#And then time passed and his friend grew up but he stayed the same because ghost

[lexus-k4]

"Nu-uh"

"... The fuck you mean nu-uh?!?!"

- - - - - - DP X DC IDEA/PROMPT

Danny- minding his own business as the ghost king looking to be in his mid twenties, despite being a good enough age to be considered an elderly of elderly civilians, because his status as a half a made him stop ageing physically when he reached his mid 20's. Now out grew his friends and families, and only has Dante(evil reformed Danny) and Ellie(Danielle, the clone) left as family. Also part one of the first hero's to ever exist before the JL even formed and before Batman and what not. And Vlad turned out not to be a half a just a human who was slowly turning more and more liminal till he died eventually too, he did have a longer life though.

Also Danny- reached his limit of being able to keep his sanity and live in Amity, so decidedly going on a world wide tour with Dan(Dante) and Ellie to visit all sorts of places. And also decidedly, staying in some places for a good few years because of their love for the place and finding something new to keep themselves sain.

Also, Also Danny- An extreme polyglot with his two only siblings left, who have the most widest and randonest set of skills from all of the world.

Dante- finding out he has a love for the arts, like painting, photography and fashion and is talented at them, but keeps the tough guy act out of habit and weirdness if he suddenly starts acting friendly.

Danielle- finding out her passion is for sports and sciences. Has the ability to apply for the Olympics in a few of her favourite sports but doesn't to not draw attention and has a masters in civil and mechanical engineering.

All three of them- a good amount of decades have passed after jazz and their friends died of natural causes (old age) and explored more of the world than one person can do in a life time, of course not paying for travel fees and taking advantage of their smarts to make fake identities, work and living visas and so on.

In gotham: Tim and Duke looking into a missing persons report filed for three siblings, for a certain super- superhero, because he is currently off world and bats left it to them.

Duke: uhhh, Tim?

Tim busy looking at his phone doom scrolling waiting for facial recognition to finish loading: hmm?

Duke: what did you say the siblings names were again?

Tim: uhh. Registered as Dante, Daniel and Danielle- Wise, born in California moved to metropolis when they gained emancipation from their parents Jacqueline and Malcom Wise because of neglect who died when the youngest child turned 20, 5 years after their emancipation. Why?

Duke: .... Uhh, well. I don't know what's happening, but the face rec is done. And. Well... There is like a 100 different results. All the same face and first names just different surnames and different origins on nationality?

Tim finally looking up: huh?

Tim and Duke doing more research.

Tim: okay. So what have we got so far?

Duke: we know that their names are most likely Dante, Daniel and Danielle, they each have about 5 different identities each. All following a similar story of either dead parents, emancipation, orphans or something to excuse guardianships. All three are extremely smart AND talented- which might I add is unfair- but all that spans across every identity. The only identity that is inconsistent is the one dated back to being , possibly their original identities as Fentons, the children of The DR's. Fenton. Who died a good long time ago along with their oldest daughter Jazzmin Fenton.

Tim: okay... So... Immortals maybe?

Dake: maybe? We need to tell Bruce. And Clark.

Tim and Duke- reporting their findings to Bruce and Clark respectively. Continuing their search when suddenly getting a ping that there is a new identity under the similar faces.

The 3 siblings in gotham:

Danny: okay. So. New life. What are the plans?

Dan: I'mma work in Fashion. Make some money. And a photography gig on the side.

Ellie: I'mma apply for gotham U. I hear they have a great stem coars and excellent sports facilities. And I saw a cute cat cafe down the street, might apply to work there.

Danny: okay, okay. Solid. I might go for gotham U too. Probably gonna try the Aerospace engineering coarse, I hear gotham has great engineering classes and the sylibus has updated since I last checked. And might apply for work at a enrichment center. Been meaning to get some more exercise lately.

Dan: okay. Ellie, what's the status on money?

Ellie: still got money left over from the inheritance from Vlad and our parents. Like, I mean, they got a lot from their patents. And they had a lot of them too. Besides we keep applying for jobs so we keep earning too.

Danny: okay then. Here's to our new life as Nightingales.

Some times in the future after Tim and Duke got some of the Bat family involved and tracked down the siblings. Who quite obviously could tell they were there, cornering them on a roof.

Red Robin: so. The Nightingales. Mind telling us why you guys have about 6 different identities?

Signal: first your children of doctors. Then your British, then your from the baltics with a english mother. The list goes on.

Ellie: I don't know what your talking about but that ain't us. We're just 3 orphaned kids who are living quite well in life and-

RedHood: orphaned or without a guardian like the other 5 times, and have degrees in God knows how many subjects.

Dan: ... (Whisper shouting) I told you we should've changed the story. And out looks.

Batman: look, we don't want trouble, we just wanna talk. And maybe we can figure out something so that-

Danny devoid of sleep because he developed an addiction to the coffee from the place Ellie now works at: NU-UH!

Stunned silence.

Dan and Ellie holding laughter in.

Nightwing snickering in the back with RedHood turning away trying to calm down and not laugh.

Oracle listening in: The fuck does he Mean 'NU-UH'?!?!

Batman just tired from all this shit:the fuck you mean Nu-uh?!

Danny crossing his arms pulling a face and changing his voice to 'duh' sound: Nu-uh.

Shenanigans ensue with all the bats and birds in either stunned silence or uncontrollable laughter. Dan and Ellie recovering in half laughs dragging Danny away and escaping the scene.

They get chaced down almost every other night by the bats and birds, finding one way or another to get the word 'Nu-uh' in before Batman can even speak.

---

Batman: look, er just want to-

Dan, Danny and Ellie pulling out a sign from seemingly nowhere whith the word 'Nu-uh' written in bold colourful bubble writing on it. Then escaping after handing it to Batman.

---

Nightwing: please. We just want to talk-

The 3 siblings stood Silently listening.

Nightwing: I... Huh?

Dan: go on. We're listening.

Nightwing: but... I... Where is....

Radhood: what this birdbrain is trying to say, is, are you not gonna find a way to say your catchphrase before disappearing?

Ellie: nah. We ran out of unique ideas on how to deliver the message. The glitter bomb was my favorite.

Dan: the paint bomb was mine.

Danny: I'm still embarrassed at the fact that that was what my sleep deprived brain said. But the writing with knocked out criminals was my favorite.

Dan: heh, that was my idea.

Ellie: the glitter and paint was my idea.

RedHood: holy fuck... I guess we should just be glad their not villains.... If they were wed be doomed...

Dan: uhh.... Wellll.....

Signal: what's that meant to mean. Your not villains. Right? Please. Don't tell me you are. Why. God why can things just be simple. FOR ONCE! PLEASE!

Ellie: no. Not villains. Not really. But Dan, is a reformed villain. But that was like. Decades ago. So your fine.

Dan: besides. I only became evil because my mind got infected by a creepy old fruit loop.

Danny, Ellie and Dan all simultaneously shivering in disgust: ugh...

. . .

Red Robin: ... I'm too tired for this. I need a coffee...

. . .

Batman: how would you kids like to live in a mansion? Or maybe become vigilantes?

All the bats and birds other than Batman groan simultaneously with some muttering about adoption obsessions.

Dan:...

Danny:...

Ellie:...

. . .

Dan: FRUITLOOP!

Danny: FRUITLOOP!

Ellie: FRUITLOOP!

[verstappenverse]

All This Time

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max was your first everything, first friend, first heartbreak. Now years later he’s world champion, and you’re standing in front of him like no time has passed at all. (Requested)

3.1k words / Masterlist

You didn’t expect him to remember.

Not after all this time. Not after the years had passed like train cars speeding in the dark, loud, fast, and gone before you could even wave.

You’d stayed in motorsport, of course. Racing had been in your blood too once. You never fully pursued it like Max did, but you’d carved out a place for yourself behind the scenes, making a name for yourself in strategy, development, coaching, anything that kept you close to the world you loved. Anything but Formula 1. You avoided that part like a wound you never let scab, too afraid it might tear open the second you saw his name on a garage wall.

But today when you finally step into the Red Bull garage and your eyes meet his, those same ocean-blue eyes that once squinted against the sun as he begged you to race him down some dusty backroad the world doesn’t just pause. It stops entirely.

Max Verstappen freezes like he’s seen a ghost.

“Hi,” you say, barely above a whisper. Because really, what else can you say after almost ten years, multiple countries, and the ache of being forgotten?

He blinks once. Then again. His jaw tightens.

“You came.”

You nod, nervous under the weight of his gaze. “Yeah. I mean, your mum invited me, and… it felt like time.”

Time. That strange, cruel thing that unraveled the knot you’d once tied so tightly between you, a knot built from scraped knees, shared dreams, and the kind of trust that only comes from growing up side by side.

Time turned summer sleepovers into unanswered texts. Turned secret handshakes into blank stares across a room you no longer shared. It turned “always” into “used to.” You had been inseparable. Velcro. Chaos in a two-person unit. Trouble, always in pairs and never quite as brave alone.

You’d kept up with his career of course. You knew his stats, his wins, the way the crowd chanted his name now. But the Max you remembered the one with grass stains on his knees and ice cream on his chin felt like someone else entirely.

You grew up in karting garages together, your laughter bouncing off concrete walls louder than the engines. You were twin shadows slipping between toolboxes and tyre stacks, dodging mechanics and stealing zip ties like they were gold. Oil-smudged fingers. Greasy fries in one hand, tyre pressure gauges in the other. Max taught you how to kick-start an engine before you’d even mastered telling the time. You taught him how to tie a tie, how to tape a blister, how to calm down after a bad lap.

You used to sneak snacks off each other’s trays and pretend neither of you noticed. You fell asleep shoulder to shoulder in the back of his dad’s van, watching old F1 races on a cracked iPad and whispering commentary until one of you snored. You had a notebook, battered and dog-eared, where you’d both sketch ridiculous helmet designs, all glitter paint and fire decals. He always said he’d wear yours if he ever made it. You still have that page, folded and faded.

After every race, whether he won or crashed out, he’d find you. Every time. He’d pull off his gloves and jog toward the barriers just to hear your opinion. When you raced his face would light up when you crossed the line whether first or last didn’t matter. You were his best friend. That was enough.

But then life did what life does. You moved. He kept racing. You said you’d write. He said he’d call. And you did at first, but life moves fast and somewhere along the way you stopped.

Now here you are standing in the Red Bull garage as if no time passed, as if the world hasn’t changed, as if you’re still those two sunburnt kids who thought karting trophies and fizzy drinks were all that mattered.

Max looks at you like you might disappear if he blinks again.

His gaze flicks over your face with an urgency he’s trying to hide, like he’s checking to see what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. Like he’s afraid to find too much of one or the other.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you around here again,” he says finally, voice low and rough-edged, like it’s scraped up from somewhere buried.

You swallow the lump that rises instantly in your throat. “Didn’t know if you’d even remember.”

His mouth tilts not a smile, exactly. More like the ghost of one, soft and haunted around the edges. “You’re kind of hard to forget.”

And just like that, something inside you, something carefully packed away for years, twists, sharp and sudden. An old ache, familiar and stupidly alive. He used to say things like that all the time, back when the only people in your world were each other.

Max shifts like he wants to say something else. Instead his eyes catch on your features again, and he frowns faintly.

“You look…” he starts, then trails off. His lips part like he might keep going, but nothing comes.

You don’t press him. You’re not sure you could handle it if you did.

So you offer a crooked smile. “Older?”

He snorts, a low, almost fond sound that slips past his defences. “Still short.”

You roll your eyes and shove at his arm. “Still rude.”

Then he laughs. Really laughs. It hits you in the ribs like a punch, that sound because it’s the same. Deeper now, with age and wear, but still the same boyish rasp that used to echo through paddocks and across bunk beds and over midnight walks when the world felt too big and all you had was each other.

For a second, it’s like no time passed at all.

You don’t realise how long you’ve been staring, locked into the space between who he was and who he is, until his voice drops lower, softer.

“I missed you.”

Three words, barely breathed.

They land like a stone in your chest.

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes at first. Your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to reach for something that might no longer be yours.

“I missed you too,” you whisper finally, and the truth in it feels like something dangerous.

Because now you’re not just remembering him.

You’re feeling him.

The next morning, the paddock is alive with chaos, engineers buzzing, cameras swiveling, drivers darting past like comets. But all you can think about is the message from Max that was left at your hotel for you.

Come by the garage in the morning, before FP?

Your fingers tremble slightly as you enter the paddock. You’ve barely slept, head full of things you almost said and things he nearly did. It’s like a door opened yesterday, and now you can’t stop looking inside.

He’s waiting by the back of the garage, half in uniform, half in thought.

His face softens when he sees you.

“I was hoping you’d come.”

You nod, trying not to stare at the way his fire suit clings to his frame. “I figured if I didn’t you’d just track me down.”

He smirks. “Yeah probably. I know where you’re staying.”

You laugh, but there’s a tightness in your chest.

You watch as he fiddles with the velcro of his gloves, not quite meeting your eyes. “There’s something I want to show you. Maybe it’s stupid.”

He leads you to his driver room, past engineers, down the corridor with controlled chaos humming all around you, and when the door clicks shut, it’s just you and him.

He opens a drawer. Pulls out something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

A photo.

Faded. Bent at the corners. But unmistakable.

You and him. Teenagers, around fifteen. Covered in dirt and grease and beaming like idiots. You’ve got a bottle of water in one hand and Max is mid-squint, arm slung over your shoulders.

“I’ve had it since that last race before you left,” he says, voice low. “I kept it in my wallet for years. Then it started to fall apart, so I moved it here.”

Your fingers graze the edge of the picture.

“We look ridiculous.”

“You look happy,” he corrects quietly.

You don’t ask how often he’s looked at it. You don’t have to.

Because you remember that day too.

The air had smelled like petrol and hot asphalt, and your heart was still pounding from the race. You were grinning, practically vibrating with adrenaline. Because for the first time ever you beat Max.

He pulled off his helmet slowly, curls a sweaty mess, and sulked like someone stole his dog.

You plopped beside him in the pit lane, holding out the fries you’d bought from the food truck near the gate. “Truce?”

He gave you the side-eye. “You cut me off on turn six.”

You shrugged. “You left the inside line open. Rookie mistake.”

“I hate you.”

You popped a fry into your mouth. “No you don’t.”

He didn’t say congrats, but the way he smiled when he thought you weren’t looking that said enough.

You offered him the last fry without looking at him. “For your bruised ego.”

He took it, but didn’t eat it right away. “You’re gonna win a lot of races,” he said quietly.

“So will you.”

“But I’ll always remember this one.”

You turned to him, confused. “Why this one?”

His gaze met yours, and something in his expression shifted, a flicker of hesitation, like a thought stumbled too close to the surface.

He leaned in.

It wasn’t fast or sudden. It was slow, careful, uncertain.

Your breath hitched. The grease-stained paper bag slipped from your fingers onto the ground. You felt the sun on your skin and the heat of his body so close, his mouth a breath away from yours.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Your noses nearly brushed. His eyes flicked to your lips. You could count his freckles.

But then, footsteps. Loud. Sharp.

You both jolted back like the moment hadn’t happened at all.

His father walked past, barely glancing at either of you.

You looked down. Max rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in his shoelaces.

And just like that, it was over.

Not a kiss.

Just an almost.

An almost that would live quietly in the silence between you, never spoken about, never quite forgotten.

You didn’t expect to be invited to the RedBull motorhome for lunch. And you definitely didn’t expect Max to sit across from you the entire time, answering questions from media with one eye always flicking back to you.

After the interviews, he corners you in a quiet hallway.

"Come for a drive with me."

You blink. “Now?”

He nods. “Yeah. I need to clear my head. I think… I think we need to talk.”

You hesitate for only a moment before you follow him out into the sun.

The car is fast, obviously, and expensive, a blur of black and blue. But inside it everything slows.

“I tried calling once… recently, I mean” he says, not looking at you.

You swallow. “I changed my number.”

He nods. “I figured. I just, you were gone. One day you were there, and the next…”

“I didn’t want to leave Max, I was a teenager I didn’t get a say.”

Silence. Then, “I know, but I really didn’t want you to. I wished I could’ve done something.”

“You were just a kid too. It was no ones fault.” You take a deep breath and then add. “I waited for you that last night, you know. I kept thinking… maybe you’d come find me.”

You’d gotten the news on a late afternoon: your family was relocating. New country. New start. It felt like the world cracked open beneath your feet.

You’d ran to him heart pounding with the knowledge that your whole life was about to split in two.

“I need to tell you something,” you’d said, voice shaking.

He looked up instantly. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated. Then forced the words out.

“I’m leaving.”

Max blinked. “What do you mean, leaving?”

“My dad got a job offer. We’re moving.”

He stared at you. Completely still. “When?”

You bit your lip. “Soon.”

His soda can crumpled slightly in his grip.

You hated the silence that followed. You wanted him to fight it. You wanted him to shout, to say no. Instead, he looked down.

“For how long?” he asked quietly.

You couldn’t lie. “I don’t know.”

He nodded once. Too slowly. Too carefully. Like the movement itself hurt.

You waited. You waited for him to reach for you, to say anything, that he’d miss you, that he was angry, that you meant something. But he just stood there, like his body had shut down and left only a shell behind.

So you swallowed your tears, your pride, and your heartache and whispered, “Guess I’ll see you around.”

You wanted to throw your arms around his neck and say you’d fight this, that you didn’t want to leave, but your throat burned and your eyes were wet and you couldn’t force the words out.

Then you turned and walked away.

“I should’ve said something,” Max says quietly. “Anything. I was a coward.”

You look at him.

You don’t say me too.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a decade.

It’s quiet after that. The kind of quiet that lives in the space between memory and regret.

He drives to a lookout over the sea. It reminds you of a place you used to sit together as kids, eating fries from a greasy paper cone and talking about what you’d do if you ever made it.

“You made it,” you say as you climb out of the car.

“So did you,” he replies.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Not in the same way.”

He doesn’t argue. Just leans against the hood of the car and looks at you like he’s trying to memorise you.

“I thought about you,” he says quietly. “All the time.”

Your breath catches.

“Max…”

“I kept waiting for you to come back. For years, I’d look for your face in the stands. I kept thinking maybe today.”

