#‘I’m sure I’ll do well’ THEY SAID | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fangdokja · 1 day ago

Note

Hello!

May I ask you about yandere!ex - boyfriend?

Did the yandere tendencies begin with the relationship or did they materialize after the breakup? And will there be a fic about him in the future?

Thankyou for answering in advance! 🫶

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

❤︎ Synopsis. A calculated partnership born out of convenience spirals into something far darker, as control slips and obsession takes root. What started as a deal now feels like a dangerous game—and neither of them is willing to lose.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Reader

�� Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 9,000

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, objectification, suggestive themes, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching

♡ A/N. Another planned work in my drafts that I haven’t released yet before, but here it is now. Technically an ask, but I prefer to answer this with a fic :)) Ok….. so I checked it and it's turning into 12k+ words. Went a bit ham, and still going. Might turn it into a Novella. Why do I write so much, ahh. So, I'll be dividing the parts (6 parts). Sorry. Probably, the slowest burn yandere among all my works at the moment.... I think. But, still for me, pretty fast burn romance, because we focus on yandere content. Lol. Also side note, if you like ENTP 7w8 yanderes (e.g. Gojo, Hawks, Dazai, Vanitas, Kuroo)? Well, this one's for you. Made a hardcore ENTP 7w8 yandere this time.

The first time you met him, it was as if the universe had aligned—not in some whimsical, romanticized way, but with the brutal precision of mathematics. A logical equation where X equaled Y. You needed a shield, someone to deflect the probing questions of your overbearing parents and the inevitable parade of suitors they had lined up. He needed a partner who wouldn’t demand too much—someone who understood ambition, who wouldn’t suffocate him with expectations of sweet nothings and fairytales.

It wasn’t love. It was convenience.

You found him sitting in the back of the lecture hall, legs spread wide and a pen dangling between his fingers like a cigarette. There was something insufferable about the way he grinned at you when your eyes met, as if he already knew why you’d approached him. You ignored the flicker of irritation his cocky demeanor ignited within you.

“I have a proposition,” you said, arms crossed and chin high, voice cutting through the low murmur of the room like a blade.

His gaze trailed over you, assessing but not predatory, as if you were a puzzle he was already halfway through solving. He tilted his head, the grin widening. “Do tell, golden girl.”

That nickname—it would become a staple, laced with amusement and, eventually, something sharper, more cutting. But for now, it was just a playful jab.

“I need a boyfriend.”

That caught his attention. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the smirk never wavering. “And what makes you think I’m boyfriend material?”

“I don’t,” you replied coolly. “But you’re convenient. Senior year, right? Close to graduating, no time for real commitment. And you seem…” You hesitated, letting your gaze sweep over him pointedly. “…unserious.”

He laughed, a low, throaty sound that drew a few curious glances your way. “Unserious. I’ll take that as a compliment. What’s in it for me?”

“Your parents are investors,” you said, your voice crisp, businesslike. “I’ve seen the sponsorships they’ve secured for student startups. You want their connections, don’t you? Stick with me for the rest of the semester, play the part, and I’ll make sure you have their ear.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if trying to gauge whether you were serious. Then, to your surprise, he leaned back, his grin softening into something that felt almost genuine.

“You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to think of myself as efficient.”

He held out his hand. “Deal.”

From that moment on, the two of you fell into a rhythm. It wasn’t romantic—not in the way people might imagine when they looked at you, the golden child, and him, the sharp-tongued, perpetually smirking senior. You didn’t hold hands unless necessary. You didn’t go on dates unless it served a purpose. He played the charming, doting boyfriend at family dinners, his wit and charisma winning over even your most skeptical relatives.

And you? You became his silent shield at parties, the poised partner who kept the clingy girls at bay and gave his otherwise reckless image a veneer of respectability.

It worked. For a while.

You didn’t notice, at first, the way his gaze lingered too long when you weren’t looking. How he started rearranging his schedule to align with yours, his texts becoming more frequent, more personal. You chalked it up to him playing his role—nothing more, nothing less.

But beneath the surface of your carefully constructed arrangement, something was shifting. Slowly. Inexorably.

And neither of you realized it yet.

────────────

The partnership was a tightrope walk over a chasm, a precarious balance between your structured determination and his reckless improvisation. Where you sought order, he thrived in chaos; where you demanded precision, he operated on instinct. Your interactions were a battlefield of clashing ideologies, the tension sharp enough to draw blood.

You didn’t like him. Not really. And he knew it.

“You’re wound tighter than a noose, golden girl,” he’d say, leaning back in his chair during late-night meetings in the library, a toothpick shifting lazily between his teeth. “Relax. Not everything needs a ten-step plan.”

“And you’re far too comfortable winging it,” you’d retort without looking up from your notes, your pen scratching across the page in rhythmic defiance. “Some of us actually care about results.”

“Results?” He’d laugh, low and mocking, his voice a rasp in the dimly lit room. “You mean the kind your parents can frame and hang on a wall?”

That stung, though you never let it show. You simply straightened your spine, raised your chin, and met his gaze with a glare cold enough to freeze fire.

“Do you even have a plan for your life after graduation?” you shot back, your words slicing through his amusement. “Or are you planning to charm your way through that, too?”

The smirk faltered for just a moment, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable facade. Then it was back, sharper than before. “Why bother with a plan when I’ve got you to micromanage everything?”

It was always like this. Barbs exchanged like gunfire, neither of you willing to yield an inch. But when the conversation shifted to the projects you were working on together—the startup pitch for your entrepreneurship course, the meticulously researched presentations you delivered as a team—something strange happened.

The arguments faded, replaced by an almost eerie synchronization.

“What if we market it as a subscription model?” he’d suggest, his tone uncharacteristically serious, his fingers drumming against the table as his mind raced ahead.

You’d hesitate, biting the inside of your cheek, before nodding slowly. “It could work. If we tie it to a loyalty program—discounts for long-term users.”

“And gamify it,” he’d add, his eyes gleaming with an excitement you rarely saw in him. “Make it addictive. People love chasing badges and achievements. Psychological manipulation at its finest.”

“That’s… a disturbingly good idea,” you admitted, scribbling notes furiously.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he teased, though his grin lacked its usual edge. “Even I can be useful.”

For those brief moments, it was as if the constant friction between you two ignited something productive, something almost electric. You hated to admit it, but working with him was exhilarating in a way that was entirely new to you.

And yet, outside of those moments of collaboration, the tension only grew.

You started noticing the little ways he got under your skin: the way he’d leave his half-empty coffee cups on your desk during meetings, forcing you to clean up after him. The way he’d interrupt your carefully rehearsed presentations with off-the-cuff jokes that somehow always landed better than your meticulously prepared slides.

“You’re infuriating,” you snapped one evening, your voice tight with exhaustion as you shoved a pile of his crumpled notes back into his hands. “Do you even take this seriously?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, his tone unusually soft, his gaze steady. “I just don’t take you seriously. Not everything’s a life-or-death scenario, golden girl.”

You hated him. You hated the way he dismissed you, the way he seemed to find amusement in your frustration. But more than that, you hated the way he could turn around and say something so insightful, so perfectly aligned with your own thoughts, that it left you reeling.

It was a strange kind of intimacy, this constant push and pull, this battle of wills that neither of you could seem to win.

And though you didn’t know it yet, the cracks were already beginning to form in the walls you’d built around yourself.

────────────

The first time he saw you, he knew exactly what you were: a fortress. Polished stone walls, towering spires, and gates sealed shut with bolts of iron. Your every movement, every word, every carefully measured breath screamed control.

And he? He had never met a fortress he didn’t want to sack.

At first, it was curiosity. A passing interest in the girl who spoke with the precision of a scalpel, who held her chin high as if the weight of the world rested comfortably on her shoulders. He’d seen your type before—sharp, ambitious, ruthless—but there was something different about you.

It was the way your voice never trembled, even when your words cut like glass. The way your eyes locked onto his, cold and unyielding, like you were daring him to try something. Anything.

So, he did.

From the very beginning, he made it his mission to chip away at that armor, to find the cracks in your flawless facade.

“Golden girl,” he’d call you, the nickname dripping with mockery. He loved the way your jaw would tighten ever so slightly when he said it, how your fingers would twitch like you wanted to slap the grin off his face but couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it.

He started small—interrupting your meticulously organized schedules with his “spontaneous” detours, leaving his belongings in your space just to watch you bristle. But as the days turned into weeks, his methods grew more deliberate.

“Relax,” he’d say, leaning too close during one of your late-night study sessions, his voice a low murmur that was equal parts teasing and commanding. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep clenching your teeth like that.”

Your response was always the same—a cold, cutting remark delivered in that icy tone of yours, your expression a mask of indifference. But he could see through it. He could see the flicker of irritation in your eyes, the subtle way your shoulders stiffened.

He loved it.

Because while you thought you were unshakable, he knew better. He saw the storm that brewed beneath your surface, the fire you tried so desperately to hide. And nothing thrilled him more than coaxing it out of you, one spark at a time.

One evening, he pushed too far.

“I’m starting to think you like this,” he said, his voice low and mocking as he leaned against the edge of your desk, his presence an unwelcome shadow in the otherwise sterile room.

“Like what?” you asked without looking up, your tone laced with exhaustion and barely concealed annoyance.

“This,” he gestured vaguely, his grin widening. “The arguing, the tension. You get this little spark in your eye when you’re mad, you know. It’s cute.”

That did it. You slammed your pen down with a force that echoed in the silence, your eyes snapping to his with a glare that could have burned through steel.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed, your voice sharp enough to cut.

And yet, even as you said it, he caught the faintest tremor in your voice. Barely noticeable. But to him, it was everything.

He leaned closer, his grin softening into something almost intimate, almost dangerous. “Maybe. But you’d miss me if I was gone.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with an electricity that neither of you fully understood yet.

It was in those moments, in the way you tried so hard to keep him at arm’s length, that he realized he was beginning to crave you. Not just the fire in your eyes or the sharpness of your tongue, but you.

The fortress was starting to crack, and he intended to be there when it fell.

────────────

The cafeteria was alive with a cacophony of voices, laughter, and the clinking of trays. It was a battlefield of social interaction, chaotic and loud, yet somehow orchestrated, with alliances formed over shared meals and fleeting camaraderie. You didn’t belong here.

You kept your steps measured and precise, your gaze fixed forward, avoiding the swirling mass of humanity around you. People parted instinctively as you walked past, their conversations dimming for just a moment before resuming. Your presence was a ripple in the atmosphere—not disruptive, but enough to remind everyone that you were there.

And then you saw him.

He was in the center of it all, as he always was, the eye of the storm. His laughter carried over the din, rich and unrestrained, a sound that drew people in like moths to a flame. He sat perched on the edge of a table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, spinning some ridiculous story that had everyone around him enraptured.

They hung on his every word, their faces lit with genuine amusement, their eyes sparkling with admiration. He had that rare, inexplicable magnetism, the kind that made people want to be near him, to bask in his energy. He wasn’t just popular—he was adored.

And you?

You were the anomaly. The outlier. People respected you, even feared you, but they didn’t enjoy you. They didn’t invite you to sit at their tables, didn’t seek out your company for anything beyond necessity. You were an island—solitary, unyielding, and self-sufficient.

You didn’t envy him. Not exactly.

But as you stood there, watching him effortlessly weave connections, a quiet thought slipped into your mind like a shadow in the dark: What if you were different?

What if you could be like him, with his easy charm and boundless charisma? What if you could laugh like that, unburdened and free, instead of wearing the cold mask you’d perfected over the years?

The thought lingered for a moment too long, and then you shook it off, burying it deep where it couldn’t touch you. You didn’t have time for such things. You were efficient, logical, focused. Emotions had no place in your life—not since childhood, when you’d learned the hard way that they were a liability.

So you turned away, letting the sound of his laughter fade into the background as you made your way to the meeting room. The sterile, quiet space was more familiar to you than any cafeteria, more comfortable than any crowd.

He was already there when you arrived, sprawled in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand, his grin as sharp as ever.

“You’re late,” he teased, though there was no bite to his words.

“You’re early,” you replied, your tone neutral, as you set your things down on the table.

“Touché,” he said, watching you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Saw you pass through the cafeteria. Thought you might stop by to say hi.”

“I don’t make detours,” you said curtly, pulling out your laptop and powering it on.

“That much is clear,” he muttered, almost to himself, before taking a sip of his coffee.

The meeting began, the two of you falling into your usual rhythm of sharp exchanges and begrudging collaboration. But somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny sliver of something stirred—a flicker of awareness, of something you couldn’t quite name, whenever he spoke or laughed.

You told yourself it was nothing.

And for now, you believed it.

────────────

The garage was thick with the scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke, the hum of a barely-functional heater filling the space with a low, constant drone. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered occasionally, casting long, jittery shadows across the room. The boys were sprawled around the billiard table, cheap beers in hand, the air crackling with laughter and banter.

He leaned casually against the edge of the table, cue stick in hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he lined up his next shot. His movements were lazy, almost careless, but his sharp eyes betrayed the precision in every calculation.

“So,” one of them started, a wiry guy with a perpetual grin that made him look younger than he was. “This new girl of yours… she’s the one keeping you so busy these days?”

Another guy chimed in, his tone dripping with mock suspicion. “Yeah, man, you’ve been skipping out on poker nights. Thought you were allergic to commitment.”

He laughed, the sound low and throaty, as he took his shot. The crack of the cue ball hitting its target echoed through the room, the striped ball sinking neatly into the corner pocket. “Allergic? Please. I don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

The guys laughed, the sound loud and unrestrained, their teasing picking up momentum.

“So what’s her deal, huh?” The wiry one pressed, leaning against his own cue stick. “Rich? Hot? Bet she’s one of those uptight types you love to mess with.”

He straightened, twirling the cue stick between his fingers as he leaned back against the table, his smirk widening. “You could say that. She’s… interesting.”

“Interesting,” another guy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You? Interested in someone? Hell, what’s she got—blackmail material? A hit out on your family?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his tone light but edged with something sharper, something darker. “She’s just… different. Keeps me on my toes.”

The wiry one snorted. “Sounds like trouble.”

“Isn’t that the point?” he shot back, his grin sharp as a blade.

They laughed again, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression as he took another swig of his beer.

“Come on,” the wiry one said, jabbing his cue stick in his direction. “You’re not seriously into her, are you? Thought you didn’t do serious.”

“I don’t,” he replied smoothly, setting his bottle down with a loud clink. “It’s transactional. Mutual benefit, you know? She gets what she wants; I get what I want. Simple.”

“Sounds like a business deal,” someone muttered.

He shrugged, his smirk never faltering. “Aren’t all relationships?”

The guys laughed again, the conversation shifting to the next round of the game, but his mind lingered on the question.

He wasn’t serious about her. Couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be.

And yet, every time he saw her—the fire in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she tried so hard to keep him at a distance—it felt like a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

She was a fortress, and he was a conqueror.

For now, he could laugh, joke, and deflect. But the truth was darker, heavier, lurking in the corners of his mind like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

He lined up his next shot, the sharp crack of the cue ball echoing through the garage.

This wasn’t serious.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

────────────

The room was suffocating, its air thick with the sterile scent of recycled oxygen and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above. Papers were scattered across the table like fallen leaves in the aftermath of a storm, their sharp edges curling under the weight of your restless hands. The tension in your shoulders was a tangible thing, coiled tight and ready to snap.

