her breath coming out in a soft gasp as she caught her breath. “Damian…” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Damian didn’t answer right away. Instead, he kissed her again, his lips moving with a mix of urgency and tenderness. His fingers threaded through her hair, pulling her even closer, until there was no space left between them. He could feel her heart racing against his chest, and it made his own pulse quicken.

Y/N’s chest rose and fell with each breath, her hands gripping the back of his shirt as if to steady herself. The kiss was intoxicating, pulling her deeper into the moment with each passing second. She pulled away again, breathless, her lips swollen from their fevered kisses.

“Damian,” she breathed, her voice shaky. “I… I can’t… you—”

He cut her off with another kiss, more desperate this time, as though the words had no place in that moment. His hands slid to her back, pulling her even closer, his body urging hers to press fully against him.

Y/N couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped her lips as they finally broke apart, her fingers still tangled in his hair. She was dizzy, her body still humming with the electricity of the kiss.

“You drive me crazy,” she whispered, her breath coming in uneven gasps.

Damian smiled down at her, his own breath ragged. “You’re not the only one.”

The silence between them hung thick with the promise of more, but for now, they stayed there—breathing, touching, lost in the connection they shared. It wasn’t about anything else but them, here, in this moment. The world outside could wait.

[okasuka]

hi! do you take requests?

sure, i mean i don’t usually get them but i wouldn’t mind a request or two!

[okasuka]

i’m so geeked

A few days later, Y/N invited Jason to join her and her friends for a small hangout. It was casual, a get-together with some of her other friends from the bakery and a couple of their boyfriends. Y/N was bubbly as always, completely oblivious to the way her friends’ eyes lingered on Jason.

Jason, for his part, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, but he had agreed because, well—he’d never say no to Y/N.

The group was seated around a large, cluttered table, drinks in hand, with music lightly playing in the background. The atmosphere was casual, light, and easygoing.

Jason’s broad frame dominated the space—his muscled arms folded across his chest, his stubble more prominent than ever, and his overall presence so much bigger than any of the other guys in the room. His eyes flicked around the group, noting their stares, but he ignored it all for the most part.

Y/N sat close to him, laughing at something one of the guys said. She was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t even notice the way her friends—especially the girls—were looking at Jason.

One of the boyfriends, a lanky guy who couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting, looked between Jason and Y/N, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“So,” he started, voice a bit too loud as he made sure everyone could hear, “How does he… you know… with that tiny thing?”

The room fell into a slightly awkward silence.

Y/N blinked, genuinely confused by the question. “Huh? What do you mean?” She tilted her head, clearly missing the undercurrent of the conversation entirely.

Jason’s eyes flicked over to the guy who had spoken, his posture shifting slightly. His jaw clenched, and his gaze hardened in a way that could make anyone take a step back.

The boyfriend, clearly not noticing the tension building, continued, “You know… with someone that’s so…” he gestured at Y/N, “…small.”

Jason’s expression shifted from relaxed to something darker. He leaned forward, his voice low and menacing. “What the hell did you just say?”

The room fell even quieter, the energy changing. Everyone looked between the two men, sensing the unspoken danger in Jason’s tone.

Y/N, still completely oblivious, turned to look up at Jason with wide, innocent eyes. “Jason, what’s wrong?” she asked, voice soft and sweet, unaware of the brewing storm.

Jason’s glaring gaze didn’t leave the guy. “I’m gonna give you one chance to shut your mouth,” he warned, voice tight, dangerous.

The boyfriend quickly backpedaled, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean anything by it…”

Jason’s glare didn’t soften, but he leaned back, folding his arms again. Y/N, still completely clueless, gave the boyfriend a playful smile.

“It’s okay! He was just joking, right?”

The boyfriend nodded quickly, obviously relieved that Jason hadn’t decided to go further.

Jason let out a low sigh, muttering, “Yeah, sure…” He shot one last threatening look at the guy before turning his attention back to Y/N, who was still blissfully unaware of the tension that had just surged through the room.

“Come on,” Y/N said, flashing him a bright smile, “Let’s drink, huh?”

Jason just shook his head, a small, private smirk tugging at his lips.

God, she’s so damn cute.

The evening wore on, and Y/N found herself buzzing from the alcohol—this was the first time she’d ever gotten really drunk. Her usual giggles turned into a loose and slightly flirty attitude, though her words still came out sweet and innocent.

Jason had been keeping a careful eye on her, noticing the way she swayed a bit too much and slurred her words. She was so cute, trying to hold herself together but failing miserably.

“Jason,” Y/N mumbled, her voice softer than usual as she stumbled up to him, eyes glassy but affectionate. She wrapped her arms around his muscular biceps, squeezing tightly. “You’re… like… so hot and sexy, Jason,” she said, leaning against him.

Jason blinked, a chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down at her, surprised by her boldness. “You’ve had too much to drink, sweetheart,” he muttered, shaking his head.

She giggled and rubbed her cheek against his arm like she was adoring him, not even noticing how different she sounded compared to her usual sweet, innocent self. “Mmm, I’m serious,” she mumbled, eyes soft. “You’re so sexy… big, strong… and hot… And I’m so small,” she giggled, trailing her hands over his chest and arms as if she was appreciating every inch of him.

Jason’s heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing. God, he thought. I’ve really influenced that fragile little mind of hers…

But that was a thought he couldn’t dwell on for too long, especially not now. Y/N was clearly a little too far gone, and as sweet as she was, she was also too innocent to realize just how much she was pushing his buttons. He had to get her home.

Without hesitation, he scooped her up effortlessly, lifting her tiny frame over his shoulder. “Let’s get you home, doll,” he said with a soft, low chuckle, feeling the warmth of her small body against him.

She squealed lightly but giggled too, the world still spinning around her. “Jason, I like this. You’re like… so strong. Carry me, big man.”

Jason stifled a laugh as he carried her out of the bar, her head resting lightly on his back. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of her body pressed against him. Her legs dangled over his shoulder, her voice a soft murmur as she continued to compliment him, oblivious to the effect her words had on him.

He reached his car, opening the door and gently setting her down in the passenger seat. “You’re a handful when you’re like this, Y/N,” Jason muttered, his hands lingering on her tiny waist as he helped her buckle in.

Y/N leaned back in the seat with a content sigh, eyes half-lidded as she watched him with a dopey smile. “I love you, Jason,” she whispered, barely able to keep her eyes open.

Jason froze for a moment, his breath catching in his throat at the unexpected confession. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried, but he couldn’t help the way his heart softened. “I know you do, sweetheart,” he murmured, closing the door gently.

The drive back to his place was quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and Y/N’s occasional mumbling. He parked his car and got out, walking around to her side.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He grinned, shaking his head as he bent down to scoop her up again, her head resting on his shoulder.

She murmured something that sounded like “I’m so small, Jason,” before she nuzzled against him, completely unaware of the effect she had on him.

Jason’s heart raced, and he felt himself growing harder by the minute from the combination of her innocent closeness and her words, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it, focusing on getting her inside.

As he laid her down on his couch and pulled a blanket over her, Y/N let out a contented sigh, still smiling. “I feel so safe with you, Jason…” she murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

Jason stood by the couch, looking down at her for a long moment. She was still so innocent, so pure—but now, she was starting to realize just how much she craved him.

He couldn’t help but smile softly to himself. Maybe one day, he thought. She’ll know just how much I care… how much I want her…

But tonight, he was content just taking care of her, making sure she was okay.

“Sleep tight, Y/N,” Jason whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he stood up.

He gave her one last lingering look before turning out the lights, leaving her in peace for the night.

The morning light filtered softly through the blinds, casting a pale glow across the room. Y/N groggily opened her eyes, blinking against the sunlight. Her head was pounding, her stomach ached, and her throat was dry.

She groaned, trying to sit up, but as soon as she did, she felt an overwhelming wave of nausea hit her. Her stomach lurched, and she scrambled to make it to the bathroom in time.

Jason, who had been in the kitchen making breakfast for both of them, heard her hurried footsteps and the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut. He rushed in, knocking softly, his voice concerned. “Y/N?”

“I’m… I’m so sick, Jason,” Y/N mumbled from behind the door, her voice hoarse. She could feel the sweat starting to bead on her forehead as she clutched the sink, desperately trying to steady herself.

Jason opened the door slowly and stepped inside, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of her. He crouched beside her, rubbing her back gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re gonna be fine. Just breathe, alright?”

Y/N nodded weakly, though her stomach still churned. “I think I might have… overdone it last night,” she admitted with a small, sheepish grin.

Jason’s expression softened even more. He knew how much she had enjoyed herself, but he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. It had been the first time she’d ever drank so much. “Don’t worry, doll. It happens.” He glanced down at her and smiled. “I think it’s best we take the day off today. You need to rest.”

Y/N shook her head slightly, though her eyes were already heavy with exhaustion. “But… the bakery…” she started, her voice trailing off weakly.

Jason shook his head, gently cupping her face with one hand. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’m gonna take care of you today, okay?”

Her lips parted in surprise, but she nodded, grateful for his kindness. Jason stood up and grabbed a damp washcloth from the bathroom, gently placing it on her forehead. “You’re staying here today. I’ll make sure you get the rest you need.”

He helped her back to bed, making sure she was tucked in comfortably before sitting beside her. “I’m not letting you go anywhere today. You’re gonna get some rest and get better,” he said firmly, though his voice was soft and full of affection.

Y/N snuggled deeper into the blankets, feeling the warmth of the room and Jason’s care surrounding her. “Thank you, Jason,” she mumbled, her voice still weak but full of gratitude. “I’m really lucky to have you.”

Jason’s heart softened at her words, and he smiled down at her. “I’m lucky to have you too, Y/N. Rest now. I’ll be here.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently, before standing up to prepare some ginger tea to help with her stomach. As he moved around the kitchen, he glanced back at her, his protective instincts kicking in full force.

She was in good hands. He’d make sure she stayed that way, no matter what.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open again, the dull ache in her head still lingering. She lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, before her gaze shifted to where Jason was sitting beside the bed, a concerned expression on his face as he watched her. He had a cup of tea in hand, the warm steam curling up from the top.

“Jason…” Y/N’s voice was soft, almost fragile, but her eyes held a clear, desperate plea. She reached out a hand weakly. “Can you… come closer? I feel so cold…”

Jason raised an eyebrow, but his expression softened instantly as he set the tea down on the bedside table. He moved closer to her, crawling onto the bed and gently pulling her into his arms. She sighed in relief, snuggling closer against his chest, the comfort of his warmth seeping into her chilled skin.

“Is this better?” Jason murmured, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face.

Y/N nodded, resting her head on his chest. “I just want to be close to you… I’m sorry. I feel so needy,” she mumbled, her words slurring slightly from the exhaustion. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and soothing.

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Jason said, his voice low and reassuring. “You’re sick, Y/N. You’re allowed to be needy. I’m here to take care of you.” He shifted so that he could pull the covers around both of them, making sure she was as comfortable as possible.

Her hand, still weak, rested against his chest, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his shirt. “I don’t want to be alone. Not today.” She sniffled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jason’s heart clenched at the sound of her vulnerability. He gently cupped the back of her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You won’t be alone. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, always.”

Y/N let out a small, contented sigh, her body relaxing against his. “You make everything feel better. Even when I’m a mess.”

Jason chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. “You’re not a mess, Y/N. You’re just… a little under the weather. And I’m gonna make sure you’re back to feeling like yourself in no time.”

She smiled against his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she clung to him. “Can we just stay like this for a little while longer? I just need you.”

Jason paused, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. He could feel her heartbeat matching his, steady and slow. “Of course. Whatever you need, doll.”

For a few moments, there was only the sound of their breathing, the gentle rhythm of their hearts syncing together as Y/N relaxed into his arms. She had never felt more comforted than she did in that moment, knowing that Jason would take care of her, no matter what.

As she drifted off to sleep, Jason stayed awake for a while longer, his hand gently brushing through her hair as he watched over her. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not now, not ever.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat when Y/N murmured his name in her sleep, her voice soft and filled with a sleepy vulnerability. He leaned in slightly, gently brushing some of her hair away from her face, listening closely as she continued, her words coming out in a sleepy, jumbled mess.

“Jasonnnn… when can we…… have sex…?”

He froze, his breath catching for a moment. She was still half asleep, her voice heavy with exhaustion and the effects of the alcohol from the night before. His mind raced, unsure of how to handle this.

He chuckled softly to himself, carefully adjusting her so she was resting more comfortably against him. He didn’t want to wake her up completely, especially not with something so intimate on her mind while she was still sick and vulnerable.

Instead of responding right away, he kissed her forehead gently, speaking in a quiet, amused tone. “You’re still a little out of it, sweetheart. Let’s get you better first, yeah? Then we can talk about… all that stuff.”

Y/N mumbled something incoherent in response, shifting slightly as if to settle deeper into his embrace. Jason couldn’t help but smile, brushing a thumb gently across her cheek.

He knew she cared for him, and that made his heart swell, but he also knew she wasn’t thinking clearly right now. He’d be patient with her, and they’d figure everything out when she was well again. For now, he was just happy to hold her and take care of her, focusing on making her feel better.

“Get some rest, Y/N,” he whispered, watching her drift off again. “We’ll talk later.”

Jason held Y/N a little tighter, feeling her soft breath against his chest as she drifted back into sleep. The light weight of her body resting so close to his was comforting, and it made him feel protective in a way he hadn’t expected. The moment she’d let her guard down, even in her sleepy state, she’d said something that made his heart race—something so raw, so unfiltered.

But he knew this wasn’t the right time. Not when she was still recovering, and not when her mind was clouded by the remnants of her first drunken experience. His role, right now, was simple: to be the one who cared for her, who kept her safe.

His fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw as he stared at her peaceful face, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t deny the feelings bubbling inside him, the way his heart ached every time she mentioned being close to him. But he knew better than anyone that sometimes, emotions could be a little… messy, especially when people weren’t fully aware of what they were saying.

As Y/N’s breathing evened out, Jason couldn’t help but chuckle to himself softly. When can we have sex? was not something he had expected to hear from her in such a sleepy, innocent way. He knew, though, it was just a momentary lapse in clarity—one of those things she probably wouldn’t even remember when she woke up.

His hand softly moved to stroke her hair, pushing away any lingering worries. He’d keep her safe, as he always did. He didn’t mind waiting.

For now, he simply focused on the warmth of her body in his arms, savoring the moment, enjoying the quiet peace between them. Jason wasn’t in any rush. He had plenty of time to figure everything else out.

He placed another soft kiss on the top of her head before settling into the bed beside her, keeping her close, letting her sleep for as long as she needed.

When she woke up, they’d talk. But for now, he was happy just being there, taking care of her.

Y/N slowly stirred, blinking against the soft morning light that filtered in through the window. Her head throbbed slightly, and she groaned, feeling the weight of exhaustion still lingering in her body. She shifted, her arm instinctively reaching for the warmth of Jason, only to realize her hand had landed on something—someone—soft and warm, and her fingertips brushed against skin.

Her eyes finally fluttered open, and she let out a soft, surprised gasp when she found Jason sitting beside her on the bed, his back propped up against the headboard. His broad chest was exposed, the light from the window highlighting his muscular frame as he scrolled through his phone, clearly lost in whatever he was reading.

“Jason?” Y/N mumbled, still a little out of it. Her voice was raspy, barely above a whisper, and she blinked a few more times to shake off the foggy haze.

Jason glanced down at her, noticing the disoriented expression on her face. He gave her a small, amused smile and then placed his phone on the nightstand. “Hey, you’re awake,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

Y/N rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly, the room spinning a bit before she steadied herself. She took in the sight of Jason’s bare chest, his dark hair a little messy from sleep, and his relaxed posture. Did he sleep like this? she wondered. Her thoughts felt fuzzy, and her mind hadn’t quite caught up yet.

“I feel… weird,” she muttered, her words still sluggish. “Like my head’s full of cotton or something.”

Jason chuckled, leaning over and placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “That’s probably from the hangover, sweetheart. You didn’t do yourself any favors last night.” His smile was teasing but warm, a glint of affection in his eyes.

Y/N blinked at him, a little confused. “Last night…?” She shook her head, trying to recall the events but finding her memory fragmented. “Did I… say anything weird?”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned closer. “Oh, you said plenty. But don’t worry, most of it was just cute nonsense.”

Y/N’s face flushed, realizing what she must have sounded like while under the influence. “Oh God, what did I—” she started, only for her voice to falter when Jason’s grin widened.

“Relax, it’s nothing to worry about. You were just being… you.” He shifted slightly, his hand still resting lightly on her arm as he adjusted his position. “How about you take it easy today? Rest up a bit longer.”

She nodded, but her thoughts lingered on the hazy memory of what she’d said to him the night before. She glanced up at him, her curiosity piqued. “Wait… what exactly did I say? You know, before I passed out?”

Jason’s smirk softened into a more tender smile, and he leaned back against the headboard again, picking up his phone casually. “Let’s just say you were a little… affectionate with me. But don’t worry about it. You don’t have to remember anything if you don’t want to.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, her embarrassment creeping up. She tugged the covers around her a little tighter, avoiding Jason’s amused gaze. “Okay, fine. But I’ll be better next time. No more drunk rambling.”

Jason’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward again, his hand brushing through her hair gently. “You’re allowed to ramble, Y/N. I’m here for all of it.”

The warmth of his touch and the tenderness in his voice made her heart skip a beat. Still, her mind struggled to process everything—the hangover, the blurry memory, the closeness they had shared the night before. But for now, all she wanted was to stay here, in this little bubble of comfort with him, at least for a little while longer.

Jason tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting with a teasing yet affectionate spark. “How about you let me take care of you today? Just relax and let me handle everything, yeah?” His voice had that signature low, reassuring tone, making her feel safe in his presence.

Y/N nodded, her head resting back against the pillow as she allowed herself to relax into his touch. For the first time in a while, she felt like she could just be herself, and Jason—whoever he was to her—was right here beside her.

Jason walked into the kitchen, his movements efficient as he worked on making the chicken soup. He had always been more of a hands-on kind of guy—whether it was fixing cars or cooking, he preferred to take control and make sure everything was done right. Plus, it gave him something to focus on while he thought about the sweet, disoriented girl resting in his bed.

The aroma of the soup filled the small space, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. It felt good to take care of her—maybe more than he’d expected.

A few minutes later, Jason returned to the bedroom, a steaming bowl of soup in hand. Y/N was propped up against the pillows, her eyes half-closed as she rested, the faintest of smiles still lingering on her lips from their earlier conversation.

“Hey, I made you some chicken soup. It should help with the hangover,” Jason said softly as he sat next to her on the bed.

Y/N blinked up at him, looking a little surprised but pleased. “You made this… for me?” she asked, her voice still a little scratchy.

Jason shrugged nonchalantly, his smile a little sheepish. “Yeah, it’s the least I could do after the state you were in last night.” He held the bowl out to her, his gaze soft as he waited for her to take it.

Y/N reached out, carefully taking the bowl from him. She took a small sip, the warmth of the soup comforting as it slid down her throat. It was exactly what she needed—simple, soothing, and full of care. She met Jason’s eyes again, her face softening as she spoke. “You really didn’t have to do this, Jason. Thank you.”

Jason just shrugged again, but his smirk softened. “What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t take care of you when you need it?” he said, his voice warm but teasing.

As Y/N took another small sip, she noticed Jason’s stubble. Her fingers subconsciously moved toward his jawline, gently grazing over the rough patches of his face. She smiled at the sensation, her fingers moving instinctively over his stubbled skin. It was oddly soothing, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers along his cheek, feeling the roughness beneath her touch.

Jason chuckled at the attention. “You really like that, huh?” he said with a grin, leaning into her touch just a little.

Y/N giggled, still lightly running her fingers along his stubble. “Yeah, it’s nice… It feels… comforting?” She gave him a shy smile, her fingers lingering as she traced the rough texture of his jaw. “It’s… kind of cute. Like, it suits you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Cute, huh?” His voice had a teasing lilt to it. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

She smiled, not noticing how close her hand was to his lips as she continued to trace the stubble on his face. Jason leaned in slightly, his eyes softening. “You really know how to make a guy feel good,” he murmured, before nudging her hand away with a playful grin. “But hey, you should finish your soup, or it’ll get cold.”

Y/N reluctantly withdrew her hand but still couldn’t help the lingering feeling of comfort she had whenever she was near him. She took another spoonful of the soup, her heart racing a little at the unexpected closeness.

Jason watched her, his gaze soft, almost protective. “You really should relax more often. I’ll take care of everything today. Just let me know if you need anything.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart swelling with affection for the man who had quietly slipped into her life, making it just a little brighter. “I think I’ll be okay,” she said softly, her eyes catching his. “Thanks, Jason.”

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice low and sincere.

[okasuka]

meow

Title: Close Quarters

The Batcave smelled like sweat and blood, the tang of antiseptic hanging heavy in the air as Y/N crouched in front of Damian. His mask was off, his shirt discarded, exposing fresh cuts and bruises from the night’s patrol.

“Hold still, Wayne,” Y/N muttered, dabbing a cotton pad against a particularly nasty gash on his side.

“Tt. I’m fine,” Damian grumbled, squirming slightly as the disinfectant stung.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re literally flinching.”

“I’m not flinching,” he shot back, jaw tight.

“Okay, well, stop moving or I’ll tie you to the chair,” she snapped, frustration slipping into her voice.

The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

Damian stiffened.

Y/N felt her own face heat up, her mind catching up to what she’d just implied. Her gaze flickered to his bare chest before darting away, heart pounding.

Bruce, who had been standing nearby with his arms crossed, raised a single eyebrow.

Silence. Thick. Awkward. Excruciating.

Y/N clenched her jaw and focused on bandaging his wound, Damian suddenly very, very still.

After what felt like an eternity, Bruce cleared his throat. “It’s late. Y/N, stay the night.”

She blinked up at him. “Uh—”

“The guest rooms are still under construction,” Bruce continued, ignoring her hesitation. “You’ll have to share with Damian.”

Y/N opened her mouth, but Bruce was already walking away, leaving no room for argument.

Great.

—

Lying in Damian’s bed, Y/N kept her back to him, the blanket pulled up to her chin. The space between them felt both too small and too wide at the same time. She wasn’t even sure if he was asleep—he was too quiet, and that was never a good sign.

Just as she started to drift off, she felt movement.

A shift. A slow, hesitant weight pressing closer.

Something warm brushed against her back. Then, gently, carefully, Damian nuzzled into her, his forehead resting just behind her shoulder.

Y/N’s breath caught. Her body tensed.

For a moment, she considered rolling over, saying something, anything—

But she didn’t.

She let herself relax.

She didn’t move.

Title: Close Quarters (Part 2)

The soft glow of early morning filtered through the curtains, casting gentle light across the room. Y/N stirred first, blinking away the remnants of sleep as her mind caught up to where she was.

Damian’s bed.

Her breath hitched when she turned her head slightly, eyes landing on the boy beside her.

Damian was still asleep.

It was a rare sight. His face, usually hardened with sharp glares and smug smirks, was relaxed. Peaceful. His dark lashes fanned over his cheeks, his breathing slow and steady.

Y/N found herself staring longer than she probably should have.

He looked… soft like this. Almost vulnerable.

Her heart thumped against her ribs, warmth crawling up her neck. She swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge bubbling up inside her.

But before she could talk herself out of it, she moved.

Leaning in, she hesitated for only a second before pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

The second she pulled away, her face burned.

What was she doing?

She needed to leave. Now.

Carefully, she slipped out of bed, making sure not to disturb him. One last glance over her shoulder, and then she was gone, slipping through the manor like she’d never been there at all.

—

When Damian woke up, the bed beside him was empty.

He blinked, frowning slightly as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Had she even been here at all?

A part of him swore she had—he could almost feel the ghost of warmth beside him, a lingering presence.

But maybe… maybe it had just been a dream.

Title: Close Quarters (Part 3)

Damian descended the stairs, still slightly dazed from sleep. His dream—if that’s what it was—lingered in his mind, vague but warm. He pushed it aside as he entered the kitchen, where Bruce sat at the table, reading the morning paper.

The scent of fresh coffee and breakfast filled the air, but Damian barely noticed. His attention snapped to the sink, where Y/N stood beside Alfred, washing dishes.

She was here.

She was real.

Damian stiffened.

As if sensing his presence, Y/N glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his.

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

The memory of last night crashed down on both of them—the warmth, the proximity, the hesitant kiss she had left on his cheek.

Heat crawled up Damian’s neck.

Y/N quickly turned back to the sink, her hands moving just a little faster as she scrubbed a plate, her face pink.

Neither of them said a word.

Bruce, sipping his coffee, glanced up from his paper. He arched a brow but didn’t comment.

Alfred, ever perceptive, merely hummed and continued washing, an amused glint in his eyes.

Title: Close Quarters (Part 4)

Bruce barely looked up from his coffee as he handed Y/N a flash drive. “You and Damian, analyze these files. I want a full report by tonight.”

Y/N nodded, taking the drive. “Got it.”

Damian only grunted in acknowledgment, still pointedly avoiding looking at her for too long.

They settled in the Batcave, side by side at the massive computer. Y/N worked efficiently, skimming through encrypted data and cross-referencing intel. Her fingers moved smoothly across the keyboard, her focus sharp.

Damian, on the other hand, was… off.

He was normally hyper-focused, but now he kept shifting in his chair, clearing his throat, stealing quick glances at her before looking away. His posture was rigid, and every time their arms brushed, he tensed.

Y/N finally turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

Damian’s fingers twitched. He forced himself to straighten, face blank. “I’m fine.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. He was lying.

Then, just as he looked away, she said it.

“I wasn’t asleep last night.”

Damian froze.

Slowly, he turned back to her, eyes wide. “What?”

Y/N swallowed, suddenly regretting saying anything. She shook her head, forcing a small, dismissive smile. “Never mind.”

Damian stared at her, as if trying to decipher her words, but Y/N was already turning back to the screen, acting as if nothing had happened.

After a long pause, Damian did the same.

Neither of them spoke of it again.

Title: Close Quarters (Part 5)

The tension had settled into something manageable—until Y/N dropped the files.

A stack of papers slipped from her grasp, scattering across the Batcave floor. With a sigh, she stood up from her chair and bent down to gather them.

Damian had been regaining his composure up until that point.

But then she bent over.

Right in front of him.

His brain short-circuited.

He snapped his gaze away so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, his face burning. His hands clenched into fists against his lap as he forced himself to breathe, to think about literally anything else.

But no.

His traitorous mind had already spiraled, and now his face was red, ears hot, thoughts an absolute mess.

Meanwhile, Y/N picked up the last paper, completely unaware of the internal catastrophe she had just caused. She sat back down, casually flipping through the documents.

“Okay, I think these are back in order—Damian?” She glanced at him. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, voice tight.

Y/N blinked at him, a little thrown by the sudden outburst, but shrugged and went back to work.

Damian, however, did not recover.

And then, just when he thought things couldn’t get worse—

Tim walked in.

“How’s it going—” Tim stopped mid-step, taking one look at Damian’s expression, then at Y/N sitting beside him, completely relaxed. His gaze flickered between them.

Then, ever the detective, Tim smirked.

“Oh, this is interesting.”

Title: Close Quarters (Part 6)

Tim leaned against the desk, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place as he took in Damian’s uncharacteristically flustered state.

“Oh, this is interesting,” he repeated, clearly fishing for a reaction.

Y/N, unfazed, kept typing. “Drake, data report.”

Tim blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Huh?”

Y/N finally turned to him, tilting her head with a small smirk. “Last night? You missed it.”

Damian choked.

Tim’s eyebrows shot up. His gaze darted between them again, brain working overtime. “…Okay, now I really need details.”

“No, you don’t,” Damian gritted out, regaining some of his composure, though his face was still slightly pink.

Tim just grinned. “Oh, I absolutely do.”

Title: Close Quarters (Part 7)

The manor was quiet at night, the kind of silence that made every shift of the sheets sound too loud.

Damian lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, arms resting at his sides. His mind should have been blank, or at the very least preoccupied with mission details.

But it wasn’t.

It was focused on the weight of Y/N beside him.

She was staring at him. He could feel it.

After a few moments of unbearable silence, he exhaled sharply. “Stop that.”

Y/N didn’t even pretend to be caught. “Stop what?”

He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with her. She looked too amused, too comfortable, like she belonged there.

Which was dangerous.

Before he could say anything else, she shifted.

Closer.

Her head found its place against his chest, her leg slipping over his, warm and solid.

Damian tensed—just for a second—before his muscles betrayed him, relaxing into the contact.

Y/N’s voice was softer now, quieter. “You’re not pushing me away.”

“I don’t want to,” he admitted, surprising even himself.

Silence stretched between them, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… right.

Y/N tilted her head, looking up at him. “So what does that mean?”

Damian exhaled through his nose, fingers twitching against the sheets. “It means I like you. More than I should.”

Her lips curled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Tt.” He rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it.

Y/N hummed in response, then, without hesitation, leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Damian stiffened, heart hammering against his ribs.

Before he could recover, she tangled her fingers into his hair, nails grazing his scalp in a way that made his breath hitch.

“This is nice,” she murmured.

He swallowed hard, trying not to let it show how much he agreed.

“…It is.”

Title: Close Quarters (Part 8)

The room was still, the only sound the quiet rhythm of their breathing. Y/N’s fingers continued threading through Damian’s hair, slow and deliberate, like she was perfectly content to stay there forever.

Damian, for once, didn’t mind.

But then she spoke.

“So… are we gonna do something about this?”

His grip on the blanket tightened. He knew what she meant—this thing between them, the feelings neither of them had addressed until now.

He could sense the smirk in her voice, but when he looked down, her expression was softer, more expectant than teasing.

Damian let out a slow breath. “What do you suggest?”

Y/N tilted her head, feigning deep thought. “I dunno… maybe we stop dancing around it?”

“Tt. You’re the one who kept brushing things off,” he pointed out.

She huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well—” Her voice trailed off as she glanced at the clock on his nightstand.

2:47 AM.

“…Damian.”

“What?”

“We have school tomorrow.”