Your throat tightens. You remember all the times you wanted to reach out, to send a letter, an email, anything. But something always stopped you.

Fear. Pride. Guilt.

“I didn’t know if you’d care.”

He turns fully to you then, and his eyes, older, sharper, but still that same ocean blue burn into yours.

“Of course I’d care. You were everything to me. You still are.”

The air between you shifts.

“Max,” you whisper, and this time your voice trembles. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know what it means anymore. It’s been years.”

“I know,” he says, stepping closer. “But you’re still the only person I’ve ever felt like this about.”

You’re too stunned to speak.

He exhales, eyes flicking to your lips before dragging back up. “I don’t expect anything. I just… I needed you to know.”

For the first time in a decade, you let yourself touch him, your fingers brushing against his, slow and tentative.

“I still feel it too,” you whisper.

His hand closes around yours like he’s afraid to let go again.

That night, you sit on the edge of your hotel bed and stare at your phone.

A message from Max.

Come up. Roof bar. Just us.

Your heart is in your throat as you ride the lift.

When the doors open, he’s already there two drinks in hand, back turned to the city view. He turns as you approach, something soft and aching in his smile.

“You came.”

“You asked.”

He hands you a drink. “For old times?”

You take a sip. “Something like that.”

You stare at him. At the man he’s become. Stronger. Sharper. Quieter, somehow. But the boy you knew the one who always gave you the last bite of his sandwich, who held your hand during thunderstorms, who whispered secrets to you in the dark he’s still there.

“Do you think we can go back?” you ask, your voice barely audible over the city noise.

He steps close. Not touching, not yet. But close enough that you feel the pull in your chest like gravity.

“I don’t want to go back,” he says. “I want to start again.”

His next words crack something open.

“You know how often I used to write texts I never sent. Every race, every flight. I’d delete them before takeoff like an idiot.” His voice breaks, just slightly. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you again?”

You nod, because you do. Because every stupid highlight reel of his wins made your heart ache. Because you once screamed into your pillow after seeing him kiss someone else in the paddock and you thought you’d missed your chance for good.

He reaches out. Not touching you yet, just hovering. “I’m never losing you again.”

Your breath catches.

“Max…”

“No. Don’t.” His fingers find yours. Threaded. Familiar. “Please. I’ve won everything I ever wanted. Except this.”

Your forehead presses to his chest before you can stop yourself, and he holds you like he remembers exactly how to. Like he’s angry at the space between you. Like if he squeezes tight enough, you’ll forget the wasted years and remember everything else.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper.

“Don’t ever leave again,” he mutters into your hair.

You don’t answer with words. You don’t even think you just act on instinct.

You kiss him.

Desperate but somehow gentle. A question.

He answers with a hand on your waist, the other on your cheek, anchoring you like he used to when the world spun too fast.

And just like that, you’re fifteen again. And twenty-two. And every version of yourself that ever loved him.

Later, when he walks you back to your room, he doesn’t try to come in.

He just stands there in the hallway, thumb brushing your knuckles.

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” you promise.

His eyes soften. “Stay. In Monaco. Just for a while.”

You bite your lip. “Max…”

“Not just for me,” he says quickly. “For you. For us. Let’s see where this goes.”

You look at him, this man who waited years, who still looks at you like you hung the stars and you know the answer, you’ve always known.

“Okay.”

And when he leans in, forehead resting against yours, everything feels still.

You were always meant to find your way back to him.

It was always Max.

Always you.

Even after all this time

Taglist: @shigarika @bunnisplayground @thecoolpotatohologram @ymrereads @alexxavicry @gigglepre @esw1012 @satorinnie @percysaidnever @osclerc @sainzluvrr @autumn242 @shadowreader07 @joyfulpandamiracle @inmynotes63 @athanasia-day @embonbon @waterdeeply @shadowsoundeffects13 @fastandcurious16 @odegaardlia @skzvibes-blog @iambored24601 @e10owmaks @painfromblues @brokenvines-wiltingflowers @leo-twins-3107 @rxx-eegh @treatallwithkindness @lewishamiltonismybf @mara1999 @armystay89 @ramonaflwsr @zazima @valevv30 @mischiefmxnxgedhp @yoonessa @wordskeeper @freyathehuntress @brumstappen @irenkaproszepana @butterkaput @lenamds

[oddlylovingaddiction]

; Coming Full Circle.

CLEARLY you all are desperate for an actual story on this blurb I quickly wrote up ♡

Part 1: (You are here!) , Part 2: Here! , Part 3: Here! , Part 4: Here! , Part 5: Here!

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don’t have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this potential series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family. reader is somewhat introverted and is describe loosely as attractive. Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest. READER ALSO HAS NO IDEA THAT THE WAYNE FAMILY ARE SUPERHEROS (for now…)

TW: Abuse in the form of emotional neglect, Reader’s mom is dead, Pregnancy and rich people.

You weren’t a kid anymore. Part of you wonders if you ever got the chance to be one. Your mom died when you were pretty young, barely 6 at the time, you don’t remember much about her. She was pretty though, maybe that’s where you got your looks from?

You spent 4 years at an orphanage after her passing, until one day a car came and picked you up and took you to a big manor. Apparently Bruce Wayne was your father, but not just an adoptive one, your biological father. That was definitely shocking, You looked so much like your mother that you really couldn’t see the resemblance, maybe if you really focused you could see some aspects of the new father you suddenly gained.

You only met Bruce a handful of times, the first time was to greet you. He seemed particularly disinterested, you were only just a bit younger than Jason which he was currently focused on at the time. Bruce showed you to your room it was way bigger than your room in the orphanage then promptly disappeared, Alfred (who you came later to learn was the butler and NOT your new grandfather.) showed you around the rest of the Manor, claiming that Bruce had paperwork that needed more attention than his newly gained child, okay, he didn’t put it like that but that’s basically what he ment.

The Manor was big and rather empty, you wonder what the point of all this space was as a child. As you grew older you grew to understand and appreciate its big and emptiness, because then you couldn’t run into any of your other siblings. Whenever you meet them, it’s awkward, like you’re an outsider. Which you suppose you are, but it’s different because you later learn that all of your siblings were adopted, minus Damian but you only gained him as your sibling towards the end of your stay in the Manor. So why did they treat you like you were the odd when out, when they all should know perfectly how that feels since they were also outsiders at one point? To this day you have no clue.

You quickly grew adjusted to not being around your family. The first the phew years was difficult, you craved their attention like any normal child. You remember you used to cry at night as a kid wondering what you did wrong for them to barely even glance your way, to not even love you… but after the third birthday with the exact same gift you got on previous birthdays from Bruce, continually getting rejected by all your siblings on your offers to hang out and occasionally catching wholesome moments between your siblings and Bruce where they were chatting and laughing without you, You naturally gave up on trying.

You instead grew as a person without them, you made friends at school, developed your own personal fashion taste, you discovered your hobbies and your personality. You occasionally heard news about your family from Alfred (You never got used to only hearing news from him), like how Jason died, Tim was brought in, turns out Jason was alive and at some point Damian was also brought in. The timeline was messy. Honestly you didn’t think much about why Bruce adopted so many damn kids nor did you bother to concern yourself with their affairs.

Instead you discovered somethings more important. Number one is your huge allowance, you knew Bruce was a billionaire and filthy, disgustingly rich, but not to the point your allowance was in the MILLIONS. The second thing is nobody cares about you, to the point one time when you were around 17 you stayed at a friend’s house for two days without telling anyone, came back and apparently no one had any idea you even left when you asked Alfred.

Those two things got you to where you were now, a stunning and safe apartment with the most beautiful view in the whole of Gotham, a loving husband who would do practically anything for you, heavily pregnant in your 20s and currently surrounded by your shocked family.

You had a fight with your husband and you were livid at him deciding to spend some time at the Wayne Manor just to cool off (and to somewhat teach him a lesson), You honestly thought that nobody would care when you came waltzing back. Since nobody cared any other time.

However you were sorely mistaken. To the point you regret not just staying at a hotel or something. When you first walked through the door, Alfred greeted you. You were occasionally in contact with him, but you neglected to tell him about the pregnancy, let alone the fact you were married mainly because you knew he’d run and tell the entire family and you’d rather keep your life private from them. Which is probably why he stopped mid greeting to stare at your belly. It looked like he was buffering as he let you in and led you to the kitchen, you texted him on the ride there that you were a bit thirsty, so he prepared you some tea.

“My word, you’re really pregnant?” Alfred finally said once you sat down at one of the counters, which earned a chuckle from you as he slid your tea over to you.

“Last time I checked… which was in a mirror and when I felt the little gremlin kicking around in me on the drive here, I am.” You say with a smile before proceeding to chug your tea. “May I ask-” Alfred starts but before he can finish he’s interrupted by Damian, who entered the kitchen to grab some snacks at some point but instead noticed you.

“What on earth is that.” Damian hissed, he looked disturbed and disgusted as he pointed at your belly, like he just discovered a bug. Which ticked you off.

“An Alien, no use your head what does it look like?” You sarcastically reply. Normally Damian would’ve retorted however you quickly decide that you want to relax in the living room where you could continue your conversation with Alfred. As you and Alfred quickly leave, abandoning your empty tea cup, and finally settling in the living room. However you suddenly hear a STORM of footsteps from inside the house. You turn around and realize Damian followed you to the living room, phone in hand and clearly had texted the entire family about his new discovery.

“Fuck me…” you mutter softly, your peaceful days of being ignored were probably officially over. All thanks to your one dumb decision to come here. While you silently regretted your choices, almost the entire Wayne family had run into the living room, Tim was the first to run in shouting “WHO’S PREGNANT?”

You only really snap out of it when you notice the entire Wayne family staring at you, they got here faster than expected. Not all of them were here but most of them.

‘Maybe I really am carrying an Alien’ You ponder momentarily before you begin to speak, “Listen I’m only here momentarily because I had a small disagreement with my husband—” “HUSBAND?” Dick squeaks out his voice breaking in shock. “Yes— wait why are you all here anyways?” You say as it dawns on you how ridiculous this whole reaction was. Hell even BRUCE WAYNE, the supposed father you were under the care of, that you never saw for the majority of your life was even here.

“Well cause you know Bruce is always bringing home kids it’s the first time someone other than him is bringing home one, let alone an unborn one.” Cassandra pointed out, which you promptly agreed nodding your head. That explains it, to this damn family it must be pretty alien.

“Okay, well I’m pregnant. I get it shocking and stuff but there’s no need to—“ You say trying to calm down the situation when you are interrupted by Damian who’s pointing at your belly where your baby, as if sensing the crowd of spectators, decided to do its own acrobatic routine.

“Ew why is it moving….” Damian said, You’re starting to wonder why you even talk. “Don’t say ew. It’s just kicking, if you want you can touch my belly—” you regret those words instantly as around 20 hands immediately fly to touch your belly where the baby continues to kick. You’d almost find the whole situation adorable if it weren’t for the fact they were your family who previously didn’t give a flying fuck about you.

All of a sudden Bruce, noticing your uncomfort, clears his throat. When he does the 20 hands resend from touching your belly, “How far along are you?” He asks calmly but you can clearly hear his voice shake slightly. “7 months.” You reply calmly to which Damian opens his mouth again.

“Jesus when is it going to come out— wait how does it come out…” He still look horrified to which you suppressed a laugh. “Did no one teach you where babies come from?” You laugh and then pause when the room goes silent.

“Oh my god…” you mutter, no wonder he’s so disturbed. You hear Bruce quickly whisper to Selina “I thought you told him!” To which Selina fires back, “Me?! It’s your job!”

That’s your cue to leave before you have to witness a very uncomfortable conversation. “Okay, I’m going to go to my room, I’m tired.” To which everyone nods giving you space to leave.

Phew hours had gone by and you were relaxing in bed on your phone, when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in!” You call, assuming it was Alfred but instead the one who came waltzing in was Damian. He looked awkward and you definitely felt that as well.

“Hello.” He said as he walked over to you staring at you where you were lying down.

“Uh… Hi Damian… how can I help you?” You ask praying he just going to briefly insult you and walk away like he did in the past. Instead he looks curious.

“I have been educated on where kids come from. It is very disturbing.” You chuckle at his statement and at his face full of regret while putting your phone away.

“It’s not too bad, at least you learned from your parents and not your friends half way into high school.” You say smiling reaching out and patting his small shoulder at your own memory of your shocked friends as they held your hand in the bathroom and slowly explained it to the poor naive you.

“Yes that sounds way worse.” He admits as you laugh at his sentiment, to which he scowls a bit before snapping out of it. “Anyways, like I said, I have been educated and although it’s very disturbing I commend your bravery for creating life.”

Damn it, he made it awkward again. You resend your hand awkwardly and place it back on your chest, Damian continues speaking though. “I also did some research and apparently the fetus can hear around the 5th month, and since you said it’s in the 7 month stage it can hear. Which means it heard me insulting it.”

You nod at his words, encouraging him to get whatever he’s planning on doing over with already. When he sees your nod, he removes his hands from behind his back, he’s holding a book.

“So to replace my negative words I have brought an educational book, normally I know perhaps the other parent my read so the baby gets used to both your voices, however since your a single parent—“

you give him an incredulous look “no… I have a husband.” To which he stares at you like your pants are on fire, that’s how much of a liar he thinks you are.

“Yes… right.. well since this supposed husband isn’t here to read to your child I shall.” He plops himself beside you, not accepting any protests from you about how you really do have a husband, he begins to read, you give in closing your eyes, clearly you’re going to be here awhile. “Law 1. Always make those above you feel comfortably superior…” you scrunch your face at his words as he reads. Half way into chapter one your eyes fly open and realize that he’s actually reading.

“Are you reading 48 laws of power right now?” You say staring at the book he’s holding as you prop yourself up on your elbows. He gives you a look like you just said the sky was blue.

“Yes of course? It needs to come out smart. Now please lie back down.” He says pushing you to lie back down. You give in once again, you’re too tired to protest against Damian anyways…

At some point both you and Damian passed out, the book could only hold both your interests long enough and the warmth of your room was just perfect for a nap. You stare down at the still sleeping Damian, whose head is currently resting on your belly, contemplatively. In someways you were jealous he fit in perfectly with the Wayne family and was actually treated like their sibling and child. However on the other hand you were honestly glad you were not loved like he was, because if you were you would’ve never met your husband (that you are now starting to miss…) and you also would’ve never been given the opportunity to create your own family, one that will love you truly.

You didn’t like the fact that Damian used to insult you occasionally in the past, but it’s not like you held it against him and you also don’t regret making fun of him back. Although he was a brat at times, he was still a child. A child in a huge messy family that just happened to be your little brother. Perhaps that was the gnawing feeling in your heart. The knowledge such a small kid like him will probably struggle in someways you used to is weighing heavy on you. He was earnest, and clearly tried his best from the fact alone he came to your room to read a book that he knew would help the baby… even if that book was the laws of power and was incredibly boring (in your opinion.)

He was just like you when you were smaller. That thought made you gently reach down and stroke his head. “I hope you’ll only make smart choices, but even if you don’t I’ll still love you, my dear. Just remember, don’t hold onto people who will never hold you gently and lovingly. After all, You are the most precious thing to me and you will be precious to so many others. You are worth your weight in gold.” You whisper to the sleeping boy, the same words your mother said at her passing. You feel yourself getting chocked up, after all this day was full of emotions for you. And you aren’t quite ready to face those emotions so you close your eyes.

After saying all those words and remembering the things you’d almost rather forget you find yourself pulled back into sleep. This time though, Damian had a small smile etched on his face as he slept..

[writingsbychlo]

WITHDRAWAL | theodore nott

summary; theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn't realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.

word count; 3007

notes; just a cute, fluffy little piece based on something that I was tagged in about 2 months ago! unfortunately, I cannot find the original post or tagger, but if it's you, please let me know!!

If there was one thing about Theodore Nott that couldn't be denied, it was that he loved with everything he had. 

He loved his friends; he was loyal to a fault and he’d never let them down. He loved his family, he wrote over fifteen letters a week to all his aunties and cousins, and still held onto his mother’s recipe book, even to this day. 

And he loved, adored, his girlfriend with everything that he had. He’d do anything for her, crawl across hot coals if she asked, give up his magic and his money and his legacy, just to make her happy. She’d never asked as such of him, still blushed when he pulled out his wallet when they shopped and smiled brighter than the sun when he gave her a handmade card or something he’d cooked. So, to his eyes, it didn’t seem all that much when he decided to give up smoking for her. 

She hadn't asked him to, never even pulled a face when he smoked. But Theo was damn sick of trying to blow the smoke away from her when she joined him at the astronomy tower, cuddled up to his chest, because he didn’t want that poison near her. He hated watching her shiver on the colder nights, he hated waking her in the middle of the night when he got up to satiate that itch, and he hated thinking of a future where he left her too soon, running short on time, because he ruined himself.

He chucked his last box into the fireplace one impulsive morning, and thought he might go cold turkey. He’d been so moody by lunchtime that he’d almost bitten Enzo’s head off over the way he pronounced ‘tomato’. That afternoon, he’d ditched his classes and trudged through the snow to the floo connection at the Hog’s Head, and picked up enough nicotine patches from a muggle supply store to knock out a fully grown Hippogriff.

He’d torn the packaging off of one in the grimy restroom at the back of the store and slapped it onto his bicep, and almost collapsed from the relief it gave him. It wasn’t nearly as effective as picking up a packet from the newsagent’s stand he’d passed would’ve been, but as soon as his fingers had twitched to pick up a box, your face had flashed through his mind. Your face, smiling at him, your face that morning telling him how proud you were of him when he’d shared his goals in hopes of support, and it was enough to deter him from the purchase.

You were his strength, once again, as you’d always been. 

And truly, you were so proud of Theo. Changing his patches for him every evening, in time with that first one. Reading up on the muggle solutions, and making sure you were fully versed on how to help him. Keeping him busy seemed to help, when he got bored, his eyes started flicking towards the door, and the slight irritability he’d been able to keep a lid on pretty well would begin to flare up. For the most part, he’d been staying at your dorm, in an active attempt to keep away from Mattheo, who wasn’t quite ready to give up his comfortable vice just yet. 

