#Lust

[fiftyshadesof420]

[jarhoneybear]

Want to make out with somebody so badly

[drowning-in-this-sadnesss]

[abcexcite]

[eleganceofhersoul]

It’s not what you do

it’s how you do it....

[mattydemise]

invictus maneo

[drowning-in-this-sadnesss]

[fiftyshadesof420]

[eleganceofhersoul]

[barnesonly]

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Lust ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──

professor!bucky barnes x reader

summary: You’re a literature student. He’s your English professor — brilliant, composed, and entirely off-limits. But the more you write, the more he notices you. And what begins as admiration quietly unravels into something far more dangerous.

word count: about 13k

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI. curse words, mutual desperation, age gap, dirty talk, praising kink, semi-public sex, fingering, PiV, unprotected sex.

Part 6 | Previous Part

The morning light slanted warm and golden through your dorm window, stretching across the floor like a sleepy cat. You were at your desk, hands brushing a light layer of powder across your face in the small mirror propped up against the textbooks you still hadn’t quite tackled over the weekend.

Your hair was mostly dry after your quick shower, and you ran your fingers absently through it while you stared at yourself, making sure you didn’t look as tired as you felt. Despite spending most of the weekend tangled up with James—doing everything but sleeping—there was that pleasant sort of ache lingering in your body and the tired-but-happy hum that had followed you right into Monday morning.

Behind you, Sarah was in full chatter mode, her voice like a familiar, upbeat soundtrack you’d learned to listen to and tune out at the same time.

“…so then Maddie texts me at like two a.m.,” she was saying, already rummaging through her bag, her phone lighting up her hands every few seconds with new notifications. “And I’m like, girl, you cannot come over now—I have class at eight. Get your shit together.”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured distractedly as you capped your lip balm, then grabbed your hoodie off the back of your chair.

Sarah paused mid-rant to look up at you. “You okay? You’re quiet this morning. Did you even sleep?”

Your heart skipped—for a split second you wondered if you looked as lovesick as you felt. “I’m fine,” you assured her, slipping the hoodie on and checking your reflection one last time. “Just… had a long weekend.”

That was the understatement of the century.

Sarah grinned, clearly satisfied with your answer as she went back to typing on her phone. “Well, you better wake up. Professor Carter is a nightmare on Mondays. Remember that time she threatened to give a pop quiz just because nobody answered her?”

You laughed under your breath and started packing your bag—laptop, notebook, pen, water bottle—making sure you had everything you needed. The room felt comfortably familiar as you moved around it, Sarah humming to herself and the light outside shifting slowly into full morning.

“You know,” Sarah added offhandedly, “I feel like you’ve been… I dunno, a bit happier lately.”

You froze for a second before tugging the zipper on your backpack closed. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she teased, her grin mischievous as she finally glanced up at you. “Your guy must have been nicer lately…”

Your face warmed and you rolled your eyes, swinging your bag onto your shoulder as you headed for the door. “You have no idea,” you muttered, mostly to yourself—a little smile pulling at your lips despite your best effort to hide it.

“See!” Sarah laughed, breezing past you into the hall. “That’s exactly what I mean. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

And as you followed her, your heart thudded just a little faster—already knowing this Monday was going to be very, very different.

You and Sarah fell into step together as you crossed the campus, the morning air crisp and bright. Students were already crisscrossing the pathways like hurried birds, backpacks bouncing and phones glued to hands.

“You sure you don’t want to come with me for coffee after class?” Sarah asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’d love to,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “but I have that lecture right after. Next time?”

“Next time,” she agreed easily, already spotting one of her friends up ahead. “Alright, gotta run—see you later!”

“Bye!” you called after her as she broke away into the crowd.

You slowed your pace, enjoying the brief pocket of solitude before your next class—until a familiar voice called out your name.

“Hey!”

You glanced over your shoulder and spotted Theo jogging up to you, hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his jacket, a boyish grin on his face. “Hey,” you greeted him back.

“Going to Barnes’ lecture?” he asked, falling into stride with you.

You nodded, hoping the heat you felt in your cheeks wasn’t obvious. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Theo replied. “Figured I might as well go with someone who knows where they’re going.” He chuckled, and you couldn’t help but smile at his easygoing energy.

“You act like you haven’t been on this campus long enough,” you teased.

He just shrugged. “I may or may not have a bad sense of direction.”

You laughed softly as you followed the familiar path toward the arts and humanities building together, making light conversation. But under the surface, you couldn’t help feeling a flicker of anticipation—knowing exactly who was going to be waiting at the front of that lecture hall.

Theo pushed the door open for you when you arrived, and you murmured a quick “thanks” as you slipped inside.

Your heart gave a small, involuntary thump as you scanned the mostly empty rows, the professor’s desk already neatly arranged with papers.

And sure enough, there he was—James—leaning against the podium, looking up just as you walked in.

The tiny, fleeting smile that crossed his face when his gaze found yours was enough to make your stomach flip—right before it faded into something more neutral as his eyes briefly shifted toward Theo.

You felt James’ gaze follow you as you and Theo moved further into the room. Students were slowly trickling in, voices murmuring, chairs squeaking.

You chose your usual seat and Theo—still chatting as he pulled out his laptop—slid into the chair right beside you.

The second you glanced up toward the front again, you caught that subtle shift in James’ expression. His brow tightened, gaze fixed on Theo just long enough for you to feel a flicker of guilt, even though you hadn’t done a thing.

“Looks like Barnes is in a mood,” Theo whispered, leaning closer.

Your lips twitched. “You shouldn’t be complaining. Especially after last week.”

Theo grinned at that, but you felt the heat creep up your neck anyway.

„I’m not,” he huffed.

You busied yourself setting your notebook on the desk, all too aware of the professor’s stare. And sure enough, as the last few students took their seats and the room quieted, James pushed off the podium with that measured grace you’d come to recognize—hands tucked into his pockets as he began pacing slowly at the front.

“Alright,” he started, his voice warm and smooth and unmistakable. “Let’s pick up where we left off last time.”

As he spoke, that dark blue gaze kept drifting toward you. You could feel it like a physical touch, stirring a familiar ache low in your belly.

You shifted in your seat, telling yourself to focus—but that was easier said than done.

James kept lecturing—smooth voice spilling across the room as he flipped slides and scrawled points on the board—yet every so often, his gaze would drift back to you. It was subtle, practiced, like he knew exactly what he was doing without even thinking about it.

And god, every glance had your heart skipping in your chest.

By the time the lecture was winding down, you were already gathering your things slowly, hands unhurried as you tucked your pen into your pencil case and stacked your notebook neatly.

Beside you, Theo was shoving his laptop into his backpack.

“You ready?” he asked, casual.

You paused. “Um—you can go ahead,” you said quickly, trying to sound breezy. “I’ve gotta talk to Professor Barnes about something.”