A heavy silence.

Then—

“Beloved, I am going to commit a crime.”

Title: Close Quarters (Part 9)

Y/N grinned. “Did you just call me ‘Beloved’?”

Damian tensed. “…No.”

She propped herself up on one elbow, smirking down at him. “Oh, you totally did. How dramatic of you.”

“Tt.” He turned his head away, feigning disinterest, but the pink dusting his ears betrayed him.

Y/N chuckled, poking his cheek. “Come on, say it again. Just once.”

“Absolutely not.”

She laughed, the sound warm and light, and—without thinking—Damian huffed a quiet chuckle of his own.

It was easy. Natural.

Eventually, Y/N sighed, resting her head back on his chest. “We really should sleep.”

Damian hummed in agreement, though neither of them moved.

And just like that, with their breaths syncing and their hands barely touching, they drifted off.

Title: Close Quarters (Part 10)

The morning came too quickly.

Damian was already up, his usual quiet routine disturbed only by the fact that Y/N had stayed the night—again. There was a strange comfort in the thought. He dressed quickly, sharp and precise, before heading downstairs.

Y/N was already at the table, nibbling on some toast, her eyes scanning through some notes on her phone.

Alfred greeted them both with a knowing smile. “I trust you both slept well?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, while Damian just gave a curt nod.

The ride to school was quiet, the usual hum of Alfred’s car punctuated by the sound of Y/N’s music and Damian’s occasional muttering.

When they arrived, Y/N stepped out of the car first, stretching as she walked toward the gates. Damian followed, his posture as rigid as ever.

As they approached the school entrance, Y/N smirked at him. “So, that’s why I’m in every one of your classes.”

Damian shot her a sidelong glance, expression unreadable. “I hacked the systems. It wasn’t difficult.”

“Of course you did,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

He smirked, just a little.

The rest of the day passed normally, save for the occasional awkward glance from the other students. They stuck to their usual routine: Damian staying mostly silent, Y/N a little more open but just as guarded.

But lunch was different.

They sat together at their usual spot, Y/N leaning her head on Damian’s shoulder as she absentmindedly picked at her food.

It was meant to be a peaceful moment.

Except the moment they sat down, a group of boys from their grade came over.

“Hey, what’s going on between you two?” one of them asked, leaning over the table.

Damian immediately stiffened, but Y/N just sighed, not even looking up. “What do you mean?”

“You two have been attached at the hip lately,” another boy chimed in. “Is this a thing? Are you dating?”

Y/N raised her head, locking eyes with Damian for a moment before replying, “No, not really.”

Damian, his eyes still cold but now with a hint of something else, added, “Mind your business.”

The boys didn’t seem deterred. “Come on, tell us the truth!” one of them pressed. “What’s going on?”

Y/N just let out a small laugh, her gaze flickering around at the group. “Can’t a girl just lean on her friend without getting interrogated?”

Damian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond, the unspoken tension between the two of them enough to silence the group for a moment.

One of the boys, sensing the chill in the air, backed off, but the others didn’t seem ready to give up. The whole table was now fully aware of the dynamic between the two—however subtle it may be.

Y/N glanced up at Damian again. “We should probably just finish lunch in peace, huh?”

Damian only nodded.

Title: Close Quarters (Part 11)

The walk home should have been simple—just a quiet stroll to the Batmobile after school, followed by the usual ride back to the manor. But, as with most things involving Y/N and Damian, it didn’t stay simple for long.

Y/N had been teasing him all the way down the street. First, she made a passing comment about his “flawless posture,” then she mentioned how “perfectly stiff” he looked when he tried to keep his cool around everyone.

Damian had tried to ignore her at first, but it was clear she wasn’t going to let him.

By the time they reached a quiet alley, Y/N’s teasing had reached its peak. “Come on, Damian,” she said, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’re so cute when you’re all grumpy. Does it bother you that I can read you so easily?”

Damian’s jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin.

“You should stop, Y/N,” he warned in a low voice, but she only smirked, stepping a little closer.

“What? It’s just fun to watch you squirm.” She nudged his side playfully.

He turned to her, fed up, a fire burning in his eyes. “That’s enough.”

Before she could react, Damian reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the shadows of the alley.

Y/N’s breath caught, her playful expression faltering as she realized he wasn’t joking anymore.

“Damian?” she asked, her voice softer now, but still teasing.

He didn’t answer, just pinned her against the brick wall with his body, his hand still holding hers firmly. The sudden intensity in his eyes made her heart race.

“Enough of the games,” he muttered, his breath hot against her ear.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she locked eyes with him, realizing that this wasn’t the same teasing moment they’d shared before.

With a swift move, Damian closed the distance, pressing his lips to hers, taking her completely off guard.

Her body tensed at first, but within moments, she melted into the kiss, her hands moving to his chest, feeling the warmth of his body.

Damian’s grip on her loosened, but only slightly, his other hand tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, putting her in her place with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and a little dazed, Y/N leaned against the wall, blinking up at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Guess I deserved that,” she whispered, her voice a little more serious now.

Damian didn’t say anything, just gave her a small, almost imperceptible smirk, still a little out of breath.

The teasing was over. For now.

Title: Close Quarters (Part 12)

By the time Damian and Y/N finally stepped through the doors of Wayne Manor, it was well past the time they were supposed to be home.

Worse, they looked… disheveled.

Y/N’s hair was slightly messy, her uniform rumpled, and her lips—well, she hoped Bruce wouldn’t notice. Damian, for all his usual composure, looked just as out of sorts. His collar was loose, his tie slightly undone, and there was an unusual flush to his face.

The second they stepped inside, Bruce was already waiting in the foyer, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“You’re late.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—one that made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for excuses.

Y/N, still catching her breath, opened her mouth to say something, but Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly. He was scanning them—taking in every detail, every out-of-place wrinkle in their uniforms, every shift in their postures.

The silence stretched.

Damian cleared his throat, stepping forward. “We got sidetracked.”

Bruce arched an eyebrow. “Sidetracked?”

Y/N, ever the quick thinker, nodded. “Yeah, we, uh… took a detour. For training purposes.”

Bruce’s gaze flicked between them. He didn’t believe a word of it.

His arms remained crossed as he looked directly at Damian. “Training.”

Damian, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

Bruce let the silence linger for another agonizing moment before finally sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to pretend I don’t know what actually happened.”

Y/N choked on air. “Excuse me?”

Bruce’s glare sharpened. “Go. Now. Before I change my mind and demand the truth.”

Damian didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Y/N’s wrist and practically dragged her toward the stairs.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Y/N let out a breath. “That was terrifying.”

“Tt. He was bluffing,” Damian muttered, though the tension in his shoulders said otherwise.

Y/N smirked, nudging him. “Sure, beloved.”

Damian groaned. “Do not start.”

Title: Close Quarters (Part 13)

As soon as they made it up the stairs and into Damian’s room, Y/N flopped onto his bed dramatically, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“Well, that was a close one.” She grinned, propping herself up on her elbows as Damian shut the door behind them.

Damian scoffed, arms crossed. “Please. He had nothing on us.”

Y/N snorted. “Nothing except literally all the evidence.”

“Circumstantial.”

“Damian, we looked like we just walked out of a rom-com make-out session.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Which we kinda did.”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, undoing the last of his tie. Y/N watched him, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Without warning, she reached over and poked his side.

Damian flinched.

Y/N gasped. “Oh my god.”

“What?” he asked, wary.

“You’re ticklish.”

“No, I’m not.”

Y/N lunged at him, fingers expertly pressing into his sides, and suddenly the usually composed Damian Wayne was a flailing mess, barely containing his laughter as he tried to push her away.

“Stop—Y/N—”

“This is gold,” she laughed, dodging his weak attempt to grab her wrists. “The great Damian Wayne, taken down by tickles—”

Before she could finish, Damian caught her off guard, flipping them so she was pinned beneath him.

“Ha.” He smirked down at her. “Not so smug now, are you?”

Y/N pouted up at him. “Wow. The rich boy fights dirty.”

“You started it.”

“Oh, boohoo, poor you.”

Damian narrowed his eyes, then, without warning, grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it.

Y/N gasped dramatically. “Oh, it’s on.”

She grabbed the nearest pillow and swung back, catching him in the side of the head. Damian didn’t hesitate—he retaliated instantly, and soon, the room was filled with laughter and the soft thumps of pillows being swung mercilessly.

At one point, Y/N tried to make a run for it, but Damian tackled her back onto the bed, sending them both into a pile of blankets and pillows.

Breathless and still laughing, Y/N found herself tangled up with him, her head resting against his chest.

Neither of them moved for a moment.

Damian let out a deep exhale, his arm draping lazily around her waist. “You’re ridiculous.”

Y/N hummed, nuzzling into him. “And yet, you like me anyway.”

He huffed. “Debatable.”

She poked his side again, making him twitch. “Liar.”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t push her away. If anything, he pulled her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head.

A comfortable silence settled over them. The teasing, the fighting, the games—it all melted into something softer.

Y/N shifted slightly, tilting her head up to look at him. “Hey.”

He glanced down, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

She didn’t say anything—just leaned up and pressed a small, lingering kiss to his jaw.

Damian stilled.

“…That was unexpected,” he murmured.

Y/N smiled against his skin. “Get used to it.”

His lips twitched upward, just barely, before he sighed, completely content. “Tt. Fine.”

And with that, they fell into a comfortable silence, tangled together in warmth, as the night carried on.

[okasuka]

Title: Speed of Thought

Post-Mission Patch-Up

The med bay smelled like antiseptic and burnt fabric. Y/N sat on the counter, dabbing at a scrape on her shoulder with a disinfectant wipe. Her black and orange goggles stayed firmly on, shielding her identity from anyone but Dick, who leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Ugh, that was brutal,” Wally groaned, flopping onto the bench across from her, still in his Kid Flash suit. His mask was pushed up just enough to let him talk freely. “Remind me never to pick a fight with a meta who can control gravity. Not a fun time.”

Y/N hummed in agreement, carefully re-wrapping her arm.

“But, man,” Wally continued, voice perking up, “there’s this girl at my school, right? She’s so—ugh, I don’t even know how to describe her.”

Dick smirked from the doorway, already knowing exactly where this was going. Y/N, however, paused in her movements but stayed silent.

“She’s kind of quiet but, like, not shy? More like—selective. And she’s got this… aggressive but nice vibe, like she could tear you apart verbally but also probably help an old lady cross the street after.”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting.

“She’s got this whole mystery thing going on, but also, when she talks, it’s really smart stuff, you know? And sometimes she just looks at me like she knows something I don’t. It’s kind of terrifying. Kind of hot.”

Dick snorted. Y/N shot him a glare.

Wally leaned back against the bench, hands behind his head. “I think I’m gonna ask her out.”

Y/N nearly dropped her bandages. Dick had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from outright laughing.

“You’re awfully invested in this,” Y/N finally said, voice as neutral as she could manage.

“Well, yeah! I mean, I think she likes me, but she’s always so busy.” He stretched his arms with a dramatic groan. “Tomorrow’s the day. I’m gonna do it. Gotta take the shot, you know?”

Dick raised an eyebrow at Y/N, who sighed and rolled her shoulders.

“Right,” she muttered. “Good luck with that.”

The Next Day – Central City High

The hum of students chatting and lockers slamming filled the hallways as Y/N swapped out her books, already mentally preparing for the evening’s training session with the Titans. She barely had time to register the sudden presence at her side before Wally West leaned against the lockers next to hers, grinning.

“Hey, Y/N.”

She glanced at him briefly before turning back to her locker. “West.”

His grin didn’t falter. “So, I was thinking,” he started, rocking on his heels, “you, me, dinner this weekend. Maybe a movie. You know, classic date stuff.”

Y/N paused. Ah. So he actually followed through. She shut her locker, books in hand, and gave him a once-over. He looked confident—cocky, even—but there was a flicker of genuine nervousness behind his usual bravado.

She exhaled, shifting her weight. “Can’t.”

Wally blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what? Why not?”

“Busy.”

“Busy?” he repeated, tilting his head. “Like, all weekend?”

“Yep.”

Wally narrowed his eyes playfully. “Are you avoiding me?”

Y/N smirked slightly, brushing past him. “If I was, I’d be doing a better job.”

Wally stared after her, utterly baffled. He wasn’t used to rejection—at least, not one this blunt. But instead of discouraging him, it only made him more intrigued.

Meanwhile, Y/N walked down the hall, already thinking about the evening’s sparring drills. If only Wally knew just how busy she really was.

And, more importantly, just how close he had gotten to the truth.

Got it! Here’s the continuation:

Training Grounds – Titans Tower

Y/N adjusted the straps on her gloves, rolling her shoulders as she stepped onto the sparring mat. Across from her, Wally stretched, his signature grin plastered across his face.

“So,” he started, lazily jogging in place, “you free this weekend yet?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow behind her goggles. “We’re literally training right now, West.”

“Multitasking,” he shot back. “I can flirt and dodge punches at the same time.”

Y/N lunged forward without warning, forcing Wally to speed-step out of the way. “Oh, so you admit you’ll be dodging?” she quipped.

“Pfft, please,” Wally scoffed, darting around her. “I’m just giving you a chance to keep up.”

Y/N didn’t humor that with a response. Instead, she pivoted sharply and swept a kick at his legs, forcing him to actually move rather than just banter. The next few minutes were a blur of motion—Wally relying on speed, Y/N on precision. He’d underestimated her before, but not anymore.

Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t push his luck.

“You know,” Wally continued between dodges, “Atomic kinda reminds me of someone I know.”

Y/N’s movements faltered for half a second. He caught it.

Interesting.

She recovered quickly, aiming a sharp jab at his chest, but Wally caught her wrist and leaned in slightly. “Strong, smart, a little aggressive but still kinda nice…” His voice dropped, teasing. “Sound familiar?”

Y/N yanked her arm free, stepping back. “I think you’ve been hit in the head too many times, West.”

Wally laughed, holding up his hands. “Alright, alright. No need to get violent.”

Y/N cracked her knuckles. “That’s literally the point of training.”

She turned on her heel and walked off the mat before he could get another word in.

Observation Deck – The Titans’ Usual Spectators

From the sidelines, Roy elbowed Dick. “He’s really laying it on thick, huh?”

Dick smirked. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Garth crossed his arms, watching as Y/N made her way over to Donna, the two falling into easy conversation. “So, when are we telling him?”

Roy snorted. “Let’s drag it out a little longer. It’s fun watching him suffer.”

Wally finally joined them, running a hand through his hair. “Man, she is impossible.”

Dick barely held back a laugh. “You’re just mad she’s not falling for your usual routine.”

Roy leaned forward, grinning. “Hey, West, serious question. What would you do if Atomic was the same girl from school?”

Wally scoffed. “Yeah, right. That’d be insane.”

The three exchanged glances.

Dick stretched exaggeratedly. “Well, in that case… congrats. You’re dating Atomic.”

Wally blinked. “Huh?”

Roy clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Atomic. Y/N. Same person.”

Wally stared.

Then blinked again.

Then turned to Dick.

“You’re messing with me.”

Dick just smiled. “Nope.”

“…You’re serious.”

“Yep.”

Wally turned back toward the training mat, where Y/N was now chatting with Donna and Garth like she hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes kicking his ass.

“Oh my God,” he muttered.

Garth chuckled. “Took you long enough.”

The Next Day – Central City

Y/N had barely sat down at her desk when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the message.

Wally: sooooooo free tonight?

Wally: titans aren’t training, no excuses

Y/N: wtf why are u so sure

Wally: bc ik ur atomic ;)

Y/N: …

Y/N: fine.

She sighed, setting her phone down.

That cocky bastard.

She was going on a date with Wally West.

And, despite herself… she wasn’t that mad about it.

Wally was already waiting outside the diner when Y/N showed up, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets and a cocky grin on his face.

“Wow,” he said, tilting his head. “You actually showed up. I was half expecting you to ghost me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I considered it.”

He smirked. “But you didn’t. Which means you totally want to be here.”

“I’m here because you were annoying.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

She huffed but didn’t argue as they stepped inside. The place was small, with the smell of fresh burgers and fries filling the air. Classic diner aesthetic. The kind of place Wally had probably been to a hundred times.

As they slid into a booth, Wally leaned on his elbows, watching her with that same amused expression.

“So, what’s the real reason you never told me?” he asked. “That you were Atomic, I mean.”

Y/N shrugged. “Didn’t see the point. You didn’t recognize me, so why ruin the fun?”

“Fun? You mean my emotional suffering?”

Y/N snorted. “Oh, please. You’re fine.”

“Barely,” he said dramatically. “Do you know how many nights I spent staring at my ceiling, thinking about how hot you—”

She kicked his shin under the table.

“OW—”

“That’s your fault,” she said, sipping her drink.

Wally pouted but quickly recovered. “Okay, okay. But seriously, you could’ve given me, like, one hint. Maybe something small. Like, ‘Hey, Wally, you’re an oblivious dumbass.’”

“I did,” she said dryly. “Several times.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “…Okay, yeah, that sounds right.”

Y/N chuckled, finally starting to relax. Maybe Wally wasn’t as insufferable as she thought.

Then, as he reached for the fries, she stuck her foot out under the table and hooked it around his ankle. With a swift tug, she sent him stumbling forward, nearly knocking over his drink.

“Whoa—”

He caught himself at the last second, blinking at her in betrayal.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Yep.”

“That’s cold, Atomic.”

“Should’ve seen it coming, West.”

Wally shook his head, but there was a grin on his face as he grabbed a fry and tossed one at her. She caught it midair and ate it without breaking eye contact.

“Okay, that was kinda hot,” Wally admitted.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips.

Maybe—just maybe—this date wasn’t the worst idea after all.

Central City – The End of the Date

The night air was crisp as Y/N and Wally stepped out of the diner, their conversation still lingering in the air between them. The streets were quieter now, the occasional car passing by and streetlights buzzing faintly overhead.

Wally had his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, still grinning like an idiot. “So,” he said, rocking back on his heels, “you had fun, right?”

Central City – The End of the Date

Y/N hummed, pretending to think. “Hmm. Define ‘fun.’”

“Oh, come on,” Wally groaned. “We both know you had a good time.”

She smirked, tilting her head. “Did I?”

Wally squinted at her, crossing his arms. “You laughed. Multiple times. That means you had fun.”

“Or maybe I was laughing at you.”

He pointed at her. “I’ll take it.”

She rolled her eyes but, despite herself, she really had enjoyed the night. Wally was insufferable, sure, but he was also easy to be around—especially now that the whole secret identity thing was out in the open. It was strangely nice, not having to keep her guard up.

They stopped at the corner, where their paths would split. Wally rocked on his heels, hesitating for a second. “Sooo… this was fun. We should do it again.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re that confident?”

He grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. Then, before she could overthink it, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Wally froze.

His brain short-circuited.

When she pulled back, she was already turning away, hands tucked into her jacket pockets. “See you around, West.”

Wally touched his cheek like he needed to make sure it really happened. Then, realizing she was walking away, he called after her, “Wait—did you just—? Was that—?”

Y/N shot him a look over her shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Too late.

Titans Tower – The Homeboy Questioning

By the time Y/N got back to the Tower, it was late, and most of the team had already turned in for the night. Well, except for one person.

Dick was sitting on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t been waiting for her. When she stepped inside, he barely looked up.

“So,” he said, voice laced with amusement, “how was it?”

Y/N sighed, tossing her jacket onto the back of the chair. “I hate you.”

Dick smirked. “That good, huh?”

She sat down across from him, kicking her feet up on the table. “He’s annoying.”

“Yep.”

“He never shuts up.”

“Not once.”

“…And I might’ve had fun.”

Dick grinned. “Knew it.”

Y/N groaned, leaning back. “I should’ve never told you.”

“Oh, please, I would’ve figured it out anyway,” Dick said, waving a hand. “So, is there gonna be a second date, or do I need to start emotionally preparing Wally for heartbreak?”

She snorted. “I’ll think about it.”

Dick shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that.”

Late Night Texting

Y/N hadn’t even been lying down for five minutes when her phone buzzed.

Wally: soooooo

She stared at the screen.

Y/N: so what

Wally: so you kissed me

Y/N: it was barely a kiss, west

Wally: nah nah nah it was a kiss

Wally: u like me

Wally: admit it

Y/N rolled her eyes.

Y/N: i tolerate you at best

Wally: LIES

She huffed a quiet laugh.

Wally: cmonnn u had funnnn

Wally: just say it

Y/N: why would i boost ur ego like that

Wally: bc it already happened and im still gonna be insufferable about it so u might as well admit it

She hesitated, then sighed, typing:

Y/N: …fine. i had fun.

Wally: BOOM. VICTORY.

Wally: hold on i need to screenshot this for future reference

Y/N: im blocking you.

Wally: no ur not

She rolled onto her side, smiling to herself. They kept texting, the conversation shifting from playful teasing to random topics—Titans missions, dumb things they’d seen at school, weird facts Wally insisted were important.

Eventually, her replies started slowing down, her blinks getting longer.

Wally: still there?

She blinked at her screen, fighting off sleep.

Y/N: mhm. tired tho

Wally: me too

Wally: sleep?

Y/N: sleep.

Wally: night, atomic :)

She barely had the energy to type back.

Y/N: night, west

Her phone dimmed in her hand, the last message unread.

And somewhere across the city, Wally fell asleep with a grin on his face.

Day Off – Central City

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Y/N actually had a free day. No school, no Titans training, no life-or-death missions—just a quiet, lazy day to do whatever she wanted.

She was currently sprawled across her bed in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, scrolling through her phone when a familiar name popped up.

Wally: morning, doll ;)

She raised an eyebrow.

Y/N: ‘doll’??

Wally: yeah u got a problem with that?

Y/N: yes.

Wally: too bad. ur my doll now

She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head.

Y/N: ur so annoying

Wally: and yet here u are texting me back

He wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t about to admit that.

Wally: what are u doing??

Y/N glanced down at herself—legs stretched out, comfortably sunk into her bed. She shrugged and, on impulse, snapped a quick picture of her thighs, sending it without much thought.

The moment she hit send, she realized exactly what she’d done.

Oh.

She blinked at her screen.

Wally:

The typing bubbles appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Wally: huh

Y/N: problem?

It took him a solid minute to reply.

Wally: nope nope no problem at all just wasn’t expecting that doll

Wally: r u tryna kill me orrr??

She smirked to herself.

Y/N: wouldn’t be that easy, west

Wally: i actually think it might be

She laughed quietly, tossing her phone onto the bed. Maybe this lazy day wasn’t going to be so boring after all.

Y/N’s Room – Home Alone and Bored

Y/N stared at her phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. She had no idea why she was even considering this, but at this point, she was too lazy to overthink it.

Y/N: u should come over. i’m bored.

Wally’s reply was immediate.

Wally: oh?? u miss me??

Y/N: don’t make it weird. i’m home alone and bored.

Wally: say less

Before she could even process that response, a gust of wind blasted through her room. A second later, she heard a faint tap against her window.

She turned her head just in time to see Wally perched on the sill, grinning like he hadn’t just broken several laws.

“Miss me, doll?”

Y/N blinked. “You were waiting for an excuse to show up, weren’t you?”

Wally swung a leg inside, stepping onto her floor. “Nooo. I was just… in the neighborhood.”

She scoffed. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto her bed like he owned the place, stretching out like a cat. “So, what’s the plan, babe?”

Y/N sat beside him, tilting her head. “Babe?”

“Doll, babe, sweetheart—pick your favorite.”

She rolled her eyes, but instead of shutting him down, she smirked. “You’re awfully bold today, West.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “You love it.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “What if I do?”

Wally stilled. His usual cocky expression flickered, just for a second, as his eyes darted to her lips.

“Oh,” he murmured.

Y/N smirked. “What? Got nothing to say now?”

He swallowed. “No, no, I just—”

She shifted closer, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm. “You’re always talking,” she mused. “Always teasing.”

His breath hitched.

She leaned in, close enough that their noses almost brushed. “So why are you so quiet now, West?”

And that was all it took for Wally to snap.

One second, she was teasing him, and the next, his lips crashed against hers. It was a little messy, a little desperate—like he’d been holding back for way too long. His hands slid up her waist, pulling her in, and she let him, threading her fingers into his hair.

The teasing was gone.

Now, it was just heat.

He shifted, pressing her back against the mattress, his body half over hers as his lips moved with a new kind of urgency. Y/N arched into him, deepening the kiss, her nails scraping lightly against the back of his neck.

Wally groaned softly, pulling away just enough to murmur, “You’re gonna be the death of me, doll.”

She smirked, breathless. “Good.”

Then she pulled him right back down.

[okasuka]

tech jacket!

Tech Jacket x Reader – “Unspoken”

The school hallway was a war zone of teenage hormones, sneaker scuffs, and locker slams. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the scent of cheap cologne and cafeteria fries lingered in the air.

You were leaning against your locker, arms crossed, your usual scowl in place as your best friend Zack Thompson—resident dork, occasional idiot, and secret owner of alien tech—stood a few feet away, flashing a grin at Rebecca.

Rebecca “Too-Pretty-For-Her-Own-Good” Nelson. The girl Zack had been crushing on for months.

You felt your stomach turn, but before you could look away, Trent McBride, your least favorite third wheel, nudged your shoulder. “Ohhh, someone’s got heart eyes again,” he sang, waggling his eyebrows.

You scoffed, shoving him back. “Shut it, McBride.”

“Oh, come on,” Trent continued, grinning ear to ear. “It’s painfully obvious. You stare at Zack like he’s the last slice of pizza, and then he—” he nodded toward Zack, who was still caught up in whatever Rebecca was saying “—stares at her like she’s the last slice of pizza. It’s tragic, really. Like a romcom, but with more violence.”

“I will break your nose,” you muttered.

“See? More violence.”

Zack finally turned back to you two, clueless as ever. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing,” you snapped too quickly.

“Y/N being totally in love with y—”

Your fist slammed into Trent’s arm before he could finish, making him yelp dramatically. “Jesus, Y/N, I’m gonna lose feeling in that arm one day!”

“I can only dream,” you deadpanned.

Zack chuckled, completely oblivious, and shouldered his backpack. “Well, whatever it was, I probably don’t wanna know. I gotta get to class. See you guys at lunch?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, watching as he walked off—his eyes flicking back to Rebecca as she disappeared down the hall.

Trent leaned against the locker beside you, shaking his head. “This is painful to watch.”

“Then don’t watch.”

“But it’s so entertaining,” he said, smirking.

You huffed, slamming your locker shut with more force than necessary. “One of these days, McBride, you’re gonna say something that gets you seriously hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah, and that day still won’t be the day you tell Zack you like him.”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. Trent just grinned, unfazed.

“Tragic,” he repeated, shaking his head as he followed you down the hallway.

The final bell rang, unleashing a flood of students into the halls like a pack of wild animals set loose from their cages. You adjusted your backpack, already tuning out the chaos, when Trent slung an arm over Zack’s shoulder.

“Alright, nerd, I’m out,” Trent announced. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“You sit right behind me in class,” Zack pointed out.

“Exactly. Now you’ve got a whole sixteen hours to process my absence. Try not to cry.”

Zack rolled his eyes, and you smirked as Trent turned to you next. “And you—” he jabbed a finger at your forehead “—try not to get too lost in your feelings, yeah?”

Your hand twitched, tempted to smack him, but he was already jogging off down the hall, laughing to himself.

Zack sighed, shaking his head as he fell into step beside you. “I swear, one day, you’re actually gonna kill him.”

“One day,” you muttered.

You both pushed through the double doors and stepped into the cool afternoon air, the sun dipping lower into the sky. This was routine—walking home together, making dumb conversation, Zack talking about whatever new thing he was obsessed with that week.

But today, you were off.

Your brain was still stuck in the hallway, watching Zack smile at Rebecca like she put the stars in the sky. The thought made your stomach churn, and your fingers curled into your hoodie sleeves, knuckles pressing against the scars on your hands.

“Hey, so,” you started, forcing your voice to sound normal. “I can’t hang out today.”

Zack blinked. “Huh? Why?”

“Got boxing training.”

That was a lie.

You did box, but you weren’t scheduled to go today. You just… didn’t feel like being around him right now. Not when the words you stare at Zack like he’s the last slice of pizza were still ringing in your ears.

Zack didn’t question it. He just nodded. “Oh. Cool. Guess I’ll just go home and, I dunno, try to beat Trent’s high score in Space Shooter 3000 again.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Trent sucks at that game. His high score is, like, ten points.”

“Yeah, and he still brags about it.”

You nodded, but your mind wasn’t really in it. You felt Zack glance at you, his expression shifting slightly.

“You okay?” he asked.

You almost flinched. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. You just seem kinda… I dunno. Quiet.”

“I can be quiet, y’know. I don’t have to run my mouth 24/7.”

“Yeah, but when you are quiet, it usually means you’re thinking about something you don’t wanna talk about.”

Damn him for knowing you so well.

You forced a smirk, elbowing him lightly. “Maybe I just don’t wanna waste my legendary insults on you today.”

Zack chuckled, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He knew something was up. He just didn’t push.

You reached the corner where you usually split ways, and you nodded toward the opposite direction. “See you tomorrow, loser.”

Zack hesitated, just for a second, before giving you a two-finger salute. “Yeah. See ya.”

You turned, walking off without another word, ignoring the lump in your throat.

Tech Jacket x Reader – “Unspoken” (Part 3)

Your phone buzzed the second you walked through your front door.

Trent: “Zack said you had boxing, but I’m guessing you’re just upset lol”

You sighed, flopping onto your bed before typing back.

You: “Yeah. Don’t worry tho.”

Trent: “Aight. Just making sure ur not crying into a tub of ice cream or smth.”

You: “Do I LOOK like a romcom protagonist to you??”

Trent: “I mean, yeah, but like, the violent kind.”

You snorted, tossing your phone onto your nightstand. As much as Trent annoyed the hell out of you, sometimes he actually wasn’t that bad.

Still, sitting around wasn’t going to help you shake off the stupid sinking feeling in your chest. So, instead, you did what you did best.

You went out and fought crime.