Unfortunately, as the days went on, while Theo seemed to be handling it just fine, you were struggling. The irritability grew, even Draco’s breathing was making you want to snap pencils in half in the library, or throw Enzo off the astronomy tower if he scraped his fork on his plate one more time. You were ravenous, and nauseous, all at the same time. You wanted to eat everything but could hardly hold it down. You were dizzy, and fatigued, and your grades were going to start slipping if this continued, because it had been almost a week since you’d been able to concentrate on any thought longer than a minute, never mind a whole class. 

And now, you were lying in bed, rubbing at your eyes angrily but unable to sleep as you stared at the ceiling. Theo, for once, was sleeping soundly beside you. Since giving up smoking, his sleep patterns had been getting better, while yours were getting worse by the night. Almost a week, and you’d barely gotten nine hours of sleep put together. 

When you shuffled again, pressing yourself a little closer to Theo as you rolled onto your side, he began to surface. The arm over your midriff tightened, pulling you in until your hips were bracketed against his, and he chuckled sleepily into your neck. Burying himself in, he pressed a kiss there, and another, and another. The rough pounding of your heart settled as you clasped Theo’s hand in your own, holding them to your chest as he littered your shoulder with kisses. 

At your sigh, he rolled you over, propping himself up on his elbow and yawning. Shaking his hand free from your own, he stroked the back of a finger along your cheek, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. As his hand settled on the side of your neck instead, yours slipped up to cup his jaw, and you melted into the tender love he offered you in the darkest hours. 

“What’s wrong, tesoro? Why are you awake?”

“Why are you awake?” you rebuffed, fingers lifting to comb through his hair, to push it back out of his eyes as he blinked himself a little more awake.

He shrugged, “This is about the time I’d normally go for a smoke.” He murmured, and your eyes flickered to the clock. 

You knew well enough the schedule Theo used to keep while smoking. Your timetable had slowly synched to it over the time you’d been dating. He’d wake up during the night, at some point around two, and disappear for a smoke. He’d take twenty minutes, or thirty if he bumped into Mattheo, and then he’d come back to bed. 

You didn’t mind the disturbance. Not when he’d come back slightly chilled from the night air and snuggle in close to you, wrapping himself around you.

“Actually, this is the time you’d normally come back from having a smoke, and give me my midnight kisses.”

“Is that why my girl is so restless tonight? Because I owe her some kisses?” He teased, leaning down until your noses were bumping, and you could taste the mint on his breath. Normally, he tasted like smoke, not toothpaste, and the shock of his warm lips instead of cold ones made you hum. 

The languid kisses melted the time away, his hand sliding up your shirt, sitting on your ribs and squeezing softly as he lowered himself down, covering your body with his own. Theo had always been your comfort, and your happy place. Being in his arms made you feel safe, and his kisses made you feel relaxed. As he licked his way into your mouth lazily, you anticipated the hazy blur of relaxation that usually followed when he kissed you. 

But, like usual recently, it never came. Instead, when he finally pulled back, and pecked the tip of your nose, he found you frowning, instead of smiling up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You huffed, frustrated at yourself, at your confusion and the growing irrational irritation. “It’s not the same.”

“What’s not the same, bella?”

“Your… your kisses.” Your words trailed to a whisper, knowing he wouldn't understand, and the hurt that flickered across his face made your heartbreak. 

“They’re not?”

“No. I don’t know why.” His lips curled further at the sides, and the look on his face made you want to cry. It made you hate yourself, aggressively, and if you could tear out your own heart and give it to him just to see him smile again, you would. Just another thing you’d been suffering with lately, an overwhelm of your emotions, worse than any mood swing you got when you were on your period. “It’s not you, Teddy, it’s me. You’re still my happy place, you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m the problem.”

“You’re not a problem, bella. But we should figure it out. I don’t want to… kiss you wrong, and see that look on your face. What’s different, tell me what’s changed?” His sweet words made tears prickle at your eyes, and you sniffed sadly as you looked at him. 

“I love you so much, Theo.”

“I know, tesoro. I love you too.” His thumb smoothed over your cheek, “Tell me.”

“I don’t know!” Your snap made his eyes widen. “You’re just… different. You don’t kiss the same way, you used to get all needy when you came back from a smoke, but you don’t anymore, and you taste different! You taste like mint right now, and it just doesn’t make me feel the same way afterwards.”

Your words were jumbled and hurried, rushed out as you smoked them and his brows furrowed as he tried to decipher what you meant. Second ticked by into silent minutes as Theo’s wonderful mind ticked and whirred, thinking the problem through, and playing with the information. Then, before you could say anything else, something clicked. You could see it in his eyes, when the gears stopped turning and the thoughts stopped flowing because he’d found the answer. 

Pulling away from you, he sat up, kicking back the covers and letting in the cold air, before moving across the room and shuffling through his gym kit left in the corner. Pulling out a nicotine packet from the box inside, he shook it out, using his teeth to tear open the packet as he made his way back to the bed. Sitting yourself up, you propped yourself in the pillows as he peeled off the plastic backing, and tried to unstick his fingers from it, holding it by the corners. 

“You’ve only had your patch on for nine hours, Teddy, it’s not time to change yet.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head and settling in beside you on the bed, legs folded underneath himself. “This isn’t for me, bella. Take off your shirt.” 

Slipping your arm out of your shirt, you pushed it to the side, watching as Theo brushed cotton fibres off of your shoulder, before sealing the patch onto your skin. He made sure it was properly sealed down, flattening it to your skin, before feeding your arm back through the sleeve of your shirt. He smoothed the top back down your torso, pressing a cheeky kiss to your breast over your heart as he did, and sitting back on his legs to wait. 

“Give it a second, then tell me how you feel.” He whispered, the moment feeling entirely too fragile as his hand took yours, fingers linked together. He kissed along your knuckles, his eyes locked on your face, waiting. And the moment you felt it hit, you knew he saw it too. 

It was like a cool, soothing balm over a raw, aggravated wound. It felt like running cold water on a new burn or healing a painful graze with a quick Episky. “Oh, Merlin…”

“I know, tell me about it.” He mumbled, the smile on his face at victoriously solving the problem melting away as realisation set in. “Cazzo, bella, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have a nicotine addiction, and it’s my fault. All that time you spent with me at the tower, and the smoke on me, and kissing you as soon as I finished smoking. All your moodiness these last few days—”

“Hey!”

“It’s true, baby. It all makes sense.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and squeezed your hand tighter in the other. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I quit because I didn’t want this to happen to you, I didn’t want my problems to poison you, but it’s too late.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, Teddy.” You demand again, pulling him in, and his mouth collides with yours as he makes a subtle groan of surprise and pleasure. 

His hand gripped the headboard behind you, the other skimming down your side. As you leaned back into the pillows, you took him with you, his body falling over your own, slotting between your thighs as our hearts thudded together where his chest pressed to yours. Your hands slid over his shoulders, skimming down his back, and he moaned again as your fingernails scraped across his lower back as you tugged at his shirt. 

He sat up, letting you pull it off of him, before his arms were back, caging you in on either side as he fell back down against you. Pulling one of your legs up to sit on his hip, he dragged himself away from your mouth, trailing wet kisses down your jaw, to the pulse point on your neck and back up. 

“Merde, bella. What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“You’re perfect, Theo.” You smiled, leaning up to steal more kisses from his lips that he was happy to reciprocate, “You’re perfect, your kisses are perfect. I knew it was me, not you. I was the problem.”

“A problem I gave you,” He groaned, his hips rolling against your own as you giggled breathlessly. 

“Yeah, whatever. Now we’re quitting together. That’s the promise we made, we do everything together, right?”

“Damn right, tesoro.” He growled, teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw, as he began to make his way down your body. Your fingers were loose in his hair, settling back in the pillows, eyes slipping closed as he kissed along the insides of your thighs, teasingly. Finally, your body could relax, no longer tense and buzzing, but the foggy comfort of the night made your muscles ease into the bed, your body feeling heavy, and you sighed in bliss. 

Theo mumbled something, and you let your legs fall a little further apart, but your grip on consciousness was falling further and further away as the nicotine coursed through your body, finally letting you ease into sleep you’d missed for days.

“Bella,” Theo said, his voice sharper, and you stirred, working hard to force your eyes open, but they’d only made it halfway. His hair was ruffled, eyes wide and lips swollen, but his smirk melted away from his face into a tender smile as he looked down at you. 

“Sorry, what’d you say, baby?” The words slurred out of you, and he chuckled. His fingers unhooked from the sides of your shorts, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “M’sorry, I’m so sleepy all of a sudden.”

“S’okay, bella. Never apologise. C’mere, let’s just cuddle.”

Tucking your body into his, you shuffled your hips back into him, and he threw his leg over yours as he held you tight to his body. “You’re hard.”

“It’ll go down, don’t worry.” He snickered, kissing the back of your head. “S’your fault anyway.”

“Sorry…” You whispered, again, sleepily. “I’ll make it up t’you t’morrow.”

“Go to sleep, amore.”

But you’d already drifted off.

It was just as you were closing your History of Magic book, that Theo announced his presence in the common room as he walked in alongside Mattheo. They were loud, and raucous, and thankfully, you were less inclined to bite their heads off for it today. 

In fact, alongside Enzo, you’d been able to catch up on all of the History homework you’d been missing out on for the last week or so, getting you back on track for at least one of your subjects. 

“Patch change time, bella!” Theo announced, making his way over to you as he untucked his shirt and began to undo the buttons down the front. Tugging the tie out of the way, he crashed down ungracefully onto the couch beside you, Mattheo nudging Draco to move up so he could sit down too. 

This had become a regular part of your routine now, and you pushed the edges of his half-unbuttoned shirt aside to reveal the patch sitting on the middle of his left pectoral. Picking at one corner, you peeled it away gently, careful not to tug on his skin as you did, and Theo watched on adoringly in silence as you took care of him. Unwrapping a new patch, you brushed off the spot, before sticking a new patch onto him and smoothing down the bandage. 

He patted it himself, before doing a couple of the buttons on his shirt back up for modesty, as though he hadn't already given half of the common room a show, before he leaned in to peck your lips. His fingers fell to the buttons of your shirt, and he began to undo them slowly. “Your turn.”

He undid just enough to reveal your shoulder, without letting anyone else catch a glimpse of anything underneath, and as he leaned down to begin peeling away the old patch, you caught Enzo’s confused expression. 

“Why are you wearing a patch?” He asked, and Theo laughed to himself quietly as he changed your old one out. 

“Because loverboy here got me addicted too, through kisses and secondary smoke.”

The others burst out laughing, unfettered by your glaring as they made kissy sounds and crude remarks, while Theo buttoned your shirt back up. Your glare turned to him as you caught sight of his smile, and he shrugged, a lopsided smile on his lips. “What can I say, bella? I’m just that good.”

“Oh, shut it,” You smacked his chest, and he took your hand, tugging you forward to cuddle you into his chest as he kissed your temple. 

“I happen to think it’s adorable that as a by-product of how you got addicted, that means you were addicted to me.”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes rolled, and he squeezed you even tighter. 

“You had me addicted to you without any substances at all, bella. Just you.”

“Alright,” You scoff, “Stop sweet-talking me.”

“Never.”

[littledes1re]

How to disappear | Chapter: one

Summary: after the passing of your mom, you and your dads best friend get close. You find comfort in him and he does the same because he also once lost something. While a relationship between you two sounds wrong and taboo, your feelings grow stronger. But Joel is an old man, guilt and the fear of losing you too, overwhelms him. So he leaves you.

Warnings: Angst, grief, heartbreak, lots of emotions, (fluff as a flashback), joels alcohol problems, dad that doesn’t care for his daughter, age gap! (23 and 61), crying, kind of depression, smut (as a flashback)

A/N: Okey Okey, I may said next week but I was already done with it so finally it’s here. Some dbf and Oldman!joel angst hehehe. Ngl I kinda hurt myself with this one.

Dear joel,

i‘m still thinking about the first time you kissed me, gentle, careful, caring.

I wish you‘d see how much I love you, how much I love being in your presence, how much I love our midnight talks.

We are both broken, something connected us. You made it a reason to leave me, I made it a reason to call you my soulmate.

I feel heartbreak. I cry myself to sleep, tell me..is that better than us comforting each other and having fun?

I miss our conversations, I miss your smile and your ability to comfort me.

Dad is asking why you are distancing yourself.

I love you, always.

Winter felt like forever.

A never ending cycle of dark and cold days, where the world stays still when snow falls. Lingering loneliness creeping up, as you fall for the hopelessness of it all and allowed the weather to dictate your mood while in the back of your mind the soft touches and whispers swam around of someone you where aching to be revolved around with once again.

Joel Miller.

Your last conversation stuck in your mind like the withering words only an enemy can say to you. Repeating itself over and over till there is only a echo of two words. We can‘t.

But there was no flicker of rejection in his eyes as he touched you, no regret as he cuddled you after his release, no shimmer of a different personality you weren‘t aware of, you knew him long enough. At least you thought so.

The aching in your heart and tummy was one that didn‘t go away no matter how much time had passed. The sadness clinged on you, wrapping tightly around your ribs, making it hard to breathe. It was one that grew each day for the past season, now coming to the point that you feel yourself getting sick from it. Flashes of memories startle you while you want to go on with your day. The glimpse of his brown eyes, landing on your face, soft and gentle the way you always knew him. Faints laughs of you two whenever it’s quiet.

And somehow underneath all of this it remembered you of your mom. The day she passed, the darkness that fell on you, the ability to not think straight as your eyes were hurting from crying. The shock not letting up, moving like a ghost trough life, pretending to function. Time would heal, but it didn’t. Time just showed you how to carry the pain without showing it.

You wanted to be small again, cradled by your mother’s hands, soothed by her voice.

“It feels like time has stopped for you and the people around you don’t care. You somehow have to function, but the person was your sole reason to function.” His eyes were emotionless.

Joel stopped crying after five months. He became a vessel of a man who once showed his kindness through actions and words and now someone who shuts everyone off. Grief is not predictable. It changes, buries itself deep beneath the skin and eats you alive. Joel never asked for comfort. But he gave it to you. He thought he didn’t deserve warmth, he thought he didn’t want to feel joy. But he let you feel all of those things.

The rough patch of his beard tickled your skin as you laid on top of him, nuzzling your face into his neck. The tears were dry on your cheeks, your eyes swollen and red as a headache started to form. His big hands rubbing circles on your back, soothing you to sleep.

“She is watching over you.”

The line that was crossed was blurred. The day you caught feelings was unknown. You just knew that there had been this silent connection between you two right after he decided to knock on your door to check on you.

“How y’doing, kiddo?”

Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t except it from him. Maybe it was the fact that your dad was distant after your mom’s passing. Maybe it was the fact that both of you lost something.

A man you should suddenly avoid because of his alcohol problems; your dad’s sayings. After his daughter’s passing he developed an alcohol problem, something that was clear whenever he was in your house, his eyes hazy, movements too unsteady. Your heart ached for him, never understanding how people do that to themselves. But after your mom, you did. His actions spoke louder than his words. He still helped your father around the house, with his job, with other things. He was there ,only his emotions were completely submerged, a veil placed over them so no one could recognize his true feelings.

That night, changed it all. He calmed your nerves, gave you the comfort you’ve been aching for the past eight months, and after that he finally let you in his heart. Told you what he was feeling. Guilt, anxiety and anger. His lips were quivering, eyes dark and swollen. Jaw clenched, as if he was trying to bite back the sob clawing up his throat. His breath shaky.

“I should’ve been there.” The only thing that he would murmur and then silence. A rather comfortable and understanding one. You don’t say anything, you just watch. Seeing the same emotions going through him as the day you lost your mom. His eyes would finally lift, and they would shine but not with kindness but with anger and sorrow. You could see it.

“An-and I feel selfish. For now coming in here and telling you this while you also lost someone.”

“Hey, hey. No.” Your hand gently lands on his shoulder, slowly moving to his hair caressing through his curls, while looking at him. His eyes softened, suddenly filling full of worry, bottom lip pouting. Looking at you like a kicked puppy. You felt tears leaving your eyes, landing on your thighs, you wanted to hug him. You knew how he was feeling. You also wanted to give him comfort.

“Don’t even think like that. You’re not selfish for speaking it out. You’re human, joel.”

He tilts his head slightly, you doing the same. A flicker of something knowing passing through your gaze.

“And if you really think thats selfish, then i’m selfish too. For wanting to hear it. You should’t carry it alone.”

For the first time, joel let’s go of the breath he has been holding for a long time. It doesn’t fix anything— but in this quiet moment, something shifts.

A piece of his sorrow, no longer carried alone.

He came over more often. Opened your door, sneaked in your bed and cuddled you, whenever your father was at home, you went to his place. He didn’t care anyway. You two had small road trips, where he drove you to his favourite places, music in the background, your head out of the window, enjoying it. It felt safe, it felt right.

Every worry in your head disappearing when he put your head on his chest. Soft humming and fingertips caressing the skin. Your conversations were not only about loss. They were flowing easily, they were funny.

“This thing is gonna give me a heart attack one day, I swear.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, trying to find the right buttons to put it on silent.

“Ain’t working like that, wait—you have a nokia? Where the hell is your phone?” You asked widened eyes, after you snatched his supposed phone out of his hands.

He snatched it back, eyebrows furrowing.

“What about it? Tommy bought me one because they are easy to use.”

“No, no. S’nice.” You tried to suppress a giggle. And as you swallowed you looked around his house, he looked at you with a grumpy expression.

“What? I can’t keep up with your new generation shit.”

“Oh I bet, I bet. I just find it funny.” You finally giggled, laying back down on his couch, holding your tummy.

“Y’know what’s real funny? You don’t even know half of these movies that I showed you.”

You gasped, sitting up again. His face all smug, a smirk on his lips.

“What? They are cult classics c’mon now—“

“Yeah, for old people.” You rolled your eyes playfully, seeing his face all serious now.

Giggling, you stood up as he abruptly did so too, stretched out his arms to reach for you.

And you knew what that meant. You laughed just more, running around his coffee table and he followed you, trying to grab you. And suddenly he did, throwing you gently on the couch and began tickling you.

“J-joel” you couldn’t breathe from the laughter.