“Oh,” Theo blinked, shrugging a strap onto his shoulder. “That’s cool. I’ll wait for you.”

Your stomach dropped.

Of course he’d say that.

You forced a smile. “No, seriously—you don’t have to wait for me.”

But Theo was already shrugging again, leaning back against the seat. “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Your gaze flicked toward the front of the room just as James dismissed the class.

Students shuffled past him toward the doors, voices loud and chairs scraping—but his eyes were already on you, sharp and knowing.

And just as Theo was texting something on his phone, James pushed off the desk and crossed the room toward you, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze burning a path straight to you.

“Hey,” he greeted smoothly as he stopped at your row, his voice lower now, carrying that unmistakable edge. “Can I talk to you for a second? About your grade—the B- one?”

Your breath caught.

Your eyes slid to Theo, then back to James.

He held your gaze, but a second later, his eyes shifted—pinning Theo with a look so blank and unimpressed that Theo straightened up a little.

“Oh,” Theo said, like he’d finally gotten the message. “I’ll—I’ll wait outside then.”

James inclined his head in a curt nod, and only after Theo grabbed his stuff and slipped past him into the hall did James finally look at you again—a muscle flexing in his jaw as he spoke.

“God,” you breathed out, a soft, relieved laugh slipping past your lips. “I thought he was never going to leave.”

James’s gaze softened, just a little, as one brow arched. “Persistent guy,” he murmured, voice quiet but laced with amusement.

You chuckled, tucking your notebook into your bag and swinging it onto your shoulder. “He means well, I guess,” you said, then glanced up at him properly, your lips twitching into a smile. “But I’d much rather be here with you.”

That pulled the corner of his mouth up into a subtle smile—that one only you ever seemed to see. “That’s good,” he replied, hands slipping into his pockets as he shifted his weight comfortably. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get rid of him.”

Your heart did a little flip at the faint possessiveness in his tone, and you tilted your head at him, feeling that same flutter you always felt around him.

“You didn’t need to worry,” you said softly.

James held your gaze for a lingering moment, his eyes warm despite the professor mask he always wore. “I’m not,” he answered, then let out a breath that was almost a quiet laugh. “Not really.”

You smiled, fingers brushing the strap of your bag as you stood there together, the quiet hum of the emptying hallway around you like its own little world.

James’ gaze stayed fixed on you, his voice dropping a shade lower as he spoke. “You know…” he began, eyes searching yours, “my last lecture today got canceled. You can come by my office if you want.”

Your breath caught, a familiar thrill sparking in your chest at the invitation. “Is that so?” you teased lightly, brow arching as you bit back a grin.

He shifted a little closer, hands still tucked casually in his pockets but his tone warm, intimate in a way that was meant only for you. “Mm,” he murmured. “Figured we could use the time. Unless,” his mouth tilted in that way that made you weak, “you’d rather spend it with Theo.”

You let out a quiet laugh at that, stepping closer yourself so there was hardly any space left between you. “That’s not even a question,” you replied, voice soft. “Your office sounds a lot better.”

James held your gaze for a long, charged moment, that little satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Good,” he said, voice a low hum. “I’ll be waiting.”

And god, the way he looked at you—warm and possessive all at once—had your heart racing as you nodded and followed him down the hall.

Your cheeks heated just a little, and you had to look away before you gave too much away in the middle of an empty classroom. “See you later, Professor,” you murmured, savoring the title like an inside joke.

“See you,” he replied, gaze lingering on you as you finally turned toward the door.

The quiet of the hallway greeted you as you stepped outside, the usual buzz of students a few doors down. And of course, there was Theo—hands tucked into his pockets, one shoulder against the wall like he had nowhere better to be. The moment he saw you, his face brightened.

“There you are,” he said casually, straightening up and brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes. “So, are you gonna fix that grade or what?”

Your lips twitched into a smirk before you could stop yourself, all too aware of what you’d really been up to over the weekend. “I already did,” you replied breezily.

Theo’s brow arched, his easygoing grin making a brief appearance. “Oh, is that so?”

“Mm-hm,” you said, shifting your books in your arms and tugging your bag higher on your shoulder as you started to walk toward the stairs. The sound of your heels clicked softly against the tiled floor. “Wrote up some extra credit. Took care of it over the weekend.”

He fell into step next to you, hands still in his pockets. “Huh,” he muttered, sounding half-impressed and half-curious. “That was fast.”

“Yeah,” you agreed simply, your smile impossible to hide as you kept your gaze trained ahead, savoring the unspoken secret that still made your pulse race.

“Good,” he replied at last, a touch of amusement in his voice as you rounded the corner toward your next lecture together—him completely oblivious to what “extra credit” had really involved.

———

A few lectures later you were free.

You took your time packing up—sliding your notebooks into your bag one by one, lingering over each tiny task as your heart thudded with anticipation. It wasn’t like you had anywhere else to be. Except, of course, back with him.

The familiar thrill rushed through you as you wove your way across campus. The afternoon light glinted across the windows as you cut through the halls, feet carrying you almost automatically toward his classroom. Every step felt like a secret, every corner you turned making your pulse jump a little faster.

When you reached his door, you paused for a breath, fingers toying with the strap of your bag like you weren’t dying to just go in already.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you eased the door open and slipped into the empty classroom. The door clicked softly behind you, sealing the world outside, and there he was.

He glanced up the second you stepped inside, his gaze locking onto you like you were the only thing that mattered. The tension in his shoulders eased instantly—a look you’d come to recognize—and a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.

“There you are,” he greeted, voice rich and low as he set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“Here I am,” you echoed, your lips curving as you locked the door.

For a heartbeat, you just stood there, drinking him in—sleeves pushed up to his elbows, collar undone just enough to hint at warm skin, dark eyes fixed on you like you were all he could see.

And then you moved.

You crossed the room slowly, savoring the way his gaze followed you, and with a deliberate softness you hopped up onto the edge of his desk. Paper rustled under you, but neither of you cared.

James was already pushing back his chair, unfolding to his full height as he closed the small distance between you.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured as he came to stand between your knees.

His hands were gentle at first—one cupping your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone like you were something fragile—and you couldn’t help leaning into his touch.

“Missed you too,” you whispered, eyes fluttering as you felt his breath warm against your lips.

He bent his head and kissed you—slow and unhurried, like he was savoring every second, mouth melting into yours with a possessive sweetness that made your heart stutter.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer until there was no space left, only the quiet sound of your breaths catching and the delicious pressure of his mouth against yours.

“I thought about you all day,” he murmured between kisses, his hands sliding up into your hair, tilting your face just the way he liked so he could deepen the kiss.

“I couldn’t concentrate,” you admitted breathlessly against him, legs locking loosely around his waist, feeling him hum low in his chest.