Perched on the edge of a rooftop, the city humming beneath you, you exhaled slowly, fists clenched. The past hour had been a blur—stopping a convenience store robbery, breaking up a back alley mugging, sending some punk running with a broken nose. It helped. The adrenaline, the fighting, the sense of control.

But then, right as you were about to call it a night, you spotted him.

Zack.

Standing outside of her house.

You immediately froze, crouching lower against the rooftop edge, watching as Zack stood there, rubbing the back of his neck. Rebecca was in front of him, arms crossed, face apologetic. Even from here, you could tell what was happening.

She was letting him down easy.

Zack nodded once, giving her a small smile before turning away, hands stuffed in his pockets. As he walked off, you could see the slight hunch in his shoulders, the way his usual energy had dimmed.

You swallowed hard, something twisting uncomfortably in your chest.

For a second, you wanted to call out to him, but—no. Not like this.

You stayed put, watching as he disappeared down the street.

Then, with a tired sigh, you turned and headed home.

The next morning, Trent was already leaning against your locker when you walked in, hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Yo,” he greeted.

“Yo,” you echoed, spinning your locker’s dial.

“Didn’t see Zack at the gate. Thought he’d be with you.”

You frowned, shoving your backpack inside. “Haven’t seen him either.”

Trent stretched. “Guess we should look for him before class.”

After scouring the hallways, you finally reached the boys’ bathroom.

Trent knocked twice. “Yo, Thompson, you in there?”

Silence. Then, faintly: “Yeah.”

You exchanged a glance with Trent. He shrugged and pushed the door open. You stayed outside, arms crossed, leaning against the wall as you waited.

A minute later, Zack and Trent stepped out.

Zack looked… off. His hair was slightly messy, and he seemed distracted, like he was caught up in his own head.

“You good?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Yeah,” Zack said quickly. “Just—tired.”

You narrowed your eyes, but he gave you a small smile, like he was trying to shake something off.

“Alright,” you muttered, pushing off the wall. “Come on. Cafeteria calls.”

Zack let out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. Food sounds good.”

The three of you walked off together, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

Something was definitely up with Zack.

Tech Jacket x Reader – “Unspoken” (Part 4)

Six months.

That’s how long Zack had been gone.

One day, he was here—your best friend, the idiot who made you laugh, the guy who unknowingly made your heart ache. And then, out of nowhere, he vanished.

No calls. No texts. Just gone.

You and Trent tried everything to find him, but nothing. His house was empty, his parents weren’t answering questions, and the school eventually just moved on, like Zack Thompson never existed.

But you didn’t move on.

And now, standing in front of you, was the guy who had disappeared for half a year like it was nothing.

“Hey,” Zack said, almost hesitant.

You stared at him, heart hammering. He looked the same, but different. Stronger. Older. Like he had been through something.

You exhaled sharply, arms crossed. “Took you long enough.”

Trent let out a relieved laugh, clapping Zack on the back. “Bro, what the hell?! We thought you died or got kidnapped or some crazy alien shit—”

Zack tensed slightly at that, but you barely noticed. You were still processing the fact that he was standing right in front of you.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Zack looked at you, something soft flashing in his eyes. He nodded. “Yeah. Don’t worry.”

Too late for that.

Over the next few weeks, things slowly started falling back into place.

You and Zack started spending more time together—talking, joking, falling back into the rhythm of your friendship. But things weren’t exactly the same. You weren’t the same.

You were quieter. A little colder, as Trent had pointed out. Losing Zack had left a mark, even if you didn’t say it out loud.

Zack noticed. He never brought it up, but he could see it in the way you’d hesitate before speaking, the way your smiles didn’t always reach your eyes. So, he stuck around more. Made sure you knew he was here.

And you hated that it worked.

The incident with Rebecca’s boyfriend happened fast.

You were walking past the lockers when you overheard him running his mouth—loud, obnoxious, and full of shit.

“I mean, come on,” he scoffed. “Thompson just vanished for months and now expects to come back like nothing happened? Probably ran off ‘cause he couldn’t handle how much of a loser he is.”

Your vision went red.

Next thing you knew, your fist was colliding with his face.

The impact sent him stumbling back, clutching his nose as a chorus of gasps filled the hall.

“Jesus Christ!” someone shouted.

Your knuckles stung, but you barely felt it. You just stood there, breathing hard, glaring as he groaned in pain.

He was lucky you held back.

Later, as you were heading home, Zack caught up to you, frowning at your bandaged knuckles.

“What happened?”

You sighed. “Nothing.”

Zack gave you a look.

You groaned. “Rebecca’s boyfriend was talking shit about you. So, I handled it.”

Zack blinked. Then, to your surprise, he grinned. “You punched him?”

“…Maybe.”

Zack let out a short laugh. “Damn.”

You shrugged. “He had it coming.”

He didn’t say anything for a second, just looking at you with that stupid soft expression that made your stomach do flips.

Then, casually, he asked, “You wanna stay over?”

You hesitated.

“You don’t have to,” Zack added quickly. “Just figured it’d be nice to hang out, y’know?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Then, finally, you nodded.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Zack’s room was the same as always—messy, covered in posters, the faint scent of cologne and junk food lingering in the air.

You sat on his bed, watching as he leaned against the dresser.

“So,” Zack started, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really punched a guy for me?”

You sighed. “Yeah. You’re surprised?”

“Not really. But still.”

You glanced at him, then down at your hands. “You disappeared for six months, Zack.”

He tensed slightly.

You shook your head. “I was pissed. I am pissed. You left. No explanation. No warning. Just—gone.”

Zack swallowed, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean to.”

You looked up at him, eyes searching his. “Then why?”

For a moment, he hesitated. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

Instead, he sat beside you, exhaling. “I’m sorry.”

You bit your lip. “I missed you.”

Zack turned to you, something flickering across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “A lot.”

The room suddenly felt too small.

You could feel the heat of him beside you, the way his eyes lingered on your face. Your heart pounded against your ribs, but for once, you didn’t look away.

Then, slowly, cautiously, Zack reached out, fingers brushing against yours.

You didn’t pull away.

“I missed you too,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in—closing the space between you as your lips crashed against his.

Zack inhaled sharply, surprised, but he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

You melted into him, fingers curling into his hoodie as his other hand found your waist.

It was messy, desperate, months of unspoken feelings spilling into the space between you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Zack stared at you, wide-eyed. Then, slowly, he grinned.

“Okay,” he said, still slightly dazed. “That was definitely worth getting punched for.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes—but before you could say anything, he kissed you again.

And this time, you didn’t hold back.

Tech Jacket x Reader – “Unspoken” (Part 5)

Walking into school with Zack’s arm draped around your shoulders felt… surreal.

You weren’t exactly a couple—not officially, anyway—but after what happened last night, things between you and Zack had shifted.

And, apparently, the whole school noticed.

Whispers followed you down the halls. People turned their heads, watching as Zack walked beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world, his arm secure around you.

Then, there was Trent.

The second he spotted you two, he stopped in his tracks.

Slowly, his eyes flicked between you and Zack, mouth opening slightly as if his brain had just short-circuited.

“Ohhh,” he finally said, drawing out the word. A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Soooo that’s what I missed.”

You groaned. “Trent—”

“Hey, man,” Zack cut in, grinning. “You good?”

“Good?” Trent scoffed. “Mate, I’m amazing. This—” he gestured wildly at you two—“is the best thing I’ve seen all year.”

You rolled your eyes, but your face felt warm.

Trent wasn’t the only one paying attention.

As you passed by, you caught people sneaking glances, whispering behind their hands. A few girls you barely talked to giggled when Zack smiled at you. Some guys muttered under their breaths, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Well, congratulations,” Trent said, slinging an arm around Zack’s shoulder. “You two are officially the talk of the school.”

You stiffened slightly, but Zack just laughed. “Yeah, yeah. We’re a big deal now, huh?”

Trent smirked. “Oh, huge.”

You shoved his arm off. “Don’t make it weird.”

Trent snorted. “Babe, it’s already weird.”

Zack raised an eyebrow. “Babe?”

You turned to Trent with a glare. “You wanna get punched?”

Trent held up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Atomic,” he teased. “No need to reconstruct my face.”

Your stomach dropped.

Your heart skipped.

For a split second, your mind raced—wondering if Trent somehow knew—but then you saw the shit-eating grin still plastered on his face, and you realized.

He didn’t.

He was just being an ass.

Zack chuckled beside you. “Yeah, you don’t wanna end up like Rebecca’s boyfriend.”

Trent’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, that was you? Damn.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Can we please change the subject?”

Trent smirked but didn’t push it.

Zack just squeezed your shoulder, pulling you closer as you all made your way toward the cafeteria—where, no doubt, more eyes would be on you.

You could already hear the rumors spreading.

But honestly?

With Zack beside you, arm around you like it was the most normal thing in the world, you didn’t care.

For once, you weren’t just his best friend.

And that was enough.

[okasuka]

meow

“Stay Still.”

Jason’s grip on you is firm, unyielding, as he kicks the apartment door open and strides inside with you in his arms. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are burning with something between frustration and concern. You can feel the tension radiating off him, his fingers digging slightly into your thighs where he’s holding you up.

“You just had to play hero, didn’t you?” he mutters, voice gruff as he sets you down on the couch with surprising gentleness.

You wince as your injured leg makes contact with the cushions. “I was handling it.”

Jason scoffs, kneeling in front of you as he reaches for the med kit under the coffee table. “Yeah? Is that why you’re limping like you just got hit by a truck?”

“It wasn’t a truck.” You smirk despite the pain. “It was a crowbar.”

That earns you a sharp glare. “Not funny.” He doesn’t say anything else as he pulls out antiseptic and bandages, his hands steady even as his jaw tightens.

You try not to flinch when he rolls up your torn pant leg, exposing the deep gash on your shin. The dried blood makes it look worse than it is, but Jason doesn’t seem convinced. His fingers graze your skin, and you swear you feel him tremble.

Then, the sting hits.

“Shit—Jason, that burns!” You jerk instinctively, trying to pull your leg away, but his grip clamps down immediately.

“I said stay still.” His voice is low, commanding, and when you look at him, his blue eyes are dark with warning. He holds your leg in place with ease, his touch firm but careful. “You wanna make this worse? Then keep squirming.”

You swallow hard, feeling your heartbeat spike for reasons that have nothing to do with the pain. “Didn’t know you liked being this bossy,” you mumble.

Jason smirks, pressing the antiseptic-soaked gauze down harder just to make you hiss. “Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

Jason’s grip on your leg tightens as you squirm again, the sting of antiseptic making your muscles tense involuntarily. You’re half-convinced he’s pressing harder on purpose, just to get a rise out of you.

“Jason—fuck, that hurts.” You try to pull away again, but it’s a useless effort.

His patience snaps. With one swift move, he shifts forward, one hand shooting up to press against your chest, pinning you back against the couch. His other hand keeps a firm hold on your leg, his fingers wrapped securely around your calf.

“Didn’t I just tell you to stay still?” His voice is lower now, gravelly, the weight of it making heat pool in your stomach.

Your breath catches, and suddenly, the sting of your wound is the last thing on your mind. He’s pressed against you, his strength effortlessly holding you in place, his face mere inches from yours. You can feel his breath on your lips, can see the dark flicker in his blue eyes as he glares down at you.

Something about the way he’s restraining you—so easily, so effortlessly—makes your body react in a way you weren’t expecting.

Jason notices. Of course, he notices.

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s amused. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn, but you force a scoff. “You wish.”

He lets out a low chuckle, but his grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it gets firmer. His hand on your chest presses just a little more, pinning you more solidly against the couch.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, “you’re breathing a little too fast for someone who’s not enjoying this.”

You hate how accurate that is. You glare at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting anything, but your silence only makes his smirk widen.

He leans in, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear. “If you keep squirming, I might have to find another way to make you behave.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Your fingers twitch against the couch cushion, resisting the urge to grab onto his jacket and pull him closer. You swallow, trying to sound unaffected. “You talk a lot for someone who’s supposed to be fixing my leg.”

Jason pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face before he finally huffs a laugh and releases you. The sudden loss of pressure makes you exhale shakily, though you pray he doesn’t notice.

“Fine,” he says, moving back to your leg, “but if you move again, I’m tying you to the damn couch.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

Jason rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he finishes dressing your wound. The moment the bandage is secured, he leans back on his heels and lets out a breath.

“Alright,” he says, standing up, “you need to change.”

You blink. “Change into what?”

Jason jerks his head toward your torn, bloodstained clothes. “You’re not sleeping in that.”

“Didn’t realize you had a problem with my fashion choices, Todd.”

Jason scoffs, reaching down and effortlessly pulling you to your feet before you can protest. You wobble slightly, your injured leg still aching, and his hands immediately move to steady you—one gripping your hip, the other settling against your waist.

“Try not to fall on your ass,” he teases, but his hold on you is firm, steady, protective.

You glare at him. “I’m fine.”

Jason tilts his head, watching you with that unreadable expression of his. “Yeah?” His voice dips slightly, and suddenly, there’s no more teasing in his tone. “You were limping so bad I had to carry you up here, but sure. You’re fine.”

The way he’s looking at you—sharp, assessing, something protective simmering beneath the surface—makes your breath catch.

His hands don’t move from your waist. You’re hyperaware of the way his fingers rest against your skin, the heat of his palms seeping through your torn shirt. You should move, step back, put some distance between you—but you don’t.

Jason notices.

His grip tightens just slightly, almost like he’s daring you to react. His voice is low when he speaks again.

“You gonna take off your shirt, or do you need help with that too?”

Your heart stutters in your chest.

You lick your lips, forcing a smirk. “That depends. You offering?”

Jason’s eyes darken, and for a second, you think he might actually close the space between you. His gaze flickers down—to your lips, to your throat, then back up to your eyes. The tension crackles, thick and heavy between you.

Then, he exhales sharply and shakes his head. “Go change before I decide you need another lesson in listening.”

You raise an eyebrow, stepping past him toward the dresser, but not before murmuring, “I might take you up on that lesson.”

Jason groans behind you. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

You limp toward the dresser, still smirking as you rummage through your clothes. Jason’s eyes are on you the whole time—you can feel his gaze like a weight on your back.

“I’m serious,” he says, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall, “hurry up and get changed before you make things harder for yourself.”

You snort, grabbing a clean shirt. “You really need to watch how you phrase things, Todd.”

Jason tilts his head, feigning innocence. “What? I’m just saying, you keep pushing, and I’ll have to handle you myself.”

You pause, turning to face him, a slow grin spreading across your lips. “You’re doing this on purpose now, aren’t you?”

Jason shrugs, that cocky smirk playing at his lips. “Maybe.”

You shake your head, pretending to be exasperated, but you can’t help yourself—you push further. “Well, I’d hate to inconvenience you. I should probably take my time getting undressed.”

Jason’s expression doesn’t change, but his jaw ticks. He exhales through his nose, slow and measured. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

You lift an eyebrow, watching him closely. “And what if I don’t?”

Jason moves.

One second, he’s across the room. The next, he’s in front of you, crowding you against the dresser before you can even process what’s happening. His hands slam down on the wood behind you, caging you in.

Your breath hitches.

His voice is a low rasp when he speaks. “Then I put you in your place.”

Your fingers curl around the fabric of your clean shirt, your pulse hammering against your ribs. Jason leans in, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him. His breath ghosts against your cheek, his lips barely an inch away from your skin.

You swallow hard, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “That supposed to scare me?”

Jason huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “No, sweetheart.” His fingers skim your hip, barely a touch, but enough to make you shiver. “I don’t think anything scares you. And that’s your problem.”

Your throat goes dry. “Is that so?”

Jason hums, tilting his head. “Yeah. And the way I see it…” His hand slides up, fingertips grazing the side of your waist before gripping the hem of your torn shirt. “You’re injured, stubborn as hell, and testing my patience. So maybe—” he tugs at the fabric, voice dipping lower—“you should let me help you.”

Your stomach tightens.

The way he’s looking at you, the way his fingers graze your skin like a warning and a promise—it’s all too much.

But you won’t give in that easily.

You smirk, voice steady despite the heat curling in your belly. “So what, you wanna strip me now? Could’ve just said that.”

Jason lets out a slow breath, like he’s reigning himself in. Then, suddenly, he grips your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to his.

His eyes bore into yours, sharp and unreadable.

“You wanna keep running your mouth?” His voice is quiet, dangerous. “Because I can shut you up real fast.”

Your breath stutters.

You feel your face heat, but you force yourself to hold your ground, to push just a little more. “Yeah?” You lean in slightly, your lips almost brushing his. “Make me.”

Jason doesn’t move for a beat, just stares at you with that unreadable look. Then, with a sharp exhale, he releases your chin, stepping back before he does something neither of you are ready for.

“Get changed,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair as he turns away.

You watch him for a second, biting your lip before finally pulling off your torn shirt. Jason’s back is turned, his hands braced against the counter, his shoulders tense.

You smirk. “You sure you don’t wanna watch?”

Jason groans. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

You’re lying in bed next to Jason, freshly bandaged and changed into one of his shirts, because, of course, he insisted you wear something of his instead of your own clothes.

Jason, meanwhile, is flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling like it personally offended him. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles tense even at rest.

You, however, are staring at him. Blatantly.

Just watching.

Jason exhales through his nose. “Quit it.”

You blink, feigning innocence. “Quit what?”

He doesn’t look at you. “Staring.”

“I’m not staring.”

Jason finally turns his head to glance at you, unimpressed. “You’ve been burning a hole in the side of my face for the past ten minutes.”

You hum, unbothered. “Maybe I just like looking at you.”

Jason rolls his eyes and shifts slightly, trying to get comfortable. “Yeah, well, stop it. It’s creepy.”

You smirk. “If it’s so creepy, why aren’t you telling me to leave?”

Jason exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Because you’re injured.”

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow so you can keep staring at him from a different angle. “So if I wasn’t injured, you’d kick me out of bed?”

Jason doesn’t answer right away, just keeps staring at the ceiling like if he ignores you long enough, you’ll disappear. Finally, he mutters, “You’d just crawl back in.”

You grin. “Damn right I would.”

Jason huffs. “You’re exhausting.”

You tilt your head. “But you love it.”

“Do I?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Jason shakes his head, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s fighting a smile.

That’s when you get an idea.

Before he can react, you shift, swinging a leg over him and straddling his waist.

Jason lets out a grunt of surprise, his hands instinctively landing on your thighs. He blinks up at you, brows furrowing. “The hell are you doing?”

You grin down at him. “Annoying you.”

Jason groans, tipping his head back against the pillow. “Of course you are.”

You poke his chest. “You’re so tense, Jay. You need to loosen up.”

“I was relaxed until you climbed on me.”

You gasp dramatically. “Are you saying you don’t like having me on top of you?”

Jason lifts his head just enough to glare at you. “I’m saying you need to rest.”

You shrug. “I am resting. Just… on you.”

Jason groans again, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “You’re the worst.”

You poke his chest again. “You love me.”

Jason’s hands tighten slightly on your thighs, his thumbs brushing your skin absentmindedly. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring up at the ceiling like it’s gonna give him answers.

You lean down, hovering just above his face. “Say it.”

Jason sighs, tilting his head to look at you. “You’re so annoying.”

You beam. “That’s not a no.”

Jason stares at you for a long moment. Then, suddenly, his hands slide up your thighs, gripping your waist firmly before flipping you both over in one swift motion.

Now he’s on top, pinning you beneath him, his arms braced on either side of your head. His face is close—too close, his breath fanning against your lips.

Your own breath catches, but you don’t dare break eye contact.

Jason smirks. “You wanna keep running your mouth?”

You swallow, heart hammering, but force yourself to smirk back. “Depends. You gonna shut me up?”

Jason studies you, his eyes dark and sharp. Then he shakes his head, huffing a quiet laugh as he pulls back, rolling onto his side next to you. “You’re unbelievable.”

You grin, turning your head to face him. “But you wouldn’t change a thing.”

Jason exhales, staring at the ceiling again. After a beat, he mutters, “Not a damn thing.”

Your grin softens, warmth blooming in your chest. You shift closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

Jason doesn’t push you away. Instead, his arm drapes over your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

And for once, you don’t say anything.

Jason wakes up to the feeling of movement in the bed, followed by the faint sound of fabric shifting. His instincts kick in before he’s fully awake, his hand already reaching for the knife he keeps under his pillow—until his eyes crack open, and he sees you.

Standing at the edge of the bed.

Wearing something—no, barely wearing something.

His brain short-circuits for a second. He blinks, eyes dragging over the way the thin material clings to your body, leaving very little to the imagination. It’s soft, almost sheer, hanging off your frame like an invitation, and you—being you—are completely aware of what you’re doing to him.

Because you’re smirking.

Jason exhales slowly, sitting up and raking a hand through his hair. His voice is rough with sleep when he speaks. “The hell are you wearing?”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you run your hands down your sides, drawing his attention everywhere. “You don’t like it?”

Jason’s jaw tightens. “That’s not what I said.”

You hum, stepping closer, letting his gaze follow the curve of your legs as you move. “Then what’s the problem?”

Jason looks up at you, his expression unreadable. “You’re asking for trouble.”

You smirk. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

Jason’s eyes darken. He shifts, muscles tensing, but stays seated on the bed, watching you carefully.

You take another step forward, placing yourself directly between his legs. His hands twitch, like he wants to grab you, but he doesn’t move. Not yet.

You poke his chest, leaning in slightly. “You love to act all possessive, but I’m starting to think you’re all bark, no bite.”

Jason’s gaze snaps up to yours, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes.

You grin, not backing down. “What? No comeback?”

Jason exhales a slow, dark chuckle. Then, before you can react, his hand moves.

Gripping your wrist.

Firm. Unyielding.

He tugs you closer until you’re practically in his lap, your balance shifting, breath hitching at the sudden force of it. His other hand ghosts up your thigh, deliberate and slow, like he’s testing you.

Then he leans in.

So close his lips almost brush your ear, his voice a low rasp.

“Is that right?”

You don’t get a chance to answer.

Because Jason moves.

Before you can process it, he releases your wrist, and suddenly you’re the one off-balance. With a swift, effortless push, he guides you back—forcing you to sit on the bed as he shifts to kneel in front of you.

Your breath catches, your pulse skipping as he settles between your legs, hands braced against your thighs. His touch is firm, grounding, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make your stomach tighten.

His gaze drags up your body, slow and deliberate, before locking onto yours.

You swallow hard.

Jason smirks. “You wanted me on my knees, sweetheart?” His grip tightens, just slightly. “Careful what you wish for.”

Your lips part, but no words come out.

Jason tilts his head, amused. “What, no smartass remark?”

Your fingers twitch against the sheets. You try to think of something—anything—to say, but your mind is blank, completely wiped clean by the way he’s looking at you.

Jason chuckles, low and rough. “That’s what I thought.”

He leans in again, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers trace lazy circles along the inside of your thigh, teasing but not enough.

Your stomach flips.

He’s toying with you.

Testing you.

And the worst part? You love it.

Jason watches your reaction, his smirk widening. “Still think I’m all bark, no bite?”

You take a slow breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “M-maybe.”

Jason lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You never learn.”

And then—before you can brace yourself—he proves you wrong.

It was rare for Jason to take a day off. You had practically begged him, whining about how he was always working himself into the ground—whether it was on patrol or running around Gotham dealing with who knows what. Eventually, after enough prodding (and maybe a few strategic kisses to his jaw), he caved.

And now, after a lazy morning tangled up in each other, you were standing in front of him, holding up a dress that barely qualified as clothing.

Jason blinked. Stared. Then sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“You can’t be serious.”

You grinned. “Oh, I definitely am.”

Jason looked at you, then at the dress, then back at you. “That’s not a dress. That’s a suggestion.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s hot, Jason.”

Jason’s mouth opened, then shut, because he knew if he argued, he’d sound like some overprotective asshole, and he hated proving you right when you called him possessive. So, instead, he just exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

You took his silence as approval.

Which is how Jason ended up at a club hours later, sitting in a booth, brooding into his drink, watching as you laughed and danced in that damn dress.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Jason’s jaw was tight, fingers twitching against the glass. He hated clubs. The music was too loud, the drinks overpriced, the guys staring at you like they had a chance. And you? You just kept teasing him, occasionally looking over your shoulder and shooting him a look—grinning like you knew how worked up he was getting.

Jason clenched his teeth. His grip on his drink tightened.

Then, after what felt like hours of sitting there, watching you dance and ignoring the way other people looked at you, you finally stumbled over to him—grinning, flushed, drunk off your ass.

Jason sighed. “How much did you drink?”

You waved him off. “Dunno, lost count.”

Jason exhaled through his nose. “Of course you did.”

You plopped down next to him, leaning into his side, arms looping around his bicep. “You’re so broody,” you slurred, poking at his chest. “You been sitting here all night, being all grumpy and hot.”

Jason let out a short laugh. “Yeah, well, someone had to make sure you didn’t get kidnapped.”

You grinned, patting his arm. “That’s why I keep you around.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Come on, you’re wasted. We’re going home.”

You pouted. “But I was having fun.”

Jason ignored you, standing up and pulling you along with him. You were too drunk to protest properly, letting him wrap an arm around your waist and guide you out of the club.

The whole way home, you kept giggling to yourself, nuzzling against him, fingers playing with the hem of his jacket.

“You’re so warm,” you mumbled.

Jason sighed, shifting his hold on you as he walked. “Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t insist on wearing that damn dress—”

“It’s hot,” you interrupted, voice muffled against his shoulder.

Jason scoffed. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

You giggled, poking at his chest. “You’re so grumpy. Bet you had fun being all broody in the corner while guys tried to dance with me.”

Jason’s grip tightened around your waist at the memory. “No one tried anything,” he muttered. “Not with me staring them down.”

You grinned, tilting your head up at him. “Mmm, that’s kinda hot.”

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of you. You were practically draped over him at this point, all warm and soft and drunk as hell, and Jason—despite his brooding—was more focused on getting you home in one piece.

By the time you both stumbled through the apartment door, you were a giggling mess. Jason kicked the door shut behind him, still half-carrying you toward the couch.

“Alright, lightweight, sit down before you faceplant.”

You pouted as he guided you onto the cushions. “M’not that drunk.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Really? Walk in a straight line.”

You blinked. Then immediately flopped onto your side, stretching across the couch like a cat. “Nah.”

Jason sighed, crouching in front of you. “You need water.”

“I need you to stop being so hot when you’re all serious and protective.”

Jason paused. His jaw twitched. “You’re a menace.”

You beamed, reaching out and tugging at his jacket. “And you’re my hot, broody, protective—” you poked his chest “—boyfriend.”

Jason scoffed. “You just like pushing my buttons.”

You grinned. “It’s my favorite thing.”

Jason exhaled, shaking his head, before standing up and moving toward the kitchen. “I swear, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You rolled onto your stomach, propping your chin up with your hands. “Aww, but what a way to go.”

Jason ignored you, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. When he came back, you were still sprawled across the couch, watching him with that stupid, teasing smile.

He handed you the water. “Drink.”

You took it, unscrewing the cap slowly. Then, deliberately, you stared at him as you took a slow sip, dragging your tongue along your lips afterward just to mess with him.

Jason’s eye twitched.

You smirked. “See? Fun.”

Jason crossed his arms. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You hummed, setting the bottle down. “Maybe I like danger.”

Jason’s jaw clenched. Then, without a word, he leaned down, hands bracing on the couch beside you, trapping you in place.

You blinked up at him.

His voice was low. “You keep testing me, sweetheart.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “And?”

Jason exhaled slowly. Then smirked, shaking his head. “And one day, you’re gonna push me too far.”

You bit your lip, pretending to think. “I dunno, Jay. I kinda like pushing you.”

Jason let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I noticed.”

You grinned. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Jason just chuckled, reaching down and scooping you up into his arms effortlessly. You yelped, clinging to him as he carried you toward the bedroom.

Jason smirked. “Guess you’ll find out.”

Jason kicked the bedroom door open with his foot, still carrying you effortlessly in his arms. You were a giggling mess, arms draped around his shoulders, your breath warm against his neck. He sighed as he set you down on the bed, but the moment he let go, you flopped backward dramatically, stretching like a cat.

He stared.

You were still in that damn dress, the fabric riding high on your thighs, exposing way too much skin. The way you stretched only made it worse—back arching slightly, legs shifting just enough to make Jason’s jaw tighten.

You sighed exaggeratedly, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Mmm, bed is so comfy.”

Jason exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you’re dead drunk and exhausted.”

You hummed, turning onto your side. The movement made your dress slip a little further up your hip. Jason clenched his jaw.

Then, as if you weren’t already testing him, you slowly dragged a hand down your own thigh, fingers tracing over your bare skin absentmindedly.

Jason swallowed.

You peeked up at him through your lashes, oblivious—or maybe not—to the way his entire body went rigid.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, lips curling at the edges.

Jason exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah. ‘Cause you’re doing shit you probably shouldn’t be doing while drunk off your ass.”

You huffed, rolling onto your back again. Your dress shifted even more, the neckline dipping lower. Jason forced himself to keep his gaze on your face, because if he looked anywhere else—

You stretched again, fingers running through your hair, legs shifting like you were deliberately making yourself comfortable in a way that threw Jason completely off-balance.

“Damn,” you sighed. “Feel so hot.”

Jason inhaled slowly through his nose. “That’s what happens when you drink too much.”

You smirked, eyes still half-lidded. “Or maybe I just like the way you look at me.”

Jason clenched his fists. “You’re drunk.”

You bit your lip, tilting your head slightly. “Sooo?”

Jason growled low in his throat, turning away from you, hands on his hips like he was physically restraining himself. “God, you are such a brat.”

You giggled. “But you love it.”

Jason muttered something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like fucking kill me, before shaking his head.

“Alright, lightweight,” he said, voice rougher than he wanted it to be. “Get your ass under the covers before I throw a bucket of ice water on you.”

You pouted dramatically. “You wouldn’t.”

Jason turned back to you, eyebrow raised. “Try me.”

You grinned but finally, finally shuffled under the blankets, still watching him like you were plotting something. Jason exhaled, shaking his head, before reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head.

He didn’t notice how your eyes lingered on him.