You thought your dad would comfort you and be there for you after what happened, you didn’t think it was going to be joel. But your dad locked himself up, ignoring his dad duties. Leaving you alone, not showing his emotions, not letting you show yours. His demeanour was cold, distant it felt like living with a stranger. You understood why. You understood that he also lost someone, but he never once asked how you are, never once opened the topic of Mom again. Deleted it from his life like it never existed. And while doing that he also deleted you slowly.

Your friends stopped texting, one didn’t know how to comfort you. The other one was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. So you also deleted that topic from them, from your father. Joel was the only one who heard you talking about your mom.

And then he left you. So now, you were completely alone.

But maybe you didn’t really love him. Maybe you just loved his comforting. Maybe you just needed someone and he was there. Would you love a man forty years older than you if your father acted like a father? The way he looked at you, worshipped you, made you feel good. Made you feel special. Took care of you. Something connected you two. Wasn’t those signs of love?

“Hurting?”

“No, think i’m good.” You whispered to him. The stretch was unusual, nothing that you haven’t had before but it felt different. It was with joel.

“S’good, real good.” He nodded his head to you. Under the covers, vulnerable, you two were naked. There were goosebumps all over your skin, and his too. Joel lets you adjust on his shaft, worried eyes scanning your face to see if you show any sign of discomfort.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, lights dimmed and if felt comfortable. The first time you really made out with him and laid your hands on his bulge he stopped you. “Wanna do it right.” He took his time, kissing every inch of your body, teasing you, loving on you. Calling you his pretty girl. Making your eyes almost tear up of how much love he was giving you.

He was extra careful as he started to thrust into you, little breaths leaving his mouth, your hands gripping his biceps. A little moan leaving your lips, feeling the pleasure in your belly slowly fill.

His gaze never left you, he noticed it all. The smile you give him, cheeks flushed, trying to breath right and suppress a loud moan. The way he handled you with gentle hands cupping your cheek, kissing your forehead.

“Joel—please.” A coo leaving his mouth, speeding his thrusts into you.

Joel would bite back a groan, his thrusts sometimes sloppy, sometimes losing the rhythm because it’s been so long. But you didn’t care. You loved feeling him all, you loved being with him.

And when he came his face would twist, you would gently touch his face. He would bury himself into you on last time and then hide into your neck, leaving wet kisses while catching his breath. While you didn’t come, you were still content and satisfied to have him on top of you. But of course he realised it and ate you out for one hour, taking his time, giving you the best orgasms of your life.

You never got an answer from the letter. You never got an answer on your countless texts and calls. He cut you out. And you were trying your best to be angry, you really were. But deep down, the sense of understanding was spreading. You knew how much trouble you two would be going through if your father or anyone in your family found out. Anyone in his family too.

The age gap would let everyone turn their heads in the streets.

Your friends, colleagues everyone would think he is a weirdo. That you are a weirdo.

But then you ask yourself why?

Why did he let you develop these feeling for him? Why did he give you a reason to think that he was in love with you? Why did he comfort you? why did he give you this feeling that everything is going to be fine? Why did he make you believe that there was a connection between you two?

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Can you help me set the table? Joel is also coming—oh and his girlfriend too, apparently.”

AAA this took so long, but i’m actually proud of this. Please if you see mistakes or want to give feedback, feel free to do so.

Thank you so so much for 900 followers, it’s truly unbelievable.🥹🥹

Chapter two!

My Masterlist!!!

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[takes1]

your needy Kenma smut was SOOO good omfg I was biting my fist reading it!! can i request a needy suna smut?

needy!suna rintarou x reader

hi!! so glad you liked it!! wow this took me so long i'm so sorry! i just could not find a way to write it without it being exactly the same as kenma's!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / forbidden, established relationship / manager!reader / vocal!suna / whiny!suna / needy!suna / bratty!suna / liiiight mommy kink nobody freak tf out!! / suna has a cute laugh / creampie / raw cuddly sex / 1.9k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Don't look at me like that, Rin'."

Your fingers were smushing the lower half of his face, angling his head away from you. His head stayed obediently forward at the center court, but those eyes were still piercing through you.

Through his fishy-lips, his words became jumbled together, "'can' helb i'--,"

It wasn't his fault he looked so mean, so critical when he focused in on something.

"I can't help it," He spat, rubbing his jaw.

Suna wasn't careful about his hand placement. The members of Inarizaki knew you had been dating for a time, but Coach Kurosu did not need a reason to question your managerial position.

When you pushed his hand away from your waist, his face scrunched; that mean and bitter look returned, tenfold.

A frustrated, hushed, but not quiet, "I want you."

Though it wasn't an appropriate time, place, or circumstance, it would be lie to say that it wasn't hot. The unique mixture of his assertive, court-like focus and lesser-known bedroom-only begging forced you to cross your arms.

"You-," You glanced around, thankful nobody heard that, "Have a game to focus on."

The attitude he gave was not only unwarranted, but it succeeded in making you less receptive. To you, it was obvious that he was only looking for an out. He was tired and halfway through a challenging match. You couldn't spare to be his partner right now, and he did not like that.

He sucked his teeth, tapped his foot, crossed his arms, worked his jaw, and gave you a sharp sigh, all within five minutes of angry silence.

What a whiny bastard.

You found his struggle almost amusing. At the moment, it was more important to maintain your focus, for the both of you.

Still, it kept you wondering throughout the remainder of the match: What had you possibly done to warrant such a strong response?

Every instance that he had to be around the bench, drinking water, a temporary switch-out, he would send you a deeply dissatisfied glance. You didn't justify it with a reaction. He was being bratty.

Though you were a prude, anti-PDA personality in public, especially around the team-- you were the one to push him back onto the mattress and throw his shirt across the room, once you were back at his place.

"Fuck--mnh!"

That pretty sigh was all he could get out before you were on top of him.

"Start talking," You muttered. Your shirt was off in seconds.

His breathing grew heavy, eyes black with lust at the sight of your pretty skin, his favorite bra he clocked earlier under your shirt- the whole reason his mind got to spinning.

Suna was kept this irritating, calculating, slithery persona up around his friends, and especially during matches, because he learned that it kept him safe. He didn't always like being so on edge. He wanted to trust somebody enough to tell them everything that passed through his mind, to be skin-to-skin and a little weird, because you were comfortable and safe.

Here, under you, after enough love and time, he knew he didn't need to waste energy on appearances.

"I- ah-h, I just wanted you so bad," Was his honest attempt at an explanation.

He sat up to touch you, kiss you, but you kept him to the sheets with a forearm.

"Are you trying to get me kicked out?"

Suna huffed, eyes bouncing from your face, to your confined tits, then back, "What?""

Your legs slid a bit further apart, weight settling better onto his warm lap, "If Coach finds out we're dating, you know I'm gone."

You snapped, just for emphasis, but he flinched, "Like that. In an instant."

He was painfully hard. You could feel him throbbing, even through his combo of athletic shorts and thick sweatpants. Despite the circumstances, you knew he was keen enough to understand that you were a little pissed off about his lack of restraint.

He was in that spot you liked seeing him work through. Struggling, deciding whether to be nice, or snarky.

"You're smarter than that, baby," Was much kinder of a statement in tone, but it tipped him off to be rude, instead.

Those narrowed eyes dripped down to your chest slow, sweet, like honey.

"Why'd you wear that, then?" He felt you stiffen. He placed a hot palm onto your hip to help his well-intentioned venom settle.

You couldn't believe that was his entire problem, summed up in five words.

"Are you really so dirty-minded that you could tell what bra I was wearing? Under my shirt?"

The call-out was meant to return his energy, but he responded in a more secure way than you.

"When it's you, yeah--," He sat up with ease, against your pushing, just to remind you that he could outclass your force if he wanted to. He caught your small frown and he corrected himself, "Yes, ma'am."

You gave a small hum, a low-lidded stare right back at him. He was so hot when he deferred to you.

It warranted a strong, messy kiss- all charged with hours of denial, suggestive glances, and too many minutes of clothed rubbing.

All your clothes came off in a range of easy to difficult, distracted efforts.

Suna lay under you, all flushed and twitchy with anticipation. Your hands flitted down his sensitive, strong sides, his cock crammed between your legs, getting spoiled and slick. Not inside, not just yet.

You loved tickling him just to hear his laugh.

And he'd tolerate anything with you gliding over his dick, like that. Giving him such a good view.

"Shhh-haha-h-ahh!" He bit his lip to keep from giggling, moaning, too much or too loudly.

That look he gave you was enough. All twisted, pleading, intelligent. Like he knew exactly what he said and how he said it, would get you turned on.

His sound was adorable, rare.

It was unrestrained, and light, cute, enough to understand why he kept it behind his hand around his friends. Sounded exactly like something a bunch of guys might make fun of him for.

"Hmm.. Let's cuddle fuck," You pressed a tingly kiss just under his ear.

You knew he was feeling lazy. Your job today wasn't easy, either. You wanted to feel close at the end of a busy day, more than anything.

Suna was warm, and tired, and tacky to the touch but it all added to how badly you wanted each other. It was a demanding match, and getting all upset with each other made it feel that much longer.

Slick, and hot, and easy was the adjustment to him. Nothing to do with his real size- you were just ready, after having to put up an act, as if you were too above all of it.

The panting you had to listen to on the sidelines, watching him miss his mouth with the squeezy bottle, all the sweat and water dripping onto his jersey, it ate at you, corroded the brick walls you put up. Even his frustrated glare was sexy. He couldn't stop looking at you, even with an important task at hand, or when his teammates needed him to focus.

Now he fucked you like your mean -still, justified- rejection was never a problem, like he was savoring you slowly.

"Yes-yes, yesyes," Suna swallowed up your moans in a greedy kiss.

"Mmh- how's that feel--?" You purred.

"So good," A satisfied groan, "Fuck- Got such a perfect pussy."

His hand kept your thigh up, your knee close to your shoulder. He inspired a gasp at how quickly he bottomed out to your teasing.

He stretched you so good, so easily, and kept your trembling steady in his grasp-- but every sound he made was shaky, barely held together, and never masked.

After three months, Suna decided at some point on his own that he could trust you enough to completely let go in the bedroom. Though he naturally gravitated to a more submissive role, he usually said some downright sleazy, vulgar shit to get his kicks.

"A-ha, h-fuc-k, aughh, you feel so good, you--," His breath clipped into a high, closed-mouth whine as he pulled you harder onto the base of his cock, just flexing hard, as deep as he could get.

Your teeth sunk into his pillowcase, fingers filled with plush.

The knowledge that he loved it, but couldn't ever get as deep as he wanted, had your strength waning. Squeezing, bracing, at all the butterflies tired you out.

Although, if it were a competition, Suna had you beat by a mile. The drooling, whiny mess behind you may have had enough to strength to use his body weight to keep you smushed, but you could tell he was sloppier, clumsier, with exhaustion.

He buried his face in your neck.

"I-I'h- needed you so bad," His moan was so light and breathy- like he was swimming on Cloud 9-, "So-h, so... fucking...bad."

Your uncontrollable squirm to get away from the sensation was met with instant crushing. Even if you wanted your thigh back, it would never happen.

"Mh-h-! Rin-," You tried to speak, but he was hitting all your angles just right, so you stopped.

His words were twisting up that knot in your tummy, the trap of his arms a steady, innocent backdrop to how filthy he decided to fuck you.

Slurred mutters, consisting of mostly nonsense syllables and phrases, sometimes bred real messages like, "So hot," "Mommy," "So much," and, "'Can't take it."

His yapping, you thought, may have been a way of making up for how little he spoke, usually. You were generally much quieter than him here, but outside of the bedroom, the opposite remained true. It was cute.

"M'so- close-mh," His groans were short, choked on pleasure, his squeezing desperate and uneven.

The idea of him finishing close, hugging you, just like this, was too hot to let not happen.

You gathered yourself to tell him, "C-um-- Mh, inside, pretty boy."

"F-uck!" That tone completely tipped him over the edge.

Your grin was to yourself, twitchy and genuine, before the feeling of fullness set in.

He was left to fuck out his load as deep inside of you as he could get, "Fuckfu-ck- Ahh-hh-!"

Your nails dragged across his skin- the white hot, pulsing enough to spur a sudden orgasm. Dark lines remained in their wake as your muffled whines filled his ears.

And Suna was nothing if not dedicated. He fucked you as well as he could through your own, whinier, less violent experience. His breath, laden in the resolution of his own, was hot and tingly across your sensitive ear.

You squeezed his arm to stop and he finally let your leg down.

"Hm...sorry," He mumbled into a peck against your cheek, "You okay?"

Sore, and achy, you shared a giggly kiss. He softened naturally and you readjusted to hold each other, warm and soft, with chemical infatuation.

"Mhmm," You stole a longer, slower kiss.

Those pretty eyes watched you, worshipped you, as you rubbed your hand across his jaw.

"Perfect."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu my request box

[sweetshuga]

𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔 ✧ 𝑴.𝑺

«𝒅𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒏»

𝒃𝒔𝒇.ᐟ𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕! Trying to act like he didn’t just fantasize about you and got rock hard in the process.

𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂. «𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅» «𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏» «𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕» «𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕»

𝒘𝒄. 𝟏 𝒌

𝒂𝒏. Alr chat, the long awaited Matt version of Fantasies is finally here!! It took me this long to write it because I didn’t have any motivation to finish it but here it is finally!!

𝒑𝒔𝒂. English is not my first language!

You sat in the passenger seat, fingers idly playing with the hem of your t-shirt as you talked to Nick and Chris—who both sat in the backseat.

The reason you were sitting in the passenger seat instead of Chris was simple; Matt had enough of Chris interrupting him every few seconds and burping in his face like a damned toddler. And so, you had no choice but to switch seats before Matt got seriously pissed off.

Matt was quietly scrolling through his phone beside you, not paying much attention to the conversation between you and the other two. It was clear that he was sulking, his earlier irritation still very much there.

You decided to leave him be, not wanting to make it worse.

As you got more invested in the conversation, you didn’t notice Matt slowly looking up from his phone, his gaze lingering on your lips as they moved.

He felt his stomach flip when your eyes suddenly locked onto his, your head tilting slightly as you looked at him with a confused smile, a small chuckle escaping you—which went straight to his dick.

He wondered how you sound like when you cu—

"You’re staring at me," you observed, your voice cutting through his daydream. "Is there something on my face?"

Matt quickly shook his head, mumbling out a quiet "nothing" before he looked back at his brothers, suddenly so interested in whatever Chris was rambling about.

Thankfully, you didn’t question further and simply shrugged it off, going back to talking to Nick and Chris.

𝟓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

The minutes passed by agonizingly slowly, almost like it was taunting Matt, testing his self-control—or so it felt like to him.

It had only been 5 minutes or so since he had started to imagine things he definitely shouldn’t be imagining about his best friend.

Matt could feel his pants tightening around the crotch and he desperately tried to think of something- anything to get rid of his erection.

But nothing worked.

𝟏𝟎 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

Nick and Chris went to the store to get some snacks, but you decided to stay in the car with Matt.

You were talking about everything and nothing at the same time, your hands flailing slightly as you tried to emphasize your words with it. Matt simply listened, nodding along and humming mhm’s.

You didn’t notice the way his gaze kept drifting down to your lips before snapping up to your eyes—and repeating. Before he could stop himself, he had already let his gaze travel further down your body.

God, he would do anything to just bury his face in those tits—

"Matt? You listening?" You cocked an eyebrow when you saw the way he flinched, blinking rapidly as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

"Y-yeah, I am." He mumbled, his words a little too breathless and a little too nervous, but you didn’t seem to catch onto anything yet.

"Mhmm," you hummed, a bit puzzled, but didn’t press on further as you picked up from where you left, rambling on about some crazy experience you had while eating out with Nick.

Matt’s breathing grew heavier with each passing minute, his chest heaving slowly as he took in deep breaths to calm himself down. He could feel his dick throbbing at the sight of your tits pressing together when you crossed your arms.

His attempt to calm his racing heart – and boner – was futile, but thankfully he was wearing a hoodie and quickly took it off and bunched it on his lap, keeping eye contact with you to make sure you didn’t see anything you shouldn’t have.

It would’ve been alright if he was at home, he could just excuse himself and go handle his "problem", but he was in a random parking lot with just you in the car.

One minute felt like a fucking hour. He could almost feel his cock pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat, so hard that it was hurting just from pressing against his boxers and jeans.

You didn’t really pay attention to how much Matt shifted in his seat; how many times he discreetly pulled uncomfortably at the waistband of his jeans; or how he tried to adjust himself without you seeing it.

And you definitely did not pay attention to how shaky and deep his breaths had become. You didn’t know how much he wished he could just fulfill his fantasies right here in the car.

It was pure torture to have the reason for his hard-on sitting right in front of him. He would probably be considered down bad but everything you did only made him harder and he could feel his precum slightly dampening up his boxers.

Lucky for him, Nick and Chris arrived before he lost his mind, handing you the snacks and drinks you and Matt wanted from the store—already eating the things they bought for themselves.

Matt was ecstatic. And not because he was happy that he got snacks—well, he was, but mostly because he can finally take care of his throbbing boner.

He could finally go home before he got blue balls.

𝟓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

A shaky sigh of relief left Matt as he put the car in drive, wanting nothing more than to just go home and jerk off.

But his relief was short lived when he glanced at you subconsciously, only to see your eyes locked onto the hard-on straining against the crotch of his jeans. Which was now very much visible thanks to his hoodie having slipped down slightly due to his legs moving to hit the accelerator and brake.

You quickly averted your gaze when you saw that Matt caught you looking, and you turned your head to the side, pretending to look out the window but the flush creeping up your neck and enveloping the tips of your ears gave way to everything you wanted to hide.

Matt’s face slowly flushed into a soft pink hue as he kept his gaze on the road ahead. He was in disbelief that his best friend just saw his raging hard-on.

He wished he could get home faster but he was still stuck driving the car, nowhere to hide from the overwhelming embarrassment.

Just his damn luck.

𓆩♡𓆪

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

[bunnygirllover45]

— THE THRILL OF THE HUNT.

♱ TRIGGER WARNINGS: Johann literally hunts down the reader, Small outburst at the end, and a lot of bullshit talk about hunting because I like it, DEAD DOVE. No violence was used.