“That’s my girl,” he growled softly, lips dragging down your jaw as one broad palm flattened against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured into the curve of your neck, and you let out a shivery little sigh, arching into him as his mouth pressed a trail of warm, deliberate kisses along your throat.

Your hands slid up to cradle his face, tugging him back up so you could kiss him again—deeper this time, a kiss that told him you’d thought of nothing but this since you left his class earlier.

He broke the kiss slowly, lips brushing yours one last time before leaning back just enough to look into your eyes—gaze dark and full of heat.

“God, I missed having you like this,” he murmured, hands still possessive on your hips. Then his gaze dropped, roaming down your body with a hunger that made your breath catch.

“Let me see you,” he coaxed, voice low and rough as his hands slipped lower, fingers brushing the hem of your skirt.

Your lips parted in a shaky breath as he began to ease the fabric upward, slow and deliberate. “That’s it,” he murmured, thumbs stroking circles into your thighs as more of your skin was revealed inch by inch.

You gripped the edge of the desk, pulse fluttering as he finally bunched your skirt up around your waist, dark eyes fixed between your legs.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he told you, voice edged with something deliciously raw as one hand drifted up your inner thigh. “Look at you… already trembling.”

A quiet whimper slipped past your lips as his fingertips skimmed higher, teasing up the softness of your inner thigh before finally hooking into the waistband of your panties.

“Lift for me, sweetheart,” he urged, eyes locking onto yours as you obeyed, hips tilting up just enough for him to draw your panties down your legs—agonizingly slow, the fabric sliding across your skin like a caress.

“Good girl,” he praised huskily, hands steady and sure as he tugged them all the way off, then tucked them into his pocket like they belonged there.

Your cheeks were burning, breath unsteady as he stepped back just a fraction, gaze drinking you in—skirt pushed up around your waist, legs spread for him, every bit of you aching.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, hands trailing up your bare legs again—feather-light at first before his palms settled warmly on your knees and began to ease them further apart.

“Already so wet for me too,” he added, voice turning darker as his thumb brushed against you, making your whole body jump.

Your hands were trembling against the desk now, breath catching as you nodded, eyes fixed on his face—and the wicked glint in his eye as he bent a little closer.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thumb stroking slow and deliberate. “Just keep those pretty legs open for me, baby. Let me take my time.”

And god, you were going to let him do whatever he wanted.

He held your gaze for a charged moment longer, thumb tracing a slow, tantalizing path up the slick heat between your thighs before he finally pressed just a bit more firmly—enough to make your hips jerk, breath spilling from you in a trembling gasp.

“That’s right,” he growled under his breath, utterly captivated by every tiny reaction. “You’re so sensitive already… can’t hide a thing from me, can you?”

Your fingers dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles going white as he began to circle your clit with that maddeningly deliberate touch. Warmth rushed through you in waves as your legs threatened to close—and he just spread you wider with his hands, gaze locked on where you were most exposed.

“Uh-uh,” he chided, low and dark, one corner of his mouth twitching into a wicked smirk. “Keep them open, sweetheart. Want to see you.”

Your body was trembling now, heat racing up your spine as he kept going—slow, practiced strokes that built the pressure in your belly until it was dizzying.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss along the curve of your jaw as his fingers moved faster, slick and sure. “And I love knowing you’re mine, every inch of you… mine.”

You tilted your chin toward him, lips parting for his kiss even as you squirmed against his hand. The way he kissed you—deep and possessive, all heat and hunger—only added fuel to the fire licking through you.

“You feel that, baby?” he murmured into your mouth as one finger pressed inside you, followed by a second, setting a steady rhythm that had your back arching into him. “That’s it—take me so well, just like you always do.”

A shivering moan broke free from your lips and into his, your hands clutching at his shoulders now for something solid to hold onto as his fingers curved just right, stroking that perfect, aching spot inside you.

“You’re gonna come for me right here,” he ordered—voice so low and sure it sent a thrill straight to your core. “And when you do, I want you looking at me. Got it?”

Your nod was desperate and breathless. “’Mm-hmm, James—please,” you gasped, every nerve burning, every movement of his hand winding you up tighter and tighter.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised with a dark, satisfied murmur, mouth brushing your ear as his fingers drove you higher. “Come on, baby… let go for me. Let me feel you.”

And with a trembling, helpless cry of his name, you shattered around him—his fingers still moving through your release as you clenched around him again and again, his other arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close while you fell apart.

Your trembling hadn’t even fully stopped before you felt him shifting closer, his hands still warm and sure against your skin.

“You did so good,” he murmured into your hair as you clung to him, your breath shaky and your body still humming from the aftershocks.

And then you heard the metallic click of his belt unbuckling—slow and deliberate—as he stepped back just enough to free himself.

Your eyes locked onto his hands for a breathless second as they moved to his zipper, anticipation making your stomach twist with a deeper, needier ache.

“You want it, baby?” he asked, voice dark as his hands slipped around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the desk, his thumb tracing the inside of your knee.

You could only nod, lips parting on a breath that felt like a prayer.

With a quiet growl, he guided himself to you—hot and hard and so perfectly familiar—and then he was pushing into you inch by slow inch.

Your lips fell open on a soft gasp as you took him, hands flying up to grip his shoulders.

“There you go,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands tightening on your hips to keep you anchored.

He paused when he was fully seated inside you—so deep you could feel every ridge and heat of him—and pressed a kiss to your lips like he couldn’t help himself.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped as he began to move, long, deep strokes that had your thighs trembling and your back arching into him.

Every slow thrust pulled a new sound from you, his name whispered into the quiet, dim light of his office.

“You’re mine,” he groaned against your neck, one hand threading into your hair as he rocked into you—unhurried, deliberate, making sure you felt every perfect inch of him.

And you were, god, you were—his low voice in your ear, his hands on you like you belonged nowhere else, the deep, devastating slide of him through you over and over until you were dizzy with it.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and all you could do was hold on as he fucked you slow and deep—like he had all the time in the world to unravel you completely.

His hands were gripping your waist so tight you were sure you’d wear his fingerprints for days. The two of you moved together like it was the most natural thing in the world—your bodies perfectly in sync, the slick slide of him making you bite back whimpers every time his hips ground into you just right.

You were clinging to him, eyes fluttering, lips parted against the sharp edge of his collar as you fought to keep yourself quiet in the empty classroom. The blinds were pulled, the door locked—the entire campus might as well have disappeared.

“You’re perfect,” he growled under his breath, voice like gravel as he kissed a trail up your throat.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him in closer, moaning into his mouth as he fucked you deeper and slower, every deliberate thrust lighting up your whole body.

“God, James—” you breathed, rocking into him, already trembling on the edge of losing it entirely.

And that was when the knock came.

Both of you froze like you’d been plunged into ice water—your heart jumping into your throat.

Your eyes went wide, breath held as James’s hands instinctively covered your mouth, his gaze pinned to yours.