Didn’t notice the way you bit your lip as you watched him get ready for bed.

Didn’t realize he had played right into your hands.

And as soon as he sat on the edge of the bed, your voice—soft, teasing, dangerous—broke the silence.

“…Y’know, you should really sleep without a shirt more often.”

Jason froze. Then turned his head slowly, looking at you like he knew you were up to something.

You just grinned, stretching again—deliberately, like you were taunting him. “What?” you said innocently. “Just saying. Nice view.”

Jason sighed, running a hand down his face. “You’re insufferable.”

You giggled, rolling onto your side, looking up at him through your lashes. “And yet… here you are.”

Jason stared at you for a long moment. Then, with a low chuckle, he shook his head, finally crawling into bed beside you.

“You really don’t know when to quit,” he muttered.

You grinned. “Nope.”

Jason exhaled, rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling. But you, being you, weren’t done messing with him yet.

You scooted closer.

Then closer.

Then—suddenly—you were climbing on top of him, straddling his waist, smirking down at him.

Jason blinked. “Are you kidding me?”

You rested your chin in your hands, propped up on his chest like you had every right to be there. “Mmm, nope.”

Jason let out a long breath, staring up at you. “You’re actually trying to get me to lose my mind.”

You giggled, fingers tapping lightly against his chest. “It’s fun.”

Jason closed his eyes for a second, exhaled through his nose, before opening them again.

“Go to sleep.”

You grinned. “Make me.”

Jason’s eyes darkened slightly.

You saw it—felt it—the way the air shifted, the way he looked at you.

Then, in one fluid motion, Jason’s hands gripped your waist and flipped you onto your back, pinning you underneath him.

Your breath hitched.

Jason leaned in, voice low, rough, dripping with amusement.

“You really shouldn’t dare me, sweetheart.”

Your pulse spiked.

Jason just smirked. “Now,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “be a good girl and go to sleep before I really put you in your place.”

You swallowed.

Jason chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

Then, just to drive his point home, he pressed a slow, teasing kiss to your jaw before rolling off of you, settling back onto his pillow with a satisfied sigh.

You, still slightly stunned, just stared at him.

Jason smirked. “Night, sweetheart.”

[okasuka]

hmmm

Title: Stubborn Silence

The bathroom mirror reflected tired eyes, frustration etched deep into your face as you ran a damp towel over your skin. The past few days had been nothing but arguments—pointless, repetitive, and bitter. Neither of you willing to give in. And now, it had been two weeks since you and Jason last touched each other. The longest you had ever gone since getting married.

The silence in the apartment was suffocating, tense enough to snap at the slightest pressure.

Then—

Shatter.

You inhaled sharply, fingers curling around the bathroom counter as Jason’s curse rang out from the kitchen. Another bottle gone. Another night of the same damn cycle. You exhaled slowly, letting the frustration settle before you flicked off the bathroom light and walked straight to the bedroom.

The bed was cold as you slipped under the covers, turning onto your side with your back to his usual spot. You listened, waiting.

Footsteps.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Jason stepped in, moving carefully, as if testing whether you were awake. He didn’t say anything. You didn’t either.

The mattress dipped slightly as he sat on the edge before finally laying down—keeping his distance, his back turned to yours. It felt unnatural, the space between you, the lack of warmth.

You closed your eyes. The silence dragged on. You could hear his breathing, steady but restless. The weight of two weeks of tension pressed down on both of you, but neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

Too stubborn to bridge the gap.

Jason shifted beside you, the mattress creaking slightly as he turned. You felt his gaze before you saw it, the heat of his stare burning into the back of your head.

You kept your eyes shut, pretending to sleep, but the weight of it was unbearable. Finally, you turned onto your back, meeting his eyes in the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains.

Jason’s expression was unreadable at first—until his jaw tensed, and his brows pulled together in frustration. His voice was low, but sharp.

“You’re awake.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah. And?”

Jason scoffed, rolling onto his side fully to face you. “So, we’re just gonna keep doing this? Sleeping with our backs turned like strangers?”

“Maybe,” you muttered, too exhausted for this conversation.

Jason’s glare darkened. “Jesus, Y/N. You’re really fine with this? Going to bed pissed off every night?”

“I’m too tired to argue, Jason.”

“Tired,” he repeated bitterly, shaking his head. “Of what? Of me?”

You let out a slow breath. “Of fighting. Of this.” You gestured between the two of you, the space that had grown over the past two weeks. “I don’t have the energy for another pointless fight.”

Jason clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into the sheets. He wanted you to argue back. Wanted you to push him, to match his fire, because that was easier than dealing with the quiet resentment creeping in.

But you just stared at him, too drained to entertain it.

After a long moment, he exhaled sharply and turned onto his back again, glaring up at the ceiling.

Silence fell between you once more. This time, heavier.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion pressing down on you like a weight. You could feel Jason shifting beside you, restless, his frustration crackling in the air like static before a storm.

Then—movement.

Before you could react, Jason rolled over, shifting his weight on top of you, caging you in beneath him. His hands were on you—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, fingers desperate as they traced over your body like he was trying to memorize you all over again.

“Jay—”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice hoarse, rough with something raw. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling like he was trying to pull you back into him. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

His lips ghosted over your skin, pressing kisses against your jaw, your collarbone, anywhere he could reach. His hands kept moving, skimming your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid you’d pull away.

“I hate this,” he admitted, voice breaking slightly. “I hate fighting with you. I hate sleeping like this. I hate this fucking distance.”

You exhaled, feeling his warmth sink into you, feeling the way his body trembled slightly against yours.

“Please,” Jason pleaded, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes were dark, full of something desperate, something aching. “I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. Just—just let me fix this. Let me fix us.”

His forehead pressed against yours, breath mingling with yours, hands never stopping their needy exploration. You could feel the heat of him, the way his body practically vibrated with tension.

He kissed you—soft at first, then deeper, more desperate. Like he was trying to pull every unspoken word from the past two weeks into that single touch.

“Please,” he whispered against your lips, pleading. “Please forgive me.”

Jason’s hands trembled against your sides, his lips pressing frantic kisses against your skin, but there was something different this time. Something fragile beneath all that desperation.

You sighed softly, running a hand through his hair, feeling how tense he was. The moment your fingers carded through his strands, Jason practically melted into you, pressing closer like he needed the touch to breathe.

“Shh,” you murmured, voice soft, soothing. “It’s okay, Jay.”

He let out a shaky breath, gripping at your waist like you’d disappear if he let go. His lips found yours again, kissing you deep, his tongue sliding against yours, needy, searching—like he was trying to crawl inside you, trying to make up for every second of the last two weeks in this single moment.

But you didn’t kiss him back. Not fully.

Jason noticed immediately, slowing, pulling back just enough to search your face, eyes flickering with something wounded. His chest rose and fell heavily, hands still holding you, as if waiting for you to meet him halfway.

Instead, you exhaled softly, brushing your fingers through his hair again, lulling him with slow, gentle movements.

“Jason…” you whispered. “I’m tired.”

His lips parted slightly, something between heartbreak and understanding flashing across his face. He swallowed, then without a word, dropped his head onto your chest.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, his breath warm against your skin. You felt his body relax, tension bleeding out of him with every soft stroke of your fingers through his hair.

“…I missed you,” he muttered after a long pause, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenched. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, lingering there. “I know.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, but he didn’t say anything else.

Slowly, his breathing evened out, his body growing heavier against yours as exhaustion finally won over. Within minutes, Jason was asleep, clinging to you like a lifeline, as if even in his dreams, he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The warmth of the sun creeping through the curtains was what stirred you awake. That, and the distinct smell of something cooking.

You blinked, adjusting to the light, the weight on your chest now gone. Jason.

The bed was empty beside you, but the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen made it clear where he was. You pushed off the covers, stretching as you sat up, and the ache in your chest from last night settled into something softer.

Padding into the kitchen, you found Jason standing by the stove, his broad back to you. His shoulders were tense, but his movements were careful—flipping something in the pan with a level of focus he rarely had in the mornings.

Your gaze flickered down to the counter, where an empty dustpan sat beside a pile of neatly gathered glass shards. He’d cleaned up last night’s mess.

Then you noticed them.

The bandages wrapped around his fingers.

Your chest tightened.

Jason must’ve heard you step closer because he glanced over his shoulder, eyes tired but softer than they had been in days. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lingered on his hands. “Jay…”

He followed your gaze, as if realizing only now that the bandages were visible. He shrugged, trying to play it off. “S’just a couple of cuts. No big deal.”

But it was a big deal. He never thought twice about hurting himself—never cared when he bled, never complained about pain. But you cared.

Stepping closer, you reached out and took the spatula from his hand, gently nudging him away from the stove. “Sit down.”

Jason frowned. “What—”

“I’ll finish breakfast,” you said firmly, turning the stove down. “Just sit, Jason.”

For a second, he looked like he wanted to argue, but the exhaustion from the past two weeks must have caught up to him because he let out a quiet sigh and dropped into the chair at the kitchen table.

You glanced at him as you worked, flipping the eggs and plating everything, your movements practiced, familiar. Jason watched you the whole time, something soft and unreadable in his gaze.

When you finally set a plate in front of him and slid into the chair beside him, he reached out, fingers brushing over your wrist, hesitant but warm.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice rough with something unspoken.

You met his eyes, squeezing his hand gently. “Always.”

Jason sat there, staring at the plate in front of him like it had personally offended him. His jaw was tight, hands resting on his thighs instead of reaching for his fork.

You sighed, nudging his arm. “Eat, Jason.”

He shook his head slightly. “Not hungry.”

You rolled your eyes. “You literally made this for me and now you’re not eating?”

Jason just shrugged, looking down, guilt practically radiating off him.

Your expression softened, but you weren’t about to let him sit there brooding. With a smirk, you picked up his fork, stabbed a piece of egg, and held it up to his mouth.

Jason’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not a kid, Y/N.”

“Then stop acting like one and open up.” You waved the fork in front of his face.

Jason groaned, leaning back in his chair. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re stubborn. Now eat.”

You wiggled the fork closer, and Jason narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re really gonna sit here and feed me?”

“Yup.”

His ears were turning pink. “I hate you.”

You grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Jason let out a sharp exhale, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, reluctantly, he leaned forward and took the bite off the fork, glaring at you the entire time.

You clapped dramatically. “Yay! Good boy.”

Jason choked, nearly spitting out his food. “What?!”

You cackled. “Relax, tough guy. Just trying to boost morale.”

Jason shook his head, covering his face with his hand. “You’re actually the worst.”

You stabbed another piece and held it up expectantly.

Jason hesitated, scowling. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

He grumbled something under his breath but leaned forward again, taking the bite. His cheeks were dusted red now, and you had to bite back another laugh.

Jason Todd—former street kid, trained assassin, Gotham’s infamous Red Hood—reduced to getting hand-fed by his wife like a flustered idiot.

Maybe things weren’t fully fixed yet, but at least now, you could see a crack in that stubborn wall between you.

Later That Evening

The bar was dimly lit, warm with the buzz of conversation and the clink of glasses. You sat across from Jason in a booth near the back, swirling your drink in your hand as you watched him nurse his whiskey.

“You’re really not going on patrol tonight?” you asked, arching a brow.

Jason leaned back, fingers drumming against his glass. “Nope.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Not even a little bit?”

He smirked. “Nope.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not even if Gotham suddenly bursts into flames?”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope. Even if Gotham goes straight to hell, I’m staying right here.”

That surprised you. Jason never took nights off unless he was physically unable to go out. But he was here, sipping his drink, shoulders relaxed, and actually choosing to stay with you.

You grinned, raising your glass. “Well, I’ll drink to that.”

And drink you did.

And then again.

And again.

Hours Later

Jason sighed as he guided you down the street, one arm around your waist to keep you steady.

You were completely wasted.

Your head lolled onto his shoulder as you giggled, nearly stumbling over your own feet. “I—I think I drank too much.”

Jason snorted. “No shit, sweetheart.”

You lifted a wobbly finger, attempting to poke his chest but missing. “I feel great though.”

Jason rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on you. “Yeah, I’m sure you do. C’mon, let’s get you home before you start dancing on tables.”

You gasped. “I should’ve—we should go back! I can still—”

“Nope,” Jason said firmly, pulling you closer. “We are not going back so you can embarrass yourself further.”

You pouted dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Jason sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you home.”

Back at Home

Jason barely managed to get you inside without you tripping over the threshold. He sat you down on the couch, crouching in front of you as he untied your shoes.

“You good?” he asked, glancing up.

You hummed, staring at him dreamily. Your hands reached out, cupping his face suddenly.

Jason froze. “…What are you doing?”

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured, thumb stroking his jaw.

Jason raised a brow. “Are you flirting with me?”

You giggled. “Duh.”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head as he took your hands off his face. “Alright, let’s get you to bed before you say something you’ll regret.”

You ignored him, instead plopping onto your back, sprawled out on the couch. Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Then you sighed, voice dreamy. “I miss you when you’re gone.”

Jason paused. His gaze softened slightly as he looked at you. “…I’m right here.”

You shook your head, pouting. “Not when you’re out there. Sometimes I stay up, waiting for you to come home, and when you don’t, I just—” You exhaled. “I need you, Jay.”

Jason clenched his jaw. “I know, sweetheart.”

You rolled onto your side, facing him. “You know what I do when you’re not home?”

Jason arched a brow. “Do I want to know?”

You grinned lazily. “I think about you.”

Jason swallowed. “Yeah?”

You nodded, voice dropping to a whisper. “I think about your hands. The way they feel on me.”

Jason stiffened.

“And your voice,” you continued, tracing patterns on the couch. “That deep, rough growl when you get all possessive—”

Jason groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

You giggled. “And—”

“Nope.” Jason abruptly stood, scooping you into his arms. “That’s enough confessions for tonight.”

You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bedroom. “But I wasn’t done.”

Jason shook his head, jaw tight. “Oh, you were done, alright.”

You smirked against his neck. “Are you flustered, Jay?”

Jason huffed, dropping you onto the bed none too gently. “Go to sleep.”

You grinned up at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion but still mischievous. “You are flustered.”

Jason groaned, pulling off your shoes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” you murmured sleepily.

Jason sighed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “…No, I don’t.”

You hummed in satisfaction before finally letting sleep take you.

Jason watched you for a moment longer before shaking his head with a small, helpless smile.

You were going to be the death of him.

Later That Night

Jason had just tucked you into bed, thinking you were finally done for the night, when he turned to leave—only to hear the sound of your drunken giggles.

His shoulders slumped. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

You had somehow managed to roll out of bed and stagger over to your phone, fumbling with it until music started blaring through the room.

“Hey (hey) what’s the matter with your head, yeah—”

Jason sighed as Come and Get Your Love filled the space. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You turned, swaying slightly as you grinned at him. “Dance with me.”

Jason gave you a look. “Absolutely not.”

You gasped, hand over your chest. “Jay. That’s our song.”

Jason snorted. “Since when?”

“Since right now,” you declared, wobbling slightly. “Now c’mon.”

He shook his head, arms crossed. “No way.”

“Jasssooon,” you whined, stomping your foot. “You love me, don’t you?”

Jason exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you batted your lashes dramatically. “Guilt-trip you with my overwhelming charm?”

Jason groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

You wiggled your fingers at him. “Come on, tough guy. Just one dance.”

Jason looked at you for a long moment, then exhaled, shaking his head with a defeated smirk. “One song. That’s it.”

You beamed, grabbing his hands immediately. “Yay!”

Jason let you pull him in, rolling his eyes but secretly amused. His hands rested on your waist as you started swaying dramatically to the music, your head tipping back as you twirled under his arm.

Jason chuckled. “You’re gonna fall.”

“No, I’m not—whoop—”

You nearly tripped, but Jason caught you easily, steadying you with a firm grip. “Told you,” he teased.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Shut up and dance with me.”

Jason huffed but pulled you closer, actually moving with you this time. He twirled you again, smirking as you giggled, arms flailing slightly before he spun you back into his chest.

“There,” he murmured, voice warm. “Happy now?”

You grinned up at him, a little breathless. “You love this.”

Jason scoffed. “You wish.”

But he was smiling—actually smiling—so you knew you were right.

You nuzzled against his chest, humming along to the music. Jason held you close, swaying slowly now, his fingers tracing light circles on your back.

“You’re so soft sometimes,” you mumbled against him.

Jason chuckled. “Don’t let anyone else hear that.”

“Mhm. I won’t.”

Your voice was softer now, your body finally tiring out. Jason noticed immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Time for bed.”

You pouted sleepily. “One more song?”

Jason exhaled, smiling down at you. “Nope.”

He lifted you with ease, carrying you toward the bed as you clung to him, half-asleep already.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled against his shoulder.

Jason smirked. “And you’re wasted.”

“Mhm.”

He set you down gently, then slid in beside you, pulling the blankets over you both. You immediately curled into him, head against his chest, arms around his torso.

Jason sighed contentedly, wrapping you up in his arms.

“Jay?” you mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

Jason pressed a kiss to your hair. “I love you too.”

And with that, you both drifted off, tangled together, warm and whole again.

The Next Morning

You stirred awake, the warmth beside you noticeably absent. Groggy, you reached across the bed, fingers brushing against cold sheets.

Jason was gone.

Frowning, you sat up, rubbing your eyes. Your head throbbed—a reminder of last night’s drinking—but it wasn’t the hangover that had your stomach twisting. It was him being gone.

Reaching for your phone, you unlocked it to find a text from Jason.

JAY: Got called in for an emergency with the Outlaws. On my way to Berlin. I’ll be gone for a few days. I love you.

Your heart sank.

A few days.

You sighed, typing back.

YOU: Okay. Be safe.

The message sent, but the ache in your chest didn’t fade. You sat there for a moment, staring at your phone, willing it to light up again.

A minute passed. Then another.

Finally, the screen lit up.

JAY: You okay?

You hesitated, biting your lip. Then:

YOU: Yeah. Just thought we were gonna spend today together.

A pause. Then another message.

JAY: I know, baby. I’m sorry.

You exhaled through your nose. It wasn’t his fault. You knew that. This was just part of loving Jason Todd—part of his life.

But it still sucked.

YOU: It’s fine. It’s not your fault.

A few seconds later:

JAY: You don’t sound fine.

You sighed, flopping back onto the bed.

YOU: Just miss you.

JAY: I miss you too. I’d rather be in bed with you.

You swallowed, fingers tightening around your phone.

YOU: It’s just been a while since you’ve had a night off. I was looking forward to it.

A pause.

JAY: I know. I was too.

YOU: I hate this.

JAY: I know, sweetheart. Me too.

You stared at the screen, eyes stinging slightly. It was stupid—you knew he had to go, that he’d come back like he always did—but the bed felt colder, the apartment emptier without him.

Your phone buzzed again.

JAY: I’ll make it up to you when I get back. Whatever you want.

You sniffed, blinking back the dampness in your eyes.

YOU: You promise?

JAY: Cross my heart.

You exhaled, rolling onto your side, hugging a pillow close.

YOU: Don’t get shot.

Jason’s reply was immediate.

JAY: No promises.

You groaned, wiping your face.

YOU: Jason.

JAY: I’ll be careful. I swear.

You hesitated, then typed:

YOU: Okay. I love you.

JAY: I love you too, baby. Get some rest, yeah?

You sighed, clutching your phone like it would bring him back faster.

You missed him already.

The Days Without Him

The first day was fine.

You went about your routine, texting Jason whenever he had a free moment. He sent pictures from Berlin—nothing special, just quick snaps of hotel rooms, rooftops, and his teammates. You responded with casual messages, telling him you missed him but otherwise keeping it light.

The second day, the loneliness started creeping in.

Your texts got shorter. Less enthusiastic. Jason noticed.

JAY: You okay, sweetheart?

YOU: Yeah.

JAY: What are you up to?

YOU: Nothing much.

By the third day, you were barely responding.

JAY: Baby?

YOU: Mhm.

JAY: Talk to me.

YOU: Not much to say.

You didn’t mean to be dry, but it was hard to muster up energy when the bed felt so damn empty, and everything reminded you of him.

By the fourth day, Jason had started double texting.

JAY: Hey.

JAY: Y/N.

JAY: Are you mad at me?

YOU: No.

JAY: Then what’s wrong?

YOU: Nothing. Just tired.

That was a lie.

You weren’t tired. You were miserable. The apartment felt wrong without him. Jason had a presence that filled a space, and without it, everything just felt… off.

So you drank. Not a lot at first—just a few sips here and there to ease the silence. But then it became a habit. A way to pass the time.

By the time the fifth day rolled around, you were barely replying at all.

JAY: I’ll be home soon.

YOU: Okay.

You didn’t even have the energy to tell him you missed him anymore.

Jason Comes Home

The door creaked open sometime past midnight.

Jason stepped inside, immediately hit with the smell. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, and as he walked further in, he saw why.

The apartment was a mess.

Clothes scattered. Dishes in the sink. An empty whiskey bottle tipped over on the coffee table.

His stomach twisted.

This wasn’t like you.

His eyes flickered toward the bedroom, and when he stepped inside, his heart sank.

You were sprawled out on the bed, curled up on his side like you’d been reaching for him. A near-empty beer bottle dangled from your loose fingers, the sheets tangled around your legs. Your face was peaceful but tired, lips parted slightly as a tiny bit of drool dripped onto the pillow.

Jason exhaled sharply.

He moved closer, crouching beside the bed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Baby,” he murmured.

You stirred slightly, brow furrowing.

“Jason…” you mumbled sleepily, voice slurred with exhaustion.

Jason clenched his jaw. You had been that out of it?

His chest ached.

Guilt gnawed at his ribs as he reached for the beer bottle, prying it from your fingers and setting it aside. Then, with careful hands, he slid onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms.

You nuzzled into him instinctively, sighing softly.

Jason swallowed hard, resting his chin against your head. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he whispered.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that—just holding you, listening to your soft breaths—but he knew one thing for certain.

He had made a mistake leaving you alone for this long.

Waking Up

The morning light filtered softly through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the room. You slowly stirred, your body feeling heavy from the alcohol and lack of sleep. But something felt different today. Something felt right.

You blinked groggily, realizing you weren’t alone in the bed. Jason’s familiar warmth was beside you, his arms wrapped around you in a protective hold, and his steady breathing was the most soothing thing you’d felt in days.

For a moment, you just stayed there, taking in his presence. He was home.

But then the reality of the past few days hit you all at once—the loneliness, the quiet, the emptiness. Your heart ached with the weight of it, and before you could stop yourself, you clung onto him tighter.

“Jason,” you mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. You pressed your face into his chest, your arms circling around him. “I missed you so much.”

Jason groaned slightly, stirring as you shook him awake. He blinked, his eyes barely open, and then his gaze softened when he saw you so close.

“Mm… baby,” he murmured, voice rough. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffled, tightening your hold on him. You didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to be away from him again.

“I just missed you…” you whispered again, your voice small. You felt vulnerable in his arms, and that vulnerability made everything come rushing back—the frustration of the past few days, the loneliness you hadn’t fully admitted to yourself.

Jason blinked at you in confusion for a moment, his arms tightening around you as he sat up slightly. “I’m right here,” he said, brushing a hand through your hair. His thumb gently wiped away the stray tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“I know,” you replied, voice breaking a little as you buried your face against his chest. “But when you were gone… I felt so… empty. I couldn’t handle it, Jason.”

His heart twisted at the sound of your voice, at the way you clung to him like you needed him to breathe. He leaned back slightly, cupping your face in his hands and lifting your chin so you were forced to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice raw with emotion. “I should’ve been more present. I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I’ll never do it again, I promise.”

You sniffled again, nodding as you finally looked into his eyes, a mix of frustration and affection swirling within you. “I’m just… I was just so lonely.”

Jason’s thumb stroked your cheek, his gaze softening. “I’m here now, okay?” His lips pressed against your forehead, his warmth grounding you. “And I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to feel like that again.”

You leaned into his touch, letting your body relax against his, but the words kept tumbling out. “I didn’t want to bother you, but… I missed you so much. I didn’t know what to do.”

Jason swallowed hard, moving his hand down to hold the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. “I never want you to feel like that. You’re everything to me, you know that?”

You nodded, breathing him in as if it would make up for the last few days. The warmth of his arms, the deep, steady rhythm of his breathing, it all grounded you, made everything feel like it was finally falling into place.

You stayed like that for a long while, not needing to say anything more. It was enough just to be in his arms again.

Jason looked down at you, his expression softening even more as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. He held your face gently in his hands, gazing into your eyes like you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and full of tenderness, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you enough how much you mean to me. How much I need you.”

You blinked up at him, surprised by the intensity of his words. His usual gruffness had faded, replaced by something you rarely saw—vulnerability.

“You’re not just my wife, you’re the best part of my damn life,” he continued, his voice catching slightly. “You make everything worth it. I’ve been a mess without you here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you like you needed. You deserve so much better than that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at his confession, your heart swelling with emotion. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear those words until he said them.

“You’re everything to me, baby,” Jason murmured, his thumb tracing over your lower lip. “You drive me crazy in the best way, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

Your heart beat faster, and the weight of everything you’d been feeling—the loneliness, the longing—seemed to lift, replaced by a rush of warmth.

“You’re my home, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I don’t ever want to leave you again. I don’t ever want you to feel alone. You’re my world, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you always feel loved.”

You felt tears well up again, but this time, they were different. They weren’t from sadness or frustration—they were from the overwhelming feeling of being loved and wanted, truly wanted.

“Jason,” you breathed, your voice a little shaky, “I love you so much.”

He smiled softly, his hands cupping your face like he was afraid you’d slip away. “I know, baby. I know.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “And I’m never going to stop reminding you of that. You’re stuck with me, okay?”

“Good,” you whispered, pulling him closer and resting your head on his chest. “Because I never want to be without you either.”

Jason’s arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close like he never wanted to let go. You felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything was right again.

[okasuka]

i’m so sleepy

Title: Patience, Beloved

The clock read 2:47 a.m. when Damian returned home.

The penthouse was dimly lit, just the warm glow of a few lamps casting long shadows across the sleek furniture. His boots were heavy against the marble floor, shoulders tense beneath his black compression shirt, dried blood speckling his gloves. The night had been particularly aggravating—inefficient criminals, incompetent GCPD, and worst of all, a business meeting earlier with insufferable board members who wouldn’t stop droning about stock projections.

He rolled his shoulders, exhaling sharply through his nose as he tugged off his gloves. His patience was thinner than the knife wound on his bicep.

And then—he saw you.

Standing by the kitchen counter, waiting.

His gaze darkened instantly.

You were draped in something black, sheer, and devastatingly delicate. Thin straps, lace, silk—dangerous. It clung to your frame in a way that was downright sinful, revealing more than it concealed. Your hair was tousled, your lips parted as you blinked sleepily at him, voice husky with drowsiness.

“You’re late, habibi.”

Damian swallowed hard. His body was sore, aching, but suddenly, his focus was elsewhere.

You took slow, deliberate steps toward him, bare feet padding softly against the floor, the sheer fabric teasing every curve of your body as it swayed. He knew you were doing it on purpose. And the worst part? It was working.

You hummed in disapproval, fingers ghosting over his jaw as you studied his expression. Broody. Agitated. Fuming.

“Tough night?” you purred, nails dragging lightly against the collar of his shirt.

Damian exhaled sharply, jaw tensing beneath your touch. You were testing him.

“Do not start,” he muttered, voice rough, low.

You ignored him, stepping even closer, close enough that his hands instinctively found your waist. Your skin was warm beneath his fingertips, the scent of you—vanilla and something dangerous—making his head fog.

Your fingers found the hem of his ruined compression shirt, pushing it up agonizingly slow, revealing sculpted muscle marred with fresh bruises and cuts.

“Tsk. Look at you, habibi.” Your voice was soft, teasing, but your touch was gentle as you traced the wound on his bicep. “Reckless as always.”

Damian sucked in a breath when you leaned up, your lips brushing over the cut—soft, deliberate, infuriatingly sensual. His grip on your waist tightened.

“You should be in bed,” he rasped, voice tight.

“So should you.” You smiled, tilting your head. “But here we are.”

His eyes were locked onto yours, dangerous, warning, wanting.

You took your time patching him up, every brush of your fingers deliberate, every breath you took against his skin enough to chip away at his resolve.

And you knew it.

You licked your lips, fingers tracing down his abs as you feigned examining another wound.

“You’re staring, beloved,” you murmured, lashes heavy.

Damian’s fingers flexed against your waist. “You’re making it impossible not to.”

Your smirk was slow, sleepy, devastating. “Mm. Good.”

He was this close to snapping.

You kissed the bandage you’d just placed on his shoulder, letting your lips linger for a moment before pulling back, stretching in a way that made the sheer fabric shift scandalously against your skin.

Damian exhaled through his nose, hands gripping your waist tighter as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. He breathed you in, trying to ground himself—but all you did was tilt your head, nuzzling into his hair, whispering against his ear with a sleepy, wicked little smile.

“Let me take care of you, habibi.”

And he let you.

Damian had excellent self-control.

Trained by the League since birth, honed under the Bat’s discipline—he was a master of restraint.

But you had a way of testing him.

And tonight? You were making it damn near impossible.

The way you touched him, kissed over his fresh wounds with that slow, teasing mouth, the way your fingers dragged down his chest with intent—he should’ve known something was off.

Then he smelled it.

Faint but undeniable—the distinct scent of alcohol lingering on your breath.

His lips twitched, amusement flickering in his sharp green eyes as realization settled. So that’s what this is.

“Have you been drinking?” His voice was low, edged with curiosity.

You blinked up at him, expression way too innocent. “Maybe.”

Damian exhaled through his nose. Of course.

You were bolder than usual—more languid in your movements, more shameless in your teasing. And now, he understood why.

“You wound me, sweetheart,” you pouted, tilting your head. “Can’t a wife appreciate her husband’s physique?”

He arched a brow. “Appreciate, sure.” His hand caught yours just as it started to wander dangerously low. “But this?” His grip was firm, fingers wrapping around your wrist before you could start something you wouldn’t finish.