Synopsis: You escape from Johann, he has to track you down. WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Johann wasn't exactly the thrill-seeking kind. He always preferred a slow-paced life, not filled with many excitements or tragedies. He wasn’t an adventurous spirit or a fiery soul in search of greater meaning. In his head, the only thing he needed was you.

And maybe that’s why this exact moment made his blood boil with newfound rapture, he could swear for a moment his skin bumped at the feeling of his heart throbbing so quickly against his ribcage. The thrill of the hunt, like his father used to say, made mere men become beasts, some because it was vital for their survival, others because of the rush of power it gave them.

But he couldn’t quite understand it until now. For him, hunts weren’t that exciting. The game was always too easy to track down, the footsteps effortlessly concealed. The gun didn’t feel heavy enough. His breath didn’t quicken at the mere chance of letting his prey slip away; he’ll always find a way to reach them again, after all. Animals have their habits; they’re easy to decipher once you know their true nature.

This is the type of hunt he’s been craving for so long. Johann had to press a hand against his mouth to prevent a low chuckle from escaping. Oh, how right his father was. This was truly trilling to the core, the kind of thrill that made a foreign heat rise towards his head and seep into his very brain tissue.

Humans aren’t like animals, their behavior is a little more erratic, animals can be divided between highly intelligent beings and straight-up dumb ones, but humans? All of them had their quirks, you couldn’t easily guess how prepared someone could be under certain circumstances. “Isn’t that so fucking interesting?” 

Lowering himself to the ground Johann reached to touch the freshly shaped footstep that his precious prey left behind. If they’re leaving such a pretty trail behind they’re expecting me to find them, what a tease.

“You know what kind of animals roam these types of terrains?” His voice was loud enough to carry its sound through the extremely quiet, when the hunt begins, the forest goes quiet, no need to scream. “Bears, moose, sometimes even wolves. Had to detangle a lot of ‘em from traps before, not without properly securing they won’t be able to bite, ‘course.” 

His heavy boots made the rotten wood and debris scattered around the forest soil yield under their weight, no need to change onto more quiet shoes, his bunny wouldn’t be able to hear him coming, surely their heartbeat was the only thing resounding inside their ears. Reaching into his pocket he took out his watch, starting a countdown. “I’ll give you two minutes to gain distance, cover your tracks, you can try hiding if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend staying still, it makes you easier to spot.” 

“Once the two minutes are done I’ll begin searching, I'll make a bird calling each 45 seconds, and once three minutes pass by, I’ll stop making bird callings and hunt in earnest, ‘kay? Just want to make the game easier for you, it isn’t fun if I’m the one with the upper hand all the time even if this is my subject.” 

With a deep sigh, he crouched down again, his hands fidgeting inside his pocket until he found a cigarette, the last one actually. Grabbing his lighter he lit up the tip, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke escape from his lips. 

His free hand reached to grab the gun he always had with him, it was an old friend of sorts, stuck by his side in all the worst situations, a lot of people meeting their death at the end of this same barrel. Maybe it should have your name, after all, people do name their guns sometimes.

The forest grew more eerily quiet, the sun setting down in the distance while Johann quietly awaited the starting gunshot of the race, he didn’t really need to put the time on his watch, he could already count the time down to the millisecond inside his head. “Forty-eight, forty-nine…” His gloved fingers tapped against his lips, hands tightly clad in leather gloves, perfect for the harsh Austrian winter. 

A part of him wished you didn’t even make the effort to run away, maybe finding you curled up against a rock or a tree just waiting for him to find you was more exciting than actually pursuing you, after all, that meant you truly gave up on the idea of leaving him behind—still, another part of his brain screamed for you to run, so he could find you and make sure you won’t try pulling up bullshit like this again.

Slowly he stood up, the watch making a low beeping sound before he began to walk, settling the gun back onto the strap around his thigh. Holding the cigarette in between his lips he began to prepare the clothes you were going to use once he caught you, after all, little you decided to escape both barefoot and barely dressed, the worst thing in this forest beside him was the cold. Holding the spare jacket he always brought with him inside his bag and a blanket he continued to walk nonchalantly, not even sparing a single stare in any direction that wasn’t just dead front and center. 

Johann's stare drifted onto the floor, a little disappointed that you didn’t take his recommendation into account, there, clear as day, were your pretty little marks for him to follow like a bloodhound. Johann even took the time to carefully make sure he didn’t accidentally step into any of them, not wanting to overshadow the loving tracks you left behind for him with his heavy boots.

He knew very well he was taking all of this too lightly, this was a high gamble where he could lose everything or gain all, but still the elated sense of happiness and bubbling excitement made him more self-confident, too sure you wouldn’t get away too far, and even if you did, he’d stay in the damn forest all the time necessary for you to realize you need to go back onto his loving arms.

Stopping dead in his tracks he turned around as he heard a small sound coming from behind a fallen stump, dead bark peeling off the tree’s corpse. There you are.

And there you were indeed, curled up in a ball, back pressing against the rough bark as you held your arms around your torso, bracing yourself from the harsh winter cold, from the shiver that ran down your shoulders towards your legs or the sight you so pathetically defenseless made him smile, a blush creeping up onto his features.

“You didn’t even run far enough to let me do any bird calls, are you that tired, baby?” He kneeled down in front of you, but as soon as you jolted up in surprise Johann’s hand shot to grab your wrist with unnerving quickness. His dark eyes bore into you, a small smile gracing his lips, but there was no emotion behind that expression of his. “That’s okay, next time I’ll give you some proper equipment, some shoes wouldn’t hurt.” 

His thumb caressed the skin of your wrist, while his other hand threw away the now almost half-smoked cigarette that Johann held in between his lips. Eventually he reached to grab your head in between them, rubbing your cheeks with such tenderness that it could be even soothing in a different situation. “There, you did good. Not good enough to grant you a reward, but you did have me a little scared back there.” His smile widened as he lied through his teeth. You frowned, tired, freezing cold and also breathless, but still with enough energy to try and pry his hand away from your wrist, it was useless, he was latched onto you like a handcuff. “Fuck yo—” Before you could even finish he reached to clasp his free hand onto your mouth, the sudden movement making you stumble backward, head pressing against the tree. “Fuckin’ language.” He whispered between his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes. “You should be grateful I didn’t put a damn bullet in between those pretty eyes of yours. Runnin’ away from me like that? After all I did for you? I let you away from my sight for just a second and you go jolting away like a fucking rabbit.” 

Taking a deep breath he lowered his head, slowly pushing his hand away from your mouth, his face leaning closer to you, the only warm feeling gracing your warm body being his hot breath against your face. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He pushed your lower lip with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss onto your flesh as some sick and twisted kind of apology.

“I won’t be as lenient next time, ‘kay? You know I care about you a lot, meine Liebe, don’t want you getting hurt.” He forced a smile, leaning his forehead against yours, but again his voice was masked by the thumping sound of your heart against your ears. “Let’s get you back to the car, I’ll get you all warmed up and cozy.” 

You just let him grab you, his hands effortlessly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style as both of you made your way back toward the car, you stole a few glances at Johann’s face, finding a small smile and that darn blush in his cheeks that showed how much he enjoyed himself, maybe a twisted part of him was truly pleased by all of this, even if it just started as a rebellious act of trying to escape from your part.

“Hear that? It’s a White-tailed eagle. Birds of prey, always hunted them with my father as a child.” Suddenly the forest wasn’t so quiet anymore, the hunt has ended.

[h4zardousch3micals-m]

I wanna remake some old oc's

[bubblyi3]

Residuals PROLOGUE | JJK

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: childhood best friends, lovers to enemies to strangers, fratboy!jungkook, heartbreak, uni!au

word count: 1.6k

content warning: angst, mild smut, mild languages

summary: jungkook used to be your everything. your best friend, your first love. but you both grew up and grew apart. he’s now the campus heartbreaker, a cocky frat boy who runs with the worst crowd. when a cruel dare asks him to destroy you just for the fun of it. everything shatters. trust. hearts. and maybe the chance to ever put it back together.

author's note: hihihihi! i know i said i’d be working on cigarettes and clementines, but i might kick this one off first. because... why not? i feel like it lol

and yesss this is an overused concept but i thought it would be fun to write one myself:)

>> TAGLIST IS NOW CLOSED << this one’s set in south korea, but i’ll be mixing in stuff from other countries/states too. it’s fiction so i’m just gonna have fun with it and see where it goes :)

© disclaimer: please do not copy, translate or reproduce any part of this work without my permission. thank you!

playlist:

back to friends - sombr

do i wanna know - hozier (cover)

all too well - taylor swift

love goes - sam smith & labrinth

again - noah cyrus & xxxtentacion

on my mind - alex warren & rosé

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3

You were born just four weeks apart.

Your mothers were inseparable since high school. Raised you both more like siblings than friends. Jungkook was there for every birthday, every scraped knee, every first day of school. When you got your period for the first time, he brought you a whole ass cake because he thought that's what people did for "milestones". When his first dog died in the nineth grade, you snuck into his room through the window and lay beside him while he cried into your hoodie.

And when you turned sixteen and got dumped at prom, Jungkook kissed you for the first time. He tasted like lemon soda, which was your favorite. His lips were hesitant, soft and trembling.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"I am now."

That night, neither of you said anything more, but something shifted.

It stayed like that for a while . Late-night texts turned into staying on the phone until one of you passed out. Sleepovers turned into sharing the same bed, breathing the same air, talking about everything and nothing in the dark.

He said it once, at seventeen. "I like you. Like... more than friends."

You laughed. Not because you didn't feel the same (God, you did), but because it scared the hell out of you. So much of your world had him in it. If you lost him, you'd lose your home. He is home.

Still, you kissed him back. Again and again.

None of you put any labels on it. You just thought that being the best of friends with Jungkook was enough. You didn't define it. You didn't need to. It was just you and him. It always had been. But friends don't kiss friends and they sure as hell don't hold each other like that.

Until university.

It started slow. You both got into the same university, just different majors. Jungkook chose Film Production and Media Communications. No surprise there, given his passion for visual storytelling that had burned bright since he was five. You remembered how fascinated he was with cameras and everything behind the scenes. Vivid memories of him pestering you to be his muse when he got his first video camera for his fifteenth birthday still lingered. Of course, you were happy to help. After all, Jungkook was your best friend even if you pretended to be annoyed at first.

Through his studies, he met new people and made many friends. Friends of friends, mutual connections. That’s how you came to know the group. Seven guys, including Jungkook, who were practically inseparable.

First time meeting Jungkook's friends, he introduced you to them as a good friend. He was honest with them about you being like a little sister to him. They all thought it was cute. Until one of them, who smile looked like it was made of sunshine, and an unmatched stage presence. Asked Jungkook for permission if he got the green light to sleep with you. You stared at him in disbelief, and Jungkook simply nodded in your direction, his expression cold and indifferent.

“By all means,” he said, earning amused grins from the group.

All you could manage before storming off was something between “fuck off” and “you’re fucking disgusting.” You don’t even remember which. Maybe you said both.

By second year of uni, he decided to join a frat, along with the rest of the guys. You, on the other hand, had no interest in sororities. You were focused on your business assignments and staying close to the small circle of friends you've made along the way.

As time passed, Jungkook partied more and texted less. Still, every time your parents called to check in, they'd ask about him too. Sometimes, those calls turned into full-on video chats. You, Jungkook, his parents, and yours. Like one big, blended family that hadn't quite realized how much had changed.

One Sunday evening, the screen filled with familiar faces. Your mum in her kitchen apron, his dad already with a glass of wine in hand, and Jungkook, hoodie tossed on, hair messy from either sleep or editing. It was hard to tell.

"Jungkook!" his mum smiled, eyes bright.

"Have you been keeping up with classes? That film project you mentioned last time?"

He grinned, the picture of effortless charm. "Yeah! I just wrapped up my final project. A short docu on campus creatives. Got really good feedback from my lecturer."

You couldn’t help but be amused when you heard that. You knew Jungkook had been filming around campus for his project, but you never imagined he could handle both the filming and the editing. Especially with how often he partied. You had to admit, you underestimated him. Still, no matter what, to you, Jungkook was still a piece of shit of a friend.

"That's our son!" his dad added, proud.

"Directing the next big movie, huh?"

You smiled politely as your parents chimed in with compliments. But you already knew Jungkook was thriving. Film had always lit him up in a way few things could. Even if he no longer shared that part of himself with you the way he used to.

Then came the question that changed the air in the room.

"And you're looking after Y/n, right?" his mum asked gently.

"Walking her to her dorm, checking in, making sure she's not overworking again?"

Your dad chuckled, "She's buried in business case studies. Needs someone to pull her away from that laptop."

There was a pause. The kind you feel more than hear.

You looked at Jungkook on the screen and for a fleeting moment, it felt like he was looking right back at you.

Then came the lie.

"Yeah, of course. I've been helping her with that marketing presentation," he said smoothly, "we meet up at the library once a week. She's doing great."

"Yeah, Jungkook's a great help." You said. Your lips then tightened into a soft smile you didn't mean.

Because that wasn't true. You'd been working on your own. Pulling late nights with your friends in the study lounge, quietly wondering if he’d even noticed your absence. Meanwhile, he was off doing God knows what.

"That's so sweet," your mum replied. "You've always been good to her."

Jungkook nodded casually, brushing hair from his eyes. “She’s got my back too.”

The call moved on, laughter returning like nothing had happened. But in that quiet space inside you. The one he used to fill so easily. Something cracked just a little.

He wasn’t lying to them.

He was lying for them.

And maybe a little to himself too.

Then suddenly, it wasn't slow at all.

He stopped calling. Started passing each other on campus like strangers, not even a nod. Apparently, Jungkook was too cool for you now.

He even missed your twenty first birthday.

And the next time you saw him, he was laughing with his "brothers", arms slung around some girl you didn't recognize. Completely oblivious to the way your stomach dropped when you caught his eye, and he looked right through you.

Two weeks later, your close uni friend Hana showed you a photo that he was in. It was of him. A girl. His hand up her shirt. Tongue in her mouth.

You stared at the screen until your vision blurred, then dropped your phone like it burned.

The night you finally confronted him was supposed to give you closure.

Instead, it gave you scars.

You didn't expect him to be sober, he wasn't. You didn't expect him to smile at you, he didn't. But you hoped, deep down that he'd say something. That the boy who kissed your forehead and called you "star girl" hadn't completely disappeared.

He was leaning against the wall of some house party that went around campus. Drink in his hand, shirt unbuttoned just enough to piss you off. A glint from his lip caught your eye. A fresh piercing, one you hadn’t seen before, and his sleeve was inked with new tattoos, still bold against his skin. You hate how irresistible he looked, given the heartache and confusion he's caused you.

"Jungkook."

He looked up, eyes hazy, jaw tense. "What are you doing here?"

Your throat tightened. "What the hell happened to you?"

He snorted. "What do you mean?"

"This." You motioned to everything. "This isn't you. You're not... this."

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with something bitter. "Maybe this is me. Maybe I just stopped pretending."

You swallowed hard. "No. You're running."

"From what?"

"From us," you shouted. But it came out barely louder than a whisper.

There was silence and for a moment, just a breath. Something flickered in his eyes. Maybe it was regret or pain. Something real.

But then it was gone.

"There is no us," he said flatly. "There never was."

You flinched. "What about everything you said? Every promise. You-"

"I was a fucking kid," he snapped. "We both were. That shit doesn't mean anything now."

And just like that, the air between you shattered.

You couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

He turned away, disappearing into the crowd and the bass and the blur of alcohol and bad decisions. Leaving you behind like none of it ever mattered.

You couldn't sleep that night.

You wanted to hate him. You try to erase the way he held you when your parent fought for the first time, the way he used to trace both your initials on fogged-up windows, pretending he didn’t care if you noticed, even though he always did.

But hate doesn't come easy when love came first.

And no matter how many girls he sleeps with, no matter how many parties he drowns in, he'll always be the boy who painted stars on his ceiling with you.

The boy who swore you were his favorite constellation.

The boy who forgot how to look up.

[pricesprincess]

⋆.˚ and they were roommates | s. ghost riley x fem reader

₊⊹ 1.8k wc. ⭑.ᐟ you are not attracted to simon. you are not attracted to simon. ᝰ.ᐟtags: explicit smut 18+ only + roommate au + size kink + ill prep + Simon is a bit mean + degradation + unprotected sex + creampie

With a towel wrapped tightly around your wet body, you cracked the bathroom door open, whipping your head from side to side once it was poked out enough to see the empty hotel room.

Simon was gone.

Your elusive roommate must've left when you got into the shower like a shadow, moving quietly and scaring you more times than not.

In the dead of winter, the whole apartment building's heat had gone out, leaving everyone freezing and with nowhere to go. Your landlord's hand was forced to pay for a few nights somewhere warm.

So, a hotel it was, with one damn bed.

A queen at that, which was already difficult because Simon is a big man.

Tall and broad, his presence bearing down on you like an invisible weight you tried to talk yourself into hating, you hated it, truly.

That's what you told yourself to stuff the feelings that grew for him like wildflowers. Despite stomping on them, over and over until you were satisfied. However, that feeling never came. You wanted him.

Simon, on the other hand, suffered the same fate. He found himself thinking about you even at work, while talking to his friends, your soft smile and pretty singing in the morning kept him coming home.

It's been a year since you found his ad looking for a quiet roommate who didn't bother him, and after the first time meeting you, he canceled on the other people who applied because he wanted you.

You stepped out into the room, feeling instantly grimy from the carpet that you were sure hadn't seen a good vacuum since the place first opened decades ago, as you struggled to keep the cheaply made towel wrapped around you with an air of frustration.

You were on a time crunch.

You attempted to scrub your body dry with the see-through towel, wondering how much it had been used and then washed. Of course, you'd get to stay in the cheapest hotel, with cold water too.

After you pulled on your shorts, leaving you in nothing but them, Simon stepped inside. The air quickly became warm as the flame of embarrassment kissed your cheeks, heating your entire face.

His eyes immediately zeroed in on your bare tits.

Simon didn't hide that he checked you out, appreciating the view in front of him. You were too stunned to move for a good few seconds, letting him gawk at you with that quiet stare that made you gush.

Before he could say or do anything, you retreated into the bathroom like a dog that was caught in the trash. You clicked the door shut and plastered your back to it, your chest heaving and your nipples stiff and tingly with the desire to be caressed, pinched, and sucked on.