A sharp voice from the other side of the door followed.

“Professor James? Are you there?”

You couldn’t help the panicked shiver that went through you—feeling him still hard and pulsing inside you, both of you trapped in this perfect, terrible tension.

James stayed perfectly still, his palm firm over your lips as if expecting you to cry out just from the adrenaline. His dark eyes were locked on yours, his brow drawn together in a fierce frown.

Your hands tightened on his shoulders, nails pressing into him, every nerve on fire as you tried not to breathe too loudly.

Another knock—louder this time—and you heard a faint rustle outside like someone was leaning closer to the door.

“Professor?” the voice called again. “Sorry to bother you, just need a quick word.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you felt dizzy, eyes pleading up at him in a mixture of lust and fear, a trembling ache still humming between your legs even as you were scared out of your mind.

James’s thumb brushed your cheekbone gently, his lips ghosting your ear as he whispered so low you could feel the vibration of it through your entire body:

“Not a fucking word.”

And you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to go utterly still—trapped in that dark, dizzying hush together as someone stood just on the other side of the door, so close they could have heard your racing hearts if they listened hard enough.

Your breath was caught halfway up your throat as you stared at him, pulse thundering in your ears, still trembling from the aftermath of what you’d just been doing.

James pulled out of you carefully—his hands still gentle even though there was a sharp edge of panic tightening his movements—and you bit back a sound at the loss, hastily tugging your skirt down over your aching thighs.

The knock came again—sharper this time—and James cursed under his breath before leaning close.

“Window,” he whispered urgently, eyes dark and serious.

Your stomach flipped. “What?!”

“Go out through the window,” he hissed, already reaching to straighten his belt and smooth his hair with a hand.

You stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “James—are you serious? What if someone sees me?!”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the window as you tried to fix your shirt. “I don’t know—be careful,” he urged, his voice a fierce whisper as another knock sounded.

“Oh my god,” you whispered back, feeling the adrenaline surge like fire through your veins. “You want me to jump out like a fugitive?!” you squeaked, heart racing, the whole thing so absurd you could hardly believe it.

James shot you a wild look over his shoulder as he moved to intercept whoever was knocking. “That’s exactly what I want,” he muttered. “And don’t break your neck, please.”

You swallowed hard as you crossed the short distance to the window. Thank god this was the ground floor—you only had to swing a leg over the sill and drop a few feet into the grass.

Your hands trembled as you undid the latch, the cool breeze instantly spilling into the room.

“God,” you whispered to yourself, heart thudding as you hitched your skirt up and swung one leg over.

“Careful,” James urged in a rushed whisper.

You slipped outside, crouching as you hit the grass and glanced up at him one last time.

“Don’t get caught,” he mouthed.

Your lips twitched despite the panic as you pulled your jacket tighter around you and hurried along the wall—trying to look as casual as possible—heart pounding, breath shallow, feeling like you’d just pulled off a prison break as you disappeared around the corner.

And up in the classroom, James was finally unlocking the door, already fixing his face into an innocent, professional expression as if nothing at all had just happened.

Your heart was still thudding painfully against your ribs as you hurried across the quad, weaving between scattered groups of students without really seeing any of them. The chilled air didn’t help—your hands were trembling as you dug your keycard out of your pocket and pushed into your dorm building, your face feeling too hot for comfort.

God, that was so fucking close.

Your steps were quicker than usual as you took the stairs two at a time, every sound around you feeling too loud. Every time someone glanced your way in the hallway, your stomach flipped—as if they somehow knew what you’d just been doing, like they’d seen you slip out of that window.

Or worse—like whoever had knocked had heard something before you two had stopped.

Your brain was racing as you reached your door, key sliding into the lock with shaky fingers. What if someone really did see you sneaking out? What if they went back and told someone? What if they connected the dots?

The door clicked open and you stepped into your room, leaning against the wood as you shut it behind you and pressed your palm flat over your pounding heart.

Your thoughts kept circling: who was that outside? Did they wait long enough to hear anything? Could they recognize you if they looked back outside and caught you rounding the corner?

God, you hoped not.

“Are you okay? You look like shit.”

You spun around to see Sarah sitting cross‑legged on her bed with her laptop perched on her knees, eyes narrowed at you like you’d just stumbled in from a war zone.

“Oh—hey,” you managed, breathless as you set your bag down a bit too carefully.

Sarah raised a brow. “Hey? That’s it? You sure you’re okay? You look like you just ran a marathon.”

Your hands went up in a vague shrug as you kicked off your shoes. “Long day,” you offered, hoping your voice didn’t give you away.

“Long day,” she echoed slowly, leaning forward. “And by long day you mean what exactly?”

You avoided her gaze, rubbing at the back of your neck as you tried to keep your face neutral. “Nothing crazy,” you mumbled. “Just… had to deal with some stuff on campus. Took forever.”

“Uh-huh.” Sarah’s suspicion didn’t waver, lips twitching like she wasn’t buying it one bit.

You grabbed your phone and tossed yourself onto your bed, face buried in a pillow to hide the heat creeping up your neck. The ghost of his hands on you still tingled across your skin, and you couldn’t stop replaying the frantic moment over and over again—the knock at the door, the sound of someone calling his name, the two of you freezing like deer in headlights.

Your phone buzzed against the sheets, yanking you back to the present. Heart skipping, you rolled over and grabbed it.

James | 3:21PM

God, that was close.

Your heart gave a painful thud.

You | 3:21PM

Yeah. No shit.

A moment passed before another message came through.

James | 3:21PM

You okay?

You stared at the question for a long second, lips pressed together. Were you okay? Almost getting caught like that had scared the hell out of you—your hands were still a little shaky.

You | 3:22PM

More or less. That scared the crap out of me. Pretty sure I aged ten years.

His reply was almost instant.

James | 3:22PM

Me too.

That one admission hit you hard—especially coming from him. Calm, composed, always so sure of himself. Except this time, he was just as shaken as you.

You | 3:22PM

That was too close, James. Way too close.

There was a long pause this time. You could picture him, brow furrowed, running a hand through his hair the way he always did when he was thinking too much.

Finally:

James | 3:24PM

I know.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you searched for the right words. The room felt too quiet, your heart thudding loud in your chest.

You | 3:24PM

What if someone heard? What if they saw me leave?

More typing bubbles appeared and disappeared before his next text.

James | 3:25PM

They didn’t. You’re safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Your stomach twisted—you knew he meant it. But this wasn’t some easy game. One slip, one wrong move, and everything could blow up in both your faces.

You | 3:25PM

That was way too close, though. Too risky.

That message hung in the silence for what felt like forever before his final reply appeared.

James | 3:26PM

I know.

And you could feel the weight behind those two words as if he were right there beside you—knowing that what you had was dangerous and fragile and so damn close to breaking if you weren’t careful.