He watched you from across the table, leaning back in his chair with the kind of casual ease that set your teeth on edge. You were all sharp lines and rigid control, while he was a picture of unbothered confidence, spinning a pen between his fingers like the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on him too.

“You look like hell,” he said finally, his voice low and infuriatingly amused.

You didn’t bother looking up, your focus glued to the screen of your laptop, the keys clicking beneath your fingers with a ferocity that spoke of barely restrained frustration. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” he replied, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the table as his gaze bore into you. “Fine enough to bite my head off if I ask what’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped, your voice colder than the sterile glow of the room.

That gave him pause, his smirk faltering for the briefest of moments. He’d seen you angry before, irritated, exasperated—but this was different. There was something raw in your tone, something brittle and sharp, like glass on the verge of shattering.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

“Fine,” he echoed, dragging the word out like it was a joke only he understood. “You’re so fine you’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for ten minutes without typing a single word.”

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the distant hum of the building’s ventilation system.

“Drop it,” you said finally, your tone icy enough to frost the windows.

“Not a chance,” he shot back, leaning closer, his voice dropping into something quieter, more deliberate. “What’s going on with you, golden girl? Family drama? Business crap? Or is it just me getting under your skin again?”

His teasing grin was met with nothing but silence as you slammed your laptop shut with a force that echoed through the room. You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and turned to leave without so much as a glance in his direction.

“Hey,” he called after you, his voice following you like a shadow. “You can’t just walk away from me.”

But you did.

The door closed behind you with a quiet click, leaving him alone in the oppressive stillness of the room.

For a long moment, he sat there, staring at the spot where you’d been, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air.

He didn’t like this.

Not the way your walls seemed higher than ever, not the way your shoulders trembled just slightly when you thought no one was looking, and certainly not the way his chest tightened at the thought of you breaking under the pressure you refused to share with anyone—not even him.

With a frustrated sigh, he leaned back in his chair, the tension in his jaw a stark contrast to the easy grin he usually wore.

You could try to shut him out, build your walls higher, bury yourself in your icy fortress.

But he’d be damned if he let you freeze him out completely.

────────────

The argument started small—a quiet refusal on your part, your tone clipped and dismissive as always.

“I have work to do,” you’d said, fingers gripping the edge of the desk like it was an anchor in the rising tide of his persistence.

He didn’t care.

“No, you don’t,” he replied, his voice too light, too casual, the grin on his face sharpening as he loomed over you. “Not today. Today, you’re going out. With me.”

You scoffed, turning your chair away from him in a move that was more defensive than you’d ever admit. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. Go bother someone else.”

“Not happening,” he said, and before you could blink, he was behind you, his shadow engulfing yours. His hand was warm and firm on your shoulder, and when you tried to pull away, his grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you of how much bigger, stronger, and more stubborn he was.

“Let go,” you hissed, twisting in your chair to glare up at him, your voice venomous and cold.

Instead of answering, he bent down, his grin infuriatingly smug as he hooked an arm around your waist in one fluid motion.

“Don’t you dare—”

Your words were cut off with a sharp gasp as he hoisted you up with ease, your stomach flipping as he slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing at all.

“Relax,” he said, his tone still maddeningly cheerful as he adjusted his hold on you. “You’re overdue for some fun, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Put me down!” you snapped, your fists pounding against his back, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“Not until you promise to stop being such a workaholic,” he shot back, his grin audible in his voice. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re mad.”

The sound of your struggles echoed through the hallway as he carried you out, your threats growing more creative with every step. But he didn’t falter, didn’t even seem fazed, his grip on you secure as if your thrashing was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

When he finally set you down, it was with the kind of exaggerated care that only added insult to injury. You found yourself standing in the middle of an amusement park, the air thick with the smell of cotton candy and fried food, the distant hum of roller coasters roaring above the sea of colorful lights.

“What is this?” you demanded, your voice tight with irritation as you glared up at him, your arms crossed defensively.

“A date,” he said simply, his grin softening into something almost genuine. “You’ve never been to an amusement park, right? Figured it was time to fix that.”

“I told you, I don’t have time for—”

He cut you off with a sigh, his hand ruffling his hair in exasperation. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Work, work, work. But you’re here now, so you might as well enjoy it. Who knows? You might actually have fun for once.”

You stared at him, your mind racing for a retort, but the sound of children laughing and the sight of the spinning lights around you left you momentarily disarmed.

“Fine,” you said at last, your voice begrudging and low. “But don’t think this means anything.”

He laughed, the sound warm and rich as he held out a hand toward you. “Wouldn’t dream of it, golden girl.”

You didn’t take his hand, of course. But you didn’t walk away, either.

────────────

The amusement park was loud—a riot of color, noise, and movement that grated against your carefully constructed barriers. You were used to silence, to the sterile calm of office rooms and library corners. This place was chaos incarnate, a swirling mass of laughter, screams, and the clatter of machinery that felt like it could grind your composure to dust.

And he loved every second of it.

“Come on,” he said, his hand tightening around yours as he pulled you further into the fray. His grip was warm, insistent, and utterly unyielding, a stark contrast to the chill of your reluctance.

“This is unnecessary,” you muttered, your voice clipped as you tried to keep up with his long strides. “We’re wasting time.”

“You mean you’re wasting time,” he shot back, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that was equal parts teasing and determined. “Me? I’m having a blast.”

You tried to tug your hand free, but his grip only tightened, his strength a quiet reminder of the power imbalance you hated acknowledging.

“Let go,” you demanded, your tone sharp enough to cut glass.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, pulling you closer until your shoulder bumped against his. “Boyfriend privilege. Now stop sulking and try to look like you’re having fun.”

Before you could argue, he steered you toward a brightly lit stand selling oversized stuffed animals and cheap prizes. The attendant handed him a small air rifle with a grin, and he lined up his shot with an exaggerated flourish.

“You’re kidding,” you said flatly, watching as he aimed at the array of moving targets.

“Don’t underestimate me, golden girl,” he replied, his tone dripping with mock seriousness as he squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and a tin can toppled off its perch. He turned to you with a triumphant grin. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as he handed the attendant a crumpled bill for another round. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is fun,” he corrected, his eyes narrowing in playful focus as he took another shot. Another can fell, and the attendant handed him a large, garish stuffed cat. He turned and thrust it toward you with a flourish.

“Here. For you.”

You stared at the stuffed cat, its glassy eyes staring back at you with an absurdly cheerful expression. “I don’t want it.”

“Too bad,” he said, pressing it into your arms. “Consider it a reminder to loosen up once in a while.”

You glared at him, but the faintest flicker of warmth crept into your chest, uninvited and unwelcome. He caught the twitch of your lips and grinned wider, his satisfaction practically radiating off him.

────────────

The roller coaster clattered upward, its chain mechanisms grinding with a metallic groan that reverberated through the skeleton of the ride. Each tick of the ascent was a promise, a prelude to chaos as the world below shrank into a mosaic of glittering lights and blurred figures. Beside you, he was practically vibrating with excitement, his grin a wolfish slash of white against the neon glow.

“You nervous yet?” he asked, his voice carrying easily over the mechanical din.

“No,” you replied flatly, your tone as unflinching as your posture. Your hands were clasped loosely in your lap, your expression an unmoving mask of calm.

He huffed, his grin faltering into something more incredulous. “Seriously? You’re not even a little scared?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

The drop came suddenly—a violent plunge that pulled the breath from everyone around you, their screams mingling with the wind's roar. The car tilted, twisted, hurtled through the loops and spirals with bone-rattling speed.

And you didn’t flinch.

When the ride screeched to a halt, his hair was wild, his cheeks flushed with adrenaline, and his grin wide enough to split his face. He turned to you, fully expecting to see some crack in your armor—a flicker of unease, a faint trace of thrill.

But you were already unclasping your seatbelt, your face a portrait of indifferent calm.

“Wow,” he said, dragging the word out as he climbed out of the car behind you. “Not even a scream? Not even a little ‘oh no, I’m gonna die!’?”

“It was fine,” you said, brushing invisible dust from your jacket as if the entire experience had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Fine,” he repeated, his tone a mixture of disbelief and mockery. “It’s a death machine on rails, and all you’ve got is ‘fine’?”

You shrugged, your gaze drifting to the next ride. “What’s next?”

He stared at you for a moment, a mix of frustration and amusement flashing in his eyes before his grin returned with a vengeance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

———

The next stop was a haunted house. The entrance was cloaked in fog, its jagged letters dripping with artificial blood as distorted moans and sinister whispers spilled from within.

“This,” he declared, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the dark maw of the attraction, “is where you’re finally gonna break.”

You stepped inside without hesitation, the darkness swallowing you both. Animatronic ghouls lunged from the shadows, their plastic claws snapping inches from your face. A specter floated above you, its hollow eyes glowing red as it let out a guttural scream.

But you didn’t flinch.

By the time you emerged on the other side, his grin had soured into a frustrated scowl. “You’re kidding me,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing? Not even a ‘holy crap, that’s creepy’?”

“They tried too hard,” you replied evenly. “The suspense was predictable.”

“You’re a robot,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “An actual, emotionless robot.”

———

At the dart-throwing booth, he claimed he’d win you another stuffed animal to add to the growing collection he’d forced on you throughout the night. The attendant handed him a set of darts, and he aimed with exaggerated focus, his tongue poking out slightly in mock determination.

You stood beside him, arms crossed, your expression as neutral as ever.

“Bet I can hit all three bullseyes,” he said, tossing a dart into the air and catching it with a flourish. “And if I do, you have to smile. Deal?”

“I’m not making that deal,” you replied, your voice as dry as the desert air.

“Scared I’ll win?” he teased, launching the first dart. It missed the bullseye by a hair.

“Not particularly,” you said, watching as he threw the second dart, this one landing even farther from the center.

By the third throw, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up as the dart barely grazed the edge of the target. “Okay, maybe I’m a little rusty,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Or maybe you’re just bad at this,” you said, your tone cool but tinged with the faintest edge of amusement.

He turned to you, his grin returning full force. “There it is! A hint of a smirk! I knew you had emotions buried under all that ice.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking toward the next attraction. He followed, his steps quick and eager, like a hunter who’d finally glimpsed their prey.

The night stretched on, filled with more teasing, more dragging you to rides you didn’t care for, and more attempts to crack your facade. By the end of it, he was exhausted but victorious, a spring in his step as he carried yet another oversized stuffed animal under his arm.

“You had fun,” he declared as you walked toward the exit.

“You’re delusional,” you replied, but there was no venom in your voice.

“Admit it,” he said, leaning closer, his grin practically glowing in the dark. “You loved it.”

You didn’t respond, but for the briefest moment, the corner of your lips twitched upward—a flicker of something you didn’t even recognize as a smile.

And that was enough for him.

────────────

The Ferris wheel loomed above like a spinning constellation, its skeletal frame outlined in garish neon light that flickered against the starless sky. You were already seated, arms crossed, gaze fixed forward as the car rocked gently in the breeze. He slid in beside you, the faint scent of cologne and adrenaline trailing in his wake, and the metal bar clamped down with an ominous click, locking the two of you in place.

“Relax,” he said, his voice a shade softer than usual, though still laced with that persistent edge of mischief. “This is the best part of the night. Views like this? They don’t come often.”

You didn’t respond. The city below unfolded in a sea of chaotic lights, each one a reminder of the noise you’d been forced into. A quiet hum of tension coiled in your chest, a restless ache that he seemed to notice, though you wished he wouldn’t.

The wheel began to ascend, the creak of its movement loud in the silence between you. His gaze flicked from the cityscape to you, studying the profile of your face as though trying to decipher a puzzle he didn’t know how to solve.

“You know,” he began, leaning back against the seat with an exaggerated sigh, “you’re really bad at this whole ‘fun’ thing.”

“I’m aware,” you said dryly, not bothering to look at him.

“You’re supposed to be amazed by the view,” he teased, gesturing toward the glittering expanse below. “You know, lean in a little, say something like, ‘Oh wow, it’s so beautiful.’”

“Do I seem like the type to do that?” you asked, finally turning to meet his gaze.

“No,” he admitted, his grin lopsided and warm in a way that caught you off guard. “But it’d be nice to see you try.”

The Ferris wheel stopped suddenly, your car swaying slightly as it perched at the very top. He looked out over the city, his grin fading into something quieter, something uncharacteristically reflective.

“Pretty high up, huh?” he said, more to himself than to you.

You followed his gaze, the city spread out like a map, its lights blurred and distant. The air up here felt thinner, cleaner, as though you’d left the chaos below and entered some liminal space where nothing could reach you.

And then he looked back at you.

———

For the first time in a long time, the constant noise in his head—the laughter, the jokes, the relentless chatter that kept the silence at bay—dimmed into something else. Something quieter. Something unsettling. He wasn’t used to this kind of stillness, this kind of weight pressing against the walls of his ribcage.

You didn’t notice, of course. Your gaze was fixed on the view, your profile illuminated by the cold, artificial light of the Ferris wheel’s cabin. To anyone else, you might’ve seemed serene, but he knew better. There was tension in the set of your jaw, in the way your fingers gripped the edge of the seat as though you needed to hold onto something to keep from slipping away entirely.

He hated that he noticed these things. Hated that, for once, his usual shield of irreverence and detachment wasn’t enough to keep this gnawing feeling at bay.

It wasn’t love—not the dizzying, saccharine thing he’d seen in movies or read about in books. It was something darker, sharper, as though you were a shard of glass lodged under his skin. He couldn’t stop himself from turning you over in his mind, dissecting every detail, every flaw, every crack in your otherwise impenetrable armor.

You were fascinating in a way that felt dangerous.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

His hand twitched on the seat between you, the urge to reach out almost unbearable. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. The thought of touching you—of closing that impossible distance—was terrifying in a way he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t fear of rejection; he could handle that. It was something else, something far more primal.

Because if he touched you, if he broke through that careful veneer of professionalism and indifference, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and uncharacteristically quiet.

You didn’t turn to look at him, your gaze still fixed on the view. “What what’s like?”

“To feel alive,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t respond.

He let out a soft, humorless laugh, leaning back against the seat. “Never mind. Stupid question.”

But it wasn’t. Not to him.

Because for the first time in years—maybe ever—he felt something. Something real.

And it unsettled him.

———

“I don’t get you,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You’re impossible to crack, and for some reason, I can’t stop trying.”

You raised an eyebrow, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe it is.”

The silence between you two was a taut string, stretched so thin it felt as if the smallest sound might snap it. Outside the cabin, the Ferris wheel creaked as it swayed gently, the city sprawled below like a graveyard of flickering lights. Inside, the air felt heavier, dense with something intangible and electric that neither of you dared to name.

He shifted closer, so subtly that you didn’t notice at first. The slight groan of the seat’s weight-bearing joints was drowned out by the pounding of his own heartbeat, a rhythm he suddenly couldn’t ignore. His arm rested casually against the back of the seat, but his entire body was taut, every muscle coiled as if anticipating some unspoken impact.

His gaze drifted to you, no longer playful or teasing but something else—something raw, a little desperate, and utterly unfamiliar to him. He could see the faint outline of your lashes against your cheek, the soft curve of your lips as your expression remained distant, detached.

And yet, to him, you were a storm barely contained, your quietness thrumming with an energy he could feel in his bones.

He didn’t notice the way his own breathing had shifted, deeper now, as if his body were bracing for something he couldn’t quite define. His eyes flicked downward—just a moment, a heartbeat—and caught on the soft shape of your mouth. It wasn’t intentional, but once he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it.

He swallowed hard, the sound audible in the tight confines of the cabin.