Your smirk was all mischief as you swayed closer, pressing your barely-clothed body against his, eyes glinting. “What? You can fight criminals all night but can’t handle a little touch from me?”

Damian chuckled. Low, deep. Amused.

He leaned down, letting his lips ghost over your ear as he spoke, voice silken with amusement.

“I can handle a lot of things, sweetheart.”

You shivered.

Then, before you could get any more ideas, Damian swiftly scooped you up, earning a startled gasp as he carried you with ease.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you huffed. “This is unfair.”

“Unfair?” He smirked, effortlessly making his way to the bedroom. “What’s unfair is you thinking I wouldn’t catch on to your little game.”

You pouted, nuzzling into his shoulder, your sultry confidence dimming slightly into sleepy, intoxicated warmth. “You’re no fun.”

Damian just shook his head, kicking open the bedroom door.

“Go to sleep, troublemaker. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

You whined dramatically, but Damian only smirked as he tucked you into bed, brushing a hand over your cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You’d regret this teasing in the morning.

And Damian?

He was looking forward to it.

The morning hit you like a brick to the skull.

Your eyes cracked open to blinding regret—a dull, pounding headache drilling into your temples, your mouth dry as hell, and worst of all, the suffocating weight of realization settling in.

You got drunk again.

You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Damian was going to be insufferable.

With a sharp exhale, you dragged yourself out of bed, wincing as the room tilted slightly. Everything about last night was hazy, but flashes of it resurfaced—Damian coming home broody and cut up, you waiting for him in something scandalous, touching him, kissing him, getting bold.

Your face burned.

“Fuck.”

You needed food.

Still in your barely-there slip from last night, you padded toward the kitchen, moving on autopilot as you pulled ingredients from the fridge. Eggs, bread, coffee—you weren’t in the mood for much, but you needed something to settle your stomach.

The sound of coffee brewing filled the quiet space as you stood at the stove, cracking eggs into the pan, still trying to piece together the night.

Then—warmth.

A solid chest pressed against your back.

Firm hands on your waist.

You barely had time to react before Damian’s arms wrapped around you, his larger frame caging you in, trapping you between him and the counter.

You stiffened instantly.

“Morning, darling,” he murmured, voice low, smug, and way too close to your ear.

You swallowed hard. “Don’t start.”

He hummed, amused, obviously remembering every single thing you didn’t.

“You seem tense,” he noted, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Hungover, perhaps?”

You clenched your jaw. “I said don’t start.”

But Damian? He didn’t listen.

Instead—he pressed closer.

Much closer.

You sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned into you, his hips pressing flush against your back, his entire body heat bleeding into yours.

“Making breakfast?” he mused, completely ignoring your protest. His hands slid lower, resting just above your hips, gripping you lightly.

You stilled.

Your traitorous body reacted immediately.

And Damian?

Oh, he knew.

You could hear the smirk in his voice as he leaned down, his lips grazing your jaw, speaking just above a whisper.

“Careful, sweetheart.” His grip tightened, his body fully pressing into yours now. “Wouldn’t want me to get… handsy.”

Your stomach flipped.

Your hands fumbled with the spatula, and Damian chuckled, his pure, sadistic amusement vibrating against your back.

This was revenge.

Revenge for last night, for your teasing, for getting drunk and making him suffer.

You huffed, cheeks burning as you tried desperately to ignore the way his body molded too perfectly against yours.

“Damian,” you warned.

“Yes, darling?” he asked, completely unbothered.

You exhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself. “You’re being a dick.”

Another low chuckle. “Am I?”

You gritted your teeth, knowing full well that if you snapped too hard, he’d just enjoy it more.

So you took a slow, deep breath, pretending to refocus on the eggs—despite the very obvious distraction grinding up against you.

But then—Damian did something dangerous.

He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your ear, lips lingering for a moment before whispering, voice dripping with amusement—

“You started it.”

Your entire soul left your body.

The spatula slipped from your fingers, clattering against the stove.

Damian—the absolute bastard— took full satisfaction in your reaction, his smirk evident as he kissed down the side of your neck, hands tightening around your waist, pressing even closer—

Until you lost it.

With one swift, violent motion—you elbowed him in the ribs.

Hard.

“Ow,” he muttered, more amused than actually hurt as he pulled back, finally releasing you.

You turned, glaring, your face hot with frustration.

“You’re a menace,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

He smirked. “Says the one who tried to put her hands down my pants last night.”

You opened your mouth—then shut it.

Your face burned hotter.

Damian’s smirk widened. “Oh? Nothing to say?”

You inhaled deeply through your nose, willing yourself not to commit murder.

Instead, you grabbed the nearest thing—his coffee cup—shoved it into his hands, and turned back to the stove, pointedly ignoring him.

Damian chuckled, taking a slow sip of his coffee, clearly satisfied with himself.

But despite the headache, despite the embarrassment, despite everything—

You still felt his warmth lingering on your skin.

You were trying to ignore him.

Really, you were.

But Damian was making it impossible.

Seated at the counter, he watched you like a hawk, green eyes filled with pure, unfiltered amusement as you plated the food.

You could feel his gaze on you—heavy, knowing.

And you knew, knew, that the second you turned around, he was going to say something insufferable.

So, naturally, you avoided eye contact as you slid his plate in front of him.

“Eat,” you muttered.

But Damian?

He didn’t move.

Instead, he tilted his head, smirking, tapping his fingers against the counter.

“I think I’d rather be fed,” he mused, obnoxiously amused.

Your eye twitched.

You slowly exhaled, forcing yourself to stay calm. “You have hands.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm. “I seem to recall someone else’s hands being very… grabby last night.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Are you going to bring that up all morning?”

“That depends,” Damian said, eyes glinting. “Are you going to keep pretending you don’t remember?”

Your face burned.

He smirked. “No comment?”

You huffed, snatching a piece of toast from his plate and roughly tearing a bite-sized chunk.

“Fine,” you muttered, grabbing a fork and stabbing into the eggs. “You want to be fed? Open up, asshole.”

His smirk widened, completely unfazed as he parted his lips.

You shoved the bite into his mouth, deliberately messy.

He chewed, completely unbothered. “Mm. Delicious. Almost as good as you looked last night.”

You nearly choked on air.

“Damian.”

He just grinned, too satisfied with himself.

“More,” he said smoothly, far too entertained by your suffering.

You stared at him, deadpan. “I hate you.”

His gaze darkened slightly, lips curling as he leaned forward.

“Lie to me again, sweetheart.”

Your brain shut down.

For a second, all you could do was stare.

And Damian?

He ate it up.

His smirk widened as he took the fork from your hand, his fingers brushing deliberately slow against yours.

Then—he did something unfair.

He slid the fork into his mouth, maintaining direct eye contact—green eyes sharp, challenging, knowing.

Your pulse spiked.

You snatched the plate away. “You’re eating on your own.”

Damian laughed.

A low, knowing chuckle that told you exactly what he was thinking.

And you hated that your body betrayed you—because even hungover, annoyed, and flustered as hell—

You knew you were completely at his mercy.

The day dragged on, your hangover finally starting to dull, but the annoyance of Damian’s constant teasing?

That wasn’t fading anytime soon.

He was relentless.

Flirty remarks, smug glances, the occasional brush of his fingers when you passed by—it was like he was on a mission to remind you of last night every chance he got.

And the worst part?

You were giving him ammunition.

Not on purpose.

It wasn’t your fault that you kept bending over—reaching into the lower cabinets, picking up the remote, tying your slipper.

But Damian?

He was watching.

Closely.

And when the third time happened—when you bent down to grab your phone from under the couch, unknowing, unbothered—

SMACK.

You yelped.

Spinning around so fast you nearly lost balance, you gawked at him, completely scandalized.

Damian stood there—completely unfazed.

Arms crossed, lips quirked in pure amusement, gaze so damn smug you could’ve throttled him.

“Did you just slap my ass?”

He shrugged. “You keep sticking it out. Thought you wanted attention.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You—!”

Damian took a slow sip of his coffee. “Yes?”

You blinked at him, stunned into silence.

Then—your face burned.

Because not only did this bastard just do that, but now he was acting like it was your fault.

Your brain scrambled for a response, anything to gain back the upper hand—

And then you got an idea.

Slowly, you straightened up.

Arms crossing, you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes. “You must really like my ass, huh?”

Damian raised a brow, smirking slightly. “Observation skills on point today, I see.”

Oh, he was getting cocky.

You stepped forward, deliberately slow, deliberately smug.

“Yeah?” You smirked, leaning in just a little. “Want another go at it?”

Damian’s smirk faltered.

Just slightly.

And that’s when you struck.

With one swift motion—you smacked his ass.

Hard.

Damian stilled.

You grinned.

A tense silence hung between you.

Then—Damian slowly turned his head to you, expression unreadable.

You took one step back.

His green eyes gleamed.

“Run.”

You bolted.

You didn’t make it far.

Maybe three steps before Damian grabbed you—quick, effortless, inevitable.

A yelp left your lips as he hauled you back, his arms strong, unyielding as he spun you around and—

BENT YOU OVER THE SOFA.

“Damian!” you shrieked, giggling, squirming, but his grip was firm—hands on your waist, pinning you in place.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” His voice was low, amused, teasing as he leaned over you, his body flush against yours.

You grinned, breathless. “I think I’m hilarious.”

Damian chuckled, darkly. “Is that so?”

Then—he dipped down, pressing his lips to your neck.

Your breath hitched.

The warmth of his mouth, the slow, deliberate press of his kisses—hot, teasing, unfair.

You shivered.

“Dami—”

“Mm?” he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing lower, slower, torturously soft.

You bit your lip, fingers curling into the sofa.

Your heartbeat spiked, and your body betrayed you—melting, arching, craving more.

Damian noticed.

And he smirked.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” His tone was silky, knowing, smug.

You let out a breathy laugh, still squirming. “You’re such a menace.”

He chuckled, nipping at your jawline, his hands squeezing your waist, holding you firm.

“And you,” he murmured, voice deep, rich, dripping with amusement, “are a brat who needs to be put in her place.”

Your stomach flipped.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze—

And the way he was looking at you—

Eyes dark, sharp, teasing, hungry.

Your breath hitched.

His smirk widened.

“Keep bending over like that, sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin. “See what happens.”

The room was warm, the air thick with the aftermath of what had just transpired.

You were sprawled out on the sofa, sweaty, flushed, and absolutely spent.

Your limbs felt like jelly, your breathing still a little uneven, but your face?

Oh, your face was pure satisfaction.

A lazy, pleased-as-hell smile curled your lips, and your eyes—hazy, dazed, utterly content—drifted to Damian.

He sat beside you, barely any better.

His usually sharp composure? Gone.

His cheeks were flushed, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, and there was a certain smug satisfaction in his gaze as he looked at you.

He wiped a slow hand over his face, taking you in.

“Pleasured?” His voice was low, teasing, but genuinely curious.

You blinked at him.

Then—your lips curled into a grin.

“Yeahhhhh…” Your voice was breathy, drawn-out, utterly dazed.

Damian chuckled, eyes gleaming with amusement and pride.

“You sound wrecked.”

Your grin widened, eyes half-lidded, flirty. “You did that.”

His smirk deepened.

“Mm. I did, didn’t I?”

You hummed in agreement, too pleased to argue.

Your hand slowly trailed up his arm, fingers lazy, absentminded. “You’re so good to me, baby.”

Damian exhaled a slow laugh, shaking his head, clearly enjoying himself.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.

“Yeah?” You grinned. “You love it.”

His eyes darkened slightly, his smirk deepening.

“That,” he murmured, leaning in, brushing his lips against yours, “is not up for debate.”

You were still sprawled out on the sofa, completely wrecked in the best way possible.

Your skin was warm, flushed, and your limbs? Useless.

Damian, still smug and self-satisfied, was lying beside you, his arm casually draped over your waist, fingers idly tracing circles against your hip.

You hummed in lazy satisfaction, your head lolling to the side as you looked at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Mmm… I think you might’ve ruined me,” you murmured, lips curling in a sleepy grin.

Damian chuckled, low and deep, his hand squeezing your waist.

“That was the plan,” he said, pulling you closer.

Your smile widened, fingers slowly trailing over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Such a menace,” you mumbled, snuggling closer. “What am I supposed to do now? Just… live like this?”

He smirked, kissing your temple. “You’ll manage.”

You sighed, content and dazed beyond belief.

And then, in your half-asleep, utterly pleased state, you murmured,

“Dami, I think I need mouth-to-mouth…”

Damian tilted his head, amused. “You need help breathing?”

You grinned lazily, fingers curling into his hair as you whispered,

“No… I just miss your lips.”

His eyes darkened, and his smirk turned devilish.

Without another word, he rolled over you, pressing you deeper into the cushions, his lips hovering just over yours.

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured, kissing you, slow and teasing.

You giggled against his lips.

“And you love it.”

He deepened the kiss, smirking.

“Undeniably.”

The rest of the day was… eventful.

You’d fully recovered from your dazed, post-bliss state, and now?

Now, you were feeling mischievous.

Damian had been too smug earlier, and you weren’t about to let him get away with it.

So, naturally… you decided to torture him.

It started off innocent enough.

You’d dropped something in the kitchen, bending over extra slow to pick it up.

Damian, who had been minding his business, drinking water, nearly choked.

Then, while sorting laundry, you made a show of reaching for something on the bottom shelf, stretching your arms just enough to accentuate the curve of your backside.

Damian stared.

His jaw twitched, his green eyes darkening, but he said nothing.

So, you kept going.

Every chance you got—picking things up, stretching, reaching, leaning forward—you made sure to do it all in the most deliberately teasing way possible.

And Damian?

He was visibly suffering.

His expression remained neutral, stoic, unreadable— but the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers occasionally drummed against his thigh, the way his eyes followed you, dark and sharp— oh, you knew you were getting to him.

Then, just as you were putting something away on the coffee table—

It happened.

A firm, strong hand grabbed your backside, squeezing boldly, deliberately.

A gasp left your lips as you froze, eyes wide.

Heat rushed to your face, your breath catching in your throat.

You slowly turned, eyes meeting Damian’s.

He was smirking.

Smug. Confident. Completely and utterly pleased with himself.

“Took you long enough,” you muttered, trying to mask your flustered state.

Damian’s smirk deepened. “You’ve been testing my patience all day.”

His hand didn’t move.

Your face burned.

“You enjoying yourself?” you asked, voice breathier than intended.

His thumb brushed against your hip.

“Immensely.”

Damian and Y/N had been bickering for what felt like hours—each one of them throwing words back and forth, their voices rising in frustration. It was the same argument that seemed to crop up every time one of them was in a bad mood: who was right, who was wrong, and who had the better plan.

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, her lips tight in annoyance. “You just don’t listen, do you? I told you this was a bad idea.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he stood just a few steps away, frustration radiating from him. “I do listen, Y/N, but you always think you know better than everyone else.”

“Oh, I know better than you right now, don’t I?” she shot back, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You might be the great Damian Wayne, but you don’t know everything.”

Damian took a step forward, his gaze intense. “And you think you do?”

Y/N didn’t back down, the challenge clearly evident in her stance. “Yes, sometimes. Maybe it’s because I’m the one who has to clean up your messes half the time.”

The words hit harder than she expected, and she felt a small sting of regret, but she didn’t take them back. They were out there now, and the silence that followed was heavy.

Damian was still for a moment, his green eyes dark with something unreadable, before he stepped even closer, closing the distance between them. “You’re annoying when you’re like this,” he muttered, voice low.

Before she could respond, before she could even think of another retort, Damian’s hand shot up to her face, cupping her jaw with surprising tenderness. Then, in one smooth motion, he kissed her, cutting off whatever snarky comment she was about to throw his way.

The kiss was firm, commanding, a mix of frustration and something deeper, more urgent. Y/N froze, her thoughts scattering as Damian’s lips pressed against hers, forcing the argument to come to a sudden halt.

At first, it was unexpected, the silence of the kiss louder than the shouting that had preceded it. Then, Y/N’s breath caught, and she melted into the kiss, her hands instinctively reaching to grab at his shoulders, feeling the heat of him, the intensity of everything he was putting into it.

Damian pulled away just a fraction, his lips brushing against hers one last time as he smirked. “That’s a better way to shut you up.”

Y/N blinked, still a little stunned by the abruptness of it all. Her heart was pounding, her breath a little shaky. “You—” she started, but Damian’s amused grin stopped her.

“Not a word,” he said, his voice just barely a whisper now. “We’re done arguing.”

Y/N dragged Damian through the crowded mall, her excitement clear on her face. She’d been hinting for weeks that she needed a new bikini for their upcoming beach day, and today, she was determined to find the perfect one. Damian, always the reluctant participant in these types of outings, followed along, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“I don’t get why you can’t just pick one yourself,” Damian muttered, his eyes scanning the stores as they passed. “It’s just a bikini, right?”

Y/N shot him a teasing grin. “Well, I could, but I want to see what you’d pick for me. You know, see if your taste is as good as you think it is.”

Damian rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the slight flush creeping up his neck. “I’m not your personal shopper, Y/N.”

But Y/N wasn’t going to let that stop her. “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she insisted, pulling him into the store. “Just imagine it: You picking out something for me. I think you’ll do a great job.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. But he followed her into the store anyway. As soon as they walked in, the bright colors and patterns of the swimwear aisle hit them, and Y/N immediately started rummaging through the racks.

“You know,” she said casually, “I’m thinking something extra… bold. Maybe a little daring.”

Damian’s eyes flicked toward her as she held up a particularly tiny bikini. His face flushed deeper, his eyes quickly darting away. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to pick that out for you.”

Y/N just smiled, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Oh, you’re the perfect person. Don’t worry, I’ll let you choose. Just make it something good.” She handed him the bikini and nudged him in the direction of the selection. “Pick something you think I’d look good in.”

Damian hesitated for a moment, looking at the array of swimsuits, clearly trying to keep his composure. But then, with a sigh, he grabbed a bikini set that left little to the imagination—its bright color and skimpy design practically screamed attention. He held it up awkwardly, trying to hide his flush.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. “Ooh, this one, huh? Bold choice, Damian.”

Damian’s face was now bright red. “I—I don’t know what you were expecting.”

Y/N grinned, leaning in a little closer. “I think you know exactly what I was expecting. You clearly have excellent taste.” She winked, her playful tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Damian crossed his arms, clearly flustered but trying to regain some control. “You’re ridiculous. But if you want me to pick, then that’s the one. You’ll look great in it. Let’s go check out.”

Y/N smiled, appreciating how easy it was to rile him up. “Thanks, Damian. You’ve got a lot of potential as a personal shopper.” She winked again, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

Damian just muttered something under his breath as they walked to the checkout, his cheeks still flushed. But despite his embarrassment, there was a small, proud glint in his eye. After all, he’d picked something that made her smile.

Y/N and Damian made their way to a trendy bar after their shopping trip, both in the mood to unwind. Damian, ever the brooding type, had been quiet for most of the evening, but he could feel the weight of the day start to lift with the music and atmosphere of the bar. Y/N, on the other hand, was in a playful mood, enjoying the buzz of being out together.

Damian slipped through the crowd and made his way to the bar, ordering a whiskey neat, while Y/N leaned against a nearby table, scanning the scene with a casual, bored air. As she absentmindedly played with her phone, a man from across the room noticed her, a smug grin spreading across his face. He looked like trouble: tall, broad-shouldered, and oozing a kind of overconfidence that had always rubbed her the wrong way.

He strolled up to her, a beer in hand, his eyes scanning her with more interest than she cared for. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he said, his voice dripping with a sleazy charm. “You’re way too pretty to be standing here all alone. What’s a gorgeous woman like you doing in a place like this?”

Y/N didn’t even look up, her tone dry. “I’m not alone. My husband’s just over there.”

The man, undeterred, leaned in closer, clearly not taking the hint. “Your husband? He won’t mind if we have a little chat, will he? I mean, it’s not every day a guy like me gets to talk to someone like you.”

Y/N’s expression didn’t change, but internally, she was already annoyed. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with this kind of attention. “I’m really not interested,” she said firmly, but the man wasn’t backing off.

“I think you just need someone to loosen you up a bit,” he said with a chuckle, leaning even closer now. “I know how to have a good time.”

Y/N’s patience was thinning, and just as she was about to make a snarky remark, a voice from behind her interrupted.

“Is there a problem here?”

The man turned around and was met with Damian’s cold, piercing gaze. Y/N could see the change in the air as soon as Damian arrived. The guy, clearly oblivious, smirked and shrugged. “Nah, just talking to your wife here. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Damian’s lips curled into a tight, dangerous smile. “My wife doesn’t want to talk to you,” he said, his voice low, almost threatening. “So I suggest you get lost.”

The man scoffed, clearly not intimidated. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?”

Damian’s posture stiffened, his body language giving away nothing but sheer intensity. “You really don’t want to test me. You should leave now. Or…”

The man, growing agitated, took a step forward. “Or what?”

Damian’s gaze hardened, and his voice dropped to a level that made even Y/N feel the tension. “Or I’ll show you why it’s a mistake to mess with someone who can make you disappear.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little, watching as the man’s bravado faltered, his eyes now flicking nervously between Damian and the rest of the bar. The man’s cocky grin disappeared as he took a step back, realizing he was outmatched.

“Yeah, whatever, man,” the guy muttered, backing off quickly. “No need to get so dramatic.”

Damian didn’t move, his eyes still locked on the man as he walked away, his posture unwavering. After a moment, he turned to Y/N, his expression softening just slightly.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice now calm but still holding an edge of possessiveness.

Y/N looked at him, a playful grin on her lips. “I’m fine. You were just… so dramatic.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly not appreciating the teasing. “Dramatic? I was protecting you. You shouldn’t have to deal with scum like that.”

She chuckled, walking closer to him. “I know, I know. But you didn’t have to scare the guy off like that. It’s cute, though.”

Damian gave her a sideways glance, his lips curling into a smirk. “If you think that’s cute, just wait until someone else tries something.”

[okasuka]

damian damian…

The door clicked open with a soft creak, and Damian Wayne stepped inside, his tired footsteps echoing through the quiet manor. He was still in his suit, tie loose and sleeves rolled up from hours at Wayne Enterprises and patrol. His face, usually a mask of composure, was darkened with exhaustion.

“Long day?” you asked, glancing up from the couch where you were curled up, a book in hand.

Damian’s eyes flickered toward you, a tired sigh escaping his lips. “You could say that,” he muttered, his shoulders tense, carrying the weight of the day’s challenges.

With a sly grin, you set your book aside, standing and making your way toward him. “Well, I’m here to make it all better,” you teased, your hands reaching to adjust his collar, fingers brushing against the sharp lines of his jaw. “You always forget how to relax, don’t you?”

Damian smirked, though it was laced with the weariness of the night. “Relaxing is a luxury I rarely afford myself,” he replied, but there was a softening in his eyes as you guided him toward the living room.

You pushed him down gently onto the couch, your hands already working to unbutton his shirt. “Lucky for you, I’m all about pampering,” you said with a playful wink. “Just let me do all the work tonight.”

Damian huffed, but the tension in his posture began to ease as you removed his shirt, your fingers grazing his skin in a way that had him unconsciously leaning into the touch.

“You’re spoiled,” he muttered, though there was an unmistakable fondness in his voice.

“And you love it,” you shot back, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before getting to work on massaging his shoulders. “You deserve it, you know?”

He allowed himself to melt into the cushions, a soft grunt escaping him as your hands worked their magic. “You’re far too good to me, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice betraying a hint of gratitude.

“Mm, I can always be better,” you teased, your fingers tracing his collarbone now, your gaze lingering on him. “Or maybe you just like me taking care of you.”

Damian’s lips quirked into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you spoil me a little.”

Your heart fluttered at the small victory, and you leaned down to kiss him softly, your lips lingering as you whispered against them, “I’ll spoil you however you want, just say the word.”

Damian’s smirk returned, though this time, it was more playful. “Be careful, you’re tempting me.”

“Good,” you whispered back, your voice teasing, but there was warmth in it. “Now, let me finish pampering my brooding husband.”

You shifted slightly, moving to sit on Damian’s lap, your legs straddling him as you settled into the warm embrace of his body. His breath hitched, his hand instinctively going to your waist as if trying to steady himself.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, though the flush creeping up his neck betrayed his desire for the attention.

“I’m spoiling you,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his ear, feeling his breath hitch again. Your fingers gently traced the line of his jaw, your lips following in slow, teasing kisses. You made your way down his neck, grazing your lips along his skin, sucking softly where his jaw met his throat, leaving marks that only he would wear.

Damian’s grip on your waist tightened, his face flushing even more. “Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, unsure whether to protest or beg for more. You smirked, your lips pressing softly to his sensitive skin, knowing just where to tease him.

“You want more, don’t you?” you asked quietly, your breath warm against his ear.

Damian’s eyes closed, his breath shaky. “Please…” It was barely audible, but you caught it, the vulnerability in his voice that made your heart race.

With a playful grin, you helped him change into his boxers, your fingers brushing against his skin as you moved. His body was still tense but softening under your touch, your hands smoothing over the muscles in his shoulders. Once he was comfortable, you settled beside him, your fingers working expertly into his shoulders, massaging away the last bits of tension.

“Relax, Damian,” you murmured, your voice calm, your hands gentle but firm as you kneaded the knots from his muscles. You felt his body slowly give in, his muscles unwinding under your touch. “You deserve this, all of it.”

As your hands worked, you moved closer, your chest pressed lightly to his, and you could feel his heartbeat against your skin, steady but still racing from earlier. You nuzzled your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, and his hands slid down your back, holding you close.

“I’m spoiled,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I don’t mind.”

You chuckled softly, brushing your lips against the side of his jaw. “You’ll never hear me complain.”

You gently pulled him into bed, the soft sheets enveloping you both as you settled against him, your head resting on his chest. Damian wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, his breathing finally steady.

“Stay like this,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Always,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest as you both drifted into a peaceful, comfortable silence, the world outside forgotten for the moment.

Damian woke to the quiet warmth of the bed, the space beside him cold where you had been just moments before. He stretched, blinking away the remnants of sleep, his gaze instinctively searching for you. He felt a small pang of disappointment at your absence, but that quickly faded when he heard the faint sound of the shower running.

With a soft sigh, he sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, only to freeze when he spotted you. You stood by the mirror, your back to him, changing your top. His eyes quickly traced the curve of your body, unable to ignore the way your movements flowed effortlessly, the way the fabric hugged you, accentuating every curve. A slow smile tugged at his lips, his heart speeding up.

You were always stunning, but seeing you like this—so effortlessly beautiful and in his space—took his breath away.

“You’re so damn hot,” he muttered under his breath, half to himself, as he leaned back against the headboard, still admiring the sight of you.

You turned slightly, catching his gaze in the mirror and giving him a teasing smile. “Like what you see, husband?”

Damian’s cheeks flushed, but his smirk quickly returned. “Always.”

You finished adjusting your top and walked over to him, your hands gently caressing his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Damian tilted his head slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “You didn’t. I woke up because I missed you. You’ve got a way of making my mornings better,” he said, his voice thick with affection.

You leaned down, kissing his lips softly, but there was a certain tenderness in it. When you pulled back, you whispered, “I didn’t want you to be all broody again, so I thought I’d let you sleep in a little longer.”

Damian chuckled quietly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you in closer. “And yet you still manage to steal my attention,” he murmured, his lips brushing over your jaw.

Before you could respond, you pulled away gently, a hint of amusement in your voice. “Also, Bruce wanted to talk to you last night on the phone, but you weren’t home. He’ll probably want to catch up with you soon.”

Damian’s brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. “I’ll talk to him,” he said, standing up from the bed and stretching once more. “Should’ve known he would’ve tried reaching out. The old man doesn’t know the meaning of ‘personal time.’”

With a smirk, you teased, “He does have a point. You’ve been busy.”

Damian shot you a playful look before heading over to the desk, grabbing his phone. After a quick look at the screen, he dialed Bruce’s number, his fingers tapping impatiently against the surface.

As he spoke with Bruce, you finished getting ready, the two of you moving seamlessly around the room, preparing for the day ahead. Once Damian hung up, his gaze softened as he approached you, already dressed in his usual attire, his suit neatly pressed and his tie perfectly knotted.

“Ready for Wayne Enterprises?” you asked, grinning as you adjusted your own outfit—a sleek black dress paired with your favorite boots.

Damian smirked, looking you up and down once more. “With you by my side? Always.”

You shared a knowing smile before heading out of the bedroom together, walking side by side as you made your way to the car. Today was just another day, but with Damian, it always felt like the most exciting one yet.

Later, in Damian’s study, the quiet hum of Gotham outside was interrupted only by the soft tapping of Damian’s fingers against the desk as he worked through stacks of paperwork. He sat there, brooding as usual, but there was something more distant in his demeanor today. You watched him from the doorway, noticing how his posture was slightly off, his eyes squinting slightly as he tried to make sense of a report.

“You need new glasses,” you remarked casually as you entered, a pair of stylish frames in hand.

Damian glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t need them. I’m perfectly fine.”

You could already tell by his body language that he was being stubborn, but you were determined to make him see reason. You took a few steps toward him, gently placing the glasses on the desk in front of him. “Come on, you’re squinting. Let me just put them on, just for a second.”

Damian scowled, looking at the glasses with disdain, clearly not thrilled by the idea. “I don’t need to look like a bookworm,” he muttered, his voice low, though you could see his hesitation.

You smiled softly, moving to sit beside him. “Damian, you’re already a genius. What difference does it make if you wear glasses? Plus, I think they’d look great on you.”

His brows furrowed, but you weren’t backing down. You gently took the glasses from the desk and, without waiting for a reply, carefully slid them onto his face. Damian remained stiff, clearly not thrilled with the change, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you studied him.

“See?” you said teasingly, “You look handsome. I told you.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at himself in the mirror on the far side of the room, clearly not convinced. “I don’t look any different.”

You laughed softly and leaned in closer, your hands resting on his shoulders as you gazed at him. “Damian, you’re already attractive. But with the glasses… you look…” You trailed off, your voice lowering as you moved in even closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Sexy.”