You let your phone drop onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, breath shaky, heart still pounding as the reality of what almost happened began to fully sink in.

———

By the next morning, the knot in your stomach still hadn’t disappeared. The entire walk across campus felt surreal—like you were on autopilot, hands tucked into your pockets, your thoughts still spinning wildly around yesterday.

And him.

Theo kept up a steady pace beside you, backpack slung over one shoulder, humming something under his breath. But you barely heard him. Every little detail from yesterday—the rush of hands and lips, the sudden knock at the door—was on repeat in your mind like a song you couldn’t shut off.

“You okay?” Theo’s voice cut in gently, making you blink.

You glanced at him. “Yeah, yeah,” you answered a bit too quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite feel real.

He didn’t look convinced but let it slide as you crossed into the lecture hall together. Students were already filing into their seats, the usual hum of conversation filling the room.

And then you felt it—that magnetic pull.

Your eyes drifted up to the front of the classroom where James was leaning against his desk, hands gripping the edges casually, gaze scanning the room as if nothing had happened yesterday. Nothing at all.

But when his eyes found you, the smallest flicker crossed his face—so fast it was barely there.

Your heart thudded in your chest.

Theo followed your gaze without thinking and then glanced back at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, lower this time.

You swallowed and nodded, breaking eye contact with the professor as you pulled out your chair. “I’m fine. Really.”

Theo watched you for a beat longer before shrugging and slipping into the seat next to yours.

He set his backpack down with a quiet thump and began pulling out his notebook, but his gaze kept straying toward the front of the room.

Every so often, almost like clockwork, you glanced up at James—a quick flicker of your eyes that lasted a heartbeat too long before you made yourself look back at your notes again.

Theo didn’t comment.

He sat there, tapping his pen lightly against the edge of his desk, and you were too busy flipping blankly through your notebook to see the way his brow had creased, or the way his mouth had pressed into a thin, thoughtful line.

Out of the corner of his eye, he kept watching you—the subtle way your shoulders tensed when James spoke, the way you held your breath when those sharp blue eyes scanned the classroom, and how you immediately seemed to exhale when they moved on.

He noticed the tiny things you probably thought you were disguising.

Your hands fidgeting in your lap when the professor walked past your row. The way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear even though it wasn’t in your face. The faint color high on your cheeks that didn’t match the chilly morning outside.

And most of all, that careful, too-casual way you weren’t looking at him.

Theo didn’t say a word—not then, not as the professor started his lecture in that same measured voice that filled the hall, nor as you stared straight ahead like you were giving the class your full attention.

But Theo’s gaze kept returning to you.

The puzzle pieces were starting to fit together in his head, slowly and quietly.

And you had no idea at all.

You were too caught up in the lingering buzz under your skin, in the way yesterday kept playing over and over in your mind—hands and lips and whispered warnings you probably still felt against your neck—to notice the way Theo was studying you like someone trying to read between the lines.

He never broke the silence. Never asked the obvious questions that had started to form at the back of his mind.

He just sat there, listening to the scrape of his pen on his notebook and the professor’s deep voice as it filled the room—and kept his thoughts to himself.

The professor’s voice cut through the din of the crowded lecture hall one last time—“That’ll be all for today”—and just like that, the spell was broken. The usual shuffle of students packing up, murmuring to each other, and dragging their feet toward the door filled the air.

You took your time, hands moving slowly as you tucked your pen into your notebook, feeling strangely detached. The faint scratch of your zipper was louder than you expected as you closed up your bag, pulse a little too fast for such an ordinary moment.

When you finally glanced up, Theo was already watching you—leaning casually against his chair, one brow arched ever so slightly.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound more breezy than you felt.

His mouth curved into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing,” he replied, voice light. Too light.

That one word hung there between you, deceptively simple, and something about his steady gaze made you suddenly feel like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

Your eyes flicked toward the front of the room before you could stop yourself.

James was leaning against his desk in that effortless way of his, hands braced against the edge as a couple of students clustered around him with questions. Even from this distance you could see the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint smile that tugged at his lips as he spoke.

Your chest tightened just looking at him.

And when you dragged your gaze back to Theo, his brow had twitched—just a tiny shift. He held your gaze for a beat too long then glanced toward James, then back at you. “You wanna go up there and ask him something again?”

Your stomach flipped.

There was nothing accusing in his voice. In fact, if someone overheard, they’d probably just assume he was offering to wait while you clarified an assignment. But under that casual tone, there was an unspoken weight, an observation threaded between every word.

Your lips parted, then pressed together, a faint flush prickling up your neck.

“No,” you answered, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel as you hitched your bag higher onto your shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Alright,” Theo said simply.

He fell into step beside you as you moved toward the exit, hands in his pockets, gaze straight ahead—unbothered, at least on the surface.

And as the door swung shut behind you, you felt the weight of his quiet scrutiny lingering, sharp and discerning. Whether or not he had you figured out completely, one thing was clear: Theo wasn’t as oblivious as he let on.

The hall was busier now, students spilling out of classrooms, voices bouncing off the high ceilings as everyone shuffled toward their next lectures. Theo matched your pace easily, hands stuffed into his pockets, his stride loose and comfortable like nothing was on his mind.

“You really pay attention in his lectures,” Theo commented casually, his tone light—almost offhand—as if he were making small talk.

Your heart skipped, hands tightening around your bag strap. “I do?” you shot back, forcing a little laugh as you kept your eyes fixed straight ahead.

“Mm-hm,” Theo mused, that easy little hum of his making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Every time Barnes looks your way, you seem to straighten up like you’re about to be quizzed.”

Your stomach fluttered nervously. Every time? You glanced at him from the corner of your eye but Theo was just strolling along like this was nothing, like he hadn’t noticed more than he was letting on.

“I mean, he’s a good lecturer,” you replied carefully, trying to sound breezy. “Makes it easier to focus.”

“Easier to focus,” Theo echoed, his lips quirking. “That’s one way to put it.”

You felt heat crawl up the back of your neck and shifted your bag higher onto your shoulder. God, had you been that obvious?

“You seem to like him,” Theo continued, his gaze fixed ahead as the two of you maneuvered around a group of students huddled outside a classroom.

“Don’t most people like him?” you asked, maybe a bit too quickly.

Theo only gave a small shrug. “Some people do. Some people don’t. You, though…” His voice trailed off just long enough to make you look at him.

He was watching you then, one brow raised ever so slightly, eyes thoughtful—not accusing, not teasing. Just… curious.

“You look at him different,” he said finally, voice pitched so low it was almost lost beneath the hum of nearby conversations.

Your heart thudded hard at that, hands curling into fists around the strap of your bag.

“I do?” you replied softly, hating that your voice sounded smaller than you intended.