“I—” he started, his voice faltering like an engine choking on its own fuel. He barely recognized the sound coming out of his mouth, stripped of its usual bravado and swagger.

He should’ve stopped there. Should’ve cracked a joke or leaned back with that cocky grin that had always been his armor. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

His hand lifted almost on its own, shaking slightly as it reached toward your face. The tips of his fingers brushed against a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that felt alien to him. It was clumsy, hesitant—nothing like the smooth confidence he usually exuded.

The heat radiating from you was intoxicating, pulling him closer even as his mind screamed at him to stop. His breath hitched as he leaned in, so slowly it felt as though time itself had slowed to a crawl.

He wasn’t thinking anymore. The usual whirlwind of his mind—sharp, quick, always moving—had stilled completely.

All he could focus on was you.

The curve of your lips. The faint rise and fall of your chest. The way you still hadn’t looked at him, so lost in your own world that you hadn’t yet noticed the dangerous proximity between you.

His breath mingled with yours now, warm and unsteady, as his lips hovered just a hair’s breadth away from yours. His eyes half-closed, the edges of his vision blurring as every instinct in him screamed to close the gap.

And then—

Your eyes snapped to his, sharp and unyielding like a blade cutting through fog.

It hit you like a jolt of electricity, the realization of just how close he was, how dangerously near his lips hovered to yours.

But it hit him harder.

The sharpness in your gaze was like a bucket of ice water, dousing the fire he hadn’t even realized had been consuming him.

His eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he froze in place. He looked at you—not just at you, but into you—as though seeing something he hadn’t been prepared for.

And for the first time in his life, he felt utterly and completely exposed.

———

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough, as though he’d swallowed gravel. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?”

You stiffened, your brows knitting together in a glare that could have frozen the sun. “That’s none of your concern.”

He laughed softly, the sound devoid of its usual bravado. “Oh, but it is, sweetheart. I’m your boyfriend, remember?” His voice dipped into that familiar, playful lilt, but there was something else beneath it now—a hunger, a yearning he didn’t fully understand.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you didn’t pull away. Not yet. That tiny sliver of hope spurred him on, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every rational thought in his head.

“I bet no one’s dared,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin as his thumb traced slow circles against your jaw. “You’re too intimidating. Too untouchable.”

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “But not to me.”

And then, he closed the gap.

It wasn’t a calculated move, nor was it born of confidence. It was instinctive, driven by a force he couldn’t name. His lips brushed yours, tentative and hesitant, as though afraid you might shatter beneath his touch.

For a fraction of a second, everything else fell away—the city lights, the Ferris wheel, the constant cacophony of his mind. All that existed was you, the impossible warmth of you, and the way your lips were softer than he’d dared imagine—

And then, the world snapped back into focus.

Your palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, resounding slap that echoed through the tiny cabin. The force of it sent his head snapping to the side, his lips tingling from the abrupt end of the kiss.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, your voice as sharp and cold as a blade.

He blinked, stunned for a moment, before his signature grin broke across his face. His cheek was already reddening, and he rubbed it with a dramatic wince, leaning back in his seat as though to put some distance between you.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I get it. Ice queen stays frosty. My bad for trying to thaw you out a little.”

His tone was playful, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something raw and uncertain that he buried as quickly as it surfaced.

You glared at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “This is a transactional relationship. Don’t forget that.”

“Transaction noted,” he quipped, the grin never leaving his face. “But for the record? That slap was totally worth it.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath that he couldn’t quite catch, and turned your attention back to the window.

But he didn’t stop watching you.

As he rubbed his sore cheek, his grin softened into something quieter, something closer to a smile. He didn’t fully understand what had compelled him to kiss you, nor did he understand why your rejection didn’t sting the way it should have.

All he knew was that, for the first time in his life, he wanted to try again.

———

“Did you think that was going to work?” you interrupted, your tone sharp enough to cut steel.

He let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as the initial shock melted into something more familiar: that damn grin. “Wow, okay. I go for one kiss—one—and you act like I tried to steal your soul.”

“You did try to steal something,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “My patience.”

“That’s already gone,” he countered, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “You can’t slap me twice for the same crime.”

“Try me,” you said, your glare unwavering.

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine as he rubbed his cheek. “Man, you’re vicious. It’s kind of hot.”

────────────

He watched as you rubbed your sleeve across your mouth, your motions brisk and unrelenting, as though scrubbing the very memory of him off your skin. His grin faltered for just a second, invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking too closely. Of course, you weren’t—you never were. Your focus was singular, your eyes narrowed and lips pressed in a thin, disapproving line as though he’d just committed a cardinal sin.

It stung more than he cared to admit. Not that he’d let you see it. No, no. His ego may have been bruised, but he wasn’t about to lick his wounds in front of you. Instead, he leaned back in his seat with a dramatic sigh, one hand pressed over his chest as though your rejection had physically pierced him.

“Wow,” he drawled, his tone laced with exaggerated disbelief. “I didn’t realize my kiss was that traumatic. Should I be offended or impressed by your dedication to erasure?”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, but it only fueled the smirk crawling back onto his face.

“Seriously,” he continued, ignoring the icy tension radiating off you. “I’ve seen people wipe ketchup off their mouths with less vigor. I mean, I’m not that bad, am I?”

You didn’t respond, too busy swiping at your lips like a woman possessed, as though the mere memory of his touch was a poison you needed to purge.

He leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes sharpening to a dangerous edge. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re gonna scrub your skin raw. And here I thought I was the one who left a mark.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snapped, your tone colder than the winter wind.

“Oh, but it’s so easy when you’re this much fun.” He rested his chin in his palm, his grin widening as he studied you like you were his favorite puzzle. “Though I gotta say, you’re hurting my feelings here. Most girls would be swooning right about now. But you?” He whistled low, shaking his head. “Stone cold. A real ice queen through and through.”

“Good,” you bit back, finally lowering your sleeve. “Maybe you’ll think twice before pulling another stunt like that.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, but there was a flicker of something more behind it—something softer, unspoken. “You think I’m gonna stop? Not a chance. You’re way too fun to mess with.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back to the window. “Whatever. Just…keep your distance.”

“Sure thing, princess.” His voice dipped into a mock-serious tone, but the glint in his eyes betrayed him. “But don’t blame me when you start dreaming about it later. They say first kisses are unforgettable, after all.”

Your hand twitched like you were debating whether or not to slap him again, but you refrained, choosing instead to glare daggers at the glass.

He leaned back with a satisfied hum, crossing his arms as his grin softened into something quieter, something almost contemplative.

You might have been disgusted, but at least you weren’t indifferent. That thought alone was enough to keep his grin intact.

———

The cabin settled into a tense quiet, broken only by the faint creaks of the Ferris wheel as it descended. You’d stopped scrubbing at your lips, though the memory of his clumsy attempt lingered, palpable and unwelcome. With a slow, deliberate breath, you turned your focus outward, toward the sprawling view of the amusement park bathed in fractured, golden light.

“I’ll have you know,” you said softly, your voice sharp yet devoid of its earlier venom, “that wasn’t my first kiss.”

The words were like a scalpel, slicing clean and deep, leaving behind a sting that lingered in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t show it. He never did.

Instead, he let out a short laugh, tilting his head as though brushing off your statement with his usual flippancy. “Well, color me surprised,” he drawled, his tone laced with mock astonishment. “The ice queen has a romantic history. Who’d have thought?”

You didn’t respond, didn’t rise to the bait. The apathy in your gaze was unyielding, and that, more than your words, struck a chord he couldn’t name.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly restless, the smirk on his face becoming harder to maintain. Something stirred beneath his practiced exterior, an unfamiliar heat that crawled up his spine and settled, uncomfortably, in his chest.

Why did it matter?

He leaned back, forcing a casual posture, though the muscles in his jaw tightened. “Well, good for you,” he said, a little too quickly, a little too brightly. “Guess I can’t claim to be your first, huh?”

There it was again, that strange burning sensation. It twisted and coiled, feeding on itself, until it became something dark and unrelenting. He told himself it was nothing—just his ego stinging from your rejection. But deep down, in a part of himself he rarely acknowledged, he knew it wasn’t that simple.

You tilted your head slightly, your profile illuminated by the faint glow of the park below. “It wasn’t anything special,” you said, your tone devoid of emotion. “Just another transaction.”

Another transaction.

The words settled like lead in his stomach.

He laughed again, louder this time, but the sound rang hollow in his own ears. “Figures,” he said, his voice pitched light and teasing, masking the weight behind the words. “Trust you to make even romance sound like a business deal.”

You glanced at him, one brow arched, and for a moment, he thought you might say something else. Instead, you turned back to the window, your posture relaxed but distant, like the space between you was a chasm neither of you could—or would—cross.

His gaze lingered on you, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way the faint light cast shadows across your face. That burning sensation flared again, sharp and insistent, as though it were trying to tell him something he wasn’t ready to hear.

He didn’t understand it—this sudden, inexplicable need to prove himself to you, to earn something that no transaction could buy. It gnawed at him, a quiet fury that wouldn’t be silenced, no matter how much he tried to brush it off.

For the first time in his life, he felt unsteady, uncertain, as though the foundation he’d built himself on was beginning to crack.

And he hated it.

“Must’ve been a hell of a boring kiss,” he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bet I could’ve done better.”

You snorted softly, but didn’t take the bait.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken, as the Ferris wheel continued its slow descent.

And for the first time that night, he didn’t feel like laughing.

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yanderelovebites · 18 hours ago

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Back with batsis stuff and kinda wanna do the whole isekai thing. Have reader meet their end somehow and wake up in a fanfic that was never finished of a neglected batsis. Have them wake up at the incident that made them get sent over to Bruce.

Have the original girl’s memories and knowing already they didn’t like her, didn’t want her, etc. she decided to just live for herself and future. Girlie went with her father who gave her that initial attention but after that she was taken to her room. She’s six. Have her give that grieving period of two weeks where she just got used to the room and the manor before she started asking for things. It’ll be probably one form of martial arts and later on probably also either music or dance. When she isn’t doing either of those things she sketching in her book and she’s actually really good.

Have her be closest with Alfred but still keep a certain wall up against him just like the others. Have her be a few months older than Damian and Damian isn’t quite in the picture yet. She ignores when the others are in the house despite being a part of said home. She only looks for her father for school needs and while still keeping her distance will set birth cards and Father’s Day cards on his desk in the study. She never hands them to him so she doesn’t know what he does with them nor does she care.

If the character she is reborn as is meant to be neglected, why should she bother trying to reach out?

She eventually had no choice but to meet Jason because he was there… they didn’t know how to explain to her why red hood is there. She simply said “Hello, I would chat but I have Jujitsu in 20 so I have to leave. Nice meeting you.” It was concerning how she brushed it off. Of course she realizes after ‘oh none of them would know I know… nah I’ll just continue on. Who knows, it might bother them!’

By the time Damian gets there, she’s been through karate, jujitsu, and only a year of Taekwondo while also taking dancing/music lessons. She has won art competitions but only Alfred has ever seen or heard. Bruce may have heard but he barely listened to the announcement of it. He knows from a portrait she was forced to sit for with Bruce, Tim, and Dick, she exists. Yet, it takes a week for him to ever see her.

He asks questions like in the original, but what batsis reader doesn’t understand is she changed how Damian sees her since she wasn’t immediately clingy to anyone. Dick TRIES to remember anything and realizes he doesn’t really know her. Tim can’t really tell him anything either other than medical records in case anything happens. Literally all Tim gave Damian was that Damian and batsis have the say blood type. They realize they really don’t know batsis which does unnerve them. All they can say is she stays to herself. That both irritates Damian and intrigued him. He tries Alfred next who is able to at least tell him what she does routinely at least. How she’s been in martial arts after her first two weeks living here, implied she was grieving, and she’s also been in music/dance lessons as well. Also explains she enjoys participating in art contests. He goes on about her being an A+ student and explains she doesn’t interact much with the rest of the family. He even says “To be honest, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one she talks to in any capacity that isn’t out of necessity.”

Jason pretty much only knew about one of the martial arts being jujitsu. He explains she didn’t seem phased that red hood had entered her home and that she didn’t know about the Batman secret.

He doesn’t immediately approach her either. He doesn’t have all the information he needs. All he knows is she’s his half sibling, her usual activities, at least one of the forms of martial arts she knows, and that otherwise she’s a bit of a mystery. Eventually they’re forced to eat at a family dinner together. Since it really bothered Dick that he didn’t know anything he starts asking her about school. No one ever asked her questions, half the time they act like she isn’t there, so she’s confused, but politely says it’s been fine. Talks briefly about her classes, the mention of what classes she’s currently taking makes Tim and Dick shocked. For Tim it’s simply the fact that *she* was taking them and for Dick it’s the fact someone her age was taking such advance classes. Tim coughed and asked her what she did after school on Friday, mostly to hear anything else and she’s like “Oh just another art competition. I placed first with my painting.” She says and continues eating.

Bruce honestly is trying to process what he heard and saw and Damian treats it as a way to analyze her. The way she eats, the way she talks, her posture, and of course the tiny bits the boys were getting out. She then says “I’m sure Alfred has already told you about that, however, right father?” He coughs for a moment and nods as to hide the fact he himself has been caught off guard. For Damian she isn’t like a role model for what he’s grown up with, it’s more she’s a role model for what a Wayne is. She’s perfect in all things you’d expect the public to see a Wayne for. Knows arts, has some martial arts background, and has a certain air of modesty yet wealthy around her.

This attention to her is still brief at this time for Tim, Dick, and Bruce. They ask if she’s met Damian and she says “Not really, at best some glances. I’m always moving after all.” That dinner felt awkward, but Damian decided she wasn’t Particularly a threat…

And by all things holy it annoys the crap out of Tim. He actually tries to speak to her—which she is cautious at first because she knows what he did to the original Batsis. Instead of drawing his sword on her, he asked about her martial arts since that’s really all he can… talk about with her… and the part that annoys Tim on it… is simply he won’t shut up about her-

And he thought when Damian called himself the blood son was annoying! Now it’s ’blood sibling’ this and that if bringing her up in conversation occurs. It’s clear he respects her in such annoying ways.

I just imagine the Yandere Batfam doesn’t all happen at once. It starts with Damian. You don’t see it at first because you blame his upbringing. He’s stuck to your side during banquets as much as he despises them. He mirrors some of your ‘mask’ etiquette in that all the Wayne’s have an image. You kept yours on as rock solid as possible, you are not the same person. He can tell you must have some inspiration from your father as yours is a rather innocent persona. You act like a social butterfly amongst the people and seem so damn sweet. He just doesn’t like how many eyes are on you. You acted like you couldn’t feel it, but it’s hard to ignore Damian. In fact, it accidentally wentinti his persona as people saw him as a clingy little brother to his slightly older sister. That it just made ‘sense’ since you two are so close in age.

Damian would just get worse as time went on. It’s get to the point you realize he isn’t faking or anything he actually just likes you. Then you get kidnapped.

I imagine no one but Alfred and Damian realize something is wrong. He’s the reason they find you and he nearly kills the guy who kidnapped you. Of course it’s not like you just let them take you, there was evidence even before they were brought to an inch of their life. You hadn’t made it easy and they could tell you had injured them beforehand. However they had broken your legs and that’s when I’d get worse for Damian and start in Bruce.