You knew his hands were rough. One time, he grabbed your arm when you were doing dishes with your headphones on so you didn't hear him when he came in, effectively scaring you.

Several minutes passed as you collected yourself the best you could after pulling on your old shirt you left in here.

He was out there and there was no escaping him unless you made a mad dash for the door, but Simon was bigger, taller...the thought alone had your pussy throbbing with want, despite you hating it.

How easy would it be for him to pin you down on the mattress and have his way with you? Would a fight be more fun for him?

Those questions tumbled in your head like a heavy load until you cracked the door open and stepped back into the room, making a miscalculated step to the door before Simon was up and on you.

He towered over you, his broad frame blocking out the lamp in the corner of the room, casting a shadow over you, his silence deafening.

Simon stepped forward, making you back up until you hit the bed with the back of your knees before losing your balance. You tried to reach out, but Simon just watched you flop with that quiet stare.

Your chest still heaved, and the loose material of your shorts fell from how loose they were, giving Simon a peek of that soft cunt he's been thinking about. He could read your body and know what you want.

On occasion you have left your books out when you put them down to do something, leaving the pages open for all to see—well, just for Simon to see, but that was enough with what he read.

Silence stretched between you two like never-ending taffy as your fingers curled into the thin sheets on the bed, and your thighs burned with anticipation of him spreading them to have his way with you.

His hands came down to rest on your knees, his touch electric, making you shift and sit up until you were face-to-face with him.

"Was your pretty arse waitin' for me to come in? All you had to do was ask if I wanted to see you naked." Simon almost cooed, his hand trailing up your body, making you shiver as he grasped your cheeks.

He squished your cheeks together, watching your lips spread and take on a funny shape. Your pussy had its own heartbeat and made a mess of your panties. Simon shook your head yes, then no, firmly.

"I think you're smart enough to answer my question." Simon sighed and kneeled on the bed, further spreading your legs as his fingers played with your lips before pushing past them into your mouth.

Simon held the back of your head now as he watched you suck his middle finger like it was his dick, all hungry and desperate for him. "My pretty cock sucker. Wish it was the real thing?" He teased making you whimper and drool around his finger as you grasped his wrist.

If anyone had asked if tonight would've ended like this, you'd call them a liar. Your eyes glazed over, making it easy for Simon to push you down until he had you pinned against the mattress with his weight. He withdrew his finger and wiped it on your face.

"You like it rough, mhm?"

You nodded dumbly, your hand blindly feeling up his chest, how his blood ran hot under his muscles and how they twitched as you dragged your palm down to slide it under his shirt with a whine.

He pulled back and grabbed the hem of your shirt, pushing it up. "Open." You obeyed and parted your lips, letting him stuff it in your mouth before he shifted and kneeled between your legs.

A year of simmering want had boiled over and Simon wasn't hiding it.

Neither were you.

As soon as he hooked his fingers into your panties, you lifted your hips and let him take them off, baring your whole body to him now. Rough palms trailed down your chest, stopping at your tits.

Simon tweaked your stiff nipples, watching as you squirmed and rubbed your legs together until he pried them apart. "So fuckin' wet."

His hand came down to cup your pussy before pulling away to slap you with a filthy squelch that made your ears burn. It wasn't a harsh sting, but a pleasant one that mingled with pleasure, intoxicating you.

You whined when he breached your entrance, probing in a teasing way that had you wetting his whole fucking palm in response.

"Fuck me! Please!" You cried, frustration spilling from your eyes.

He pulled back and clicked his tongue. "Makin' demands like you're in charge here? Fuckin' cute, sweetheart." Simon pinched your nipple, making you squeal and arch your back off the bed as he played with you, his fingers barely inching inside your wet and swollen pussy.

Time passed and you weren't sure how long it was until Simon unbuckled his belt, the soft metal clinking pulled you from the cloud you were floating on. "Want to feel you cum on my cock. I think I deserve a reward after getting you nice and worked up." He sighed.

You felt the heavy weight of his cock slap your pussy as Simon shifted and placed himself between your legs again, his hips flush to your thighs. Your gaze drifted down to his dick, your eyes growing wide. "That won't fit inside me!" You cried and wiggled your hips.

"Let's find out." Simon grinned and pulled his hips back enough to catch his cockhead on the soft opening of your cunt before spearing you open little by little until he was halfway in and you were gone.

Drool and dazed eyes, Simon clapped you on your cheek gently and chuckled. "Haven't got my dick all the way inside you and you're actin' cock-drunk already. Get ready for a big stretch, hold onto me baby."

With his words floating somewhere in the static that filled your head, you grabbed onto his shoulders, biting down on your shirt that muffled your squeal when he bottomed out, forcing you to stretch and accommodate around his fat cock that carved out a spot in you.

"Look at you." Simon praised as he bullied his dick in and out of you with a slow pace that left you feeling dizzy as he filled you in a way you've never been filled, you swore he was in your damn throat.

Tears filled your eyes that he kissed away as he rocked his hips. Bottoming out each time, feeling you clench around him, unable to tell if your body was trying to push him out or suck him in more.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as the feeling of being so stuffed full of cock took over all your senses, injecting you with Simon. He was everywhere, his large hand palming your tit while the other played with your clit, feeling how you choked his cock with your tight cunt.

Simon's pace turned brutal now, slamming his hips into you to the point where you knew walking tomorrow would leave you bowlegged, as well as his dick that stole each breath, his heavy breathing echoed in your ear. "You take cock so easy. I might need you after a long day of work, nothin' better than sinkin' my cock into my sweet little bird."

His words had your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you choked on your whimpers that he forced out each time he was balls deep in you, your cunt so snug and creamy it made his dick twitch.

He knew that the bed was squeaking, making a lot more noise than what should be coming from the room, but he didn't care. Not when you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer. "My cock slut, always ready to please and pounce on it, eh love?" Simon teased.

What are you going to say?

No?

You've thought about it countless times.

You couldn't say a single word but slurred moans as your cunt clamped tight around him, gushing and squriting making the bed an entire mess as you screamed around your shirt that was soaked with spit and tears. Your vision blurred for a moment as you clung to him.

How long has it been since you've came like that?

Never, you were certain on that.

Simon fucked you through your high forcing you to endure his cock bullying your puffy cunt that leaked his thick load of cum once he reached his peak. "Blood fuckin' hell, just fucked my load deep inside your sweet pussy. Be good 'f me and keep in there." He murmured as he kissed you, all hot breath and sweaty hands that held your face.

[plushieni]

i know ill find you one day

based off of this song

touya todoroki, your beloved childhood best friend, had passed away when you were just eleven. or at least, that’s what you were told. when the incident happened,, when he was assumed dead — you were devastated. he wasn’t just your best friend; he was your partner in crime, your safe place, and most importantly, your first love.

his loss changed everything. in the aftermath, you grew closer to the todoroki family. his mother welcomed you with open arms, holding you through nights when grief crawled into your chest and made it hard to breathe. she understood your pain in a way no one else could. you missed him deeply.

when you and touya first met, he’d confided in you, shared things he hadn’t even told his siblings. the bond had been instant — two broken kids finding comfort in each other’s company. you tried your best to understand the pain his father put him through, even if it was too big for either of you to make sense of. you made it your mission to bring joy into his life, even if just in little pieces. you wanted to remind him what being a kid was supposed to feel like.

but looking back, you both were doomed from the start.

so when it was reported that dabi — the infamous member of the league of villains — was actually touya todoroki... your touya todoroki… the world around you tilted.

you cried. a lot.

some tears were born from grief, others from joy, and many from sheer disbelief. it felt unreal, like someone had ripped open a wound you’d spent years trying to stitch shut.

anxiety coursed through your veins.

was it really him? was he still the same boy you had loved? did he even remember you? what if he was nothing like the touya you knew?

those thoughts haunted you for weeks. it wasn’t until recently that you learned he’d been placed in a rehab facility — something about endeavor pulling strings to lessen his punishment. trying to save his appearance.

truthfully, touya had never stopped thinking about you either. through the years, your memory followed him like a ghost. sometimes soft. sometimes aching. but always there.

he wondered about you often.

did you hate him? had you moved on? what if you didn’t recognize him — what if all you saw now was the monster he became?

but the moment he was cleared and able to return home, the first thing he asked about was you.

when you got the news he was home, you waited. longer than you wanted to. fear kept you stuck in place. anticipation and doubt battled inside your chest every time you thought about seeing him again.

when you finally did, it was nothing short of bittersweet.

his eyes met yours, and they still held that same quiet intensity—the same storm you used to see in them as kids. you ran to him before your mind could catch up, and he immediately melted into you, arms wrapping around your frame like he needed to make sure you were real.

he whispered over and over, “m’ sorry,” and “missed you s’ much,” voice cracking with every word.

it didn’t feel real. and yet, it felt like coming home.

the two of you talked for hours, and it was like no time had passed at all.

of course, the elephant in the room remained — he had become a villain. he had done things you couldn’t ignore. and he feared you'd look at him differently, that you'd be repulsed. but you couldn’t hate him. not even if you tried.

you weren’t going to pretend nothing had happened, but you also weren’t going to hold his past against him. you knew his trauma ran deep, that the pain that turned him into dabi was never his fault to begin with.

all you wanted now was to show him he was still the boy you loved.

you started coming around every day. on some nights, you stayed over — afraid that if you left, you might lose him all over again. he was still hesitant, still unable to believe someone could love him after everything.

but you were patient.

because underneath the pain, the scars, the fire and ash, he was still touya. still your touya.

one night, as you laid beside him, tracing the burns on his arm with the tips of your fingers, he whispered something so soft you almost missed it.

“when i left... i didn’t know where i was going. i didn’t know who i was gonna become. but even back then... i told myself, i know i’ll find you one day. and here you are.”

you blinked back tears and pressed your forehead to his —looking at him like he never stopped being yours.

it wasn’t perfect. there were still doubts. still moments of silence that stretched too long. still nightmares he didn’t talk about and questions you didn’t always ask.

but now that you finally made your way back to each other, you both knew — you were going to be okay.

© 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐢 — do not copy, steal, translate, or claim any of my works as your own.

[sesmiq]

HEART. I wanted to be somewhere From iron to red drench 그 둘 사이 어딘가에 ┆bttm m!reader x top m!oc(riku) ‧★ 𐔌 warnings: one of my heavier work, not finished sadly, may cause dysphoria or discomfort please read on your own discretion, angst no comfort, internalized homophobia, cross dressing, a pinch of religious guilt, no prep (always prep your partners!!), blowjob (giving), reverse cowgirl (receiving),, not proof read

Riku was born into a family that strictly follows the bible.

the kind of family where love was a commandment, where sin was an unforgivable stain.

from a young age, his parents taught him two important things, 

one, boys shouldnt cry.

two, two people of the same gender cant marry each other.

as he grew older, he stayed with these rules. he only dated girls, never cried even at his pets death, and was never really close to the “weird” boys in his class.

everything was going well for him, as long as he follows the rule, life will be normal,

right?

that was until you transferred to his school during the last year of high school, who even transfers school in their senior year? he asked his friends, laughing it off until he saw you.

the moment you walked into the room, it felt like the room became more vibrant, like how the male lead felt when he first saw the female lead in a shoujo manga.

when he saw you, the first thing he noticed was your presence, it was different from the others. something that made his chest tightens, his thoughts short circuit,

and his heart started to beat faster.

his friend nudged him from the side, muttering a short ‘youre staring.’, making him come back from his senses,

no. 

this is wrong. his mind screamed. he can already imagine the disappointment from both his parents if they knew. you were a guy. hes a guy. it just wouldnt work.

he loathed you, he hated the way he made him feel.

but despite all that, he mustered the courage to go up to you during lunch break.

“hey, my name’s riku, youre the new kid who sat in front of me, right?”

he shouldnt have done that. shouldnt have introduced himself to you.

because the moment you looked up from your food and smiled at him— everything in him froze. this is wrong. I shouldnt feel like this. he said to himself, again.

but the feelings didnt go away.

a few years had passed.

but sadly for riku, the doki doki feelings for you didnt. 

he was fully convinced that once the two of you graduated high school, you’ll slowly drift apart and cut off all contact. then the feelings would disappear.

that is, until he saw you on orientation week at his university during his freshmen year.

you didnt expect to see him either, but here you were, standing face to face with riku again like the first time you two met.

since that day, the two of you have only grown closer.

it was casual at first, you’d walk to class together, wait for each other’s class to end so you can have dinner, just the two of you.

nothing too much. you two thought to yourself. its just being friendly.

but somehow, the feelings only deepened.

you began to look for him in a crowded hallway. you couldnt help but notice how his hand would brush against yours whenever you pass him a drink. when he waited for you outside of your lecture hall during one of your night classes.

you told yourself to not think much about it, he cant feel the same way towards you, he had multiple girlfriends throughout the year.

he wouldnt be interested in you like that.

but sometimes, you found yourself hoping that maybe, just maybe, he felt something too.

Now, the two of you were at the bar, graduation just a few weeks away.

riku didnt think much when you invited him to a bar you two usually goes to, telling him that you needed to tell him something.

you two talked while drinking, laughing at some lame joke riku made or complaining about a certain professor who kept giving you assignments as if you didnt have other classes.

a few drinks in, and riku was slowly getting tipsy. you noticed the way how he started to slur his words, how his hands are slightly shaking whenever he brings his cup to his lips.

“‘you good?” you asked him, voice slightly moving his hair away from his face when he started to lay his head onto the table.

he didnt respond at first, just stared at you unblinking. his gaze lingers longer than usual, the kind that made your chest tighten. 

the silence between you two was almost too quiet if it werent for the booming music playing from the bars speaker.

you felt your heart racing, just nervously gripping onto your own drink as riku stared at you.

before you could say something to unease the tension, out of nowhere, riku blurted out something.

“i wish you were a girl.”

you didnt respond right away, just stared at him with your mouth agape. how the hell are you supposed to reply to something like that?

you stared at him, expecting him to say something but his gaze didnt falter. he looked at you, as if waiting for you to say something.

you shifted in your seat, gripping onto your glass a little too tight, like it was the only thing holding you back from.. doing something.

your mind raced, what the hell does this mean?

does he like you? he did tell you about his religious family, it doesnt make sense.

the silence between you stretched longer, the music from the bar— casual by chappel roan played loudly in the background but it felt muffled.

“I-” you started, your voice slightly trembling. “..youre drunk riku, you dont mean that.” you tried to tell yourself. maybe he said it as a joke. Maybe he meant something else.

his dark eyes flickered for a moment, but he didnt looked away from you. “..no.” he shaked his head, you expected him to apologize, to laugh it off- or just. say nothing.

“i do mean it.” he repeated himself, quieter this time. before looking away from you to take another sip of his drink.

taking a deep breath, you ordered another drink for yourself. downing it in one go before facing riku again, leaning closer to his face.

his breath hitched slightly, but he didnt pull away. 

“cmon.” you whispered, sliding your arm around his waist, pulling him just enough to drape his arm around your shoulder. you could feel his weight leaning against yours, he was heavy, but you didnt mind. “lets get you home.”

he leaned onto you with a groan, nuzzling his face into your neck and for a moment, you nearly forgot what he said earlier.

the walk to his dorm didnt take long, you fumbled for his key card while trying to hold him at the same time. you  soon unlocked the door. laying him down in a comfortable position on the couch. 

you turned back to leave his dorm, his hand reached out to pull you slightly towards him. his touch was so gentle, as if he was testing the waters.

“stay,” he murmured, his eyes half lidded.

you hesitated for a second, pulling your hand back from his hold. you brushed a hair from his face, “get some rest.” you whispered, walking towards the door slowly. “ill see you tomorrow.”

with that, you turned and left, making sure that his door was locked before you did so. heart still pounding in your chest, tears threatening to spill out as you walked.

the next day came in a miserable blur.

thankfully it was the weekend, which meant no classes, an excuse to pretend things were normal.

riku woke up with a hammering hangover, groaning into his pillow for drinking too much last night.

he got up from his couch to go to the kitchen, chugging a cup of cold water and popping 2 painkillers.

he texted you once he found his phone on the coffee table, complaining about his hangover and thanking you for bringing him back to his dorm. “thx for bring me back btw” “i owe you one” “my head is killing me” 

he waited for your reply, sitting in front of his tv as he kept glancing at his phone every time a notification came in. expecting for your contact name to appear on the screen.

he stared at the ‘havent read’ on his screen for a second, before typing out a text again, “i didnt say anything stupid, did i?”

he flipped through the channels mindlessly, not really watching whatever is on the tv.. just, waiting.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard a buzz from his phone- a ringtone he used specially for you— no one noticed by the marias.

he scrambled for his phone, nearly stubbing his toe in the process, and unlocked his phone as if he won the lottery.

on top of his screen was glowing, “yn 𖹭.ᐟ hands slightly sweaty (from nervousness? or from the heat, he wasnt so sure himself.), he hastily clicked on the message,

“drink more water^^”

.. just that? no silly stickers that you usually send, no whining about how he better treat you for food as a thanks? 

just a simple, distant text. like a nurse reminding him to take his medication.

nothing else.

he stared at the message, lips twitching into something like an irritated smile, “hah?” he scoffed.

before he could type in another message, he heard a knock from the door.

grumbling underneath his breath, he dragged himself to the door unwillingly, brain fogged with confusion, anger, regret?

he opened the door, ready to give whoever decided to knock on his door at this time a piece of his mind,

but then, he realizes it was you,

standing at his door in the dimly lit hall of his dorm, he glanced down at you, eyes widened at what youre wearing.

he stared at what you were wearing, a loose shirt and shorts but from his view, he could see the white strawberry patterned frilly bra, the strap just peeking through the neckline of the shirt. 

youre wearing a cheap long wig, some mascara and a pink glossy lip gloss. he takes note of your eyes, red and slightly puffy- like you cried before coming here. 

to top it all off, you wore an oversized brown coat, as if you were trying to hide the outfit on the way here.

at first, the two of you didnt say anything, just stared at each other. 

riku wanted to throw up, what did he say for you to do this? did he do anything stupid? dared you to do this?

before he said anything, you smiled at him, “i tried,” you whispered,

“you said youd love me if i was a girl, right?”

he shouldve asked you to leave, yelled at you to never come back and closed the door in your face.

but pathetically enough, he didnt.

instead, he pulled you in by your wrist so tightly to the point it hurts. he slammed the door behind you with a loud bang! 