Theo’s gaze lingered on your face for a breath before the corner of his mouth lifted in a gentle smile. “Hey, I’m just saying,” he added lightly, as if he hadn’t just peeled back a layer you’d been carefully guarding. “He’s kind of… intense. A little hard to read. Makes sense someone might be drawn to him.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, searching for any sign that he knew more than he was letting on—but Theo only smiled a bit wider before pushing open the door to your next classroom.

The familiar hum of conversation and the scrape of chair legs against the floor greeted you as you followed him inside. It felt strangely loud against the nervous energy still buzzing in your chest.

“You grabbing this one?” Theo asked, jerking his chin toward the back row—your usual spot.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile as you slipped into the seat.

He slid into the chair next to you, casually dropping his backpack at his feet and pulling his laptop free.

Your hands were already reaching into your own bag for your notebook when your phone vibrated in your pocket—just once, sharp and insistent enough to make your heart jump.

You glanced at the screen under the desk.

James | 9:31AM

Hey, I thought you were gonna stay for a moment after the lecture. Everything okay?

Your stomach flipped.

Of course he’d noticed you hadn’t come up to him—usually you’d catch him before leaving, even if just for a quick word.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard as you glanced sideways at Theo. He was already logged into his laptop, eyes fixed on his screen, but there was that subtle, knowing curve at the corner of his mouth that made you feel like he was more present than he seemed.

You lowered the phone into your lap and quickly typed back.

You | 9:32AM

Sorry, wanted to but Theo was waiting for me. Didn’t want him to catch on.

You paused before hitting send, heart thudding as you reread it.

The message disappeared with a tiny whoosh.

You stared at your phone for a long second, nerves tangled up as you waited for the typing bubble to appear.

Beside you, Theo shifted in his seat, rubbing a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on his laptop like he had no interest at all in what you were doing—but every part of you felt hyper-aware of him.

And just as the professor walked in and started the lecture, your phone vibrated again in your palm.

James | 9:33AM

Figured. Don’t worry. We’ll catch up later. Come to my office when you’re done with your lectures, okay? Wanna talk about yesterday.

You bit your lip, a small smile tugging at your mouth even as guilt pricked at you.

That familiar ache settled into your chest as you tucked your phone away and glanced up at the front of the room, forcing yourself to focus on the professor’s voice—all the while feeling the weight of Theo’s unspoken questions and the lingering, secret heat of James’ message under your skin.

———

By the time the last lecture of the day wrapped up, your head was already somewhere else. The professor’s parting words barely registered as you slid your notebook into your bag, hands moving quickly—more quickly than they needed to.

Your phone felt warm in your pocket, that last message from James still lingering in the back of your thoughts like an invitation you couldn’t wait to answer.

“Hey,” Theo’s voice pulled you back as you stood, shrugging your bag onto your shoulder.

You glanced up to see him already waiting for you at the end of the row, hands tucked into his pockets in that easy, casual way he always had.

“Yeah?” you replied, forcing a light smile as you fell into step with him toward the door.

“You free now, right?” he asked, pushing the door open for you and matching your pace as you moved into the hallway. “I was thinking we could grab some lunch—or maybe coffee? My treat,” he added with a shrug.

You paused just long enough to register the offer. Normally, you’d say yes without a second thought—Theo was easy company, someone who never pressed too hard—but right now your chest felt tight with an entirely different kind of anticipation.

“Oh,” you began, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you kept your gaze trained ahead of you, avoiding his eyes. “That’s really nice of you, but, uh… I actually have to take care of something after this.”

“Something?” he echoed, tone light but laced with curiosity as you descended the staircase together.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, hoping it sounded casual. “Nothing serious, just—stuff for a friend.”

And god, even saying it out loud sent a thrill up your spine—one you hoped he couldn’t hear in your voice.

Theo was quiet for a moment as you wove past a couple of students hurrying the other way. Then he nodded, lips twitching into a small, knowing smile as he glanced at you sidelong.

“Ah. Friend… Got it,” he drawled, like he was letting you off the hook. “Guess I’ll catch you next time then.”

“Next time,” you agreed, breath slipping out in a subtle sigh of relief.

But as you kept walking, you felt the weight of his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he finally peeled off toward the courtyard, hands in his pockets, that easy posture never quite fading.

Your heart thudded faster as you kept going—past the familiar halls, past the windows that let in the bright spill of afternoon light—and all you could think about was him.

James.

By the time you reached his classroom, you paused for a breath and glanced around, making sure no one was lingering nearby. Satisfied, you knocked softly and pushed the door open, stepping inside and easing it shut behind you before turning the lock with a quiet click.

He was already watching you, gaze steady and unreadable as you crossed the room.

“You came,” he murmured, and you felt a tiny, breathless smile tug at your lips.

“Of course,” you replied, hands twisting around the strap of your bag before you set it down on one of the front desks. “We didn’t really talk after… yesterday.”

He nodded slowly, rubbing a palm over the back of his neck as if there was a tension there he hadn’t shaken.

“About that,” he began, voice pitched lower now—serious in a way that made your stomach flip. “That was close. Too close.”

Your mouth went dry as you glanced up at him, remembering the knock on the door, the way his hand had clamped over your mouth…

“God,” you breathed, heart skipping, “I thought we were screwed.”

James’ eyes darkened, hands braced on the edge of his desk as he studied you. “It was one of the other professors,” he explained. “Looking for me. Nothing more—and I don’t think she heard anything.”

That knot in your chest loosened a fraction at his words, but the unease still coiled there.

“You sure?” you asked quietly.

He held your gaze for a moment before answering. “I’m sure,” he said, but then his brow furrowed, and there was a flash of something rawer in his eyes—something like guilt. “Still, it was too fucking close.”

Your fingers traced the smooth grain of the desk as you listened, lips pressing together. “Yeah,” you agreed softly. “Way too close.”

James exhaled, pushing off the desk and stepping toward you until there was hardly a breath between you. His hands rose—gentle this time—to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones like he was grounding himself.

“If something had happened,” he began, his voice a hushed rasp, “if someone had walked in and seen…”

Your heart thudded harder at the thought, breath catching as you looked up into his gaze.

“James,” you whispered, hands lifting to circle his wrists, “nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened,” he echoed, leaning his forehead to yours, his warm breath feathering across your lips. “But if it had—if someone had heard or seen you—I don’t…” His jaw tensed as the words trailed off, leaving the thought hanging between you, thick and unspoken.

Your chest ached with a strange mix of affection and fear, and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I know,” you murmured, the tension trembling in your voice. “And I hate that we have to worry about this.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved—he just held you like you were something fragile, like if he let go, the world might come crashing in.

“You don’t deserve this,” he said finally, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin. “Any of it. I hate that I put you in this position.”

Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, holding him just as tightly. “Hey,” you whispered, voice fierce despite the softness of the moment, “you didn’t put me anywhere. I chose this. I chose you.”

That broke him.