I might add more thoughts later I dunno it’s kind of an idea dump

#batfam neglect #batfam x batsis #batman #batsis!reader #yandere batfam #batsis #yandere #damian wayne

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bosbas · 3 days ago

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Chapter 4: uh oh, I'm fallin' in love

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, anthony being a big softie, mostly fluff, i still ship y/n and daphne tbh

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

June 16, 1812 - “How’s Mr Norwood?” you asked Daphne, sitting on the couch next to her in the Bridgertons’ tea room, her legs on your lap as the rain steadily poured outside.

Your best friend and her hopefully-husband-to-be had been looking particularly cozy as of late, and you knew that you had played no small part in making that happen. Unfortunately, Daphne’s happiness was often overshadowed by the small pang of guilt you felt every time you had a particularly lovely afternoon with her oldest brother.

“Oh, he’s lovely. I do think he’ll propose in the next few weeks,” she said excitedly, her legs dancing excitedly on your lap.

You squealed in response, absolutely elated at the prospect of seeing your best friend in a wedding gown before the end of the season. It’s practically all she’d dreamed about, and you couldn’t believe the time was so close.

“Where will you live? After you marry, I mean,” you asked, twirling a lock of your hair around your index finger. “If I have to travel to another country to see you, I’ll riot.”

Daphne paused, unsure. “We haven’t particularly discussed it. I think his family has a home a few hours away, but surely his older brother will inherit that…”

You sat up straight, realizing this was a sensitive subject. “That’s quite alright, I’m sure your dowry will be more than enough for a simple estate somewhere nearby,” you reassured, patting her legs comfortingly.

If they were truly in love, it wouldn’t matter how small or large their home was. But Daphne only hummed in response, looking out distractedly at the raindrops hitting the window.

Deciding not to press your best friend and potentially cause her more distress, you changed the subject.

Playing with the hem of Daphne’s dress, you said nonchalantly, “I suppose I’ll end things with Anthony right before Phillip proposes. There’s no real point in continuing the façade if Phillip has to ask Anthony for your hand anyway, so it’s not like we can keep going longer than that.”

Daphne narrowed her eyes at you, smiling slightly. “Really? I thought you two were having a lovely time during your courtship.”

You paused, your hand going still for a moment. “Well, of course. We get along quite well. But it’s not real, Daphne. I don’t really have feelings for him and he doesn’t really have any intention of marrying me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” you laughed at the absurdity of your best friend’s suggestion, sounding a bit panicked. “I couldn’t truly be interested in him!”

Just then, you heard the front door open and heavy footsteps coming down the hallway.

Recognizing her brother’s footfalls, Daphne called out, “Anthony, I didn’t know you’d gone out riding. It’s absolutely pouring outside!”

“I can’t believe it actually rained,” he groaned, his voice carrying across the hall. “I thought Colin just said that to be a nuisance.”

He peeked his head into the tea room, looking completely disheveled from what you could only assume was a hectic horse ride. His hair was soaking and stuck to his forehead, his sleeves were dripping water onto the carpet, and he was shivering slightly from the cold. And yet, you thought to yourself, he still looked more handsome than any other man in the ton.

“Y/N!” he yelped as his eyes fell on you, sitting comfortably on his couch as Daphne had her legs propped on your lap. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I’m sorry, I would’ve looked more… presentable. Or at least dry.”

It was the oddest thing, he suddenly seemed impossibly shy. You only laughed and shook your head, waving off his apology.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you smiled, recalling how reckless young Anthony was when it came to riding.

Anthony crinkled his nose, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s different now, though,” he insisted, still sounding out of sorts. “I can head upstairs quickly to make myself presentable and greet you properly.”

“No, that’s quite alright,” you insisted, finding Anthony entirely too endearing at the moment. “I should probably head home anyway; I’ve been here the better part of the afternoon.”

“Let me walk you home at least,” pleaded the positively soaking man at the entrance of the room. “Or even just call a carriage.”

Your home was only a few minutes’ walk away, and you were usually happy to do it on your own. However, looking out the window you realized it probably wasn’t the best idea to head home in this weather.

“Very well then,” you conceded, finding it impossible to say no to Anthony.

“Alright, give me five minutes, then. Just let me change out of these clothes and I’ll be back,” he yelled over his shoulder, already out the door and rushing upstairs.

“So it's all just pretend, then?” asked Daphne smugly once Anthony was gone.

“Oh, shush,” you grumbled, shoving her legs off you.

But Daphne only laughed gleefully, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

---

June 19, 1812 - Anthony had gone into town on a fine Friday afternoon in search of a new pair of hunting boots when he spotted you some distance away. You were accompanied by your lady’s maid, and you seemed to be leaving the modiste.

Apart from noticing how stunning you looked, even in a simple day dress, Anthony realized a few things.

First, you were far enough away from him and positioned in such a manner that there was no chance that you would see him. He could easily just go on with his day, quickly find the pair of hunting boots he came for, and make his way home.

However, the second thing he took note of is that a gentleman such as himself would always go out of his way to greet the lady he was courting. Perhaps it was time to shift away from the tiring rake act he so often put on and act like a Bridgerton.

And finally, he noted that, in reality, he could come back for a pair of hunting boots at any time. However, he couldn’t unexpectedly run into you every day.

So, with all this in mind, Anthony determinedly shouted your name. When you didn’t hear him and kept walking, he yelled your lady’s maid’s name, who turned around to look at who had called for her. Spotting Anthony through the crowd of summer shoppers, your lady’s maid tugged at your sleeve, turning you around so you could see him.

“Oh, Anthony, what a surprise!” you called, unable to help the bright smile that lit up your face.

How gentlemanly, you thought, for Anthony to go out of his way to say hello. Perhaps he had left behind his rakish ways.

“It’s rather hot today, isn’t it?” said Anthony as he reached you, leaning down to kiss your hand in greeting. “What do you say about going across the street and enjoying some tea?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. Greeting you unexpectedly and asking to spend time together? This was quite unusual indeed.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” you said, somewhat nervously. Had Daphne somehow let her plan slip? “We were due to see each other this evening at the Featherington ball."

Anthony laughed, enjoying your confusion. It felt quite good to be a gentleman, he thought. “Not at all, I just thought I’d take advantage of the fact that I saw you. I’m not particularly keen on depriving myself of the company of a wonderful lady such as yourself.”

You felt your face growing hot, completely floored by how lovely Anthony was being. It was like his usual charm turned up by a factor of ten.

Looking over at your lady’s maid, you raised your eyebrows to ask if it was alright with her if your plans were derailed.

“Nowhere else to be,” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Perfect, then, let’s go,” you smiled at Anthony.

Hooking your hand into the crook of his arm, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your stomach. Bit by bit, you were realizing you were in far over your head. So far you couldn’t even see the ground anymore. Anthony was turning out to be completely unexpected.

And though you were practically giddy every time you saw him now, you were also fighting to bury the uncomfortable thought that you might have made a grave mistake trying to mastermind your courtship with him.

---

June 23, 1812 - “Well, I suppose I should get going,” Anthony said to Colin, getting up from his chair as he looked at his watch. “Y/N will surely be expecting me, seeing as how we went to a ball yesterday evening.”

Upon hearing Colin snickering in response, the eldest Bridgerton shot his younger brother an annoyed look.

“Do you think this is funny? Wait a few years and you’ll be doing this, too,” Anthony scoffed.

“It’s not that,” said Colin, still chuckling to himself. “It’s just that she’s been here since this morning. I ran into her and Daphne a few hours ago.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” asked Anthony in disbelief.

Colin shrugged. “I thought you’d surely seen her. You’re the one courting her, after all.”

“Why didn’t she ask for me?” grumbled Anthony, mostly to himself. “Well, even more reason to go see her now. Goodbye, Colin. I would say it was a pleasure speaking with you but based on the last two minutes I don’t particularly think it was.”

In response, Colin half-heartedly crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at his brother. “Say hello to your wife for me,” he teased, knowing Anthony’s aversion to marriage.

But his jab was only met with a slammed door. Anthony was too focused on finding you.

How on earth had he not noticed your presence in his home the whole day? To be fair, before you started courting, you spent copious amounts of time at the Bridgerton residence, with or without Daphne, and he wasn’t always aware until after the fact.

You had practically already been a part of the family, but it felt different now. He felt panicked that he hadn’t already greeted you, and he was worried you would hold it against him.

Rushing down the stairs, he ran into Daphne, who was shuffling through a stack of letters in the foyer.

“Who are you expecting correspondence from? A suitor?” he questioned suspiciously.

“She’s in the sitting room,” answered Daphne curtly.

Without a second thought, Anthony dashed across the hall, bursting into the sitting room.

There, he found you and Hyacinth sitting next to each other on the pianoforte bench. Your hands were on hers as you guided her nine-year-old fingers over the keys to form a melody. Startled, you dropped Hyacinth’s hands and turned to look over at the doorway.

“Is something the matter, dear?” asked Violet calmly from the other side of the room, quite used to the antics of her eight children.

“No, no- not at all,” gulped Anthony, not expecting to have seen you with his youngest sister. “I just heard Y/N had stopped by, is all.”

“That’s kind of you,” you said, smiling softly at the man you were courting. “Hyacinth seems to be a natural at the pianoforte.”

“Better than Gregory anyway,” said Hyacinth haughtily, eliciting a hearty laugh from you.

“Well, run along, then, Hyacinth,” urged Anthony. “I believe I should like to speak with Y/N.”

Hyacinth groaned, “She’s not yours Anthony. I believe I should like to stay," she said petulantly. "I was having such a lovely time with Y/N before you interrupted.”

She hugged you tight, lest Anthony tried to make her leave by force. Laughing, you hugged her back, patting her head soothingly.

“No one’s making you leave, Hyacinth,” you shot Anthony a playful glare. “I apologize for not finding you earlier, Gregory has just learned how to play chess and wanted to play a match. And then Hyacinth came in and thought it quite unfair that I had spent such a long time with Gregory and not her. And then, well, you know how they are…” you explained, your voice full of fondness for the youngest Bridgertons.

“Oh, do I,” said Anthony, walking over to ruffle Hyacinth’s hair affectionately. “Who won the chess match?”

Resigning himself to the fact that his little sister wouldn’t leave, Anthony made himself comfortable on the couch closest to you. And though he was hoping to spend some time alone– well, chaperoned– with you, he couldn’t deny that his heart was doing all sorts of gymnastics in his chest at the thought of the care you had for his siblings.

“We each won one and the third was a stalemate,” you responded, winking at Anthony and running your fingers through Hyacinth’s hair. “He’s quite good.”

“I want to learn how to play chess,” whined Hyacinth, detesting the fact that you and Gregory shared something she couldn’t join in on.

“I can teach you next time I stop by,” you promised, smiling fondly at her. “It’s quite a fun game, once you understand the rules.”

And at that very moment, Anthony knew he loved you. It had happened slowly, and then quite suddenly he was extremely aware of it. Much like you had made your way into the Bridgertons’ lives, you had made your way into his heart.

He knew he would be a fool not to see it. All he ever wanted was to take care of his family, and seeing you feel the same way was doing all sorts of things to his heart that he found impossible to ignore. You cared so deeply about his family, and it was difficult not to imagine the pair of you having a child of your own.

Anthony had decided. This was the first and last courtship he would ever have. He was falling faster than he could imagine, and he didn't particularly want to do anything to stop it.

—

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s4kura-tr3 · 3 days ago

Note

Hello, is there a way you could do something like they saw us working out and they saw we had like... smexy muscles... (Wiggles brows)

ESPECIALLY WITH TOJI RAH

Definitely not my best work 😞

Tw: cursing, suggestive.

Gojo satoru — Gojo Satoru strolled into the room, his usual carefree energy radiating from him. But the moment his eyes landed on you, he froze, the sight before him wiping any thoughts of mischief or banter from his mind—well, almost.

There you were, mid-workout, your muscles taut and flexing as you pushed through your last set of reps. Your tank top clung to your body, damp with sweat, and the way the light caught your glistening skin made you look absolutely radiant. Gojo’s hand immediately went to his blindfold, tugging it down with a dramatic flourish to get an unobstructed view. His vibrant blue eyes gleamed with interest and something deeper as he leaned casually against the doorframe, taking his time to admire you.

“Holy hell,” he finally said, his voice low but undeniably teasing. “Did I just walk into an exclusive workout show? Because, wow, you’re putting the rest of us mortals to shame.”

You glanced his way, panting slightly from exertion, and shot him an unimpressed look. “Gojo, I’m busy.”

“Oh, I can see that,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering closer with that signature smirk plastered across his face. “Busy looking absolutely illegal. Seriously, you’ve got to warn a guy before you start flexing like that. My poor heart can’t take it.”

Rolling your eyes, you set the weights down, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from your face. But Gojo wasn’t letting you off that easily. He circled around you like he was inspecting a masterpiece, his gaze lingering on every inch of you in a way that made your skin flush under the heat of his attention.

“You know,” he continued, his voice dropping into a huskier tone, “it’s almost unfair how good you look right now. The sweat, the muscles, the determination—ugh, it’s honestly too much. You’re going to give me a complex. How am I supposed to compete with this level of hotness?”

“Compete?” you asked, arching a brow as you took a sip of water. “Pretty sure you’re just here to distract me.”

“Distract you?” he repeated with mock offense, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest. “Me? Never. I’m just here as a very supportive observer. You know, the type who notices how insanely toned your arms are. And your legs. And… wow, is that a new muscle definition I see? Babe, you’ve been holding out on me.”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t let him see how much his words affected you. Instead, you shot back, “Keep talking, and I’ll make you join me for the next set.”

Gojo’s grin widened, and he stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm. “Oh, trust me, I’m tempted,” he murmured, his voice velvety smooth now. “But watching you like this? It’s honestly better than any workout I could ever do. You’re just… stunning.”

The rare sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him. His eyes were softer now, but still filled with that mischievous spark that made your heart skip a beat.

“Careful, Gojo,” you warned with a smirk of your own. “Flattery might make me think you actually want to work out with me.”

He chuckled, leaning down slightly so his face was closer to yours. “Oh, I’d work out with you any day,” he murmured, his tone dripping with flirtation. “But let’s be honest—if we’re sweating together, I’d much rather it be… another kind of workout.”

Your jaw dropped at his shameless comment, and you shoved him away, your laughter mixing with his. “You’re impossible!”

“And yet, you love me,” he teased, dodging your swats as he leaned in again, planting a quick kiss on your temple before pulling back with a wink. “Now, finish up, gorgeous. You’ve got me all inspired to work up a sweat later… with or without weights.”

Gojo walked off with a smug bounce in his step, leaving you flustered, exasperated, and, of course, completely enamored.

Geto Suguru — Geto Suguru wasn’t planning to linger when he walked into the room, but the moment he saw you working out, every other thought left his mind. The rhythmic movement of your body, the sharp focus in your expression, and the way the sweat clung to your skin caught him off guard. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

For a while, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching you in silence. There was something mesmerizing about seeing you like this—so determined, so powerful. He wasn’t the type to gush, but there was no denying that the sight before him was stirring something in him.

When you finished your set and set the weights down, panting slightly, his deep, smooth voice broke the quiet. “You know,” he said, his tone casual but with a teasing edge, “this might be my favorite version of you.”

You glanced over, startled to see him there, his lean frame relaxed against the wall and that damn smirk plastered across his face. “Suguru, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he replied smoothly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. He pushed off the wall and began walking toward you, each step deliberate and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Watching you like this is… fascinating.”

You grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from your face as you raised an eyebrow at him. “Fascinating? I’m literally just working out.”