That caught his attention. His jaw tightened, and you could see the flush creeping onto his cheeks. “Sexy?” he repeated, his voice rough with the tiniest hint of uncertainty.

You nodded, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you kissed his jaw softly, then moved up to his lips. Without missing a beat, you deepened the kiss, your tongue sliding against his. Damian let out a low, almost startled groan, his hands automatically finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. You pressed against him, enjoying the way the kiss ignited a spark between the two of you, the slight tension in the air now charged with desire.

When you finally pulled back, you both were breathless, your forehead resting against his as you smiled. “I meant it, Damian,” you whispered. “The glasses make you look sexy.”

Damian’s face was flushed, his breath a little shaky, and you couldn’t help but tease him just a bit more. “See? Who knew something as simple as glasses could do so much for you?” You kissed him once more, this time slower, letting the moment linger, enjoying how much more intense it had become after just a few simple words.

Damian’s fingers dug gently into your hips, a small grin pulling at his lips. “You’re incorrigible, Y/N.”

“And you,” you teased, “are ridiculously cute when you’re flustered.”

He rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze was unmistakable. “You’ll pay for this later.”

You chuckled, brushing your lips against his once more. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The sound of soft leather meeting flesh echoed through the sparring room as you and Damian faced off, the familiar tension in the air thick with more than just competition. He was focused, his stance impeccable, and yet, the glint in your eye told him that you weren’t taking this as seriously as he was. Instead, you were enjoying the playful challenge, knowing just how to push his buttons.

You moved first, swift and calculated, feinting with a jab and then ducking to the side. Damian’s eyes tracked your movements, always a step ahead, but you were always just quick enough to keep him on his toes. With every dodge and counter, you kept your focus on him—not just on his technique but on the way his muscles flexed beneath his gear, how his jaw tightened in concentration.

“You know, Damian,” you teased, a playful smirk curling your lips as you spun around him with a quick kick, “you’re not bad for someone who spends most of his time brooding in the Batcave.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his concentration entirely on the match. But you could see the corner of his mouth twitch upward in a barely concealed grin.

“You talk too much, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice gruff. But there was an edge to it, a tension that made your heart race.

You winked at him, letting out a small laugh as you slid underneath his guard with a well-placed jab to his ribs. “Oh, you’ll learn to love it.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he closed the distance between the two of you, his grip tightening around your wrist as he twisted your body, pulling you toward him in one fluid motion. Before you could react, he had you pinned against the mat, his knee pressing into your stomach as his weight held you down.

You were taken aback for a moment, surprised by how quickly he moved, but then the realization hit. Damian wasn’t just showing his superior skills—he was reminding you that when it came to sparring, he was in control.

You stared up at him, your breath coming in sharp gasps, the sweat slicking your skin, but a smug grin crept onto your face. “You think you’ve won?” you teased, your voice sultry, knowing the effect your words had on him. “You’re just showing off.”

Damian’s chest rose and fell with each breath, his eyes dark with determination as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “I’m not showing off, Y/N. I’m reminding you who’s in charge here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, that same smug confidence still in your voice as you tilted your head up to kiss his jaw lightly. “In charge, huh?” you whispered. “I think I’m still calling the shots.”

Damian’s eyes flared with a mixture of desire and dominance, and without warning, he shifted his position, pressing his weight down more firmly on you, his hands now gripping your wrists above your head. “No, you’re not,” he growled, his voice low, sending a thrill of heat down your spine. “I’m in charge now.”

His words sent a shiver through you, and you could feel the way your body reacted. You were still smiling, but now it was more genuine, that delicious tension between you both reaching its peak. You looked up at him, your eyes soft but full of intent. “Then show me.”

Damian didn’t need any more encouragement. His lips crashed down onto yours in a kiss that was fierce and demanding, his tongue sweeping past your lips as he deepened it. You melted into it, your body giving in to him, to the way he took control and made you feel all the more alive.

The battle between you, both physical and emotional, had shifted. Now, it wasn’t about sparring for superiority—it was about how much you each craved this, how you both thrived on the fire that came with pushing each other to the edge.

When you finally broke the kiss, you smirked, feeling the warmth of submission and satisfaction. “You’re lucky I let you win,” you whispered teasingly, but your voice was softer now, the playful challenge still there but laced with a newfound admiration.

Damian, his forehead resting against yours, let out a small laugh, his grip on you loosening slightly. “Don’t get too cocky,” he muttered. “Next time, I’ll make sure you stay on the mat.”

You grinned up at him, your hands resting on his chest as you shifted your hips slightly, feeling the lingering heat between you. “I’ll take my chances,” you replied, your voice breathy with a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation.

[okasuka]

alright guys back to the batfam

Title: A Sight for Sore Eyes

The warm glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows over Bruce’s study, illuminating the neat stacks of reports and scattered case files. You stood beside him, arms crossed, watching as he held the offending object between his fingers—a pair of reading glasses. His jaw was set tight, lips pressed together in that familiar brooding way.

“I don’t need them,” Bruce grumbled, staring at the glasses as though they had personally offended him.

“You do,” you countered, a teasing lilt in your voice. “And you’ll look handsome with them.”

His brow furrowed, clearly not convinced. “I don’t—”

“Bruce,” you cut in, stepping closer. “Just put them on.”

With a sigh that carried the weight of Gotham itself, he finally slid them on. The frames settled against the bridge of his nose, and he blinked a few times before focusing back on the papers in front of him.

You tilted your head, studying him with a grin. “See? Dashing. Distinguished. Very ‘Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor, Even at Fifty-One.’”

Bruce huffed but didn’t argue, which you took as a win.

Just then, the door swung open, and Dick strolled in, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, a water bottle in hand. He took one look at Bruce and smirked. “Well, well, look at you. Rocking the glasses, B.”

You turned to Dick with a grin. “Be honest—how does he look?”

Dick shrugged. “Like a fine, upstanding citizen of Gotham.”

Bruce sighed. “Thank you, Dick.”

But before he could get too comfortable, another voice cut in. “He looks old.”

Damian entered the room, arms crossed, staring at Bruce like he had personally betrayed the family name. His expression was completely deadpan, which made it even funnier.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose—without removing his glasses—while Dick coughed to cover a laugh. You, on the other hand, burst out laughing, clutching your stomach.

“Damian,” Bruce grumbled, glaring over the rim of his lenses.

“What? I am merely stating the obvious,” Damian said, completely unapologetic.

You wiped away a tear, still laughing. “Oh, Bruce, you really are a sight for sore eyes.���

Bruce let out a long-suffering sigh, but the small twitch of his lips gave him away. Even as he grumbled about family betrayal, you knew he wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in the world.

Title: A Sight for Sore Eyes (Pt. 2)

You waved a hand, shooing both Bruce and Dick toward the door. “Alright, you two, out. I need a moment alone with my husband.”

Bruce gave you a suspicious look, but you simply smiled sweetly at him before reaching for the door.

“Wait, what—” Dick started, but you cut him off by pushing him over the threshold.

“Out.”

Dick barely had time to turn around before you shut the door behind him, twisting the lock with a soft click.

A beat of silence.

Then, Dick turned to find Jason leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “What’s going on?” Jason asked, eyebrow raised.

Dick smirked. “They’re definitely gonna fuck. I just heard the door lock.”

Jason scoffed, shaking his head. “Disgusting. He’s, like, ancient.”

Tim, who had been scrolling on his phone a few feet away, looked up with a tired sigh. “Take Damian out for food,” he said flatly.

Damian, who had just entered the hallway, frowned. “Why?”

Tim locked eyes with him. “Because if you don’t, you’re going to hear things you really don’t want to hear.”

Damian’s expression soured instantly. “Tt.” He turned on his heel, already heading toward the stairs. “Fine. But I’m choosing the restaurant.”

Jason sighed but followed after him. “As long as it’s not that overpriced organic place again—”

The voices faded as they walked away, leaving Tim and Dick standing in silence.

Dick took a sip from his water bottle, then side-eyed Tim. “You coming?”

Tim huffed, tucking his phone in his pocket. “Hell yes.”

Inside the study, Bruce had already fallen back into brooding mode, arms crossed, eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses. “What exactly was that about?”

You leaned against the locked door, smiling lazily. “You’re cute when you sulk, you know that?”

Bruce grumbled something under his breath, shifting slightly in his chair as you made your way toward him.

Slowly, deliberately, you placed a hand on the desk, then leaned in close, just enough that your lips hovered near his jaw. “Mmm,” you hummed, voice soft and teasing, “I think the glasses make you look sexy.”

Bruce exhaled sharply, but you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched against the armrest. “They make me look old.”

You laughed, your breath ghosting against his skin. “No, love,” you murmured, brushing your lips just near the corner of his mouth but not quite kissing him. “They make you look mature. Refined. Powerful.”

Bruce’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed. His hands flexed, as if he were debating whether or not to reach for you.

You leaned in just a little closer, lips barely brushing against his. “Admit it,” you whispered. “You love it when I stroke your ego.”

Bruce finally moved then, large hands sliding around your waist, pulling you into his lap with that effortless strength of his. “You,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave, “are insufferable.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his dark hair. “And yet, you love me.”

Bruce’s lips finally captured yours in a slow, deep kiss, and you knew you had won.

Bruce pulled away, his breathing just a little heavier than before. His grip on your waist remained firm, but he was clearly fighting for composure, his jaw tightening as he stared at you through those new glasses.

You smirked. “What’s wrong, Mr. Wayne?” you teased, tilting your head. “Getting flustered?”

His brows furrowed. “No.”

You bit your lip, eyes gleaming as you trailed your fingers down his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle through his shirt. Bruce’s grip on you twitched slightly, but he didn’t stop you—at least, not yet.

Slowly, deliberately, your hand moved lower.

Bruce exhaled sharply, and just before your fingers dipped too far, his hand caught yours in a firm grip. “Don’t.” His voice was rough, low, like he was using every ounce of willpower he had.

You pouted, your free hand ghosting over his tie. “Don’t what?”

Bruce squeezed your hand just enough to still it, grumbling, “You know what.”

Your smirk grew. “Oh, come on, Bruce. You know you want to.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you swore you saw that dangerous glint—the one he got before completely losing his self-control. But instead of giving in, he released a slow, measured breath, schooling his expression back into one of restraint.

“I’m not letting you seduce me in my study,” he muttered, voice tight.

You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Says the man still holding me in his lap.”

Bruce grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, his grip tightening on your hand like he was debating if he should toss you out of the room or give in completely.

You grinned. You loved making Batman lose his composure.

Bruce exhaled through his nose, his grip still firm on your wandering hand, but you could see the cracks in his resolve. His jaw was tight, his fingers flexing against your waist, like he was trying to convince himself to let go—but he wasn’t pushing you away either.

You leaned in again, letting your lips brush over his jaw, teasingly slow, before trailing up to the corner of his mouth. “You’re holding back,” you murmured against his skin, voice dripping with amusement.

Bruce let out a low grumble, but before he could respond, you shifted in his lap and kissed him—soft at first, just a press of lips, testing, coaxing. But then you deepened it, sliding your free hand into his hair, tugging lightly, and that was all it took.

Bruce inhaled sharply through his nose and finally gave in. His grip on your waist tightened as he kissed you back, no longer restrained. His mouth was hot, firm, demanding as he pulled you closer, swallowing your little gasp as his tongue slid against yours.

You moaned softly, tilting your head to let him deepen the kiss. His hands roamed now, large and possessive, one slipping up your back while the other gripped your thigh. You could feel the heat of him through his shirt, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

Bruce kissed you like he was claiming you, like he was making up for lost time. His tongue brushed against yours again, slow and thorough, sending a shiver down your spine. He tasted like coffee and something distinctly him, something you could never quite describe but always craved.

You broke away just enough to catch your breath, lips brushing his as you whispered, “See? The glasses aren’t so bad.”

Bruce let out a low, husky chuckle, his thumb brushing over your hip. “You’re insufferable.”

You grinned, dragging your fingers down his chest. “And yet, you’re still kissing me.”

Bruce smirked—just a little—before pulling you back in, his mouth capturing yours again in a deep, heated kiss that left no room for argument.

Bruce pulled back first this time, his hands still resting on your hips. His breathing was slow, measured, like he was grounding himself, but there was something softer in his expression now—something warm beneath all that brooding.

Without a word, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small, worn leather scrapbook. He hesitated for a moment before opening it and tilting it toward you.

Your eyes widened slightly. “What’s this?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Something I’ve been putting together.”

You carefully took the book from his hands and flipped through the pages. It was filled with photos of the family—some candid, some posed, but all of them precious. There were old ones of Dick as a kid, grinning wildly with his arm slung around a very annoyed young Jason. A few of Tim buried in case files, looking exhausted but determined. And then—your heart swelled—a series of pictures of Damian, from when he was younger to now.

And there, tucked between the pages, were little drawings—childish scribbles of the family, unmistakably Damian’s. One had a scowling stick-figure Batman with a tiny Robin beside him, labeled in a messy scrawl: Father & Me. Another had the whole family, complete with a grumpy Red Hood and a tiny, smug Bat-Cow in the corner.

You traced your fingers over the drawings, your heart aching in the best way. “Bruce,” you murmured, looking up at him. “This is…” You couldn’t even find the words.

Bruce simply watched you, his gaze unreadable but intense.

You smiled softly and leaned in, kissing him again—slow, lingering, full of everything you couldn’t say out loud. When you pulled away, Bruce’s hand slid up your back, keeping you close for just a second longer.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

Bruce hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before finally letting you go.

You gave him one last affectionate look before slipping out of the study.

Down the hall, Jason and Tim were leaning against the railing, clearly waiting for you.

Jason arched a brow as you approached. “Took you long enough.”

Tim adjusted his sleeves, eyes sharp with curiosity. “So. You and Bruce. In a locked room. For an extended period of time.”

Jason smirked. “Uh-huh. And when you came out, you looked very satisfied.”

You tilted your head innocently. “Did I?”

Jason scoffed. “Oh, don’t play dumb.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “What exactly happened in there?”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, you know… just spent some quality time together.”

Jason snorted. “That’s vague as hell.”

Tim nodded. “Suspiciously vague.”

You grinned, deliberately keeping them in suspense. “Let’s just say…” You let the words drag out, enjoying their impatient stares. “It was… intimate.”

Jason groaned. “That makes it worse.”

Tim sighed. “So you did—”

You held up a finger. “Did what?”

Jason gave you a deadpan look. “Oh my god. Just tell us.”

You finally relented, laughing. “We kissed, we talked, we looked at something sentimental.”

Tim squinted. “That’s it?”

You smirked. “That’s all I’m telling you.”

Jason threw his hands up. “Unbelievable.”

Tim shook his head. “You enjoy messing with us too much.”

You beamed. “I really do.”

Jason groaned, running a hand down his face. “You are the worst.”

You grinned. “That’s funny. Bruce was just saying how much he loves me.”

Jason fake gagged. “Ugh. Gross.”

Tim sighed. “Okay, so what was the sentimental thing?”

Your expression softened slightly as you leaned against the railing beside them. “Bruce showed me this little scrapbook he’s been putting together.”

Tim blinked. “Scrapbook?”

Jason frowned. “Bruce scrapbooking?”

You nodded. “It’s got pictures of all of you. Some old, some recent. There’s even Damian’s little drawings in there.”

Jason and Tim exchanged a look.

Jason scoffed. “Okay, now I know you’re lying.”

“I’m not!” You laughed. “I swear, it’s real.”

Tim crossed his arms. “Bruce sentimental? He barely even says ‘good job’ without making it sound like an insult.”

You smirked. “I think he’s getting soft in his old age.”

Jason snorted. “Tell that to the criminals getting their faces caved in by him right now.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? He’s still Batman, but he’s also… Bruce. And Bruce loves you guys.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Whatever.”

Tim tapped his chin. “So… how does Damian feel about his drawings being in there?”

“Oh, he doesn’t know.” You grinned. “Bruce keeps them tucked away in the pages, like a little secret.”

Jason barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s gonna be funny when he finds out.”

Tim smirked. “I give it two weeks before Damian storms into the Batcave demanding an explanation.”

You chuckled. “Maybe, but you know he’d secretly love it.”

Jason shook his head. “Man… Bruce. Scrapbooking. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Tim adjusted his watch. “Next thing you know, he’ll be knitting us sweaters.”

You gasped dramatically. “Imagine the ‘World’s Okayest Son’ sweater he’d make for Jason.”

Jason gave you an unimpressed look. “You’re so lucky you’re family.”

Tim snickered, then checked the time. “Speaking of family, we should probably go check on Damian. He’s been quiet for too long.”

Jason stretched. “Yeah, last time that happened, he was trying to train Bat-Cow to do attack commands.”

You grinned. “Go. Make sure he hasn’t declared himself the new head of Wayne Enterprises.”

Jason and Tim started to walk off, but Jason shot you one last glance over his shoulder. “For the record, we know you two did more than just kiss.”

You smirked. “Believe what you want.”

Tim shook his head. “We should start a betting pool.”

Jason smirked. “Oh, I love that idea.”

You laughed, watching them go before shaking your head fondly.

Wayne Manor was never boring.

Later that evening, after Tim had wandered off to check on Damian, you found Jason alone in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee.

You strolled in casually, hopping onto the counter beside him. “So… your birthday’s coming up.”

Jason raised a brow over the rim of his cup. “And?”

“And I wanna know what you want.”

Jason shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t really thought about it.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Alright… how about this—I get you an AR-15.”

Jason nearly choked on his coffee. “What?”

You smirked. “But it only uses rubber bullets.”

Jason squinted at you, considering. “So… I get the fun of an AR, but without Bruce whining about me using real rounds?”

“Exactly.”

Jason set his cup down, rubbing his chin. “Huh. Y’know what? Fine. I’ll take it.”

You grinned. “Knew you’d like that.” Then, before he could react, you leaned over and kissed his temple.

Jason groaned. “Ugh, come on—I’m a grown man.”

You chuckled. “And yet, you’re still grumbling just like Bruce.”

Jason scowled. “That is so uncalled for.”

You smirked. “Is it, though?”

Jason sighed dramatically. “I should’ve just asked for cash.”

You patted his shoulder. “Too late now. Your AR-15 with rubber bullets is already in the works.”

Jason grumbled under his breath, but you caught the small, amused smirk on his face.

Yeah. He was definitely Bruce’s kid.

Two weeks later…

Jason had been suspicious.

You and Bruce conveniently had to fly out to London for a Wayne Enterprises meeting. Tim was suddenly swamped with some “urgent” business at WE as well. Dick had a GCPD case keeping him busy, and even Damian had some League-related training that just happened to fall on the same day.

All on Jason’s birthday.

He acted like he didn’t care, brushing it off with a whatever when you called him that morning. But after patrol, he was grumpier than usual, dragging himself back into the Batcave and peeling off his armor with a sigh.

“Some birthday,” he muttered.

Then—

“SURPRISE!”

The cave erupted with cheers, red and black balloons falling from above, and a giant “HAPPY BIRTHDAY JASON” banner stretching across the cave.

Jason froze, wide-eyed. The whole family was there—Dick, Tim, Damian, Alfred, and even Cass and Steph. And standing at the front, definitely not in London, were you and Bruce.

Jason blinked. “What the hell—?”

You grinned. “Did you really think we’d forget your birthday?”

Jason scoffed. “You literally told me you were in London.”

Bruce stepped forward, arms crossed. “A necessary deception.”

“Deception my ass.” Jason ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

Then, a moment later, a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Alright. You got me.”

Bruce exhaled, stepping closer. “Happy birthday, son.”

Jason blinked again, caught off guard. Bruce reached out, wrapping him in a firm hug.

“I’m proud of you,” Bruce murmured.

Jason swallowed, frozen for a moment before he patted Bruce’s back awkwardly. “…Thanks, old man.”

You grinned, watching the rare sight of Jason letting himself be soft.

Then, Steph clapped her hands. “Alright, cake time before Jason starts pretending he doesn’t have feelings again.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but the sight of the cake made him pause.

It was shaped like his Red Hood helmet, perfectly detailed, with “Happy Birthday, Jaybird” written at the bottom.

Jason let out a breathless chuckle. “Damn. That’s actually kinda cool.”

Dick grinned. “Cut it before Damian stabs it.”

Damian scowled. “I wouldn’t stab it.”

Everyone stared at him.

“…Probably.”

Jason snorted, taking the knife and cutting the first slice.

As everyone grabbed their share, Jason sat down, opening his gifts one by one.

From Dick: A new leather jacket, shockingly in good taste.

From Tim: A high-end coffee maker, because “you drink the most disgusting sludge, Jason.”

From Damian: A custom-forged dagger (of course).

From Cass and Steph: A collection of classic action movies, because “you need culture.”

From Alfred: A handwritten letter and a set of engraved silver cufflinks.

From you and Bruce? The AR-15 with rubber bullets.

Jason let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head as he held up the rifle. “You actually got it.”

You grinned. “Told you.”

Jason looked around, at the gifts, the cake, and—most importantly—his family.

For once, he didn’t feel out of place.

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright. Uh… thanks. For all this.”

You smiled softly. “Of course, Jay.”

Jason huffed. “You guys are still annoying.”

Dick threw an arm around him. “Awww, we love you too, buddy.”

Jason groaned as everyone laughed, but this time, there was no real bite to it.

Because for once—on his birthday—he was happy.

The Night of the Argument:

The tension between Y/N and Bruce had been building for days, but tonight, it finally erupted. It was late, just after Jason’s party, and the pent-up emotions had reached a boiling point. Bruce had been cold and distant all evening, barely acknowledging Y/N, even as they tried to make small talk. They could feel the weight of his silence, and it was unbearable.

Y/N had tried to push through, tried to ignore the distance between them, but it was impossible. She reached out to him after they both came back to the manor, wanting to bridge the gap, wanting to hold him close, to make him see her, to show him she was still there, despite everything.

She approached him in the dimly lit hallway, her voice soft but laced with hurt. “Bruce, can we talk?”

Bruce didn’t even look at her, his back still turned. “I don’t think it’s the right time.”

“Bruce—” Y/N began, frustration bubbling up, but she tried to keep her voice steady. “What’s going on? You’ve been like this for days. You can’t just ignore me.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he replied, the sharpness in his tone cutting through the air.

Y/N felt the sting of those words. “What do you mean, I wouldn’t understand? Bruce, I’m right here. I always try to be there for you, and this… this coldness is killing me. Why won’t you just let me in?”

Her voice cracked, but she fought to hold herself together. She could see him stiffen, his jaw tightening, but still, he wouldn’t turn around.

“Maybe it’s easier this way,” Bruce muttered, his voice rough. “You’re better off not getting involved.”

That was the breaking point. Y/N stepped forward, her emotions overflowing. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she shouted, stepping into his line of sight now. “I’ve been nothing but supportive, and all I get is pushed away. I deserve better than this!”

Bruce turned to face her then, his eyes cold, his face tight. “You don’t need to be part of this. This life… it’s not for you.”

The words hit harder than she ever expected. She stood there, stunned for a moment, but then the tears came, hot and fast. “Don’t you dare say that! I choose this life with you, Bruce. I’ve chosen you. But if this is how it’s going to be—if I’m just going to keep getting pushed aside—then maybe I’m better off without it.”

She took a step back, but Bruce’s face twisted with frustration. He opened his mouth to say something, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t keep pretending it’s fine when it’s not. If you’re just going to shut me out, maybe I should leave.”

Bruce’s hand shot out in reflex, but he didn’t grab her. Instead, he shoved her back, just a little too forcefully. Y/N stumbled back in surprise, the pain of his action matching the pain in her chest. She blinked back her tears, eyes wide, but she refused to let him see how deeply his rejection hurt.

“I said I don’t need you involved in this!” Bruce’s voice was harsh now, his anger rising.

Y/N’s heart shattered. “Then maybe you don’t need me at all,” she choked out.

Without another word, she turned and walked off, retreating to her own room. Bruce didn’t stop her. He didn’t try to apologize, or even chase after her. The door slammed shut between them, and in the silence that followed, both of them felt a weight pressing down on their hearts.

The Morning After:

The next morning, Y/N woke up early, but sleep hadn’t brought relief. In fact, it had only amplified her feelings. She was hurt, angry, and feeling more isolated than ever. As she dressed, she thought about how Bruce had shut her out—again—and she knew she had to keep her distance.

When she walked into the kitchen, her face was set in a hard line, and she was silent. The weight of the night before was still there, lingering in her chest. Damian, Tim, and the others could all tell something was wrong. Y/N’s sharpness was out of character, and when she accidentally snapped at Damian over something trivial, it shocked everyone.

“Damian, can you just—ugh! Don’t you get it? Just leave me alone!” Y/N’s voice cut through the room, making Damian freeze. Tim looked over at him, his eyes wide in confusion.

“What the hell’s going on with her?” Tim muttered to Jason, who was now looking at the scene, eyes narrowed.

“I think it’s Bruce,” Jason said, frowning. “She’s been off since last night.”

Damian, usually quick to keep things under control, stood there in stunned silence, unsure of what to do. Y/N had never acted like this. She wasn’t the type to explode over something small, but now, it was like the weight of everything had come crashing down on her all at once.

She left the kitchen in a hurry, and it didn’t take long for the kids to piece it together. They had seen the coldness between Bruce and Y/N, the way Bruce had been pushing her away, and now it was clear the emotional distance was taking its toll.

Damian was the first to take charge. “We need to get Bruce to apologize,” he said, looking at Tim and Jason with determination. “He’s the reason she’s like this.”

Bruce was found in the study, trying to bury himself in paperwork, as if it could drown out the guilt that was slowly eating away at him.

“Dad,” Jason started, his voice firm. “You need to go apologize to Y/N. Now.”

Bruce looked up, his eyes hard. “I’ve already tried. She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“You’ve pushed her too far,” Tim added, crossing his arms. “You’re going to lose her if you don’t fix this.”

Damian stepped forward, his usual composure gone. “You need to make this right. Now.”

Bruce’s shoulders sagged. He didn’t know how it had gotten this bad, but he knew they were right. He had pushed her too far.

The Apology:

Bruce stood outside Y/N’s door, his heart racing. He had never felt this lost, this uncertain. But he knew he had to make it right. Slowly, he knocked, waiting for the quiet shuffle of footsteps on the other side.

When the door cracked open, Y/N didn’t look at him, her eyes cold. But he couldn’t let that stop him.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, his voice low and full of regret. “I was wrong. I pushed you away when you never deserved it. I… I don’t know what I was thinking. Please forgive me.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her anger was still there, but the hurt was overwhelming. She crossed the room and faced him, their eyes locking.

“I don’t want your apologies, Bruce,” Y/N said, her voice raw. “I want you to be present, to actually care about me for once, instead of pushing me away when things get hard.”

Bruce nodded, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

And then, despite the anger and the hurt, Y/N stepped forward, reaching up to kiss him softly on the lips. When she pulled back, she whispered, “I love you, but you can’t keep doing this.”

Bruce held her close, his arms around her as he whispered, “I won’t. I swear.”

They stayed like that for a while, in the quiet aftermath, the storm between them finally passing.

The Kitchen:

The tension between Y/N and Bruce had finally broken, but the air still hummed with unspoken emotions. After their heated conversation and tentative reconciliation, they found themselves in the kitchen, surrounded by silence—except for the soft sounds of their breathing.

Bruce stood near the counter, his eyes still filled with regret but now also an overwhelming sense of relief. Y/N was close, too close, and neither of them cared to pull away. It had been a long, exhausting night, but as they stood in the soft, dim light of the kitchen, their feelings for each other bubbled to the surface once again.

Without saying a word, Bruce reached for Y/N, pulling her into him, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was desperate, raw, and full of everything they had been holding back. Y/N’s hands instinctively cupped his face, deepening the kiss as she felt the overwhelming need for connection—finally, something real between them.

For a moment, it was as if the world outside the kitchen didn’t exist. It was just the two of them, standing in the quiet after the storm, finding solace in each other’s touch. The lingering tension of the argument and the unspoken words from earlier melted away with each passing second.

But, of course, the world wasn’t going to let them have their moment.

The unmistakable sound of footsteps came from the hallway, followed by voices. Dick, Tim, and Jason had been planning to give them some time alone to work things out, but the minute they stepped into the kitchen, they froze—caught off guard by the very sight they had hoped to avoid.

Y/N and Bruce broke apart quickly, but neither of them moved too far, still wrapped in the warmth of each other. Bruce, looking flustered and a little embarrassed, turned toward the three men standing in the doorway, their eyes wide and mouths agape.

“Uh, what are you guys doing here?” Bruce asked, attempting to regain some semblance of composure, his voice a little more strained than usual.

“Uh…” Jason mumbled, his face turning bright red. “We, uh, were going to tell you something important…”

Tim’s eyes darted nervously between the two of them. “But, uh, I think we might’ve interrupted something…”

Dick, his usual charm replaced by an awkward, bashful grin, quickly averted his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to—uh, well, didn’t mean to walk in on that…”

Y/N, unfazed and still standing close to Bruce, let out a soft laugh, brushing off their mortification with a roll of her eyes. “It’s fine, guys. Really. We’re grown adults, we don’t need to hide in a closet every time we kiss.”

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration. “You can’t just barge in like that, guys…”

Y/N, still smirking, cut him off. “Anyway, what’s the prompt you wanted to tell us? You clearly had something important to say.”

The three men blinked at her, still processing the fact that they had just walked in on one of the most awkward and intimate moments they could imagine. They exchanged looks, still too stunned to make sense of the situation.

Tim cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, well, we just wanted to ask if you wanted to go out for breakfast. We were all planning on going and figured you might join us, but… I guess we’ll just—”

“Yeah, not the best timing,” Jason finished, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe we should go… leave you two alone?”

Bruce shook his head, unable to suppress a smirk, even though he was still embarrassed. “You should’ve thought about that before barging in.”

Y/N, ever the one to turn the situation around, gave them a small grin. “You know what? Breakfast sounds good. We can talk about whatever ‘important’ thing you were going to say… but if you make it awkward again, I swear I’ll send you all to the kids’ table.”

Dick laughed awkwardly, and the tension in the room slowly started to dissipate. They weren’t about to overstay their welcome, so one by one, the three of them backed out of the kitchen, still chuckling nervously.