“you look pathetic.” he hissed, his hands discarding your coat and throwing it to the side,

you only blinked at him, smiling even though your eyes looked nervous.

he grabbed your jaw, squeezing your cheeks and glaring down at you with something between disgusted and desperation.

“isnt this what you wanted?” you asked him, voice small, fake smiling.

riku couldnt breathe. his breath hitched when you brought up your hand to touch his face.

“touch me,” your voice sounded softer, “you can pretend.”

he almost backed away. almost. 

but you looked up at him so sweetly, like he was your whole world. like you wanted him to ruin you.

he pulled you in for a kiss, it wasnt like those romantic kisses a couple would share in the movies. It was ugly, your teeth keep clashing with each other, tongue fighting for dominance.

riku’s hand slides under your shirt, tugging it down enough to see the bra.

“where the hell did you even get this?” he asked you, “dont tell me you got a matching set of panties too.”

at this comment, you looked at the side, as if youre guilty.

he raised his eyebrows at this, his holds on you tightened, just enough to make you squirm. 

he didnt say anything, just dragged you to his room, making you kneel in front of him while he sat on his bed. 

he looked down at you, as if expecting you to do something. “suck.” he says, pointing towards his crotch.

you didnt say no. 

you fumbled at the waist of his pants, fingers trembling and nearly scratched your nails at his skin.

you stared awkwardly at his member, you never did this before— only watched it happen on low quality porn.

you leaned into him, lips brushing against the head of his dick, awkward and shaky.

the moment you took him into your mouth, he hissed before grabbing a fistful of your hair (wig?) and pulling you back,

“watch your teeth.” he grunted, then pushed your head lower to take him deeper.

you choked immediately, the foreign feeling of his dick deep in your throat.

drools dripped from the corner of your mouth, the salty mix with bitter taste filling your nose and tongue, making you feel like puking.

you gagged, eyes watering slightly.

yet he didnt care when you tried to pull back instinctively, he pushed you down again, your nose against his pubic hair.

you whimpered around him, desperate but humiliated. your knees burn from the carpet on the floor. 

but you continued bobbing your head, tears stinging your eyes when riku started to move his hip forward shallowly. 

you gagged again, spit and precum dripping down your chin yet you didnt pull away.

“‘m close,” riku hissed, attempting to pull out but you wrapped your arms around his waist, refusing to let him go.

his fingers tightened in your hair, tugging harshly enough to make you whine.

he cursed under his breath, then  with a sharp gasp, he came inside your throat.

yet you didnt pull away, you stayed there, drinking up everything he had to give to you, letting him fill you up like you havent eaten for days.

he didnt look at you at first, just covered his eyes with his arm while catching his breath.

you looked up at him, pulling off his dick with a small pwah! just waiting for the man above you to say or do something.

you stayed kneeling there for a second, dazed and blinking up at him.

he soon snap out of it, suddenly finding your arms to yank you up from the cold floor.

you nearly stumbled, before you can fully find your footing, he dropped you onto the bed roughly, like you were nothing but a doll.

you werent sure what to do, you sat there, staring at him. his body sprawled out, his legs slightly spread, his cock twitching and half hard against his stomach.

you crawled up into his lap without thinking, riku stared down at you for a second — breathing heavy, face twisted into something between regret and lust — before his hands fell away, like even touching you was too much.

you straddled him awkwardly, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hip, breath hitching when you felt his cock twitch underneath the thin layer of your shorts.

you started to grind onto him slowly, almost shyly, hips rocking against him like you were afraid he would run away, though, he didnt stop you. you let out a tiny whimper at the friction of his member rubbing against you.

he didnt move at first until he brought his hands up, not to hold you, just held onto the bed sheet tightly. his hand twitches every time you grind down onto him.

you kept moving your hips, your breath catching every time your own dick rubbed against his own.

after a while, he finally said something, “turn around.” he muttered, his voice low and tight in his throat.

you blinked at his command, head tilted slightly to the side as if you were confused, the wig somewhat sideway on your head— but you obeyed.

you shifted your position slugglisly, turning your back towards him while youre still in his lap. your thighs trembled, tired from kneeling for too long.

riku wasnt patient. 

he grabbed your waist, his finger digging in. he lowered his hand towards the hem of your shorts, yanking it to the side roughly—

revealing a white frilly panties with the same strawberry pattern as the bra you were wearing.

he didnt say anything, just scoffed before shoving the panties to the side as well, exposing your hole to the cold air, the fabric snapping against your thigh. “bite your shirt.” he tells you, his hand fondling with your ass, pinching the meat slightly, making you mewl out in pain (maybe even pleasure? ponders.)

you did what he tells you anyway, bringing the edge of your shirt on your own and biting it down.

you turned your shoulder slightly to the side, glancing at him. he noticed your gaze and grabbed your head to face the wall again. 

“what are you waiting for?”  he said, his voice cold, as if he was disgusted, impatient. “do it yourself.” you flinched at the harsh tone of his voice, your hand fumbled as you reached down, guiding him to your entrance. 

you whimpered when you sank down slowly, fingers unintentionally digging into riku’s thigh to keep yourself from falling, making him hiss in pain. the stretch burned, the mix of your spit and his cum from earlier made it bearable to take.

it doesnt make the pain go away, but enough for you to slide down until your ass meets his hips. 

you could feel him in your gut, deep— too deep, like he was fucking up into your guts and trying to find something, (a womb, perhaps.)

yet, your walls still squeezed around him like you didnt want to let him go.

you stayed still, trying to catch your breath, teeth still biting onto the fabric of your shirt. he noticed this, he brought his hand up to grab your flat chest through the thin fabric of the bra.  

he palmed your chest lazily, tugging at the frill of the bra, fingers slowly curly towards the inward,

his fingers barely came in contact with your nipple at first, fingers brushing lightly against your sensitive skin just circling, almost teasing.

you could barely hold back your whimper, you bit down harder on the fabric as your body jolted from the cold sensation of riku’s finger.

then without warning, his finger curled, pinching and tugging onto your perky nipple sharply.

you nearly cried out in pain, but all that came out was a muffled whine.

riku stilled for a second, his hand, once holding on you hardly, loosened just a little.

“you okay?” his voice came out low, quiet and rushed. like he regretted saying it once it had already passed his lips.

then, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed once again.

“who said you could stop moving?” he murmured, his voice still low- but not as cruel as before. he grabbed onto your hips and lifted you up slightly, slamming you back down.

you whined when you felt his dick hit your prostate dead-on, hips trembling from the sudden movement. you started moving again, slow and shaky, each bounce shallow and pathetic.

your movement grew desperate, trying to keep the rhythm even when your thigh burned. 

riku watched, his jaw tight. his nails dug deeper into your skin, holding you in place.

he didnt move, didnt thrust, just sat there as you kept rolling your hips clumsily.

your knees screamed from the pressure and your hole throbbed hopelessly. each movement sent a sharp jolt up your spine, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes anytime soon.

if it werent for the shirt in your mouth muffling your whimpers, a security guard is probably called to rikus dorm at this point.

his hand rested on your hip, hes not clutching it, not controlling- just stayed there. like he wasnt trying to touch you, watching your grind down desperately.

“pathetic,” he grumbled, more to himself than to you. "cant even do this right.”

your hips stuttered, but you keep grinding, slower now.

a/n ts is unfinished im so sorry guys (◞‸ ◟);; i have no other excuses other than procrastination, no motivs and i have a j*b now so ausghshs if i can i would finish but its been rotting for,, 2 months in my google docs now </3 i feel bad for not feeding you guys too,, please dont burn me at stake

[bloodibambiidoll]

When You’re Gone

(Ex!Boyfriend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You go to one of Eddie’s shows and see him for the first time since you broke up and he’s willing to do anything to win you back. WK: 5.8K

Warnings: Slight angst in the beginning, mention of heart break/break ups, Eddie was kind of dick before the break up but he’s sweet through this entire thing, pining, unprotected sex, fingering, sixty nine, just a lil bit of choking, fluff fluff fluff, lmk if I missed any! 18+MDNI!!

A/N: So I’ve been missing Eddie a lot, I’ve been thinking about writing for him again off and on but the fear that I have from being bullied in this fandom has stopped me. But I guess all it took for me to break was seeing that ASSS so, I offer you this. Idk when I’ll write ST again, maybe it’ll be consistent, maybe it won’t. I guess this is a bit of a trial run. I put my HEART into this, I really kind of poured everything I’ve been feeling the last few months into writing this so that makes me extra nervous. But I hope you guys like it, I love u🖤

You couldn’t believe you let Robin talk you into this. You hadn’t seen or talked to Eddie In months. Not since you stormed off the set of the music video he practically begged you to star in. He was being a gigantic snob the entire shoot. Telling you that “you weren’t doing it right” or “looks like we are going to have to shoot that again, can you get your head in the game, babe?” But the thing was your head was in the game and you were doing every single thing he asked exactly how he asked and yet it still wasn’t enough.

That was just the final straw. He had been acting like the sun revolved around him. Around his music. Around partying and blowing money just so he could brag about the shit he has. He started calling your friends and family back home less and less. Missing date nights. Forgetting anniversaries. He stopped telling you how beautiful you looked any chance he got and treating you like you were his everything because he had so much more than you now. Which you would never be upset about, you were and are still proud of him for every single thing he’s accomplished. But that problem was that he stopped being your Eddie almost entirely.

You hoped that it would pass, that it was just because it was all so new, the money, the fame, the adoration. But after almost two years it just continued to get worse and no matter how much you tried to bring it up to him he just reassured you time and time again that you meant everything to him. With no change. You couldn’t continue to give him everything while it felt like he virtually forgot you existed everyday. So you walked away, even though he was yelling after you, not because he wanted you to stay, but because he needed to get back on set and finish filming. You went back to your shared home, packed your things, and left.

Robin was more than happy to let you stay with her and her girlfriend while you got back on your feet. You couldn’t stay in L.A. without Eddie, he was all you had there. So you went back home to Indiana. To your friends and your family. Where you felt seen and you felt like you mattered again. But that didn’t take away the ache in your heart for him. The entire piece of you that felt like it was missing without him. Eddie had been a constant in your life since you were little.

You grew up together. You were both too stupid to get your heads out of your asses and admit how crazy you were about each other until you graduated highschool but you thought after that it would be forever. It’s always been you and him. You went through every phase, every hardship, every big life event with Eddie by your side. When him and the guys got that record deal you were more than happy to continue to stand by him through it all. But apparently he didn’t feel the same. Which felt like a stab in your chest day after day. You really did miss him so much. But you weren’t even sure if he missed you too.

Eddie was sweating fucking buckets. He hasn’t been this nervous for a show in over a year, going up in front of all those people was a walk in the park to him at this point. But knowing you were going to be here tonight changes everything. He wants it to be perfect. He’s been working on this song for you since you left, just hoping that he would have a chance to play it for you. He didn’t want you to hear it on the radio, no, he wants you to hear it directly from him. He wants to see your face after. He wants to tell you how sorry he is for losing sight of the only thing that made all of this worth it. He just wants you.

Not a day has gone by since you left that he didn’t feel empty. He couldn’t do anything without thinking of you. His favorite restaurants were your favorite restaurants. His favorite movies were your favorite movies too. Your side of the bed being empty made him feel so lonely that he started just passing out on the couch every night to avoid looking at it. He stopped going to parties. Hardly ever saw anyone unless he had to go to the studio or play a show. Tour was awful, you were by his side through their entire debut tour so doing it without you felt like doing it without one of his guitar strings, or his arm.

The fans could tell he was less engaged. His record label was on his ass and so were the guys. He just couldn’t seem to shake you. At this point none of it even feels like it matters if he can’t have you. You’re all he wants and if he has to do all of this without you, if this is what ruined the two of you, part of him doesn’t even want it. A big part. He’s thought about dropping everything and just flying home to beg at your doorstep. But each time he talked himself out of it, not even sure if you’d want to see him.

But tonight? You were going to be here at his show and this was his chance to win you back. He would give it all up for you in an instant, all you had to do was ask and he would do it, no matter what it was. So when Robin called him and asked him to set aside an extra ticket for you he felt like this was the universe giving him another shot. He just hoped you would too.

Your whole body was vibrating as you watched Eddie on stage, your heart felt like it was practically beating to the sound of his music, calling out to him. He looked good, really good, and as emotional as you are you still can’t deny the way your core throbs, and your thighs clench together at the sight of him. His hair was a perfect mess, the tattered at the knee jeans he was wearing fit him like a dream, and were reminiscent of the ones he used to wear, when he was your Eddie. Not the designer ones you’ve seen him in recently. He was wearing the battle vest you guys made in your first apartment before everything got chaotic and went to shit. With nothing under it. His tattooed chest and torso were on display and you noticed a few new additions. But your eyes nearly pop out of your head when they land on the little stick-n-poke heart with your initials in the middle that you gave him when you were 18 was touched up.

You can’t tear your eyes away from it for a good thirty seconds, just as they start to well up with tears you snap yourself out of it, looking up at his face again. This time locking eyes with him for the first time in nearly six months. Eddie’s soft chocolate eyes go wide and his fingers falter on the strings for half a second before he fucking smirks at you right as he picks up on the chorus. He keeps his eyes on you for the rest of the song, before announcing that they only had a few left.

Eddie is trying to focus on the crowd, focus on his chords, focus on anything but you, but it’s damn near impossible. His eyes just keep traveling back to you because he missed you so much, because you looked so fucking beautiful standing in the very front row under the stage lights and you were looking at him in a way that gave him hope. He made eye contact with a few fans, reached down to touch their hands, but no matter what he did he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. When it came time to announce the second to last song he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment before turning to address the crowd.

“Hey guys.” Cheers erupt all around you and Eddie smiles, flipping his sweaty hair back, making you and probably every other girl in the room swoon. “Thanks for coming out tonight, you’ve been fucking awesome. This next song is… well, it’s a new song. I mean, it’s new to you guys, I’ve been working on it for a while. So there’s this girl…” His eyes lock with yours again and your heart beats somehow even faster. “She’s here tonight and I really fucked things up with her, obviously some shitty song isn’t gonna erase all of that. But I guess this is just kind of my way of trying to make up for it. Or at least starting to.”

As the band plays the opening notes of the song you immediately notice it’s a lot slower and more melodic than their usual songs. They have a few other songs like this, love songs that Eddie wrote about you, happy ones. But this is nothing like that, especially when Eddie starts to sing. He never takes his eyes off of you as the lyrics fall from his lips, lyrics about how sorry he is, how badly he fucked up, how he misses you so much he feels like his soul is missing. He pours his heart out to you as his deep voice filled with longing fills the venue.

You can’t stop the silent tears that stream down your face, unable to tear your eyes away from his for even a second. Eddie Munson, the love of your life, the beautiful boy who you got to watch turn into an even more beautiful man, is standing in front of thousands of people practically begging you for another chance. And it’s like every dream you’ve had since you left coming true. All you wanted was for him to come back to you and apologize, maybe beg a little. You might be an idiot for holding out hope that he would, but you always knew in your heart that you’d take him back if he did. It might take some time for you to fully trust him again, but if he’s willing to try so are you.

As the song comes to an end Eddie thanks everyone, making the crowd go crazy. Then he announces that the next song will be their last before looking down at you again. The flashing lights dance over the tears streaming down your cheeks but you’re smiling at him and it makes his heart soar. And when you blow him a kiss that he of course catches, putting it close to his heart like he has a million times, he feels like a dorky teenager in love with his best friend again. He watches you disappear into the crowd and his heart falls, almost forgetting that he was even on stage performing, all he could see was you. He could hardly focus through the last song, hastily thanking everyone for coming because he was absolutely terrified that you left without even giving him a chance to talk to you face to face.

You push through the sea of sweaty bodies until you get to the far end of the stage, stopping in front of the security guard, who of course recognized you and let you pass without even glancing at the bracelet on your wrist. You run over to Robin, practically knocking her over.

“Whoa! Slow down dude, are you okay? That was… a lot.” Robin grabs onto your shoulders to center you, her eyes laced with concern.

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m uh - I’m gonna go wait for Eddie in his dressing room.” You bite your lip nervously, avoiding eye contact with her, scared of her reply.

“Oh thank god! I can’t wait to tell Steve the plan worked!” Robin’s eyes go wide as her hand comes to cover her mouth. “I meaaan…”

“You know what? I’m going to bug you about this later, but right now I have to go.”

“Yesss!!! Go get your man!!!”

You snort as you turn away from her, rushing down the hall until you see the door with Eddie’s name on it. You pace the room a few times before sitting down on the black leather couch, bouncing your leg so hard it makes the legs shake. The air feels especially humid as your nerves course through your body, the material of the couch sticking to your bare thighs with each bounce of your knee. You can’t stop messing with your hair, adjusting your top, fiddling your fingers. It’s probably only been ten minutes but it feels like it’s been an eternity when the door finally pushes open.

“Princess” Eddie stands in the doorway, looking stunned. His eyes are wide, and filled with adoration as his large ringed hand comes to rest against his chest. “Hi.”

“Hi Eddie.” You smile at him softly as you let out an almost dreamy sigh. “I liked your song.”

“Yeah?” He takes a few steps forward until there’s only a few feet between you. “I missed you. I’m so sorry, I was such a fucking idiot. I can’t believe I let you walk away.”

His eyes are sad as he casts them down, looking at his fingers as he fiddles with his rings. A classic tell tale sign that Eddie was nervous.

“And I totally get it if you don’t want anything to do with me still, I fucked up. Bad.”

“Eddie…” you sigh, standing up to close the remaining distance between you. You grab onto his hands, stopping his movements as you look up into his eyes. “Look at me.”

When he looks you in the eyes again his own are brimmed with tears, and his lip is quivering. And even though you’re still upset with him, all you want to do is comfort him. It was like second nature to you.

“I love you.” You say it so plainly, so matter of fact that it makes the tears flow down his cheeks, a heavy sob escape his chest. You grab onto his cheeks, pulling his forehead down to rest against yours. “I love you Eddie.”