“Oh, it’s much more than that,” he countered, stopping a few feet away and tilting his head as he let his gaze sweep over you unapologetically. “The way you move, the strength in every motion—it’s impressive. Beautiful, even.”

His words caught you off guard, and you tried to brush off the compliment. “You’re being dramatic. I’m just trying to stay in shape.”

Suguru chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Trust me, I don’t exaggerate. Watching you like this? It’s like seeing art in motion. Strong, determined, completely in control. You’re incredible.”

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “Well, enjoy the show, I guess,” you said dryly, reaching for your water bottle

“Oh, I intend to,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, a playful edge lacing his tone. “But I’m warning you now—I might get addicted to this view. You’re going to have to let me watch you work out more often.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of water and trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on you. “You’re ridiculous, Suguru.”

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he pointed out, his smirk softening into something more genuine. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he spoke, his voice quieter now. “You’re amazing, you know that? The way you push yourself, the way you carry yourself—it’s impossible not to admire you.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself meeting his gaze, your breath hitching at the intensity in his eyes. “Suguru…”

His lips curved into a softer smile, his voice warm and teasing as he broke the tension. “But don’t let it go to your head. You’re already impossible to resist—I don’t need you getting cocky too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you swatted at him with your towel. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only with you,” he said smoothly, catching your wrist with surprising gentleness. His fingers lingered there for a moment, his touch warm and grounding. “Though, if you really want me to stop, you’re going to have to teach me how to keep my eyes off you. Because right now? I don’t think I could if I tried.”

Your cheeks flushed at his boldness, and you shook your head, pulling your hand away as you turned back to your workout gear. “You’re impossible,” you muttered.

Suguru chuckled, his rich voice filling the space as he moved to sit on the bench nearby, his gaze never leaving you. “Maybe. But you love me for it.”

You didn’t respond, but the small smile tugging at your lips gave you away. And as you picked up the weights to start your next set, you could feel his eyes on you, warm and unwavering, his presence a steady reminder of just how deeply he admired you.

Nanami kento — Nanami Kento wasn’t someone who indulged in distractions, especially during his rare moments of downtime. He valued efficiency and order, even in his personal life. But when he returned home earlier than expected and heard the faint clink of weights in the other room, curiosity got the better of him. He loosened his tie and set his briefcase down quietly, walking toward the sound.

He paused in the doorway. There you were, mid-workout, sweat dripping down your brow, muscles flexing as you pushed through your reps. Your focus was sharp, completely unaware of his presence, and something about that made him stop and watch.

Nanami wasn’t the type to ogle or make unnecessary remarks, but he couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered, admiring the strength and determination in your movements. You had always impressed him, but seeing you like this—powerful, resilient, and utterly in your element—it struck a chord deep within him.

When you set the weights down and reached for your water bottle, his voice broke the silence, calm and steady as always. “You’re working hard.”

You startled slightly, turning to find him standing there, his tie undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up. His expression was as composed as ever, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

“Kento,” you said, catching your breath. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he replied, stepping into the room. His gaze flicked to the equipment before settling back on you. “I didn’t realize you were so serious about this.”

You wiped your face with a towel, shrugging lightly. “It helps me clear my head. And, you know, staying in shape isn’t a bad thing.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, the kind that was easy to miss if you didn’t know him well. “It’s impressive,” he said simply.

The straightforwardness of his compliment caught you off guard. “It’s just a workout, Kento.”

He stepped closer, his hands slipping into his pockets as he regarded you thoughtfully. “It’s not just a workout. It’s discipline. Focus. You don’t do things halfway, and it shows.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the genuine admiration in his tone. “I didn’t think you’d care about something like this.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “I care because it’s you. Seeing you like this… it’s a reminder of how remarkable you are.”

The warmth in his words made your cheeks flush, and you looked away, trying to play it off. “You’re making it sound like I just climbed Mount Everest or something.”

Nanami chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, but unmistakably genuine. “No, but the effort you put in is no less admirable.”

You hesitated, then shot him a playful look. “Are you sure you’re not just saying this because you feel guilty for coming home late all the time?”

His smile widened—just barely—but it was enough to make your stomach flip. “If I did, would it make you feel better?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe.”

Nanami stepped closer, his presence calm and grounding as always. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice softer now, “I mean every word. You’re extraordinary, whether you see it or not.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes leaving you momentarily speechless. “Kento…”

He straightened, clearing his throat as if to reestablish his usual composed demeanor. “Don’t let me keep you from finishing your workout,” he said, his tone professional again. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Though, if you ever want a partner, let me know. I’d like to see if I can keep up.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart racing and a small smile tugging at your lips. Nanami Kento didn’t need grand gestures or flowery words. Somehow, his quiet admiration and steady presence were more than enough.

Toji fushiguro — Toji Fushiguro didn’t mean to interrupt when he walked into the room, but the sight of you mid-workout stopped him in his tracks. For a moment, he just stood there, leaning against the doorway with a lazy smirk, watching you as you pushed through your reps. The muscles in your arms flexed with each movement, sweat dripping down your brow, and the sheer focus on your face made something stir deep in his chest.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his deep voice cutting through the quiet hum of your workout music. “If I’d known you were hiding this in here, I might’ve shown up sooner.”

You didn’t even look up, finishing your set before setting the weights down and grabbing your water bottle. “Toji, don’t you have better things to do than bother me while I’m working out?”

“Better things? Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening as he pushed off the doorframe and strolled into the room. His green eyes swept over you unabashedly, taking in every inch of your glistening, toned form. “You look good like this. Strong. Focused. Kinda sexy, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” you shot back, taking a sip of water and ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Toji chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he dropped onto the bench across from you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving you. “C’mon, don’t play coy. You’re out here showing off those muscles—you can’t expect me not to look.”

You wiped the sweat from your face with a towel, throwing him a pointed glare. “I’m working out, Toji. Not putting on a show for you.”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging, though the playful glint in his eyes didn’t waver. “But it’s a hell of a show anyway. Seriously, you been hiding this from me? Those arms could probably knock someone out. I’m almost impressed.”

“Almost?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Yeah, almost. You’d have to spar with me to really prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth quirked up despite yourself. “Right. Like you’d play fair.”

“Who said anything about fair?” he shot back, his grin turning sharper. “I’d let you win. Maybe.”

Shaking your head, you turned back to your weights, but you could still feel his gaze on you, heavy and heated. “If you’re going to sit there and stare, at least make yourself useful. Hand me the heavier dumbbells.”

Toji barked a laugh, standing and grabbing the weights with ease before setting them down in front of you. “You sure about that, sweetheart? Don’t want you overworking yourself.”

“I can handle it,” you said, your tone firm as you picked them up.

“Oh, I know you can,” he said, his voice dropping as he watched you lift. “You’re tougher than most people I know. But seeing you like this? Pushing yourself? It’s… something else.”

The shift in his tone caught you off guard, and you glanced at him. For a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes was replaced by something warmer, more genuine.

“You’re impressive,” he said simply, shrugging as though it was no big deal. “Strong, determined, and hot as hell. I’d be an idiot not to notice.”

You paused, his words sinking in, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Toji…”

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, the grin returning to his face. He reached out, brushing a bead of sweat off your temple with his thumb, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you set the weights down. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stunning,” he replied without missing a beat, his voice low and steady. “Now finish up. If you’re this strong now, I wanna see what you can do with a real challenge. Sparring session, tomorrow. You in?”

You met his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “Only if you promise not to hold back.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his smirk turning downright predatory. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before turning to leave. And as you picked up your weights again, you couldn’t help but smile, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the workout.

Sukuna Ryomen — Sukuna wasn’t used to being surprised, but when he materialized in the middle of your workout, he found himself pausing, an amused smirk curling across his lips. You were focused, muscles taut as you pushed through another grueling set, sweat glistening on your skin and making your form all the more striking. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and that only added to his amusement.

He leaned lazily against the wall, crimson eyes gleaming with interest. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he remarked, his voice deep and smooth, cutting through the quiet.

Startled, you looked up, your breath hitching when you saw him watching you, that familiar smug grin plastered on his face. “Sukuna,” you said, wiping the sweat from your brow. “What are you doing here?”

“Appreciating the view,” he replied, his gaze shamelessly roaming over you. “I didn’t know you had this in you. A little warrior hidden beneath all that charm. Makes me wonder what else you’re hiding.”

You rolled your eyes and picked up your water bottle, taking a long sip before answering. “I’m not hiding anything. And I doubt you came here to flatter me.”

“Flatter you?” he echoed, his smirk widening as he pushed off the wall and sauntered closer. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of danger and allure, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on your skin. “I don’t do flattery. I state facts. And the fact is, you look… enticing like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way his words sent a shiver down your spine. “Enticing? I’m covered in sweat and exhausted.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said, stopping just a few feet away. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in every detail of your appearance. “There’s strength in you. I can see it. Feel it. It’s… intriguing.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him fluster you. “You’re awfully chatty for someone who usually likes to mock me.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and almost predatory. “Oh, don’t mistake this for kindness,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “I’m just fascinated. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for. I like that.”

“Should I be flattered?” you asked dryly.

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “Or maybe you should be concerned. Strength like yours… it makes me want to test it.”

You held your ground, meeting his gaze with a defiance that only seemed to amuse him further. “Test it how?”

His grin turned sharp, revealing his pointed teeth. “Sparring, fighting, maybe something else entirely,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re strong, but how far can you push yourself? How far can I push you?”

Your cheeks flushed, though whether it was from his words or the way he was looking at you, you couldn’t tell. “You’re impossible, Sukuna.”

“And you’re fascinating,” he countered, his tone softer now but no less intense. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, tracing the curve of your muscles with a deliberate slowness. “All this power, all this potential… it suits you. But don’t get cocky. I’d still crush you in an instant if I wanted to.”

You smirked, swatting his hand away. “I’d like to see you try.”

His laughter filled the room, dark and rich, as he stepped back, his gaze never leaving yours. “Careful what you wish for, little one,” he said, his grin wicked. “You might not like what you find.”

But there was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at you, that told you he wasn’t just teasing. He respected you—your strength, your determination—and that respect, coming from someone like Sukuna, felt like a victory in itself.

Megumi fushiguro — Megumi wasn’t the type to barge into a room without reason, so when he stumbled upon you working out, it wasn’t intentional. He’d been looking for you to ask a quick question, but the moment he saw you, he froze. You were mid-set, muscles flexing as you moved, sweat dripping down your skin and making your determination all the more captivating.

His face immediately heated up, a soft pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly averted his gaze, though his feet stayed rooted to the spot. “Sorry,” he muttered, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

You glanced over your shoulder, spotting him in the doorway. “Megumi? What’s up?”

He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to act like he hadn’t just been staring. “Uh… nothing. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll… come back later.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your weights down and grabbing your towel. “You’re not interrupting. What do you need?”

He shifted awkwardly, his gaze flickering to you briefly before he fixed it firmly on the floor. “It’s not important,” he said quickly. “I didn’t know you were… busy.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his obvious discomfort. “Megumi, are you embarrassed?”

“No,” he said immediately, though the redness in his cheeks deepened. “I just��” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you worked out like this.”

“Like what?” you teased, walking closer.

His eyes darted to you for a split second, taking in the way your skin glistened, the subtle definition in your arms and shoulders. He looked away just as quickly, his jaw tightening. “Like… seriously. You’re stronger than I thought.”

“Thanks,” you said, amused by how flustered he was. “It’s not that big a deal, though.”

“It kind of is,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Most people don’t push themselves that hard.”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something genuine in his tone, a quiet admiration he wasn’t very good at hiding. “Are you impressed?”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of the doorframe. “Maybe,” he muttered.

You grinned, stepping closer until you were standing just a few feet away. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Megumi finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something there—respect, maybe even awe—but it was quickly buried beneath his usual stoicism. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Too late,” you teased, tossing your towel over your shoulder.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back. “I’ll leave you to it. Just… don’t overdo it, okay? You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

His words caught you off guard, the unexpected softness in them making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Megumi,” you said, your tone gentler now.

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. But just as he reached the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice low and hesitant. “For what it’s worth… you’re doing great.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, a warm smile tugging at your lips. Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t one for big gestures or obvious compliments, but his quiet support spoke louder than words ever could.

Yuji itadori — Yuji Itadori was never one to hide his emotions, and when he walked into the room and saw you mid-workout, his reaction was immediate—and loud.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as he froze in the doorway. “You look amazing!”

Startled, you paused mid-rep, glancing over at him. “Yuji? What are you yelling about now?”

He stepped further into the room, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of you. Your muscles were defined, your skin glistening with sweat, and the sheer determination on your face left him staring. “I’m yelling because you look like a total badass!”

You laughed, setting your weights down and grabbing your water bottle. “It’s just a workout, Yuji. Nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Are you kidding me? Look at you! You’re like an action movie hero or something!”

“An action hero?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

He shook his head furiously, his pink hair bouncing with the movement. “Not at all! I mean, you’re strong, you’re focused, and—” He gestured at you with both hands, his cheeks turning pink as he stumbled over his words. “You’re, uh… really cool-looking right now.”

You couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. “Thanks, Yuji. But you’re kind of embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t care!” he said with a laugh, plopping down on the floor nearby and watching you with wide-eyed admiration. “Seriously, how often do you do this? You’ve got muscles I didn’t even know existed!”

You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth spread through your chest at his genuine excitement. “I work out a few times a week. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal!” he insisted, leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands. “You’re so strong! I bet you could bench press me if you wanted to.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Yuji.”

“No way,” he said, grinning. “You’re a total powerhouse. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he said, standing up and flexing his arms dramatically. “I mean, I’m strong, but you’ve got this whole ‘unstoppable warrior’ vibe going on. It’s inspiring!”

You snorted, throwing your towel at him, which he caught with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his grin widening. “But I mean it. You’re awesome, and I’m lucky I get to see you like this. It’s motivating!”

“Motivating?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Yeah! I’m totally working out with you next time,” he said, his eyes shining with determination. “I need to level up if I’m going to keep up with you.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Alright, Yuji. You’re on. But don’t complain when I make you do squats.”

“Deal!” he said, holding out his hand for a high five. When you slapped your hand against his, his grin grew even wider. “This is gonna be awesome. You’ll see—I’ll be your workout rival in no time!”

Somehow, you doubted that, but his infectious energy made you laugh all the same. Yuji Itadori was a whirlwind of enthusiasm, and having him around made everything a little brighter—even your workout.

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mayahawkesfirstwife · 2 days ago

Note

can u do a fluff fic of saebyeok giving u after care after rough sex. Like shes washing ur hair in the shower and whispering sweet nothings in ur ear

Aftercare

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Pairings: Kang Sae-byeok x Fem! Reader

Summary: After rough sex with your girlfriend, she runs a bath for you and gives you aftercare.

Warnings: Mention of smut.

Author Note: I know you said a shower but taking a bath is just so soothing. Sorry if there’s any spelling mistakes or anything like that!

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

You pant, wiping the sweat off your forehead as your girlfriend lays down beside you, sweating and panting as well.

You two had just had very rough sex, you were exhausted and fucked out.

She looks over at you, “You did so well for me.” She kissed your cheek and you smile, wrapping your arms around her neck.

She sat up, you let go of your hold on her and she stood up, putting on her boxers.

“I’ll be right back.” She leans over and kisses your cheek, before going into the bathroom.

She runs some water while you fiddle with the blanket, you missed her already.

She comes back about 2 minutes later and she goes up to the edge of the bed, opening her arms.

“Come here, honey.”