James’ eyes searched yours like he couldn’t quite believe you—like he needed to feel it in his hands, taste it on your lips to make sure it was real. “And I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he breathed, voice strained with honesty. “God, if anything ever did because of me…”

You reached up and threaded your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer until your lips brushed his. “Nothing will,” you murmured, kissing him gently, lingeringly—hoping he felt every bit of the trust you felt for him.

And when he kissed you back—slow and aching and careful—you felt it too. The weight of his fear, his devotion. The fragile, secret thing you were both holding onto with everything you had.

Your hands stayed tangled in his hair as you pulled back just enough to look at him, really look at him—at the faint crease between his brows, the way his mouth was set in that tense, guarded line you’d come to recognize when something was weighing him down.

“James,” you whispered, voice trembling with the weight of everything swirling in your chest. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so much. You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

That admission was raw and naked—and you felt it in your ribs, in your bones, like a trembling thread pulling you toward him no matter what.

But instead of melting into your words like you hoped, he closed his eyes and gave the slightest, aching shake of his head.

“Don’t say that,” he breathed, his hands tightening on your face as though he needed the contact to stay upright. “You deserve so much better than this—better than sneaking around, better than worrying every second if someone’s going to walk in.”

Your heart squeezed painfully at the way his voice broke around the edges.

“James,” you urged, hands smoothing down from his neck to cradle his face, thumbs brushing along the sharp curve of his cheekbones. “Stop. Please.”

But he didn’t stop.

“You deserve someone who can kiss you in the middle of the street,” he went on, his gaze flicking away like he couldn’t bear to look at you as he spoke. “Someone who can take you to dinner, who can introduce you without fearing they’ll lose everything—without fearing they’ll drag you into the fire too.”

That was what this was, you realized in that instant—it wasn’t just worry for himself or even the secret you’d been keeping together. It was guilt.

He thought he was ruining you just by loving you.

Your throat tightened, eyes stinging as you watched him wrestle with it—all the quiet, relentless weight he carried just to have you in his life.

“James,” you said again, softer this time, forcing him to look at you as you smoothed your hands along his jaw. “I don’t care about any of that. None of it. None of the things you think I deserve—none of that matters to me if it means I don’t have you.”

His blue eyes searched yours, pain flickering across his face—like part of him still tried to believe you but the other part was too scared to.

“You don’t see what this is,” he murmured, hands trembling faintly as they held you. “What it could do to you if it ever went wrong.”

You did. And you hated it. Hated that this was where you’d ended up—tangled together in the shadows of his empty classroom with fear nipping at your heels, when all you wanted was him.

When all you ever wanted was him.

“I see you,” you told him fiercely, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his. “And I see everything that could go wrong. But I also see you every time you touch me like this—like I’m all that you’ll ever need—and I swear to God, that’s enough for me.”

James’ brow furrowed deeper at your words, his breath hitching as he listened, and you felt his hands flex against your skin like he was holding on by a thread.

“You are enough,” you whispered. “More than enough. And I’d take this—take you—every single time.”

For a long moment, he was utterly still, his eyes locked on yours as though he was looking for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt—and when he didn’t find it, when all he saw was you looking at him like he was the only person in the world, something in him finally gave.

His hands slid back into your hair, tugging you close, his mouth crashing into yours with a low, aching sound you felt all the way to your heart.

And you kissed him back, hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt, holding him like you never wanted to let him go—like you’d take every shadow, every risk, as long as you could keep this one, fleeting thing that mattered most.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, hands still trembling against his chest as you held his gaze.

“I really mean it, James,” you whispered, voice thick with all the feelings crowding your heart. “I want you. Always and forever. I love you and I don’t care about anything else.”

The way he looked at you then—like he was terrified you’d change your mind—made your chest ache. His hands were still tangled in your hair, thumbs stroking the side of your face so carefully you felt it all the way to your fingertips.

“You have no idea,” you continued, breathless but steady, “I’d do anything to make this easier. God, maybe I could transfer. Or drop this whole thing and just—”

He cut you off before you could even finish, a sharp breath leaving him as he shook his head, eyes dark with something that looked too much like fear.

“God, no,” he murmured fiercely, leaning in so close his forehead brushed yours. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you even think it.”

You blinked up at him, heart thudding hard in your chest as you felt his hands tighten against you.

“You’re so fucking talented,” he went on, his voice hushed but so full of intensity that it sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re brilliant. Don’t ever throw that away for me.”

And there it was—all the weight he’d been carrying, every ounce of guilt that kept him up at night. You saw it all in the way his brow furrowed and his mouth pressed into a tense line, like it physically pained him to even imagine you giving up your future for him.

“You’re going to do amazing things,” he whispered, thumb grazing along your cheekbone like he could memorize the feel of you. “And I’m not going to be the reason you lose that.”

Your heart twisted at his words—because god, didn’t he see? Didn’t he know that none of those things mattered if you couldn’t have this too?

“You don’t understand,” you whispered back, hands gripping the front of his shirt as though you were scared he might disappear. “None of that feels real without you in it.”

He held your gaze, something raw and aching flickering in his eyes as he searched your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

And then, so softly you almost missed it, “That’s exactly why I can’t let you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment you could only stare at him—feeling that bittersweet swell of love and sadness all tangled together.

“You mean that much to me,” he added, hands trembling just slightly as they framed your face. “More than anything. Even if it means I have to wait. Even if it means I have to watch you chase every dream you ever wanted first.”

Your eyes burned, hands fisting tighter into his shirt like you could will him to understand—but he already did.

And when he bent his head to kiss you again, so gentle and so careful like you were something priceless, you felt it in every inch of your soul.

That no matter what happened—no matter where this all led—James would put you first. Always.

He rested his forehead against yours for a long, aching moment, breath fanning gently over your lips like he was trying to find the right words. When they finally came, his voice was quieter—softer—but trembling with the weight of them.

“Maybe…” he began carefully, hands still cradling your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. “Maybe we need to slow this down.”

Your heart stalled, a strange cold blooming in your chest as you searched his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

James exhaled slowly, thumb brushing your cheek as though he could soothe you with that one small touch. “I mean—we need to take a step back,” he murmured. “Not because I want to, god knows I don’t. But you deserve to focus on your future without worrying about someone finding out. About me ruining this for you.”

The words hit you like a chill. Slowing down was the last thing you wanted. Every time you were apart, it felt like you were holding your breath until you could see him again. Every stolen kiss and whispered conversation had felt like lifelines—not distractions.

You stared up at him, hands trembling at your sides. “James…”

He kissed your temple so gently you almost broke. “I just want to do this the right way,” he continued, voice low, threaded with guilt and fierce, protective care. “And god, I hate the idea of making you feel scared or trapped. You mean too much to me to ever risk that.”

Your eyes burned as you looked at him, heart aching with a kind of impossible softness. The way he was looking at you—as if your happiness mattered more to him than his own—it took all the air from your lungs.