Bruce wrapped his arms around Y/N again once they were alone. “Well, that was mortifying.”

Y/N, with a playful grin, shrugged. “Hey, it’s their fault for barging in. Besides, at least they know we’re good now.”

Bruce groaned. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe just a little,” she teased, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

With that, they walked out of the kitchen together, ready to face the morning, the awkwardness, and the family dynamic they’d always shared—with a bit more love between them than before.

In the Batcave:

The Batcave was alive with the usual hum of machinery, its vastness swallowed by shadows. The soft glow of computer screens illuminated the otherwise dark space, the quiet sounds of tapping keys echoing off the walls. Y/N was hunched over one of the workstations, focused on a blueprint for a prototype she was developing for Bruce and the team. Tim stood beside her, his fingers dancing over a set of intricate tools as they pieced together the parts.

“I think we’ve got it,” Y/N said, her eyes squinting at the screen. “Just a few more adjustments to the power supply, and we’ll be able to test it.”

Tim nodded, tapping away on his own keyboard. “It’s looking solid. Bruce will be happy with this one.”

At the mention of his name, Bruce walked in, his usual stoic expression softened with a hint of curiosity. He moved silently, as always, observing Y/N and Tim at work. His footsteps were almost inaudible, and the only sign of his presence was the small shift in the air.

Dick followed him, appearing far more relaxed. “What’s going on here? Need some backup?” he asked, leaning over their shoulders and inspecting the setup.

Damian walked in next, his eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. “I assume this is important,” he said, his voice tinged with skepticism, “but I’d rather be training.”

Y/N flashed Damian a grin. “You’ll get your training in soon enough. Let’s focus on this for now. You might learn something.”

Bruce watched them all silently for a moment, leaning against a nearby pillar, his arms crossed over his chest. “How’s it going?” he asked, his voice cool but tinged with genuine interest.

Y/N straightened up, looking at him and offering a small smile. “Almost there. Just fine-tuning the design, making sure the enhancements work with the existing tech.”

Tim spoke up, “It should give you guys an extra edge—speed, power, and stealth all in one.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, impressed. “That sounds promising.”

As they worked, the tension between Y/N and Bruce was still palpable. Despite the earlier moments of closeness, their dynamic was always complicated. But at least now, there was a sense of teamwork. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

After a few minutes, Y/N noticed Jason standing at the far end of the Batcave, his back leaning against the wall. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, just watching them with a distant look on his face. Y/N’s expression faltered slightly, and she couldn’t help but frown at the sight of him.

“Is everything okay?” she murmured under her breath, her tone casual but with a hint of concern.

Jason’s gaze flickered to her, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to brush her off, but something about her expression made him pause. He looked at the ground for a second, then finally, his eyes met hers, his voice quieter than usual. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Y/N could tell it wasn’t the whole truth. She stood up from the workstation, brushing her hands on her pants as she took a few steps toward him. “Jason…”

He looked up at her, his face unreadable. “What?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, a genuine concern in her eyes. “You’ve been… distant.”

Jason hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t need to worry about me, Y/N. I’ve been around long enough to handle my own problems.”

Y/N gave him a knowing look, crossing her arms. “You’ve also been around long enough to know we’re family. And families don’t hide things from each other.”

There was a long pause. Jason’s gaze dropped again, his jaw tightening. For a moment, Y/N thought he might turn and leave without saying anything. But then he spoke, his voice rougher now, tinged with frustration.

“I messed up,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done the things I did. I hurt people, Y/N. I hurt you. And it’s hard… harder than I thought to fix it.”

Y/N’s heart softened, and she stepped closer to him. “Jason,” she said gently, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “You’ve made mistakes. We all have. But you’re still part of this family. And no matter what happens, that won’t change.”

Jason looked up at her, his expression vulnerable for the first time in a long while. “I don’t know how to make it right.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” Y/N replied with a small smile. “You just have to be here. We’ve got your back. Always.”

Without another word, she pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around him. Jason stiffened at first, clearly not used to this kind of affection, but then his arms slowly wrapped around her in return. For a brief moment, everything felt a little bit lighter.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jason whispered, his voice barely audible. “I needed that.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, looking him in the eyes. “Anytime.”

She gave him one more reassuring squeeze before pulling away, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the team. They had been watching from a distance, the usual banter between them momentarily silenced as they took in the scene.

Bruce, still standing nearby, nodded approvingly, though his face was hard to read. “We all have our moments,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “But we get through them.”

Damian raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his eyes darting between the two of them before returning to the prototype on the table. Dick’s gaze softened, a small but warm smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Tim, always the logical one, crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Alright, now that all the emotional stuff is out of the way, can we finish this prototype?”

Jason, despite his earlier distance, smirked, his usual deflecting humor returning. “Yeah, yeah, I’m not crying or anything. Let’s get back to work, geeks.”

Y/N grinned at him, stepping back to the workbench with renewed energy. “That’s more like it. Let’s get this thing finished.”

And just like that, the team fell back into their rhythm, working together with a renewed sense of unity. For once, there was no tension between them—just the shared understanding that, no matter what had happened in the past, they would always be there for each other.

[okasuka]

extra

Later That Night

Both of them were back home, sitting on their beds, the messages lighting up their phones.

Adil: Yo, everything good?

Aminah: Nah. Not really. Same old, same old.

Aminah paused before replying, fingers hovering over the screen as she tried to sort her thoughts.

Aminah: Just feel like I can’t do anything right for him. It’s like nothing ever pleases him.

Adil: Bruv, that’s not fair. You’re doing your best, innit?

Aminah: Yeah, but he doesn’t see it like that. Nothing’s ever good enough for him.

Adil: Sounds like you’re walking on eggshells. Can’t be easy.

Aminah stared at the screen, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Aminah: It’s exhausting, you know? I just want to be left alone sometimes.

Adil felt his heart drop as he read her words. He knew she was strong, but he also knew she wasn’t invincible.

Adil: I don’t like how you’re talking about this, Aminah. You deserve way better than that, honestly.

Aminah: I know, I know. But it’s just how it is.

Adil: If you need anything, literally anything, I got you. You don’t gotta go through it alone, alright?

Aminah: Thanks, Adil. You always know how to make me feel better.

Adil smiled at his phone, relieved she was at least talking to him about it. He sent a quick reply.

Adil: Anytime, fam. Anytime.

Aminah laid back in bed, her phone in her hand, but a small sense of relief washing over her. She wasn’t alone in this—Adil was there.

Late Night Conversation

The screen of Adil’s phone lit up, pulling him out of his sleep. He squinted at the notification, blinking a few times before he realized it was from Aminah. He rubbed his eyes and sat up in his bed, letting out a tired groan.

Yo, you still up?

He quickly typed back, not wanting to leave her hanging.

Adil: Yeah, just woke up to your message. What’s up?

He put his phone down for a second, stretching his arms and trying to shake off the sleepiness. The minutes ticked by, and soon her reply came in.

Aminah: I can’t sleep… thoughts are all over the place.

Adil felt a tightness in his chest as he read that. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt this way, but it never made it any easier to hear.

Adil: Damn, you good? What’s on your mind?

He tossed his blanket off and slid his legs over the edge of the bed, propping himself up against the headboard. He always wanted to be there for her, especially when she was feeling like this.

Aminah: I dunno… just the same stuff. Dad, family, everything. It’s just… heavy, y’know?

Adil: I get that. Sometimes the weight of it all feels like too much. But hey, you don’t gotta carry it all by yourself, Aminah.

There was a slight pause before she responded, and Adil waited, tapping his phone with his thumb nervously.

Aminah: I know, it’s just hard to talk about sometimes. I don’t wanna sound ungrateful or like I’m complaining, but it feels like there’s no way out.

Adil frowned, feeling frustrated that she was going through all this in silence most of the time.

Adil: Bruv, you don’t have to apologize for feeling like that. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Don’t bottle it up.

There was another small pause, and then her reply came through.

Aminah: Thanks, I just don’t wanna drag you into it too much…

Adil: You’re not dragging me into anything, Aminah. You’re my friend. My family, even. I want you to be okay.

Aminah: I’m trying.

Adil smiled at the screen, feeling his heart warm despite the serious conversation.

Adil: You’re stronger than you think, yeah? You’ve got this.

Aminah: I’m not sure I do… but it’s nice to hear.

Adil: Well, I’m here whenever you need to talk. Even if it’s just about random stuff, like… what’s your favorite snack at 3am?

Aminah actually chuckled at that, and Adil could practically feel the shift in her mood through the screen.

Aminah: You know me so well, I’m actually munching on some chips right now.

Adil: What flavor though? Don’t tell me it’s plain.

Aminah: Plain?! What do you take me for?! It’s BBQ, duh.

Adil: Alright, that’s better. We can still be friends then.

Aminah: Lol, you’re lucky. If you were here, I’d throw them at you.

Adil laughed quietly, feeling a little lighter after their exchange. It wasn’t much, but knowing she was feeling just a bit better made everything seem more manageable.

Adil: If I was there, I’d just eat them all and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Aminah: You wish! You’d be lucky if you even got one.

They both stayed on their phones for a little while, chatting about random things—movies, music, the most ridiculous things they could think of. It wasn’t much, but for Aminah, it was just what she needed to take her mind off everything.

Eventually, her messages started to slow down, and Adil noticed she was getting quieter.

Aminah: Alright, I think I’m actually getting kinda sleepy now.

Adil: I’ll take the credit for that. I’m a great distraction.

Aminah: Definitely. Thanks for staying up with me, Adil. I really needed this.

Adil: Anytime. Anytime, Aminah.

With that, they both finally laid down, their phones resting by their sides, and despite the chaos that surrounded them, they both managed to find some peace in the late-night conversation.

Late Night Conversation - More Chill, Less Grammar

aminah: yo, still awake?

adil: yeah, just saw ur message. wassup?

aminah: can’t sleep bruv, head’s a mess.

adil: damn, u good tho? what’s goin on?

aminah: same old. dad, fam, stuff. it’s all jus a lot rn, u know?

adil: fam i get that. gotta be rough. u wanna talk about it?

aminah: idk, it’s jus like… everything feels like it’s closin in sometimes. but whatever.

adil: yo, u don’t gotta keep it in. i’m here if u need to vent or wtv.

aminah: idk… i guess. it’s just hard sometimes, like… yk how batman’s got a whole fam?

adil: what, like actual batman? what u talkin bout?

aminah: nah not like the actual batman, but like the batfam bruv. robin, nightwing, batgirl… all of them.

adil: wait wait, hold on. are u talkin about comics or somethin? i’m lost.

aminah: yes! comics. like they got mad loyalty, bruv. but it’s complicated. they all got issues but still stick together.

adil: fam i swear u lost me at “batfam”. what’s even goin on there?

aminah: ok so like, robin’s got mad trust issues, right? but like, he still tries to be part of the fam.

adil: yo, i didn’t know u were deep into that batman stuff like that.

aminah: trust me, it’s a whole vibe. and like, batgirl’s tough as nails but has her own demons. it’s mad.

adil: bruv i don’t even know where to start. u’ve lost me on the whole batman fam…

aminah: lol, it’s cool. u prob wouldn’t get it anyways.

adil: nah, i’ll try to catch up one day. but like… does any of this connect to why u can’t sleep?

aminah: i guess. i see them all with their baggage, but they got each other. i don’t even know if i got that, y’know?

adil: fam, u got me. stop thinkin u on ur own.

aminah: u know what’s funny tho? robin’s the most messed up one, but he’s got the most growth.

adil: that’s lowkey inspirational, innit?

aminah: yeah, i guess. just wish i could figure it out like they did.

adil: u will, bruv. u gotta trust that.

aminah: yeah, maybe.

adil: look, whenever u wanna talk about batman or whatever, i’m down. even if i got no clue what u mean half the time.

aminah: lol, u prob the only one who’d be down to listen to me go on about batman.

adil: i swear, i’m gonna figure this batfam thing out, i’m dedicated now.

aminah: haha, no promises tho.

adil: bet. but for real, if u ever wanna get stuff off ur chest, just hit me up.

aminah: appreciate it, bruv.

adil: anytime, anytime.

The texts paused, but there was something comforting about the shared words between them. Even with the confusion over the Batfamily, they managed to keep each other company through the chaos in their heads.

aminah: sends a pic with a dog filter lol look at me bruv 😂

adil: tf is this lmao, u look like a whole dog rn

aminah: aww shut up, i look cute

adil: nah nah, go sleep man, this ain’t it

aminah: i’m bored man, u ain’t got no jokes

adil: swear u up at 3am tryna prank me w these filters? get some rest

aminah: nah, i’m chillin. sends another pic with a bunny filter i look like i belong in easter

adil: bruv, please sleep. i’m bout to block u if u send one more filter pic

aminah: nahhh i’m a whole vibe tho, u see this cuteness?

adil: you’re something alright 😂

aminah: sends another pic, this time with a random glittery crown filter king status, u feel me?

adil: laughs u got too much energy for someone who can’t sleep. go lay down, fam

aminah: lol, alrighttt. but i’m sending one more just for u sends one more dumb pic

adil: groans i’m not even mad anymore, just go sleep already

aminah: fine, fine. but u gotta admit i’m funny

adil: i’ll give u that, but seriously, go sleep

aminah: haha goodnight, bruv

adil: goodnight, and stop sending random pics, it’s 3am

aminah: sends one last pic goodnighttttt 😂

adil: i swear you’re impossible. goodnight. ends convo

Despite her teasing, he couldn’t help but smile at how she always managed to keep him entertained—no matter the hour.

The next morning, Aminah’s dad barged into her room, talking a mile a minute.

“Aminah, get up, there’s some function with all the brown people, y’know, the usual one. We’re going.”

Aminah groaned, rubbing her eyes, still feeling the effects of last night’s late-night texting. She wasn’t really in the mood for a big family gathering, but there was no way out of it.

She grabbed her phone and sent a quick message.

“yo, my dad’s dragging me to some function. probs just gonna throw on a shirt and shorts. u up?”

Adil replied almost immediately.

“same, got a family thing too. what’s goin’ on?”

Aminah rolled her eyes but smiled slightly.

“some usual thing with a bunch of aunties and uncles. u know how it is.”

Adil replied again.

“lol, same. see u there?”

Aminah laughed as she typed back.

“ha, imagine. yeah, we’ll see. don’t be embarrassing tho, don’t wanna hear no auntie gossip.”

“lol trust, i’ll keep it cool.”

After a quick change into a simple shirt and some baggy shorts, Aminah reluctantly left the house, knowing exactly what the day would hold. Her dad, on the other hand, was in full force mode, talking non-stop about who’d be there and what was going down.

When she entered the function, she immediately scanned the room. And then she froze.

“No way, you’re here too?”

Adil, who had been chatting to his cousin, looked up and saw Aminah standing by the door. His face immediately flushed, and he tried to act casual, though it was clear he didn’t expect to see her.

“Bruv, what are you doing here?”

“Me? Same thing you’re doing, I’m guessin’. Who else did you drag along?”

Adil shrugged, clearly a bit embarrassed by the whole situation. It was supposed to be a casual family gathering, but it was starting to feel anything but.

A few moments later, the boys decided to play football in the yard. Aminah wasted no time jumping in, showing off her skills. She was fast, fluid, and totally outplaying most of them.

“You lot can’t keep up with me, trust,” she said, laughing as she kicked the ball past one of the boys.

Adil, standing on the sideline, watched her with an amused smirk. As she sprinted by, he called out, “You’re showing off now, aren’t you?”

Aminah grinned as she shot a goal. “Nah, just showing you how it’s done.”

After the game, Aminah was leaning against a tree, catching her breath, laughing with the boys who had clearly given their best shot but still couldn’t compete with her speed.

Then, Aminah noticed a girl—Zoya—standing off to the side, giving her an unmistakable glare. Zoya had always had this attitude about Aminah, and today, it seemed like she was ready to say something.

Zoya stepped forward, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

“You really think you can hang with the boys like that?”

Aminah raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Don’t start, G. You got a problem with me, say it.”

Zoya smirked, crossing her arms. “Maybe I do. You’re just here to get attention, aren’t you? You’re not one of us.”

Aminah couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re mad ‘cause I’m better at football than you. Take it up with the boys who were cheering for me.”

The group of boys, including Adil, had stopped talking and were now watching the exchange. Some were clearly trying to hide their laughs. Zoya, her face flushed with embarrassment, took a step closer, but Aminah wasn’t having it.

“Listen,” Aminah continued, her voice dropping in intensity, “I don’t need to impress anyone, especially not someone like you. So maybe next time, mind your business.”

Zoya’s face turned beet red, and she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get another word out, Aminah turned her back and walked toward Adil, who was still laughing.

“That was savage,” he said, grinning at her.

Aminah shot him a playful smile. “She had it coming.”

[okasuka]

dying from the absence of his love

Unplanned Matching Outfits

Aminah slouched in the passenger seat as her dad drove, phone in hand, already bored out of her mind. She tapped Adil’s contact.

Aminah: yoo u here yet?

Adil: nah still in the car wyd

Aminah: contemplating jumping out the window n making a run for it u?

Adil: same still tryna figure out wtf we’re even going to

Aminah: fr bro i js got in the car no context

Adil: fam my dad said “we’re going” and i said “going where” and he said “u ask too many questions”

Aminah: LMFAOOO LIKE OK

Adil: wait hol on my mum js said it’s a wedding💀

Aminah: ur acc joking

Adil: im not i thought it was some family dinner wallahi i woulda stayed home

Aminah: i’m wearing a hoodie n cargos im actually gonna get cooked

Adil: dw im prob worse still in my black jumper n cargos

Aminah: we matching wow

Adil: power couple typa timing

Aminah: shush before i stop messaging u

Adil: ok but if the aunties start talking abt how we look like a couple i’m blaming u

Aminah: kms

She sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket as her dad pulled into the parking lot. Adil’s car was a few spaces away, and she spotted him through the window, still in his seat, slumped like he was physically pained to be there.

A few minutes later, both their families piled out of the cars and started heading inside. As soon as Adil reached her, he looked her up and down and smirked.

“You’re acc a joke.”

Aminah glanced at him, eyes narrowing. “Ur literally in the same fit as me, shut ur mouth.”

Adil just laughed, shaking his head. “Nah cause we actually look like we planned this.”

She rolled her eyes and walked ahead, but of course, the moment they stepped into the venue, they got hit with the stares. Women in vibrant dresses and men in traditional wear filled the room, all throwing quick glances at the two hoodie-and-cargo-wearing delinquents who had just entered.

And then, it happened.

“Mashallah, they look so good together!”

Aminah froze, jaw clenching.

Adil? He was grinning.

One of the aunties smiled at them. “Did you plan to match? How cute!”

Adil, the snake, immediately nodded. “Yeah, yeah, coordinated it this morning.”

Aminah whipped her head toward him, eyes wide with betrayal. No he didn’t.

“They’re always together, I’m telling you, wedding’s in a few years inshallah!”

Aminah groaned, slapping a hand to her face as Adil just stood there, smug as hell.

“You’re actually the worst,” she muttered under her breath.

Adil nudged her. “We do kinda look sick tho.”

She gave him a death glare. “Walk away before I throw hands.”

He just chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’ll let u calm down first.”

Aminah sat back in her chair, legs stretched out under the table, casually picking at the food on her plate. The table they ended up at was full of other kids their age—mostly boys—who were either half-interested in the wedding or just here because their parents dragged them.

Adil sat beside her, arms crossed, already looking bored. A few of the guys were chatting about some Premier League match, and Aminah—despite not supporting any team religiously—got into the convo with ease.

“Nah, City’s actually moving mad this season,” one of the boys, Kareem, said.

Aminah scoffed. “I dunno why you’re acting like Arsenal isn’t clear. If Saka’s playing, it’s wraps.”

Kareem raised a brow. “Oh yeah? Who do you even support?”

Aminah shrugged. “No one fr, I just like watching.”

One of the other boys laughed. “You chat too much for someone with no team.”

“She just likes arguing,” Adil said, smirking as he leaned back.

Aminah nudged him with her foot. “Shush, you know I’m right.”

Their back-and-forth was easy, natural—just how it always was. She barely noticed the side-eyes from the girls at the table, but they were definitely there.

One of them, Aaliyah, sat with her arms folded, glancing between Aminah and the boys. She was in a full glam outfit, bangles jingling as she leaned into the girl beside her, whispering something under her breath.

Aminah clocked the looks eventually. The way the girls would side-eye her, then whisper. How their eyes lingered whenever she laughed a little too hard at something Adil said or when she casually bumped shoulders with one of the guys.

She already knew the vibe. She’s too loud. Too boyish. Too comfortable with them.

She’d heard it before.

But she slouched further into her chair, unfazed. If they wanted to talk, they could talk. She wasn’t gonna switch up just ‘cause some girls thought she should be sitting pretty and silent.

Adil must’ve noticed something in her expression because he nudged her. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, glancing at him with a smirk. “You still owe me a match, you know. Don’t think I forgot.”

Adil rolled his eyes. “You actually think you could play me?”

“I know I could.”

Kareem cut in. “Wait, she plays?”

Aminah smirked, arms crossed. “What, you shocked?”

Kareem laughed. “Nah, just didn’t expect it.”

Aaliyah scoffed quietly, just loud enough to be heard. “Of course she does.”

Aminah’s smirk twitched slightly, but she let it slide. Instead, she focused on Adil, who was still looking at her with that knowing look. Like he could tell she was just pretending not to care.

He leaned in slightly, voice lower. “You good?”

She met his gaze, hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah.”

And that was that. He didn’t push, just nodded, and went back to the convo like normal. Like he always did.

One of the boys, Kareem, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he looked between Adil and Aminah. “Yo, you lot should come over to ours later. Mum’s holding some function—bare food, bare people. Come over and play, yeah?”

Before Adil could answer, one of the other boys, Zayn, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you gotta pull up, Aminah. You actually chat ball, might as well back it in a game.”

Aminah smirked, stretching her arms behind her head. “Say less, I’ll humble you, don’t worry.”

The boys laughed, all of them suddenly more engaged in the convo. She could feel their attention on her—not in a weird way, but like they actually rated her. And she liked that.

But Adil?

He wasn’t laughing.

He was quiet, his jaw slightly clenched, his leg bouncing under the table. She barely noticed it at first, too busy grinning at whatever dumb joke Zayn was making.

Then she felt it.

His hand sliding onto her thigh under the table.

At first, she thought he was just shifting, but then his fingers pressed, firm and deliberate. He squeezed lightly, his thumb rubbing slow circles against the fabric of her jeans. It wasn’t obvious—no one else could see—but she felt it.

Her smirk faltered for half a second.

A quick glance at Adil told her everything. His face was neutral, still leaned back like he wasn’t bothered, but his grip on her leg said otherwise.

Aminah bit the inside of her cheek, suppressing a smirk. Was he jealous?

The way he didn’t laugh with the others. The way his grip tightened when Kareem casually leaned closer, all relaxed like he had a shot.

Yeah. He was definitely jealous.

She leaned in slightly, her voice teasing but quiet enough that only he could hear. “You alright there?”

Adil didn’t look at her. “Mhm.”

Aminah tilted her head, acting innocent. “You sure? You look like you wanna swing someone.”

He exhaled sharply, barely a laugh. “Shut up.”

But his fingers tightened, his grip not letting up, even as the convo carried on.

Aminah just smirked.

Yeah. He could play it cool all he wanted, but she knew.

The wedding was winding down, but the aunties were still going strong, dancing in the middle of the hall like they had unlimited stamina. Duppatas flying, bangles clinking—it was chaos.

Aminah stayed slouched in her chair, scrolling through her phone while the other girls were hyping each other up, taking turns doing little spins and clapping along.

Then, the attention turned to her.

“Aminah, come dance,” one of the girls, Zoya, said, grinning.

Aminah barely looked up. “Nah, I’m good, G.”

“Oh my days, just once!”

“Live a little, man,” another girl, Hafsa, chimed in, nudging her shoulder.

Aminah sighed, shaking her head. “I’m living just fine, trust me.”

That’s when Adil—who had been watching this whole thing like it was comedy—broke into laughter, nudging her with his elbow. “Why you moving like a grandad, bro?”

Aminah shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

The girls rolled their eyes, clearly over it. “Fine, whatever,” Zoya said, flicking her hair as she turned away. But then, her whole vibe switched, all sweet and bubbly as she looked at Adil instead.

“Byeee, Adil,” she said, dragging out the words. “Make sure you snap me, yeah?” She giggled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s aaliyah.2c00l.”

Hafsa chimed in, “Yeah, don’t forget, aaliyah.2c00l, innit.”

Aminah raised a brow, looking between them and Adil, waiting for his reaction.

Adil barely glanced up. “Aight, cool.”

Aminah bit back a smirk, stretching her arms behind her head as the girls walked off, still giggling. “Man’s got fangirls now, yeah?”

Adil exhaled through his nose, leaning back. “Bro, I don’t even know them like that.”

Aminah just hummed, side-eyeing him. “Mmm.”

Adil turned to her. “What?”

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

But she was definitely gonna bring it up later.

Adil leaned back in his chair, scrolling through Snapchat, while Aminah rested her head on his shoulder. The hall was still buzzing with people, but they had claimed their little corner, away from all the madness.

Aminah lazily watched his screen as he flicked through his messages. Then, a familiar name popped up—some girl from school, Sana.

She was sending him flirty snaps, all pouty lips and subtle thirst traps. The caption on the latest one? You looked good todayyy, Adil. Should’ve sat next to me tho ;) x

Aminah scoffed under her breath. “Ohhh, should’ve sat next to her?” She lifted her head off his shoulder, looking up at him. “Why didn’t you, huh?”

Adil barely reacted. “You’re moving mad.”

Aminah sat up properly, snatching the phone out of his hand before he could react.

“Aminah—”

“Shush, let me work.” She tapped the camera, switching it to selfie mode. Before Adil could grab his phone back, she turned to him, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and snapped a picture.

She added a caption: Oops, looks like he’s a bit busy rn x

Then, she sent it straight to Sana.

Adil stared at her, mouth slightly open. “You’re actually insane.”

Aminah grinned, handing his phone back. “You’re welcome, G. Cleared up any confusion for her.”

Adil shook his head, biting back a smirk as he checked his phone. Sana had already opened the snap, but there was no reply.

“Man, you’re moving reckless,” he muttered.

Aminah just shrugged, leaning back on his shoulder again. “Nah, you love it.”

Aminah got home and immediately stripped out of her wedding outfit, sighing in relief as she pulled on her oversized Venom T-shirt and some baggy shorts. She flopped onto her bed, rubbing her eyes before grabbing her phone.

Aminah: wedding was long man

Adil: ong bro my legs r gone

Aminah: u n ur weak ass knees

Adil: stfu i was carrying the convo at our table u jus sat there slouching like a roadman

Aminah: and?? i was vibing

Adil: vibing in ur hunchback of notre dame stance

Aminah: ur actually jarring

Adil: dw i still rate u tho

Aminah smirked at her screen, typing lazily.

Aminah: yh u better

Adil: but u acc had all them mandem tryna invite u over n that😭

Aminah: LMAO u were pressed

Adil: no i wasn’t

Aminah: squeezing up my leg like u were tryna kill an ant 😭

Adil: u chat so much shit ong

She laughed, rolling onto her stomach.

Aminah: it’s cool g, i only accept invites from u

Adil: damn right

Aminah: ur moving possessive

Adil: nah jus making sure man don’t try anything dumb

Aminah paused for a second, staring at the text before grinning.

Aminah: cute

Adil: ur so annoying

Aminah: love u too bro

Adil: ye whatever go sleep before u get all emotional n weird

Aminah: too late

She laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed beside her.

Aminah: not coming in g i feel like i got jumped

Adil: say swear

Aminah: swear bro i’m dying rn

Adil: LOOOL good stay ur sick ass at home

Aminah: shush man i’m going back to sleep

She locked her phone and rolled over, passing out within seconds.

—

When she woke up again, the first thing she did was check her phone. Her eyes widened at the number of messages waiting for her.

Adil: bro u missed smth mad today

Adil: Youness n Bilal almost scrapped some year 10s😭

Adil: also Miss was moving mad she made us do a WHOLE extra worksheet jus bc some dickhead was talking

Adil: and u weren’t here so i had no one to copy off

Adil: i actually suffered today ong

Adil: anyway u good? u still breathing?

Adil: bro wake up ur moving like ur in a coma

Aminah smirked, typing back.

Aminah: ur moving desperate did u miss me or smth

Adil: shut up man i was just checking if u were still alive

Aminah: cute

Adil: ur actually annoying

Aminah: dw g i’m still breathing, i’ll be in tmrw inshAllah

Adil: good u better be i acc had to do work today bc u weren’t here😒

Aminah chuckled, dropping her phone onto her bed and stretching before rolling over again. Maybe she’d go back to sleep—she was still feeling dead.

Aminah sat up slowly, still a little groggy from the nap, but her phone buzzed again. It was Adil.

Adil: stop acting like ur busy lol

Aminah: i’m literally just chilling, why?

Adil: nah u’ve been avoiding me

Aminah: bruv i just woke up

Adil: still moving mad😂

Aminah: y tho?

Adil: coz i miss u sm

Adil: u my beautiful gf, what u expect me to do?

Aminah paused, reading his message for a second. She felt her heart do that little flutter thing it always did when he’d get all sweet, but she tried to play it cool.

Aminah: wow, now u’re calling me beautiful?

Adil: well u are tho

Aminah: love u to cutie pie

Adil: 🙄

Aminah laughed at the face he sent, leaning back into her pillow as she thought about the message. Her fingers hovered over her phone for a second before she sent one last text.

Aminah: stop being cringy and just come over later

Adil: i’ll be there, don’t worry

She smiled, turning the phone face down and sinking back into her bed. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

Adil: u know ur friends were moving mad today

Aminah: what do u mean?

Adil: like Zayna, Nudar, Chloe and Farrah came up to me during lunch

Aminah: oh lord, what they say?

Adil: they were asking if i was “serious about you” and how “you deserve better” 😭

Aminah: ohhh they actually asked you that?