You crawl up to her and wrap your arms around her neck again, she picks you up with ease and carries you to the bathroom.

She sets you down and you seen the bath running with bubbles inside, it looked so nice.

You got in and hum as you shut your eyes, she chuckles and took her boxers and bra off before getting in with you.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

You smile up at her and she kisses your forehead, “I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you Sae-byeok…” You kiss her forehead as well and she grabs the small blue cup and stops the water.

She puts water in and starts to wet your hair, it felt great, the perfect temperature.

She put some shampoo on her hands and started to scrub your hair perfectly, it was like getting a massage.

“It feels nice…” You hum, she rubs your shoulders and you shut your eyes.

She had some magic hands, they were great at everything. She was here massaging your shoulders and you were moaning.

“I love you.” She kissed your shoulder once.

“My beautiful girl…” She fills the cup with water, “Cover your eyes.” She says, you cover your eyes and she pours the water over your head.

You push it back when she finishes, making sure not to splash her.

She puts conditioner on her hands and rubs it over your ends and you smile, turning to her.

“You’re so perfect, I’m so lucky.” She hums and you giggle while you blush.

She started washing her hair and you grab the cup and fill it with water and pour it for her like she did for you.

You put some conditionder in your palm and straddle her lap, putting it in her hair.

You look up at her and kiss her softly, she grabs your face and passionately kisses you back.

You pull away and she grabs the cup to pour more water over your hair and you do the same for her.

She grabbed your loofa and started washing your body for you, you giggle. “That tickles...”

She grabs your hip, “You’re so pretty.”

You peck her lips, “You’re so pretty, too.” You hum, she smiles.

You wash your body of the soap while she does the same to herself and got out before you, grabbing a towel.

She wraps it around her body and grabs another towel, holding it out for you.

“Here you go, honey.” She says as you got out and wrapped it around yourself.

You walked into your room, “Wanna wear one of my shirts?” She asks, you nod with a smile.

“It’s cold…” You shiver, she hands her T-shirt to you and goes to change the temperature.

You change while she’s gone and when she comes back she pecks your lips, “I turned the AC down, okay?”

“Mhm…” You smile up at her and crawled into bed, laying down.

“I’m so sleepy.” You hum, she changed quickly and got into bed with you.

“Me too, come here.” She opens her arm and you cuddle into her chest.

“Goodnight, baby…” She whispers and you kiss her cheek, “Goodnight, Sae.”

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

#wlw #squid game #kang sae byeok x reader #sae byeok x reader #sae byeok #kang sae byeok #sae byeok smut #player 067

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obligateweirdo · 1 day ago

Text

I think we’re nearing the end of a Golden Era. After the finale of Good Omens is released, we’re going to be on a different footing. It will wrapped, it will be complete. We will have a whole story.

Thus far we’ve been able to hope, fear, speculate and dream—those opportunities will change dramatically after the finale is released.

I’m feeling all kinds of ways about that—it’s been a heck of a ride. “Roller coaster” doesn’t do it justice. Despite the cracks and schisms that have appeared, the fandom remains a fairly friendly and wholesome place. I’m not a huge capital-F Fan; I’m not always obsessed with a story or a show (though I’m usually obsessed with something, be it crochet or raku). I’m not generally up on production schedules and don’t usually read about actors.

However, I’ve been in a few fandoms over the centuries, and I’ve seen them get much more toxic than this one is even now. I’m so grateful. Y’all are a fabulous crowd of angels and demons.

My deal is that I was pretty sure I was going to be disappointed with S3 from the beginning. The characters took root in my mind and, well, they’re mine now, the same way they’re yours, and, little by little, my head-canons have become real to me. This is normal for me—I figured I’d have to watch the whole thing a few times and see if my internal convictions would conform to whatever solution was offered to me. I don’t think I’ve ever gone from this point of the evolution of a story to the end without disappointment. That part hasn’t changed.

Because characters like Aziraphale and Crowley turn real, rather like the Velveteen Rabbit. They enter the company of mythological beings, along with King Arthur and Sherlock Holmes and Finn McCool, and there they will stay, an amalgam of thousands upon thousands of images of them in thousands upon thousands of minds. I love this for them.

But the finale will bring a sea-change, and we’ll be in a new era where all that goes forward is the mythology—and that will be a new jumping-off-point, but also the last foreseeable jumping off point we will have as a group. (A group of the thousands of us.)

I just want to say that I’m very glad to have been here in the Bentley for the ride through hellfire and tartan hills, and I’ll be here for at least a while longer, enjoying the view of the new countryside.

Heigh-ho, said Anthony Crowley.

#good omens fandom #good omens #good omens finale #good omens comfort

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papaya-twinks · 1 day ago

Note

Thank you so much for responding 🙏 can I put in the request please? Going to post it again here just so it doesn’t get lost - reader is in a wheelchair (who can walk but uses it for pain/ fatigue) going out with a driver and being worried about using their chair at the GP?

Sore - l.n

Warnings: I, myself, am stupid, so I don’t know if wheelchair is a warning coz tbh I don’t see it as a warning warning but then on the other hand it kinda is a warning like I don’t know if wheelchairs cause trauma or stuff but then again it’s just a chair with wheels like what harm can it do, like I’m also vaguely sure stephen farfler didn’t intend on anyone to keel over and faint at the mere mention of wheelchairs but then again I’m not sure if he actually thought far enough that fanfics would involve wheelchairs let alone actually fanfics themselves so I’m pretty much not sure about whether or not a wheelchair counts as a warning. also stephen farfler made wheelchairs.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I gotchu pookie, lost in transit I see 🙏 I will deliver

“You sure you coming is a good idea?” Lando asked, helping you place the folded wheelchair into the back of his car.

“Keep asking that and it makes it sound like you don’t want me coming,” you laughed.

Part of you…well, part of you thought maybe he didn’t.

Maybe he was ashamed his girlfriend sometimes needed a wheelchair.

“Oh don’t be a muppet, of course I want you there,” Lando nudged you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he watched you steady yourself. “Too hard?” he winced.

“Let’s just tone down the pushes,” you said, letting him help you in the car.

“Baby,” Lando said, “I do want you to know that I’ve never been prouder than having you come to my race, y’know that?”.

Usually, you would’ve doubted him, or anyone for that matter.

But he was so sincere.

So sincere and genuine…it felt real.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pecking him on the lips as he smiled, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

You were still scared though.

Scared when the media turned to you and Lando, the metal frame in Lando’s hands.

Scared when you had to tug on his shirt and tell him your legs ached so badly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lando said, leaning down to peck you on the lips as he helped you sit.

“I’ll push you, c’mon,” he said.

“Lando!” you squealed as he pushed your chair fast, jolting your body back.

“Just setting the mood,” he laughed.

“Setting the- Lan, we’re gonna crash!” you held on your dear life.

“Hey! You have two wheels, make the most of it!” Lando laughed, turning round a corner.

By the time he’d relented, you were both panting, your hands sweaty, but you were laughing nevertheless.

At least he’d brought that pretty smile back to your face.

“Love ya, two wheels,” Lando grinned as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah yeah,”.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 #lando norris x you #lando x reader #lando norris smut

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quibbs126 · 19 hours ago

Text

Okay, I think I’m FINALLY done with these designs. Well okay, I said Megatron might need some reworking, but shush, I’ll do that another time

I was not expecting this to take as long as it did. Apparently I started making this at 9 in the morning, and it is now 9:30 at night. Optimus, I am almost certain this is your fault

Anyways, as mentioned prior, the idea here was to give the Earthspark Cybertronians protoform designs like the Terrans, what they might look like when they were in this stage, because I haven’t seen anything to claim Cybertronians in this series don’t also have this stage, unless I’m wrong

I mean theoretically, Cybertronian protoforms could look entirely different from Terran protoforms, but we don’t know at this juncture, so I used the Terrans as my main references

Pretty much the main thing was trying to turn their blocky features smooth, while also taking out a bunch of their little details, like their antenna and horns

Honestly I still think Elita turned out the best, which is maybe a bit sad considering she was the first one I finished, but oh well. I don’t think everyone else was horrible, but I think she just looks best

I think Bee’s design is fine, and it was honestly refreshing after struggling so much with Optimus, but I can’t help but feel like his eyes are still wonky

Like I’ve said, by the end of things I think Megatron came out the worst. He was the second one I did, so I wasn’t sure, but by now I think he is. The real struggle with him is that his entire helmet is comprised of angles, when I need curves. And then there’s his side things, which I still do not know how to translate here. The idea I was trying to go for here is the top half goes around his head, while the bottom half is attached at the ends, but it’s the bottom half that looks weird. But ah well, hopefully I can fix it later

And then there’s Optimus. The majority of the time I’ve spent on this was him. It was mostly the struggle of his vents and trying to make them un-blocky. It was getting really frustrating particularly because I couldn’t think of anything new to do with them to change them, drawing the same thing over and over

But then I remembered, this Optimus was once Orion Pax, a fact I was planning to omit. But that meant I had something else to draw on

And it’s what finally got my brain to make his side things into the curves you see now. It’s also why his middle thing is solid black, like how it seems to be in the picture above

But yeah, I wouldn’t rate his design as the absolute best, but it’s serviceable and I’ll take what I can get

But aside from trying to change their designs, I think I had fun. I noticed by the end of it that they all have different face and eye shapes, and that’s pretty fun

Speaking of which, I notice with this how small Optimus’ eyes are here. They may not look it in my drawing but they’re a lot smaller than the others in the show. Is that one of the reasons his design looks so off? Like I know it looks weird, I just can’t place how exactly

But yeah, take these designs, the culmination of my drawing abilities for the day. I’d like to do more with them, I just don’t know what. Best I can think of is like, a fic premise where the Cybertronians somehow get reverted back to these protoform stages, and the Terrans now have to help them out

#yeah the more I look at Megatron the more I want to rework him #but I should probably stop for the day #I accomplished what I set out to do today #and my loan situation I think is mostly sorted out so that’s cool too #also if you notice Elita and Megs look a bit smaller than OP and Bee #that’s because the former two were made when the canvas was 500x500 #while the latter two were made when I changed it to 600x600 and I could upscale their sketches more #I tried to keep it more consistent with Bee but I didn’t care much when I got to Optimus #anyways I think that’s about it for miscellaneous comments #transformers #transformers earthspark #protoform #optimus prime #Megatron #elita one #bumblebee #my art

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seumyo · 1 day ago

Text

tokoyami taking care of you when you’re sick.

“You look like you’re ready to ascend to the afterlife,” Tokoyami said, his voice calm but tinged with concern.

“Maybe I am, Fumi. Maybe this is it for me.”

“You have a mild fever and a sore throat. Hardly fatal.”

“But it feels fatal,” you whined, your voice scratchy. “I’m so weak. I don’t even have the energy to do my nails!” You wiggled your bare fingers in the air for emphasis, looking utterly defeated. “Ugh, they’re naked.”

He tilted his head, his beak twitching in what might have been amusement. You could hardly tell. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not. I can feel my soul leaving my body, Fumi. I’m… so… cold.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for the extra blanket folded at the end of your bed, draping it over you with a sigh. “There. Better?”

“Thank you. I felt like I needed to tell you about my last will and testament.”

“Your sense of drama is impressive,” Tokoyami replied, his tone dry.

“It’s a gift.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry, Fumi. I’ll haunt you lovingly.”

He reached for the tissue box and handed it to you. “You’re not haunting anyone. Blow your nose.”

With a pout, you accepted the tissues and complied. “Ugh, even my sneezes aren’t cute right now,” you muttered, your cheeks flushed not from embarrassment but from your fever.

“Your sneezes are rarely cute,” Tokoyami pointed out.

“Rude,” you sniffled.

Just as you were about to unknowingly fall into a deep slumber, Tokoyami reached for the small tray he’d brought with him, holding a bowl of soup he’d made earlier.

“You need to eat first,” he said. “Eat, then sleep.”

You stared at it like it was the most daunting task in the world. Plus, your exhaustion most likely killed your appetite.

“I don’t think I can lift the spoon.”

He sighed again but didn’t argue. Instead, he carefully picked up the spoon and held it to your lips. “Open.”

You paused. “You’re feeding me?”

“Would you rather starve?”

“No?” So you did as told.

Tokoyami fed you a spoonful of warm soup, a recipe he had to call his mother for, satisfied that you’re complying. “See? Not so hard.”

“Thanks, Fumi. You’re the best nurse ever.”

“I aim to serve,” he replied dryly, though you could tell he was pleased.

Such dramatics.

“Fumi?”

You looked at him with bleary eyes, trying to adjust to the dim light illuminating your room. “Fumi,” you said again just as he finished setting the tray aside.

“Yes?”

“If I don’t make it… promise me you’ll keep my sticker collection safe.”

Tokoyami stared at you, his expression utterly unamused. “You’re going to make it.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted.

“I’m not ready to take responsibility for your sticker collection. That is a big responsibility, even for me.”

You laughed, though it was a weak and raspy sound. “You’d love it! There’s so much glitter.”

“Glitter is not my aesthetic.”

“Well, maybe it should be.”

“Well, you should rest,” he shook his head, gently adjusting the blanket around you. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

As the hours went on, you grew quieter, your usual energy completely sapped by your cold. Tokoyami stayed by your side, of course, reading quietly while you dozed off just to make sure that there wasn’t anything too concerning with your cold.

He wishes that your sickness would go away sooner because he can’t stand seeing you like this. Though you can always count on him to take care of you, just like in the future vows of, “In sickness, and in health.”

#‹𝟹 𓏲🗒️ꜝֶָ֢ ʾʾ #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami x you #tokoyami x y/n #tokoyami fluff #tokoyami drabble #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha drabble #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha drabbles #bnha tokoyami #mha tokoyami #tokoyami fumikage #fumikage tokoyami

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kathlare · 1 day ago

Text

taste

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie navigates a moment of frustration after stumbling upon online gossip about her ex, Lando, and his rumored new romance.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

August 19th, 2023 - New York City, NY

liked by f1gossipgirl, wags_f1, and others

landoupdates: Lando spotted living it up in Ibiza with Portuguese model Magui Corceiro during summer break! 🌴🍹👀.

View all 483 comments

amelie4ever: Y’all, bring back the Amelie and Lando era. This ain’t it. → lando_obsessed: @amelie4ever Fr, we traded peak wholesome vibes for this Ibiza nonsense 💔 → lanmelie_sunshine: @amelie4ever Can’t believe he fumbled the literal QUEEN for... this.

f1tea_spill: Okay but are we sure this isn’t just a PR stunt? 👀 → gridgossip88: @f1tea_spill PR or not, I’m TIRED of this man acting like a walking red flag 🚩

magui_not_it: I’m sorry but MAGUI?! Out of all the people?? Lando, sweetie, no.

wicked4amelie: Y’all, remember when he used to simp HARD for Amelie on streams? I miss THAT Lando. → landoluvr88: @wicked4amelie The "Lanelie compilations" era hits harder now. 😭

mclarenmeltdown: I SWEAR if he’s actually dating Magui, I’m uninstalling this app. → lando_fanatic: @mclarenmeltdown Nah, sis, we’re ALL about to block him at this point.

amelie_supremacy: Can’t believe I used to root for this man. Amelie deserves SO much better.

f1teaqueen: NOT MAGUI AGAIN 😭😭 Lando really said "let me ruin my reputation this summer" 💀

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

The New York heat pressed against the windows of the rented studio, the kind that made the air feel heavy, like a humid blanket. Amelie sat cross-legged on the couch, her phone clutched in one hand, her jaw clenched as she scrolled through Instagram. The post had popped up out of nowhere, another notification from a gossip page she’d never followed but whose posts always managed to find her.