And even though every part of you screamed that you never wanted to slow this down, that you didn’t care about the risk, you could see what this was costing him too.

“You really mean that,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything.

He nodded, pressing his forehead back to yours like it was painful to hold back. “I do.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you couldn’t help yourself. “I hate it,” you confessed softly. “I hate the thought of not seeing you as much, of not—”

Your voice broke, and he held you closer, hands rubbing up and down your back like he wished he could take it all away.

“Me too,” he breathed, voice rough. “More than you know.”

And you believed him—you could feel it in the way his arms stayed wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go, in the way he held his breath when you finally whispered:

“Okay.”

That single word felt heavier than anything you’d ever said, but you knew it was what he needed to hear. Even if it shattered a part of you inside.

James’ hands flexed against you, lips brushing your hair like a quiet thank you. “You’re so fucking brave,” he whispered. “And I promise you, sweetheart, this is not forever.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your face into his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat ground you as you nodded.

“Okay,” you breathed again—softer this time, like you were trying to believe it too.

“You should go,” he said again, this time softer, hands slipping reluctantly from your waist as though his touch was already a memory. “Before anyone sees.”

Your stomach dropped at the sound of it—so final, so careful—like a door swinging shut that neither of you wanted to close.

For a moment, you just stared at him, lips parted, a hundred things you wanted to say swirling in your chest. But the knot in your throat was already making it hard to breathe, and his gaze—that gentle, tired sadness in his eyes—told you more than words ever could.

“Fine,” you finally managed, voice trembling as you forced a shaky smile you didn’t feel.

He held your gaze like he might reach for you again, hands flexing at his sides, the muscle in his jaw ticking like this was hurting him too.

And god, it was.

You slipped your bag over your shoulder, every movement slow and aching, like you could stretch this last fragile moment forever if you took your time. But then James gave you a small nod—the kind that left no room for argument—and you knew you had to go.

“See you,” you whispered, stepping backward toward the door, hands trembling against the cold knob as you forced yourself to turn away.

The hallway felt too bright, too loud, like stepping into a different world.

Your fingers dug into your bag’s strap as you moved on autopilot, one foot in front of the other. Every sound around you—the scrape of lockers, distant laughter, someone pushing past—felt muted beneath the dizzy hum of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

By the time you made it outside into the crisp air, you were trembling—shoulders hunching instinctively as if to hide.

God, you hated this part—hated leaving him, hated how much it already hurt.

Your breath hitched, the ache you’d been holding back burning its way up your throat until it was impossible to breathe around it.

You kept your eyes fixed on the path in front of you as you hurried across campus, head down, vision going glassy with tears.

Every step back toward your dorm felt heavier, your chest tighter, like something fragile and vital had been left behind in that classroom—wrapped up in him and his hands and his voice.

And god, you felt so empty without it.

By the time you reached the dorm building, you couldn’t fight it anymore.

You paused halfway up the staircase, leaning into the wall, palm pressed to your face as a shaky breath broke loose—then another—until a choked sob slipped out before you could stop it.

Tears pricked hotly at your eyes as you pressed your forehead against the cool wall and fought to catch your breath, trembling with every ragged inhale.

And all you could do was stand there for a long, aching moment, hands trembling against your damp cheeks, knowing that walking away hadn’t made anything easier—it had only left you feeling raw and hollow in a way that scared you.

When you finally made it back to your room, your hands were trembling so hard you fumbled with your key in the lock. Every breath felt too short, your chest too tight, and you didn’t even realize there were tears on your face until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the tiny mirror by the door—eyes red-rimmed, lips trembling, shoulders tense.

When you pushed the door open, Sarah was sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping through some notes, humming under her breath—but the second her gaze lifted and took you in, her expression changed completely.

“Oh my god,” she was on her feet in an instant, crossing the space between you in two quick steps. “Hey—hey, wait—what happened? Are you okay?”

You could barely choke back a breath as she reached for you, her hands gentle but firm on your arms like she was scared you’d collapse. And maybe you would have.

Your lip quivered, chin trembling as you just shook your head, trying to hold it together. But the dam you’d been trying so hard to patch up all the way back was breaking, faster and faster, and you didn’t have the strength left to stop it.

“I…” you managed, voice wrecked and shaky before you broke off entirely.

Sarah pulled you into her arms without another word, wrapping you up so tight you could feel her heartbeat against your cheek. That’s when you really broke—a jagged, aching sob tearing up your throat as you buried your face against her shoulder.

“Hey, shhh,” she murmured into your hair, her hands rubbing slow circles on your back. “I’m here. I’m here. Whatever happened, I’ve got you, okay?”

You clung to her like a lifeline, shoulders trembling with each uneven breath, hands bunched into the back of her shirt as if she were the only solid thing left.

“I’ve fucked up,” you choked out after a few breaths, voice raw and shaky. “Sarah, I’ve fucked up so bad. I got into such a fucking mess.”

“Hey, hey,” she pulled back just enough to look at you, hands cupping your face gently so you had to meet her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Your lips parted, the words right there—all the tangled, messy feelings you’d been carrying for what felt like forever. The secret. Him. The way you loved him so much it scared you, and the way it had all started to feel like a house of cards just waiting for the smallest breeze to knock it all down.

But you couldn’t say it. You weren’t sure you even could if you tried.

Instead, you just shook your head again, eyes stinging as more tears threatened to spill. “I can’t,” you whispered, the words cracking. “God, I can’t even tell you. It’s just—it’s too much.”

Her brow furrowed, worry etched across her face, but she didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Just gathered you up again without hesitation, one hand smoothing the back of your hair as you clung to her like you might disappear otherwise.

“It’s okay,” Sarah murmured against your temple, voice soft and sure. “I’m here. Whatever it is, you can tell me—I’m here.”

And you felt it in the way she held you—steady and warm, her presence solid enough to lean into when everything else was spinning out of control.

Part 7 soon 💋

tags (tysm for all the love and support, If you asked to be tagged and I didn’t tag you it means I couldn’t for some reason 💔): @iamthatonefangirl @hiraethmae @im-feeling-blue-today @beforemdnight @just4w3irdo @bloodmocha @lovinqbella @its-in-the-woods @muchwita @iyskgd @harrietandcats @shortandb1tchy @luv4kook @grovelingmen @buckybarneswife125 @xamapolax @glitterspark @azrielsgirll @mortallydistinguishedwolf @shaheea @simp4f1 @voidanima @buckytakethewheel @thatsbucknasty @herejustforbuckybarnes @sebastians-love @wntersoidiertk @emcharra @user911224 @stell404 @peanutbutt3rcup @heymydearheart @s-sh-ne

[freshmistylatina]

Smut

[tremendoussweetscutie]

feel like barbie

[sinful-godde]

[thechandrian-iii]

It's what these arms were made for.