Adil: yeah bruv, they were all up in my face about it. saying i need to “treat u right” and “not mess it up”

Aminah: what did you say?

Adil: i just told them i already know, that i’m not messing it up and i’m already treating you right 😂

Aminah: lol u made them shut up yeah?

Adil: nah, then Chloe tried to call me soft for being so serious about you. like?? bruv i’m literally in love with u, it’s not a joke

Aminah: awwww, love it

Adil: it’s true tho, but they were just doing the most. saying i better be careful or they’re coming after me if i hurt u😭

Aminah: bruv, they’re really doing that? tell them to mind their business

Adil: trust me, i’ll have to beat them all up if they keep moving mad.

Aminah: i swear, i’ll go tell them off for you. no one messes with my man

Adil: aww, my protector

Aminah: shut up, just don’t mess up and i won’t have to fight for u.

Adil: swear down, i won’t. love you too much to mess it up

Aminah smiled at her phone, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She couldn’t deny that she loved how much he cared about her, and even if her friends were a bit extra, she appreciated the effort.

Adil: sends a cute snap of his face here’s your daily dose of cute bruv 😌

Aminah: stares at the snap, heart melting Aww, you’re actually too cute. Wait, I’m gonna post something real quick.

She quickly pulls out her phone, opening TikTok and posting a slideshow. The first slide is a candid picture of them laughing together, the next one with a picture from their first time hanging out, then a few more of their silly selfies. The song playing is Harvey’s “Alex G,” and the lyrics flash across the screen:

“Run my hands through his shirt black hair, I love you Harvey, I don’t care…”

She posts it and watches as the notifications flood in. Comment after comment appears, with their friends and even some random classmates chiming in.

Zayna: Omg I can’t with you two 😩💘

Farrah: I ship it sooo hard. 💕

Chloe: I swear down, if you guys aren’t endgame, I’ll lose it 🥺

Nudar: Ughh so cute I can’t handle it. 💕

Ibrahim: comments bruv, y’all are too cute I can’t even hate 😂❤️

Aminah responds to the comments with a heart and laughing emojis

Then, her phone buzzes with a new text from Adil.

Adil: texts jokes aside, i love you a lot, you know that right?

Aminah felt her heart flutter at his words. She smiled, typing out her reply quickly.

Aminah: I love you too, more than I can even say. You’re mine forever, don’t forget that.

Her fingers hovered over her screen for a moment before sending another text.

Aminah: Also, thanks for the cute snap, I’m keeping that one for later 😂

Adil: texts haha, no worries, you better 😏

Adil: texts again but seriously, every time i look at you, i just wanna be closer to you, like you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, no joke. ❤️

Adil: sends another message also, you looked fire in that TikTok, my heart can’t take it 😩💘

Adil: another text every pic of you just makes me want you more, i can’t wait to see you again

He waits for her reply, his mind already racing with all the things he wants to say but holding back, knowing Aminah might need a little space to reply.

Aminah: lol, you’re actually too cute, stop it

Aminah: also, chill with the sweet stuff, making me blush 😅

Aminah: tbh, i think you’re the best thing to happen to me too, lowkey didn’t think anyone would make me feel this way

Aminah: i can’t wait to see you either, might be a bit of a challenge for me tho with how busy everything’s been lol

Aminah: but we’ll figure it out, like always

Adil: i swear, you always manage to make me smile. i miss you so much tho, it’s crazy.

Adil: yeah, we’ll figure it out. no stress. you and me, we’re in this together, yeah?

Adil: and trust, we’ll find time, no matter what. i’m not letting you go anywhere without me 😉

[okasuka]

randonm

Texting Before the Party

Aminah: u ready yet

Adil: do i look like i’m ready man my mum still shouting at me

Aminah: LOOOL

Adil: she moving mad tryna make me wear this ugly ass kurta i look like a roadman in disguise

Aminah: na send pic

Adil: allow it

Aminah: SEND IT RN

Adil: [image sent]

Aminah: NAH ur actually finished😭 why it look 2 sizes too big

Adil: cos it is fam my dad told me i’d grow into it??? bro i’m fully grown

Aminah: ur dad is funny man tell him i said safe

Adil: go tell him urself he probably rate u more than me at this point

Aminah: maybe cos i don’t complain abt everyyy little thing

Adil: bro u complain more than me don’t even start

Aminah: ok but i do it with style

Adil: u do it with violence

Aminah: same thing

Adil: anyway u ready?? bet ur gonna take another hour

Aminah: u think i’m a wasteman like u??? i BEEN ready

Adil: oh yeah? send pic then

Aminah: no

Adil: wow ur moving mad rn

Aminah: i want the DRAMATIC entrance innit

Adil: wow ok miss main character

Aminah: finally ur catching on

Adil: hurry up and get there man my mum already stressing bout being late

Aminah: see u there loool

At the Party

The venue was packed. Every brown family in a 10-mile radius had clearly decided to pull up, aunties dressed in their best outfits, uncles standing in corners talking politics, and kids running around like it was a football stadium.

Adil walked in with his family, immediately spotting his cousins at one table chatting up some random uncles for Eid money. He barely had time to breathe before his mum started greeting every aunty in sight, pinching his cheek like he was five.

Then, through the crowd, he spotted her.

Aminah stepped in like she owned the place, dressed up but still effortlessly herself. She clocked him across the room and smirked.

Aminah: rate the entrance out of 10

Adil: solid 9 still, lost a point cos u didn’t trip over a kid for dramatic effect

Aminah: ur an idiot😂

Aminah made her way over, dodging aunties and cousins trying to pull her into conversations. The second she reached Adil, she rolled her eyes. “Fam these parties are the same every year, I swear.”

Adil laughed. “Bruv, I been here 10 minutes and already got my cheeks violated by some random aunty. Like I’m a grown man, allow me.”

Aminah snorted. “Nah it’s peak, they still treating u like a toddler?”

“Bro, I could turn 40 and they’d still be like ‘beta, when you getting married?’”

Aminah grinned. “Jokes on u, I already got asked if I’m engaged.”

Adil’s eyebrows shot up. “Swear? To who??”

“Dunno, some random aunty talking bout ‘oh mashallah you’re so big now, any rishtas?’”

Adil made a disgusted face. “Nah that’s a violation.”

“Fully.”

They both looked around, scanning the hall. The food hadn’t even been served yet, which meant they had at least an hour of auntie politics, uncle debates, and hyper kids launching themselves across the room before anything interesting happened.

“Empty spot?” Aminah muttered, tilting her head toward the back where a group of older boys were chilling.

Adil nodded. “Say less.”

They slipped away, dodging a few lingering aunties, and made their way towards the back of the room where the older boys had taken over a little section, passing around the PS5 controllers.

“Yo, empty spot?” Aminah asked again, eyes on the screen.

One of the older boys, Ibrahim, glanced up. “Hold up, man’s in the middle of a match.”

Adil leaned in. “Who’s playing?”

“abdul and Ali,” Ibrahim replied. “Jeff’s getting smoked tho, man’s actually trash.”

Aminah smirked. “I rate it.”

They both dropped down onto the sofa, watching the match unfold. The party continued around them, but for now, they had their own little corner, away from the aunties, away from the chaos, just chilling like they always did.

The PS5 match ended with a dramatic final goal, and the whole group erupted into laughter and shouts of “Nahhh, that was a violation!” as Jeff sat there, stunned.

Adil leaned back, shaking his head. “Man got humbled on Eid, that’s crazy.”

Aminah smirked, nudging him. “U’d get packed the same way, don’t get comfy.”

Before Adil could respond, a group of aunties waddled over, their brightly colored shalwar kameez glistening under the venue lights. One of them, a short, round-faced woman, beamed at them.

“Mashallah, look at these two. Definitely getting married when they’re older, insha’Allah!”

A chorus of “Insha’Allah!” echoed through the auntie squad, and suddenly, every adult in the vicinity was nodding in agreement like they had all planned this in advance.

Aminah let out a short laugh, rolling her eyes. “Man said definitely.”

Adil coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ayy, allow it, man.”

Cosmo snickered from the side. “Bro’s blushing.”

Aminah smirked. “He’s finished.”

Adil shot her a look before one of the older aunties—the type that had been running these parties since the 90s—squinted at Aminah. “Beta, why you always dressing like a boy, huh? Always in them big clothes, looking rough rough.”

The group chuckled, and Aminah’s smirk froze in place.

The aunty continued, voice dripping with mock concern. “No bangles, no earrings, no makeup? You’ll never find a husband like this. You wanna look like the boys, or what?”

More laughter.

Aminah shifted slightly, adjusting the sleeves of her hoodie. Her jaw tensed, and for a second, her usual sharp comeback didn’t come.

Adil’s smile dropped.

“Nah, auntie, chill—” he started, but the woman just waved him off, still smiling like she was joking.

“I’m just saying! Girls these days, they wanna act like boys, running around in trainers and hoodies. Back in my day, we had grace, we had elegance.”

More aunties nodded in agreement, still giggling amongst themselves.

Aminah let out a small exhale, staring at the floor. Her fingers curled into her sleeves, and Adil caught a glimpse of the bandages underneath before she quickly shoved her hands into her pockets.

The laughter continued around them, but Aminah wasn’t hearing it anymore.

Adil glanced at her. “Yo.” His voice was low, just for her.

She forced a smirk. “Man said ‘grace and elegance’ like I’m tryna be in a Disney film.”

It sounded like a joke, but her voice had lost its usual bite.

Adil frowned. “Come, let’s cut from here.”

She shook her head. “Nah, I’m good, innit. Let’s just—”

“Aminah.” His voice was a little firmer this time.

She finally looked at him.

He nodded towards the exit, his eyes saying more than his words.

For a second, she hesitated. Then, with a final glance at the group still laughing, she exhaled and stood up. “Say less.”

Adil followed, hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw still tight.

As they stepped away from the crowd, Aminah let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

The party carried on behind them. But for her, the buzz had already faded.

Aminah and Adil moved through the crowded hall, dodging little kids zipping around in new Eid fits, aunties carrying plates stacked high with food, and uncles deep in discussions about petrol prices like it was life or death.

Finally, they reached the quieter part of the venue—a dimly lit stairwell leading to the back entrance. It was empty, away from all the noise, the perfect spot to just breathe.

Aminah plopped down on the steps, her plate balanced on her lap as she dug into her kebab. Adil sat next to her, unwrapping his samosa before nudging her leg with his.

Adil: “You good, yeah?”

Aminah didn’t answer straight away, just took another bite. Then she sighed. “Man, these aunties are actually jarring.”

Adil smirked. “They move mad every year, though. Act like it’s their full-time job to violate people for no reason.”

Aminah let out a short laugh through her nose but didn’t say much else.

Adil watched her for a second, then leaned back against the railing, voice a little softer now.

“You know I’d marry you either way, right?”

Aminah paused, mid-bite. She turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Adil shrugged, tearing off a bit of his samosa. “Yeah. Even if you dress like a roadman for the rest of your life.”

Aminah scoffed. “Shut up, bruv.”

Adil grinned. “Nah, fr. Even if you pull up to the wedding in a tracksuit, I’ll be there, suit and all.”

Aminah gave him a look. “Ur dumb.” But her lips twitched up at the corners.

Adil nudged her again, a teasing glint in his eye. “What, you don’t believe me?”

Aminah rolled her eyes, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth. “Man said ‘tracksuit at the wedding’ like I’m gonna roll up in a full Nike Tech.”

Adil cackled. “Wallahi, you actually would.”

She shook her head, chewing, then swallowed. “Would you still love me if I wore TNs with it?”

Adil wiped a fake tear from his eye. “That’s a madness, but yeah, I would.”

Aminah smirked, finally looking at him properly. “Bet.”

They kept eating, their plates getting emptier, the mood getting lighter.

Adil dipped his last samosa in some chutney, humming. “At least the food’s banging this year.”

Aminah nodded. “Swear down. Last year’s was so dead, I nearly had beef with the caterer.”

Adil laughed. “Nah, real talk, their biryani was moving suspicious. Like, how’s rice tasting like cardboard?”

Aminah shuddered. “Don’t even remind me, man. That trauma runs deep.”

Adil snorted, finishing off his plate. Aminah followed, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning back against the wall, feeling just a little bit lighter.

The party still raged on in the hall, the aunties still chatting, the music still playing. But here, in their little quiet corner, it didn’t really matter.

For now, it was just them.

Aminah flopped onto her bed, kicking off her Eid shoes and stretching out, still full from all the food. The day had been long, the aunties had been wild, and the whole “marriage talk” situation still had her spinning a little.

Her phone buzzed next to her. She grabbed it, already knowing who it was.

Adil: fam today was actually weird😭

Aminah: nah fr😭 them aunties were moving mad

Adil: swear down they made it sound like we got nikkah done in secret😭

Aminah: wallahi😭 i can’t believe they said mashallah like we’ve been married for 10 years

Adil: u shoulda seen my mum she was PROPER smiling i’m actually scared💀

Aminah: naah ur done for😭 u better start writing ur wedding vows rn

Adil: real talk tho

Adil: today was mad but i kinda liked it yk

Aminah: yh??

Adil: yh

Adil: just the whole thing, being w u, chatting shit, eating on the stairs, idk man, i just love being around u

Aminah: …

Aminah: ur feeling soft rn huh😭

Adil: ok and?? i can’t love u in peace??

Aminah: LOOOL i never said that😭

Adil: good

Adil: swear down tho, i proper wanted to kiss u before i left

Aminah: ????

Aminah: bro our dads would kill us

Aminah: or just u, tbh😭

Adil: nah real talk ur dad would fold me like laundry

Aminah: yhh u’d be dead in 0.2 seconds no respawn

Adil: smh would be worth it ngl

Aminah: ??? ur actually insane

Adil: for u, yh probably

Aminah: ur moving mad

Adil: just say u love me back n go sleep

Aminah: i never said i didn’t?

Adil: say less

Aminah: gna sleep now before u start confessing more😭

Adil: ok ok goodnight future wife😌

Aminah: u actually want a death wish

Adil: let me dream in peace man😔

Aminah: gn my cute weirdo

Adil: LOVE U GNN

Aminah locked her phone, shaking her head with a small smirk.

Yeah. Today had been weird.

But maybe not fully in a bad way.

[okasuka]

angstyyyy fluff

Aminah: hiii

Adil: yo

Aminah: wyd

Adil: nm u

Aminah: just laying in bed tryna sleep but obv failing

Aminah: ur texts r dry what’s up

Adil: nothin man chill

Aminah: …ok? u good tho fr?

Adil: yhyh im calm

Aminah frowned at her screen, something in her gut telling her that he wasn’t “calm” at all. His texts were short, off. Usually, he’d at least pretend to entertain her late-night rambling. But now? He wasn’t even trying.

Aminah: u sure? u don’t seem like it

Adil: bro i said im fine

Aminah blinked. “Bro?” Since when did he talk to her like that? The uneasy feeling in her chest only grew.

Aminah: ?? what’s ur problem

Adil: i don’t have one can u drop it

She stared at the message for a few seconds before scoffing. She should just leave it, let him be moody on his own, but something about his attitude annoyed her.

Aminah: nah bc why r u moving like that w me

Adil took a while to reply this time. When his name finally popped up again, the response made her stomach drop.

Adil: can u not? not everything’s about you aminah.

Her breath hitched. She read the message again, making sure she wasn’t seeing things. But no, it was still there, sitting on her screen, making her chest feel tight.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to type something, wanted to ask him what the hell his problem was, why he was acting like this when all she did was check up on him. But she couldn’t.

Because if she did, and he actually meant what he said, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see his response.

She locked her phone instead.

Aminah woke up to her phone vibrating nonstop. Squinting against the morning light, she reached for it, her heart sinking when she saw Adil’s name flooding her notifications.

Adil: yo aminah answer man

Adil: i didn’t mean that last night

Adil: i was just pissed abt something else it wasn’t even u

Adil: come on ur moving mad now

Adil: at least tell me ur alive

Adil: aminah??

She sighed, staring at the messages. She wanted to ignore them, roll over and go back to sleep, pretend she never saw them. But she couldn’t.

Instead, she just sat there, phone in hand, debating whether to reply.

Did he even deserve a response?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she finally typed.

Aminah: im alive.

She hit send and tossed her phone onto the bed. A second later, it buzzed again.

Adil: ok so ur replying but ur still mad 🤦🏽‍♂️

Adil: fair ig but aminah pls i feel bad

She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down her face. Yeah, he should feel bad. But at the same time, she hated this feeling—this tension between them.

Her phone buzzed again.

Adil: can we talk? in person? pls.

Aminah bit her lip, staring at the screen, her stomach twisting.

Aminah: ok.

She stared at the message for a second before locking her phone again. She wasn’t sure why she agreed so easily—maybe because despite how pissed she was, she hated dragging things out. Or maybe because, deep down, she wanted to hear what he had to say.

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

Adil: say less. meet me at the park?

She sighed.

Aminah: yeah. gimme a bit.

Throwing the covers off, she got up, moving slower than usual. Even as she got dressed, her stomach felt tight, nerves creeping in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew one thing—he was gonna have to do more than just say “I didn’t mean it.”

When she finally got to the park, Adil was already there, sitting on one of the benches, hood up, bouncing his knee like he’d been waiting a while.

When he saw her, he stood up immediately. “Yo.” His voice was careful, testing.

Aminah just nodded, crossing her arms. “Talk, then.”

Adil ran a hand over his face, exhaling. “Look, I was moving dumb last night. I was mad about some other shit, and I took it out on you, which was so dumb ‘cause you were just checking up on me.”

She didn’t say anything, just watching him.

He sighed, stepping closer. “I swear I didn’t mean what I said. It was just—my head was all over the place, and I got snappy. But I’d never actually think that about you. You know that, right?”

Aminah shifted, kicking at a rock near her foot. “I did know that,” she mumbled. “But it still stung, Adil. Like, what the hell?”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “I felt like shit the second I sent it. I was just hoping you’d cuss me out instead of ignoring me.” He huffed a small laugh, but she didn’t smile. His face dropped a little. “I’m really sorry, Aminah. I mean it.”

She finally looked up at him, searching his face. His brows were drawn together, eyes softer than usual, like he actually felt bad. And as much as she wanted to stay mad, she also kinda hated seeing him like that.

She sighed. “I don’t like when you shut me out like that. You don’t have to tell me everything, but don’t—don’t be a dick to me just ‘cause you’re mad at something else.”

“I won’t. I swear.” His voice was serious now.

Aminah exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” She glanced at him. “But if you do that again, I will fight you.”

Adil’s lips twitched. “I’d let you win.”

Aminah scoffed, finally cracking a small smile. “Damn right you would.”

Adil grinned, relieved. “So… we good?”

She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Yeah. We’re good.”

Without thinking, Adil reached out, pulling her into a quick, tight hug. It caught her off guard, but she didn’t pull away.

“Swear down, I won’t be an idiot again,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

Aminah smirked. “That’s a big promise, y’know.”

Adil laughed, pulling back to look at her. “Yeah, well. I’ll try my best.”

Aminah looked at him for a second, then, without really thinking about it, leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or awkward—just soft. A quiet I forgive you, a don’t do that again, a we’re okay.

Adil froze at first, like his brain short-circuited, but then he kissed her back, hands resting lightly on her waist. When they pulled away, he let out a shaky breath, eyes still half-lidded like he was processing what just happened.

Aminah smiled a little. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

But when she looked closer, her smile faltered. His eyes were glossy, his breath uneven.

“…Adil?” She tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked rapidly, looking away and rubbing at his face. “Nah, nah, I’m calm.”

She frowned. “You’re literally about to cry.”

“I’m not,” he sniffled, then immediately groaned when his voice cracked. “Shut up, man.”

Aminah’s chest tightened. “Oi.” She grabbed his chin, gently forcing him to look at her. “What’s up?”

He hesitated, jaw clenching like he was debating whether to say it. Then, barely above a whisper, he mumbled, “…I thought I proper messed this up.”

Aminah’s expression softened.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “I was scared, bruv. I said some dumb shit, and then you weren’t replying, and I—I thought that was it. That you’d just…” He trailed off, like he couldn’t even say it out loud.

Aminah’s heart squeezed.

She reached up, gently brushing a tear off his cheek. “You’re dumb,” she whispered.

Adil huffed out a laugh, voice still wobbly. “I know.”

Aminah sighed, shaking her head before hugging him tight. He melted into it immediately, burying his face in her shoulder.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she muttered.

Adil sniffed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She leaned back, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Even when you’re being stupid.”

He grinned, eyes still a little red. “That’s all the time, though.”

Aminah smirked. “Exactly.”

The morning warmth settled over the park, soft sunlight filtering through the trees as they walked side by side. It was early enough that the place was practically empty—just them, the occasional bird, and the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes.

Aminah had her phone out, scrolling with a determined look on her face. “Nah, hold on, I need to show you this. Funniest shit I’ve seen all week.”

Adil watched her, hands stuffed in his pockets, lips tugging into a small smile. “You and these weird-ass TikToks, man.”

“Shut up, this one’s actually funny.” She finally found it and turned the screen toward him. “Look.”

The video played, some chaotic edit filled with inside jokes and absurd sound effects, and as soon as it hit the punchline, Aminah lost it.

She doubled over, laughter spilling out of her, one hand gripping her stomach while the other kept the phone steady. “Bro—BRO—look at his face, are you dumb??”

Adil wasn’t even paying attention to the video anymore. He was just watching her.

The way her eyes crinkled, the way she literally had to lean on him for support as she laughed, the way she was so unapologetically herself in the moment—it made something in his chest go all warm and tight.

He shook his head, grinning. “You’re actually a weirdo, you know that?”

Aminah wiped at her eyes, still giggling. “I know, but I don’t care. It’s so funny.” She clicked the video back and replayed it, immediately breaking into laughter all over again.

Adil chuckled, nudging her playfully. “Bruv, you’re too gassed over this.”

She looked up at him, all bright-eyed and breathless from laughing. “Because it’s hilarious, don’t even lie.”

He didn’t respond right away, just staring at her for a second.

Then, shaking his head with a small, helpless laugh, he mumbled, “You’re actually so cute.”

Aminah blinked, caught off guard for half a second before she smirked. “Yeah? Say it again.”

Adil scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Nah, man, you heard me the first time.”

She nudged him, grinning. “Say it again, innit.”

He groaned dramatically, but his face was already burning. “Bro, allow it.”

Aminah just laughed, bumping into his side as they kept walking, the sun warm against their backs.

As they walked, Aminah suddenly turned to him, eyes curious. “Oi, you ever play fighting games?”

Adil glanced at her. “Nah, not really. I’m more of a FIFA guy.”

Aminah gasped, full-on gasped, like he just admitted to a crime. “You’re lying.”

He shrugged. “What? Man grew up on FIFA, what do you want from me?”

“That is so tragic.” She grabbed his wrist. “Aight, we’re fixing this. Come to mine.”

Adil barely had time to react before she was dragging him toward her house, her grip firm like she was on a mission.

—

Minutes later, they were sitting on the floor in front of her TV, controllers in hand, Tekken 8 booted up on the screen.

Aminah cracked her knuckles, smirking. “Aight, pick your fighter.”

Adil scrolled through the characters, humming. “Which one’s the strongest?”

Aminah snorted. “That’s not how it works, bruv. Just pick whoever looks cool.”

After a few seconds, he settled on Panda. “Yeah, I’m using this fat bear.”

Aminah stared at him. “You’re actually unserious.”

He grinned. “Nah, Panda’s looking kinda hard, still.”

She rolled her eyes, immediately locking in Asuka Kazama. “Aight, say less.”

The match started, and within seconds, Aminah was destroying him. She was pulling off combos, parrying his attacks, weaving through everything he threw at her like she was born for this.

Adil, meanwhile, was struggling.

“Fam, how are you even doing this??” he shouted, mashing buttons.

Aminah laughed, dodging another one of his weak attacks. “It’s called skill, you casual.”

Adil groaned as she landed a perfect counter, sending his Panda flying. “Nah, this game’s rigged.”

“Or maybe,” she teased, “you just suck.”

He whipped his head toward her, fake offended. “Aminah, I swear down, if you say one more thing—”

KO.

The screen flashed red, Asuka Kazama Wins.

Aminah cackled. “AHAHA, HOLD THAT L, YOU WASTEMAN.”

Adil groaned dramatically, tossing his head back. “Nah, you’re a snake, bruv.”

She grinned, poking his shoulder. “Cry more.”

He squinted at her. “I actually hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“…Okay, maybe not.”

She laughed, bumping his knee with hers. “Run it back?”

He exhaled. “Bruv, I already know you’re gonna cook me again.”

“Yeah, but it’s funny.”

Adil groaned but picked up his controller. “Aight, one more.”

(He lost. Again.)

Adil sat cross-legged on the floor, controller in hand, still salty from his fourth straight loss. “Nah, you’re actually a menace. No way you’re violating me like this in my first game.”

Aminah smirked, stretching her arms. “Get good, innit.”

Just as she was about to start another match, the front door clicked open.

She froze. “Shit.”

Adil blinked. “What?”

“My dad’s home.”

His eyes widened. “What??”

Before he could react, she grabbed him by the hoodie, yanking him up. “Bro, hide!”

“Where?!”

“I don’t know, cupboard!”

She shoved him toward the storage cupboard by the door, barely giving him time to scramble inside before shutting it.

The second she turned around, her dad walked into the living room.

Aminah forced a casual smile. “Heyyy, Baba.”

Her dad eyed her. “Why do you look suspicious?”

“I don’t.” She plopped onto the couch, heart pounding. “How was work?”

“Same as always.” He set a plastic bag down on the table, pulling out a folded T-shirt. “Here, I saw this and thought you’d like it. Try it on.”

Aminah took the shirt, still pretending everything was normal. “Oh, thanks, Baba—I’ll try it now.”

Adil, crammed inside the tiny cupboard, nearly choked.

Was she—was she about to change while he was right there???

His entire body went rigid as he peeked through the slats in the cupboard door, barely able to see her as she pulled her hoodie off.

Oh. Ohhh.

His ears burned instantly. His entire face burned instantly. His soul was leaving his body.

Aminah, completely unaware of his crisis, slipped the T-shirt on. “How’s it look?”

Her dad nodded approvingly. “Fits you well.”

“Niceee.” She did a little twirl before sitting back down. “Thanks, Baba.”

Her dad hummed, stretching. “I’m going to nap. Don’t make too much noise.”

Aminah grinned innocently. “Of course not.”

The second her dad left, she darted to the cupboard, flinging the door open.

Adil stumbled out, red as hell. “What was that?!”

Aminah snorted. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean??” He gestured wildly. “I was in there!”

She smirked. “You watched, didn’t you?”

His entire brain short-circuited. “HUH?!”

Aminah cackled, grabbing his hoodie and pulling him in. “I’m messing with you, relax.”

Adil groaned, face still on fire. “You’re actually evil.”

She just grinned up at him, their faces close. “Yeah? What you gonna do about it?”

He squinted at her. Then, shaking his head, he leaned in and kissed her.

Aminah hummed against his lips, grinning as she kissed him back. “That’s what I thought.”

He huffed a laugh. “Shut up, man.”

She just laughed, kissing him again.

Aminah, still grinning, leaned back against the door, tilting her head as she looked up at him. “You’re blushing so hard right now.”

Adil scoffed, trying to play it off. “Nah, man, it’s just hot in here.”

She smirked. “Yeah? Then why are your ears red?”

Before he could answer, she suddenly licked the door behind her, deadpan.

Adil froze.

His brain completely shut down.

His hands, which had been resting at her waist, twitched slightly. His mind—instantly derailed.

“WOAH!!” His voice cracked so hard, his eyes wide as he took a step back.

Aminah died laughing. “Oh my days, relax! What did you think I was gonna do??”

Adil ran a hand down his face, still so flustered. “Nah, nah, you did that on purpose, don’t even lie.”

She leaned in, smug. “Maybe.”

He groaned. “Bro…”

She just laughed more, tugging him back against her. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Adil, still trying to recover from whatever unholy thoughts just went through his head, huffed. “You’re actually a menace, you know that?”

“Mhm,” she said, pulling him in again.

And then she kissed him.

He sighed against her lips, giving in immediately, hands settling on her waist again. She grinned into the kiss, tugging him closer.

The door behind her creaked slightly, but neither of them cared.

Adil lay on his back, arms wrapped loosely around Aminah as she rested against him, her head on his chest. Their bodies were warm against each other, skin to skin, tangled up beneath her blankets. The room was quiet except for her voice, soft but animated as she rambled.

“Bro, prime Khabib was unstoppable,” she said, tracing lazy patterns on his stomach. “Man finished Conor’s career, made him tap like a lil’ boy. SMOKED him. And then he hopped the cage, went straight for Dillon Danis—like, who else is doing it like that??”

Adil chuckled, looking down at her. She was so passionate about this, her brows furrowed, lips slightly parted as she talked. He wasn’t even listening properly anymore—just watching the way her lips moved, the way her eyes lit up.

She kept going. “And like, people act like Islam Makhachev’s the next Khabib, but I promise you, no one’s ever replicating that dominance. He was different. 29-0?? No one even came close to beating him, ever.”

Adil hummed, fingers brushing over her bare shoulder. “You’re actually obsessed.”

She huffed, lifting her head to glare at him. “Because I know ball.”

He smirked. “It’s UFC. Not ball.”

“Same concept,” she muttered, resting her chin on his chest. “You don’t get it.”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Nah, I get it. I just like hearing you talk.”

She paused for a second, blinking. “That was kinda cute, still.”

Adil shrugged, smirking. “I’m kinda cute, still.”

Aminah rolled her eyes but grinned, leaning up closer. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“That you like hearing me talk.”

He exhaled a laugh, brushing his nose against hers. “I like hearing you talk.”

She smiled softly, her fingers gripping his waist slightly. Then, without another word, she kissed him.

Adil melted into it immediately, his hand sliding to her jaw, tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss. She sighed against his lips, her body pressing closer, her warmth sinking into him completely.

And for once, she wasn’t talking—just kissing him, slow and warm, like they had all the time in the world.