“Lando spotted living it up in Ibiza with Portuguese model Magui Corceiro during summer break!”

The caption was enough to send her stomach into knots, but the photo was what did her in. Lando sat in a club booth, his signature grin faintly visible as he leaned over to chat with someone she couldn’t make out. Magui, meanwhile, sat close beside him, her legs crossed and her phone in her hand. She looked effortlessly beautiful, like she knew the cameras were there.

Amelie tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back with a frustrated groan. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. She was long past hoping for some grand romantic reunion with Lando, not after how they’d ended things and the fights that followed. But Magui? That was a name that still burned.

Rozzi walked in, carrying two iced coffees and a bag of pastries, her eyes immediately landing on Amelie’s face. —Oh no,— she said, setting everything down on the small studio table. —What happened? Who pissed you off?—

Amelie gestured toward her phone without a word. Rozzi picked it up, her eyebrows knitting together as she read the caption. —Ibiza, huh? Well, that’s a choice.—

—Right?— Amelie said, exasperated. —It’s not even about him being with someone... it’s her. She’s... God, she’s so fake, Roz. And the fact that she’s still hanging around after all the shit she pulled, ugh.—

Rozzi handed her an iced coffee, sitting down beside her. —Okay, so what are you gonna do about it? Besides glaring at your phone like it personally insulted you.—

Amelie took a sip, the coldness of the drink cutting through the heat in her chest. —I’m not doing anything about it. It’s not worth it.—

Rozzi gave her a pointed look. —You’re lying. I know that look. That’s your ‘I’m gonna channel this into something destructive but artistic’ face.—

Amelie smirked despite herself. Rozzi knew her too well. —Fine. Maybe I’ll write something. I mean, I’m here, right? Might as well use it.—

Rozzi grinned, reaching over to grab her acoustic guitar, which had been resting in the corner. —That’s what I like to hear. Let’s make this a masterpiece of pettiness. You wanna start with the hook or just rant your way through it first?—

Before Amelie could answer, Amy walked into the studio, her energy filling the room like a breath of fresh air. —What’s the vibe today? Drama? Sad girl anthem? Revenge banger?—

Amelie and Rozzi exchanged a look, then burst into laughter. —Revenge banger, definitely,— Rozzi said, tossing the phone to Amy. —Here, this is today’s inspiration.—

Amy glanced at the post, her eyebrows raising slightly before she handed the phone back. —Oh, this one’s gonna be fun. Alright, Amelie, where’s your head at?—

Amelie stood up, pacing the length of the small studio as she spoke, her voice steady but laced with underlying irritation. —I just... it’s not even about him. It’s about the audacity. She had the nerve to DM me when they were together, saying all this bullshit about how I was trying to steal him or that I couldn’t let go of him. And now, here she is, acting like she’s some perfect accessory to his life. It’s laughable.—

Amy nodded thoughtfully, her fingers already fiddling with the keyboard in the corner. —Okay, so we want something sharp. Taunting, maybe? Like, a ‘you’re in my shadow, and you’ll never be me’ kind of vibe?—

—Exactly,— Amelie said, her eyes lighting up. —I don’t want it to sound bitter, though. It needs to feel confident. Like, yeah, I know you hate me because I’ll always be in the picture, whether you like it or not.—

Rozzi strummed a few chords, the melody playful yet cutting. —How about something like this? It’s got that cocky energy but leaves room for the lyrics to really hit.—

Amelie nodded, humming along until a phrase popped into her head. —"Oh, I leave quite an impression, five feet to be exact..."— She paused, turning to Rozzi. —What do you think? It’s like, yeah, I’m small, but I’m unforgettable.—

—Love it,— Amy said, jotting it down. —What’s next? Something about how he can’t shake you, no matter what?—

Amelie smiled wickedly, her mind already racing. —"You’re wonderin’ why half his clothes went missin’, my body’s where they’re at."— She laughed as the words spilled out. —Petty enough?—

Rozzi’s jaw dropped. —That’s gold. Keep going.—

The next hour flew by, the three of them bouncing ideas off each other like they were in perfect sync. Amelie’s emotions poured out into every line, her frustration giving way to amusement as the song began to take shape. They leaned into the taunts, crafting a narrative that was unapologetically bold and dripping with confidence.

Amy played around with the track’s beat, layering in a sultry bassline that matched the teasing tone of the lyrics. —This is gonna be dangerous,— she said, grinning. —The kind of song you scream in the car with your friends.—

Amelie took the mic, testing out the melody with a smirk on her face. —"I heard you’re back together, and if that’s true, you’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissin’ you..."—

Rozzi whooped, throwing her head back in laughter. —Oh, she’s gonna hate this. And it’s perfect.—

As the song came together, Amelie found herself letting go of the tension she’d been carrying. By the time they reached the bridge, she was fully leaning into the catharsis of it all. —"Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you’re feelin’ mine. And every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there."—

Amy looked up from the console, shaking her head in admiration. —You’re savage, Am. This might be one of my favorites.—

They wrapped up the recording late that evening, the final version of Taste feeling like a triumph. Amelie leaned back in her chair, her body buzzing with the rush of creation.

Rozzi nudged her shoulder. —Feel better?—

Amelie shrugged, but her smile gave her away. —A little. It’s not like it changes anything, but... yeah. It feels good to take something shitty and turn it into something that’s mine.—

Amy grinned. —Well, whatever it is, this song is gonna light a fire under someone’s ass. And that’s the best kind of art.—

As they packed up for the night, Amelie glanced at her phone one last time. The gossip page was still there, but the knot in her stomach was gone. She smiled to herself, knowing that while the world might be watching him, soon they’d be hearing her.

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allthesethingswillendsoon · 9 hours ago

Text

Long, long time

CHAPTER THREE: Just before everything changes

SUMMARY: Elementary school is over, forever, and the girls are both excited and terrified at what the future looks like. They’re both coming to terms with growing up and what they have to give up in order to move forward.

NOTE: I wrote this one in a much more timely manner than the last one. I also think this one is infinitely better than the other two, and it's almost double the length, kind of. This one is definitely dialogue heavy, specifically in the last bit, so if you don't like that then sorry. I think the next one will be more internal monologue stuff as opposed to real life events. Also I think I might have messed up the dates a bit because I'm not from America so I don't fully understand the school system and how old everyone is, so I'll probably go back later and amend any issues. But I'm really not sure how I managed to mess it up because I made a timeline and everything, but whatever, what can you do? Once again thanks for the support :)

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Warnings: Mentions of parent leaving, angst, periods (?) 5.3k words Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

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27th of MAY, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

Elementary school, it had come to an end almost as quickly as it had begun.The years had passed mostly without incident, Paige and Azzi growing impossibly closer with each day that passed.

So, to celebrate the end of the school year, the Fudds and the Bueckers had decided to spend the night in their local diner.

It was a small little place, tucked away next to the more industrial area of town. Bob always brought his own homemade food to work, but the young men that he employed were frequent customers of the little spot, being fans of the cheap, filling meals, or the pretty, young waitresses, or both in some cases.

Tying with Applebees, the diner was pretty much the nicest place to eat in town. So, everytime anything happened that was worth celebrating, the Bueckers-Fudd clan would find themselves shoved into their favourite circular booth in the back corner. Though they would never admit it, the booth was much too small for the seven occupants, four of which were growing at an alarmingly fast rate. But nonetheless, they squashed themselves in, bodies pressed tightly together, yet not tight enough to be uncomfortable.

Tim called over their favourite waitress, Cathy, a no-nonsense southern lady, who miraculously appeared to be both twenty and sixty at the same time. Her painted red lips twisted into a smile at the sight of her favourite customers, “Well hello, what can I get y’all?” Every time it was the same thing, her southern drawl filled with nothing but warmth.

The second the words left her mouth a chorus of young voices sounded out across the table, all fighting for their voice to be the loudest.

“Ummm can I get the pancakes!”

“I’ll have the nuggets, and a strawberry soda please.”

“Ooh! Ooh! I’ll have the fried eggs and bacon!”

“Cherry pie for me please, lots of ice cream on the side too.”

Perhaps an amateur waitress would’ve been overwhelmed by the barrage of requests, but this certainly was not Cathy’s first rodeo, and she wrote them all down with ease. The taking of their order was more of a formality than anything, the two families had slid into that booth more times than any of them could count, and ordered the exact same thing every time. The day Tim Fudd ordered anything other than the beef burger with a side of pickles would be the same day that pigs flew.

“Alrighty folks, that’ll be out in a few!” She said with a smile as she walked off to put the order through.

It only took seconds after she left before the complaining had already started, “I’m hungryyyyy!” Jose groaned.

“That’s why we just ordered, you stupid poop face.” Jon had retorted, punctuating his statement with a knock to Jose’s head.

“Watch it boys.” Tim had warned, purposefully ignoring the smug smile Jose gave to his brother next to him as he elbowed him in the ribs.

The conversation flowed easily, the adults fell into easy conversation, Paige and Azzi talking about whatever was piquing their interest at the moment, and the two brothers roughhousing just subtly enough that they wouldn’t get in trouble for it.

When the food came out the table fell into a comfortable silence as the kids in particular scoffed their meals down like they had been starved of all food for the past five centuries. Once their appetites had been satiated, and they had entered a mild food coma, Katie spoke to the girls, “So, our big elementary school graduates, do you guys know what you want to do after high school?”

“Yeah, same as always, I’m gonna work with dad.” Paige responded, it was a given at that point, the dream she had had since childhood was not changing anytime soon.

Azzi, however, was a different story, she had always been indecisive, bouncing from one career aspiration to the next, consistently changing her favourite song. There were a lot of things she was unsure on, but there were also some things she was dead set on. She knew her favourite colour was pink, and that a close second was rainbow (Which was a real colour if you asked her). She knew Olaf was the best character of all time, and that unicorns were the best animal, even if there was no ‘proof’ that they were real. But most importantly, she knew her best friend was Paige Bueckers - a fact that Paige took great pride in, considering Azzi’s indecisive nature.

That very trait was what made her statement so outlandish, “You guys know what I wanna do, it’s been the same for like forever.” She had said it with such confidence, that for a moment the table went silent, guilt washing over them at not remembering her apparent, long time aspiration.

That was until Jon burst out with laughter, the rest of the table following suit as the absurdity of the young girl’s comment settled over the table.

“What?” Azzi pouted, eyes darting from person to person as they laughed hysterically at her. Even Bob, who was never one to poke fun at someone, was chuckling lightly.

“You change your mind, like, every week hon.” Katie explained, still slightly breathless from her laughing fit.

“No I don’t!” She tried to defend herself, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up indignantly.

“You do.” Jon stated matter-of-factly.

The young girl was growing frantic, confused as to why no one was refuting the absolutely insane claim. But surely her best friend of many years would defend her, right?, “Paige? back me up!” She begged, eyes boring into Paige, trying to gain her attention.

Paige avoided her pleading gaze, trying to keep a neutral expression, but no one missed the little smirk that appeared on her face, “Sorry Az, they’re right.”

Feeling as if she had been stripped of her dignity, she continued with a huff, “Well I want to be a teacher, like I said on Heroes day.”

“Like Miss Honey.” Jose chuckled.

“Yes. Like Miss Honey.” She hissed back.

“Literally the week after that you went on and on about how you wished you would’ve been an astronaut instead.” Tim reminded her, putting a sour expression on her face as she realised she had been proved to be quite the undecided personality.

“Whatever!” Azzi snipped. Her annoyed facade only lasted a few moments before her conversation with Paige started up again.

Once again they settled into their usual chatter, laughter bouncing off the walls of the slowly-emptying diner. Sat there in the squishy booth, a feeling of familiar contentment washed over the group, a warm glow erupting in each person’s chest. From the outside eye they may not have looked like a traditional family, but they knew in their hearts that they were the truest family out there, and that was what really mattered.

It was time for close, Cathy always let them stay right up till the end of the night. She’d start the closing clean and that was their sign that it was time to wrap it up. As she wiped down the tables and mopped the floors with a practiced ease, the group cleared their table and brought their plates and scraps up to the kitchen window where they passed it off to the dishboy with a cheery “Have a good night!”.

When it came to the bill, there was always bickering between Bob and the Fudds. They had been so many times it was impossible to keep track of who paid last, yet no matter who won the squabble and got to put their card down, Cathy was sure to get a generous tip.

They spilled out onto the street, both dads slightly fumbled as they searched for their car keys under the dim light of the street lamps that lined the neighborhood.

As they sat on the curb outside the diner Paige and Azzi made a promise.

“This is gonna be our best summer yet.” Paige assured Azzi.

“Promise?” The curly-haired girl questioned, bringing her pinky finger out to the space between them.

Intertwining her pinky with Azzi’s, the blonde spoke again, “Promise.”

—------------------------

SUMMER, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

True to their promises, the summer before sixth grade had been the best of Paige and Azzi’s life.

Their parents had let them ride around on their bikes from sun up to just after sun down, and the girls were sure to make every minute of glorious, sweaty summer freedom count. They spent days upon days riding around aimlessly, going from street to street, ignoring the burning in their legs and the summer heat on their faces.

It was a kind of freedom they’d never felt before. A glorious, glowing kind that Azzi was sure to dangle in front of her brothers mockingly. But it was also the kind that felt like giving up their childhood at the same time. They had more responsibilities, both girls had their own set of house keys, a trust bestowed onto them by their parents that sent shivers down their spine at the thought of the sheer importance the keys held.

Change felt imminent. A deep-rooted anxiety that everything would be changing soon settled into the back of each girl’s mind. Perhaps they knew the other felt the same fears, perhaps they didn’t know. There truly was no way of knowing if the worries plaguing the two were shared, as both refused to speak them aloud, not wanting to waste breath on their concerns, in case doing so actually did bring them to life.

Yet at that same time, it was summer, and if there really was some ‘big-bad’ lurking around the corner, then the least they could do is enjoy the good times while they lasted, right?

One particularly boiling day, the pair rode to the lake on the outskirts of town and spent all day skipping rocks and swimming in the blue water to escape the temperature. Time was a thing of the past on that day, any thoughts of returning home before dark absent from the girl’s minds, fully focussing on savouring every minute of fun together. Only when the sun began to set, bright blue skies giving way to softer, orange-pink hues, did they realise they were a thirty minute bike ride away from home, and minutes away from being past curfew.

Scrambling onto their bikes like madwomen, they cycled faster than anyone had ever cycled before, turning the thirty minute bike ride into a twenty minute one. That feat, however, did not matter to either girl’s parents as they returned to their respective houses after their curfews.

For the longest week of their life, they had both been banned from riding their bikes, stuck in their houses, or in the very few places they could be bothered to walk to. Despite the punishment they were still able to do whatever they wanted, opting to watch disney movies all day under ceiling fans with ice blocks galore waiting for them in the freezer.

Days rolled into nights which rolled into an endless slew of days and nights, practically each minute spent together, living inside each other’s skin. It was a dream. Getting to spend every waking second of the day just a walk across the street away.

It hadn’t all been fun though, Bob had insisted on going ‘home’ to visit their family in Minnesota. Paige thought it was silly, a sentiment she shared with Azzi, who mainly just wished that her best friend could stay with her the whole summer.

“It’s just stupid really. I mean I don’t even know them! The most I talk to them is when we call on Christmas and on birthdays!” The older girl had complained as she had stomped around her bedroom, chucking as many clothes as she thought were suitable for a five day trip to Minnesota.

“Yeah, I agree, your dad should just let you stay with me… Or let me come with you!” Azzi had replied from her spot splayed out on Paige’s single bed.

“That’s such a good idea, I’ll ask dad about both!” Paige had grinned back, sure that their plans would be approved by her dad.

Unfortunately for the girls, Bob had said no to both options with a disbelieving laugh that Paige had taken great offense to. So, for the first time ever the two were away from one another for more than three days, it was the longest they had ever been apart. Azzi complained to her family day after day in her best friend’s absence, and Paige spent the whole car ride to Minnesota groaning in pain, stating that she was “fading away” the further she got from Azzi.

Miraculously, both girls somehow managed to survive the five torturous days spent states apart, but due to the holes in their hearts that had formed in each other’s absences, they simply had to have a five day long sleepover to make up for the lost time, alternating houses each night.

—------------------------

3rd of SEPTEMBER, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

It was the night before, the night before the first day of middle school. The girls had begged their parents to let them have a sleepover the actual night before, but they had been quick to shut the idea down, knowing that either the pre-school nerves, or each other, or both would keep them up into the early morning hours, leading to two sleep-deprived pre-teens.

So. begrudgingly, they had settled on the night before, the night before.

Paige had spent all day school shopping with her dad, and was feeling like her head might fall off if she had to spend another minute in the uncomfortably bright changing rooms of a JC Penny or Old Navy shoving herself into a sweater near-identical to the past twenty she’d tried on.

Yet somehow, the worst part of all was the stationary shopping. Being a single dad meant Bob had obviously taken on the role of both parents. So, that meant that school supply shopping was all on him, and he had taken it upon himself to make sure that Paige had the exact brand and make of each item listed on the school list. A lesson he had learnt when he had sent her to the first grade with an arsenal of black and blue pens, and not a single coloured pencil in sight, having neglected to look at the school issued list. It had ended in a phone call home and a red-faced Bob scrambling to find lead pencil in the ruins of the post-back-to-school-sale Walmart.

Although Paige appreciated her dad’s commitment to the quality and uniformity of her educational utensils, it did turn him into quite the Karen. Every single time he couldn’t find the exact item they were looking for he would call over a (likely underpaid) teenage worker, who really couldn’t care less, and near-force them to scour every inch of the store in search of the desired item. They’d always been able to find whatever it was, and Paige lived in fear for what would happen the day an item was out of stock, but that was a problem for future Paige.

For some reason, God decided Paige hadn’t suffered enough in one day, and sent every school parent and every colleague and every person Bob or Paige had ever met was at the mall on that very day. It felt impossible to move more than twenty feet without running into a chatty, well-intentioned acquaintance, who just happened to feel like spending, at minimum, five minutes saying things like, “Wow! How tall are you now Paige! I remember when you could fit in my arms” or another classic “Middle school, really? You’ll be picking a college before you know it!”. They were nothing but nice to her, so she was nothing but nice in return, which really just made the whole situation worse because it made them think she really did want to talk to them about their cousin’s neighbour’s son who’s “Just around your age!”

Despite the trials and tribulations of her day, the light at the end of the tunnel remained, Azzi (also her dad let her get a hot pretzel before they left which was really nice).

On the other hand, Azzi was lucky enough to have gone school shopping in the five gruelling days that Paige was away. Stocking up on pens and books and shirts and socks was a pain to do for one kid, but to do it for three? Safe to say, Bob was sure to always commend Tim and Katie on their valiant efforts of rounding up the kids for school shopping.

So instead of being soft-tortured in the mall, she had been run ragged by her brothers. They had so cruelly forced her to run around under the blaring summer sun through the sprinklers for hours and hours. They had played a variety of games, everything from flag football to soccer to basketball. Even games you’d think you couldn’t play with only three people they were able to do.

She was nearing the age where she would start to feign annoyance at her brother’s constant attempts to gain her attention, but she wasn’t quite there yet. Though her parents knew her well, and predicted that even when she went through her phase of faux-annoyance she would likely fail to avoid spending time with her family, after all she was definitely a homebody at heart.

Azzi’s only refuge from the summer heat had come in the form of lunchtime, when she was able to go inside and chow down on hot dogs and homemade lemonade. She reapplied her sunscreen diligently, trying her hardest not to miss a spot, wanting to avoid the sting that came along with a sunburn.

Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, by the end of the day her skin was pinking, feeling just raw enough to make her clothes feel like fire on her skin.

All of Azzi’s sunburnt discomfort, and Paige’s shopping-induced weariness faded when Paige and Bob knocked on the Fudd family door.

The two girls ran into each other’s arms as if they had been reunited after years, not after the actual, mere twenty-four hours they had spent away from one another.

After a bit of adult chatter, Bob took his exit, wrapping Paige in a bear hug before he headed home for the night.

Following a classic Fudd Saturday night meal of spag-bowl and garlic bread, the girls had changed into their pajamas and were readying themselves for bed.

Paige had gone to the bathroom, double checking her bladder really was empty, that way she wouldn’t be woken up needing to pee, definitely not because she was scared to make the walk across the hall to the bathroom in the darkness.

Azzi was sitting at her desk, fixing up her hair when she heard her name being called softly yet urgently from the bathroom.

“Az! Azzi! Azzi!” Paige’s frantic whispers were growing more and more desperate. The older girl diverting from her relatively chill demeanour sent alarm bells to Azzi’s mind.

She nearly sprinted to the bathroom door where Paige’s head was sticking out.

“What’s wrong Paige? Tell me? What happened?” From all that Azzi could see of Paige, the only thing concerning was the troubled look on her face.

“Can you get your mom Az, please?” Paige pleaded, her voice wobbled almost inconceivably, but Azzi caught it.

“C’mon Paige, I can’t see anything wrong. It can’t be that bad, seriously, just show me.”, bringing her hand up to the door to push through.

“NO!” Paige yelled, swatting Azzi’s hand away. She seemed to shock herself more than Azzi with her sudden outburst.

She took a deep breath and started over, “Sorry Az.” She paused again, as if trying to hype herself up before continuing, “I think I got… I think… I think I got my y’know…”

Azzi thinks, her brows furrowing as she tried to think of what Paige was talking about.

“You got your what?” She questioned, after a moment of contemplation.

“My period.” The words that had left Paige’s mouth stunned Azzi, she had suddenly lost her ability to speak, which only distressed Paige further.

“Earth to Azzi?” Paige said, waving her hands in front of Azzi’s face.

Snapped back to reality, but still in a bit of a daze, she responded, “Yeah?”

“So can you get your mom now please?” Paige half-begged, the conversation having been drawn out far longer than she had anticipated.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, one second.” Azzi mumbled as she walked off to her parent’s room.

A moment passed before she came back with her mom, the bathroom door now shut, Paige having bunkered herself down inside.

Katie motioned for Azzi to go, who protested, really thinking she could be of help, but her mom shut that down, staring her down till she stomped back to her room.

Knocking softly on the door, she whispered, “Paige honey, it’s Katie, can you let me in please hon?”

A minute of silence passed, punctuated by the light sound of sniffling and shuffling before the door creaked open, a red-rimmed-eyed Paige standing before Katie.

“Oh honey.” Katie soothed before wrapping Paige into a tight, bear hug.

Azzi listened from behind her door, and despite how her heart ached hearing her best friend in distress, it also made her heart beam to know that she was like family not only to herself, but to her mom, and her dad, and her brothers.

Katie was a great woman, and Paige knew she saw her as an almost second daughter. Yet, as she sat on the toilet lid, watching in half-confusion, half-horror as the older woman explained periods and uteruses and pads to her, she couldn’t help the overwhelming wave of sadness that washed over her.

Paige didn’t have much experience with having a mom, but she knew that getting your period was obviously something that you were meant to tell your mom, and not your best friend’s mom. She couldn’t help but feel like a core, mother-daughter bonding moment had been stolen from her, because it had.

Was it the kind of thing where you ate chocolates together and cried? Or did you watch some old rom-com together? Paige’s nan, or rather her mom’s mom, loved ‘Sixteen Candles’ and said she and Amy used to watch it at least once every year. If her mom was there would they have eaten chocolate and ice cream and watched ‘Sixteen Candles’ and cried together?

It wasn’t fair that she didn’t have a mom that cared enough to stick around. But as Katie walked her into Azzi’s room, the younger girl rushed up to them and pulled them into a tight group hug.

She didn’t know what it was like to have a mom, but in that moment she remembered that she did know what it was like to have people choose to unconditionally love her, and suddenly the things she didn’t have mattered a little less.

—------------------------

They had decided to hop into bed early, considering the eventful night Paige had had, and the tiring days both girls had experienced.

From her bed Azzi broke the comfortable silence with a question that had been playing on her mind since she had been sent to wait in her room for Paige, “Soooo, how does it feel to be a woman now?”

There was a pause as Paige took a moment to think, before her voice sounded out from her place on the mattress on the floor, “Uh… I don’t know… it feels the same to be honest.”

Paige’s response slightly shocked Azzi, who had been convinced that getting your period turned you into a fully new person, “Really? I’m kinda scared to get my period.”

“It’s fine Az, I was just being a baby, you don’t have to worry. Besides, your mom will be there to help.” Paige explained. Though she couldn’t see her face, Azzi was sure that her best friend had her signature light pink dusting of blush across her face as she thought back to her little outburst in the bathroom earlier.

“Yeah, she will be,” Azzi nodded, before she thought out loud, “I wonder how many girls in our grade have gotten theirs over the summer, probably lots.”

“Mmm, maybe, no way to know really.”

“I guess. It’s weird though, don’t you think? Just like growing up, the whole idea of it.”

Paige hummed in agreement, “I think it’s just a part of life. You can’t stop time. If I could, I'd probably just stay here forever.”

Azzi thought of Paige's statement, before she realised a fatal flaw to the plan, “But then you’d have to be on your period forever.”

“I wouldn’t mind though, cause I’d get to be with you forever”

The earnest words brought a soft smile to the young girl’s face. It could be easy to forget how sentimental Paige could be. She was really similar to her dad, in the way she had a seemingly tough exterior, when in reality she was one of the most emotionally intelligent, down-to-Earth people Azzi knew.

Instead of saying something of equal sentimentality, she opted for something a little more light-hearted, “Such a sap for me P.”

Paige rolled her eyes with such intensity it was almost audible, if that were even possible, “Nevermind I change my mind.”

Azzi laughed lightly at Paige’s response, “Noooooo, stop. I’d stay here forever too.”

Instead of responding, they giggled a little, before they fell into a comfortable silence, both girls staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to overtake them when Azzi spoke quietly, “Do you think we’re ever gonna look back on this moment when we’re older and wish we could go back?”

“Maybe, everything is pretty good right now.” Paige whispered back after a moment of contemplation.

The younger girl hums in agreement, “Yeah, everything is great.” She went silent for a moment, before she added, “I hope things are always this good between us.”

Azzi’s words shocked Paige, taking her aback, “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t they be?”

Frowning, she explained, “I don’t know… just… sometimes people grow up and they just don’t like each other that much anymore. And like spending time together feels like a chore and stuff. And then they either stay and make each other miserable, or just leave and be miserable separately.”

Paige’s silence consumed the room for such a long time that Azzi had to turn to look down at her and check if she was awake. Her breath was soft, and Azzi could see the glow in the dark stars reflecting in Paige’s eyes as she contemplated her statement.

She took a deep, shaky breath before she asked, “Do you think that’s how my mom felt about my dad? Do… Do you think that’s how my mom felt about me?”

The silence returned after Paige’s statement, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air as Azzi struggled to find a way to explain to her best friend that she couldn’t understand why anyone would ever leave her.

“What? No, of course not, why would you say that?” When Azzi had said what she did, she hadn’t realised Paige would think about it like that, but then again, how else would she think about it?

The realisation that she had caused Paige to think her mom had grown tired of her made Azzi feel like she was going to throw up, like her world had come crashing down around her.

“Well, why else do people leave? If we’re hanging out and we’re having a good time together, I’m not just gonna pack up my stuff when you turn away and leave without saying anything. People don’t leave when they’re having a good time.” Her breath catching on the last few words, “When they love the people they’re with.”

Paige wasn’t sure how long she had been holding her tears in, all she knew was that they had started to trickle down her face and she hated it and wished they would stop.

Azzi felt severely out of her depth, unsure how to soothe the older girl into understanding that for whatever reason her mom left, it was no fault of her own. “I don’t know… I think it’s more complicated than that when you grow up. Like all the issues that we think matter now aren’t gonna matter anymore, and we’ll be thinking about things like taxes and, like jury duty I guess. Like adults are just weird, big kids… And I have no idea why your mom left, but what I do know is that it’s not your dad’s fault or your fault. It’s her fault because she’s missing out on being around you, because you’re awesome, you’re the best person I know. And for what it’s worth you’ll always have me, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, you’re stuck with me for a long time Paigey.”

Sometime during Azzi’s little speech, Paige had begun to hyperventilate, full-body sobs wracking her skinny frame as she tried to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry Az, I don’t know why I’m so upset.” Paige managed to push the words out, gulping big gasps of air between each word.

“It’s okay Paigey, there’s nothing to apologise for.” Azzi breathed out into the fresh night air.

For what seemed like the millionth time that evening, the room fell silent, bar Paige’s steady stream of sniffling and sobbing. In the darkness Azzi shuffled off her bed and into Paige’s mattress, slipping herself under the doona.

The older girl kept her back turned to Azzi, who dragged her fingertips soothingly along Paige’s arms. They stayed like that for a moment, before Paige turned over, tucking her head into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Chest to chest, they were so close Azzi could feel the heaving breaths that Paige was taking as she cried into the neckline of her shirt.

“I love you Paige, You’ll always have me, no matter what.”

She didn’t hear her best friend’s response, only felt the muffled vibration of words against her shoulder and Paige’s hand grabbing onto her own, interlocking their fingers.

Azzi drew stars and hearts and “I love you”s onto Paige’s back, not stopping till the blonde’s staggered breathing gave way to the soft snoring of her sleep. Only then did she let herself drift off into the comfort of sleep.

—------------------------

5th of SEPTEMBER, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

The moment had finally arrived. There it was right before their very eyes, Middle school.

The wide brick building stood tall and imposing in front of them. Both girls couldn’t help the wild thrashing of their hearts as anxiety began to flood their systems at the prospect of middle school.

Their parents had left them only a minute prior, and they had been firmly planted in the same spot they had been before they left.

As the pre-warning bell went off, Paige glanced down at her purple, digital wristwatch, before she looked back up at Azzi.

“I think we need to go in now.” She spoke quietly, her worries evident in both her face and her voice.

“Okay, yeah. We’ve got this.” Azzi responded, unsure as to whether her words were intended to soothe herself, or Paige, or both.

“Yeah, we’ve got this, together.” Paige assured, pulling Azzi’s equally sweaty palm into her own.

“Together.” Azzi said with a squeeze.

With that they were off.

As they walked through the doors of Oakridge Middle School, it felt as if the world shifted right beneath their feet. From then on everything would be different, friendships would bloom and wither, personalities would change for the better and the worse. Yet as they stepped into their future, hand and hand, it seemed just a little less scary.

—------------------------

NOTE: Hope everyone likes this one, I definitely like it way more than the first two. Next one will be out probably in a bit over a week I think, if all goes according to plan.

Thanks again for reading :)

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