“I love you. I love you so much. I miss you everyday. None of this is worth it without you. Everything feels so dull. Everything I do reminds me of you.” His hands come to rest over top of yours as his tears continue to flow, tears of your own now streaming down your face. “Please just give me a chance to make it up to you, sweetheart. I’ll do anything. I’ll leave it all behind. Never touch my guitar again. Cut off my arm. Anything.”

“Well, you don’t have to go doing all of that…” you chuckle, tilting your chin so you can connect his lips with your own. You pour everything into that kiss, your love for him, your hurt, your anger, your longing. And he does the same. Kissing you like he would die if he didn’t. You only pull away when you absolutely need to take a breath of air. Foreheads still connected as you pant against each other's lips, just inches apart.

“God I missed your lips, princess.” Eddie runs his hands down your face, cupping your jaw. “Missed every part of you.”

“I missed you too Eddie, god.” You kiss him again, this time running your tongue across his plush bottom lip. He immediately grants you access, intertwining your tongues with a groan. Your fingers come up to lace through his curls, and tug causing him to moan into your mouth. His hands travel down your body, resting on your hips, his thumbs just grazing that bit of skin between your top and your skirt. You push yourself further against him, moaning when his hands move to grab your ass.

“Baby, wait, don’t you think we should talk more?” He pulls away breathlessly tilting his head back so he can look at you.

“Later. We can talk later.” You take a few steps back, stumbling a little on your heeled boots as the backs of your knees hit the couch, you plop down, pulling Eddie down with you. He puts his hands on the back of the cushions on either side of your head so he can lean down over you, his face inches from yours, his hair almost acting like a curtain around you, shielding you from the outside world. “Kiss me again, please.”

“You don’t gotta beg, princess, I told you I’d do anything, didn’t I?” He smirks at you as kisses you again, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moan as your fingers desperately grasp onto the sides of his vest, pulling him closer.

“Touch me, Eddie.” You whimper, leaning back to look up at him through your lashes, your lips are kiss swollen and your lipstick is all but nothing at this point.

“Baby, are you sure you don’t want to talk before we-“

“Eddie, I appreciate your chivalry, I really do. But you said anything, right? I want, need, to feel your fingers again, please.” And how could he resist you, when you’re looking at him like that? And your skirt is pushed so far up your legs he can see your little lace panties, his favorite pair, if he isn’t mistaken. He would literally lick the bottom of your boots if you asked him to.

“I told you that you don’t have to beg, doll, I’m the one that should be begging for the privilege of being able to touch you.” He smirks, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips before kissing down your jaw, to your throat, leaving little nips along the way. “Missed this body so much.”

One of his hands grabs onto the top of your thigh, his thumb running over your slit through the thin lace of your panties pulling a soft moan from your lips.

“Missed this pussy so much.” He grazes over your clit before applying light pressure, rubbing circles on it with the pad of his thumb. “You’re so wet for me already, your body missed me too, huh sweetheart?”

“Yes, missed you so much, baby.” You pull him down further so that his free hand is resting on the cushion next to you and his neck and jaw were close enough to kiss and suck bruises into. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“All yours.” He chuckles as pushes your panties to the side, circling two fingers around your entrance and curling them upwards, stroking them against your sweet spot immediately. “Oh, you’re so fucking tight, practically sucking me in.”

“My fingers were never be as good as yours - ohmyfuckinggod.” A loud moan rips through you and your head falls back against the couch as he starts to thrust his fingers quickly in and out of your dripping hole. His thumb finds your clit, circling it in time with his fingers as his lips attach to your neck, giving you a mark of his own.

“Never have to live without them again if you don’t want to, I’ll worship this pussy everyday until I die if you’ll let me.” Eddie kisses down your chest, using his free hand to push your little tank top and bra down, freeing your tits. He kisses across the tops of them, leaving gentle open mouth kisses on both your peaked nipples before licking between the valley of them. He slides his tongue over so he can latch onto one of your nipples and it sends you over the edge.

“Ohhh fuck! Eddie! I’m cumming, I’m fucking cumming.” Your pussy clenches around his fingers as he continues to thrust them deep and fast into you.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl, cum for me. You look so fucking beautiful.” He kisses your cheek before leaning up and pulling his fingers from you. He holds eye contact with you as he sucks them into his mouth with a groan. “Just as sweet as I remember.”

“Eddie, please fuck me, I need you.” Your legs are still spread, your glistening pussy practically calling his name, framed perfectly by those little panties that he loves so much like a work of fucking art. The way your shirt and bra are pushed down under your tits is making them look irresistible. He leans down, resting both of his hands on your knees, and smiles at you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

“You have no idea how fucking badly I want you right now, but can I take you back to my hotel? I wanna take my take with you.” He nuzzles his nose against yours before sliding it along your cheek, placing a soft kiss there.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds good.” You’re breathless and so fucking horny but the idea of getting to fuck Eddie in a bed, where you would be totally alone, sounded a lot more appealing than fucking him in a dressing room where anyone could walk in.

You grab onto Eddie’s vest and push it off his body the minute the door to his hotel room is shut behind you. You take his face in your hands, your eyes shining as you look up at him while you rub your thumbs across his temples.

“You’re so beautiful Eddie.” You coo at him, running your hands down his chest.

“I like your new tattoos… and this.” You run your pointer finger across the band of his pants before tracing the little heart on his hip. “When did you do this?”

“Uh - A few weeks ago.” He grabs the hand tracing along his hip and takes it in his own, bringing it up to his lips so he can place a gentle kiss on the back of it. “I was getting this other tattoo and my artist asked if I wanted to cover it up. I laughed at him and told him to touch it up instead.”

“Eddie… you feel heat rise in your cheeks as butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I want you so bad.”

“Yeah, pretty girl? I told you I’m all yours.” He grabs onto your hips, pulling you back toward the bed so he can sit on the edge of it with you between his spread legs. “Gonna worship this body, show you how much I missed you.”

He grips onto your shoulders rubbing them gently for a moment before hooking his fingers in the straps of your bra and tank top, pulling them down your shoulders. He leans forward, kissing along your bare collar bone as one of his hands snakes around under your skirt to grab a hand full of your ass.

“Missed these perfect tits.” He takes them in his hands, squeezing them, before he grabs onto the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head. He reaches behind you to undo your bra, his fingertips gently gliding over your skin with each touch. He took his time taking your skirt off, kissing every inch of exposed skin he could until you were completely bare before him. “So fucking perfect, baby doll.” He grips onto your ass looking up at you with his bottom lip between his teeth. “Need to taste that sweet pussy.”

“Take your pants off first.” You reach forward and undo his belt before working on his button and zipper, popping them open to reveal his thick cock covered by the material of his boxers. He lifts his hips so you can pull them down to his ankles and you bend down to unlace his boots.

“Fuck, you look so sexy, makes me think about that time I made you hump my boot…” Eddie smirks down at you as he takes your face in his palm and runs his thumb along your bottom lip. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing.

“Yeah, that was one of the hottest things you’ve ever done, if I’m being honest.” You giggle before flicking your tongue out to run it along the pad of his digit.

“Jesus Christ, get up here before I bust from just looking at you.” Eddie grabs your hand, pulling you back up to your feet before kicking his pants off the rest of the way. He lays back on the bed, patting his chest. “Sit on my face, princess. Your throne missed you.”

You stand there for a moment, just looking at him. He keeps telling you how perfect you are but he doesn’t even realize how truly perfect he is. The way he was smiling at you like you hung the stars, his ink covered arms that are more toned now than when you were younger, along with his more broad chest that’s now nearly covered in tattoos. Your eyes travel down his torso to his happy trail, the v lines on his hips, and settle on the way that his cock is straining in his boxers. He was lying there, so perfect, calling his face your throne, and he is just so your Eddie.

“You good, sweetheart? Or are you hypnotized by my otherworldly handsomeness?” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you, leaning back on his elbows. You know he’s trying to be goofy but it only makes you even more desperate for him. You climb onto the bed to straddle him, your bare pussy resting on top of his cock, only separated by the thin material of his boxers.

“Yeah, I just really fucking need you.” You grind down on him, pulling a groan from him as you lean down to lick across his lips, sucking on the bottom one before pulling away with a pop.

“Fuck, get up here, now.”

He pats his chest and his tone has you clenching around nothing. He grips onto your ass, jiggling it in his hands before landing a smack on one of your cheeks. You moan as you scoot up so that your thighs are resting on either side of his head with your pussy hovering just over his mouth. Eddie wraps his arms around your legs, pulling you down so he can bury his face in between your legs. He licks a long stripe along your wet slit before circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh - fuckingshit - feels so good.” You moan as he shoves his tongue as deep as he can inside you, flicking it against your inner walls.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl, missed this sweet fucking pussy so much.” He swirls his tongue inside you before he brings it up to your clit again, licking it with the flat of his tongue. He sucks your clit and your pussy lips into his mouth, causing your eyes to roll back.

“That’s so fucking good, yeah, eat my fucking pussy.” You lean back resting your hands on his thighs as you start to grind down on his face. You bring one of your hands to his cock, stroking him through his boxers, chasing him to moan even louder into your pussy. “Fuck, Eddie, I wanna taste you.”

You push yourself up off of his face and he looks up at you with a pout but before he can even protest you’re throwing one of your legs over his head so you can flip around and straddle his face reverse cowgirl.

“Oh jesusfuckingchrist, baby.” Eddie groans, grabbing onto both of your ass cheeks and jiggling the meat of them in his hands. You hook your fingers in the band of his boxers so you can pull his cock free, spitting on your palm and taking it in your hand. “Fuck.”

“Need to taste you too, baby.” You lean down, flicking your tongue out to leave little kitten licks on his tip before sucking it between your lips.

“God damn, princess, fucking missed your mouth so much.” Eddie moans as he uses his grip on your ass to pull your pussy down on his face again, burying his tongue deep inside.

You take him further down your throat, swirling your tongue around his shaft and using your hand to stroke what isn’t in your mouth. Eddie eats your pussy like a man starved, bringing his lips to your clit as he inserts two of his thick fingers inside you.

“Yes, yes, that’s so good, you’re gonna make me cum.” You pull off of him continuing to use your hand to stroke his spit soaked cock. He picks up the speed of his fingers as he sucks on your clit even harder. “Oh god - I’m - I’m fucking cumming!”

Your walls clench around his fingers and your thighs squeeze around his head as your high washes over you, loud moans and the sound of your wet pussy filling the room. Eddie doesn’t stop until you’re pulling off of him because it becomes too much. He grips onto your hips, flipping you over into your back before covering your body with his own. He connects your lips in a heated kiss, his lips and chin still slick with your wetness as you taste yourself in his tongue.

“Need to be inside of you, fuck.”

“Yes, please please fuck me, I need to feel you.” Eddie uses one hand to grip onto the base of his cock, running the tip through your folds before pushing it inside you. “Oh, god.”

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking tight, so fucking wet.” Eddie grunts as he bottoms out inside of you, pushing his hips flush against yours before pulling almost all the way out and slamming into you even harder. He starts to fuck you hard and fast, one of his hands on your hip while the other wraps around your neck just tightly enough.

“Yeah, fucking choke me, missed your hands around my throat, missed you, fuck.” Eddie picks up the pace, his hips smack loudly against yours as the hand on your hips moves down so he can rub circles in your clit.

“Fuck, baby girl, missed you too, missed this fucking pussy. Gonna fill you up, need you to cum for me.” The hand around your throat squeezes just a little tighter as his lips crash against yours. Your hands are gripping onto his shoulders so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if your nails break the skin. His circles on your clit never let up as he tilts his hips so he’s hitting your sweet spot just right.

“Oh - my fucking - fuck, I’m cumming I’m fucking cumming.” Your pussy squeezes him like a vise grip as you run your nails down his back.

“Gonna cum too, baby, gonna fill this pussy up so good. Never quitting you. Gonna marry you someday.” Eddie’s thrusts grow sloppy until he’s pushing his hips flush against yours and emptying inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, rocking his hips slowly as he rides out his high. He lets his body rest on top of yours, placing gentle kisses on your neck. You bring your hands to his head and lace your fingers through his hair so you can lightly scratch his scalp.

“I love you, Eddie.” You sigh, dreamily. “I know we have some stuff to work through, and talk about, but I’d really like to make it work. You really wanna marry me someday?”

“What!” Eddie pushes up on his hands, so he can look at you, a big goofy smile on his face. “Of course I wanna fucking marry you! It’s only been the plan since we were 8 and I gave you that ring I won with arcade tickets.”

“I just… I don’t know, I thought maybe you got sick of me and that’s why…”

“Baby…” Eddie’s voice suddenly sounds a little sad, maybe guilty. “That was never… I would never, fuck. Hold on.”

He gets up off the bed so he can find his vest, he picks it up off the ground and pulls something from the pocket before coming back to sit next to you on the bed.

“Can you sit up for me?” You sit up in front of him, looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a pout on your lips. “I got this… well, I got this a few months before you left and I was just waiting for the right time, ya know? And honestly it never came because I had my head so up my own ass that I wasn’t making the time. But uh - I want you to have it. Even if you don’t say yes, I got it for you, so it’s yours…”

He opens his hand to reveal a little black square box and when he opens it, sitting inside is the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. Set in the middle is a big shiny ruby, bracketed by two little bat wings on each side that lead into the band. It was perfect, you’ve been telling him practically your whole lives that if someone proposed to you with a boring ass dimond you would say no, no matter how big it was.

“Eddie…” Your eyes well up with tears as your bottom lip quivers. “Is that really for me?”

“Princess.” He chuckles, reaching a hand out to wipe away a stray tear that escaped. “Of course it’s for you. It’s always been you. And it always will be. Even if you don’t want me back.”

“Eddie, I - yes.” You smile widely at him, wrapping your hand around his wrist so you can turn your head to place a kiss there. “It’s always you, you’re the only one for me. You have a lot of making up to do… and it might take me some time to get fully over all of this but… I still wanna marry you. It’s you and me, till the day we die, stab a goblin in the eye.”

“Yeah baby.” He chuckles, a few tears of his own streaming down his face. You still wanted him. You were going to take his ring. You were sitting here in front of him more beautiful and grown than ever, repeating the words that you had said to each other as kids more times than he could count. “Till the day we die.”

He pulls the ring from the box and you offer him your left hand so he can slide it on your finger. You both smile widely and teary eyed at each other as he pulls you into a kiss. This one is different, this one is full of promise and hope and it’s like coming home. He rests his forehead against yours as he rubs the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Stab a goblin in the eye.” He chuckles, smiling widely as he places another gentle kiss on your lips.

Taglist: @littlexdeaths @babygorewhore @eddiesxangel @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @hippiegoth97 @jenniquinn @take-everything-you-can

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

Pt.4

Where (Y/n) becomes an A to C student. It's not her fault tho! Blame it on the trauma.

ALSO, THANK YOU TO @oof-spoof FOR PRACTICALLY FUNDING THE INVINCIBLE SERIES!!! EVERYONE GIVE THEM SOME LOVE!!!

Mark grabbed the keys, sliding into the driver’s seat without a word, and you followed suit, exhaustion settling deep into your bones as you slumped into the passenger seat. As you buckled your seatbelt, he turned the ignition, the radio flicking on as he scrolled through channels until he landed on the familiar one, 96.5. The quiet drive began, with Mark’s fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel in time with the music, a rhythm that seemed at odds with the tense atmosphere filling the car.

You stared out the window, letting the passing scenery blur before you. Houses and shops you once thought would stand forever flew past, their vibrant facades a painful reminder of all you’d lose in the next five months. This town, this life—it was doomed.

Mark’s fingers slowed, and his eyes flicked toward you, his voice slipping in smoothly through the silence. “You seem a bit… off,” he said, his tone deceptively casual. “Stayed up late or something?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, masking the churn of emotions beneath a neutral expression. “Just tired,” you replied shortly, hoping that would be enough.

He gave a low hum, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. “You sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they scanned your face. “You’ve been acting different lately. Jumpy, kind of… paranoid, maybe?”

The subtle accusation prickled at your nerves, and you tore your gaze away from him, fixing your eyes back on the road. “It’s just school,” you muttered. “And the tests. No big deal.”

But Mark’s voice didn’t lose that sharp edge. “Right,” he said, drawing out the word, as if savoring the slight tension in your voice. “Because that’s totally you. Ignoring me and Dad, breaking down in the arms of your friends you see in school everyday, and sitting at the dining table like a vegetable for hours.”

You tightened your grip on your seatbelt, willing yourself to stay calm. “Maybe I just need sometime to myself,” you replied, forcing yourself to sound nonchalant.

Mark didn’t respond right away, but you felt his gaze linger, heavy and assessing. You were painfully aware of his scrutiny, and each second under his gaze felt like it stretched into eternity. Then, he leaned back, lips curling in a faint smirk.

“Whatever it is,” he said softly, almost a whisper, but there was a chill behind his words that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ll find out, (Y/n).”

The words hung in the air, charged with unspoken promises. You could feel his eyes on you, searching, prying, as if he were peeling back the layers of your mind to uncover whatever secrets you kept hidden. You forced yourself to look straight ahead, but his words echoed in your mind, sinking in like a thorn you couldn’t dislodge.

As you pulled up to the school, you felt as though you could barely breathe. Mark turned off the car, watching you with that same intense, unnerving gaze. “Don’t go doing anything you’ll regret,” he added, his tone light, almost playful, but the underlying menace was unmistakable.

With a tight nod, you opened the car door and stepped out, feeling his gaze bore into your back as you walked toward the school entrance. The hollow ache in your chest grew heavier, the knowledge that your own brother was already suspicious clawing at you. You had five months left before everything fell apart—and now, Mark was already starting to close in.

The moment you stepped out of the car, you quickened your pace, your feet carrying you across the parking lot toward the school entrance where Hallie, Connor, and Weston were waiting. You could feel Mark’s gaze burning into your back, heavy with suspicion, his presence like a dark cloud that followed you no matter how fast you walked. You forced yourself to keep your head down, ignoring the instinct to turn around and see if he was still watching.

As you neared your friends, a breath of relief slipped from your lips. Hallie caught your eye, giving you a small, knowing nod, and Weston nudged Connor, who was hunched over his phone. They could see the strain in your expression, the tension lingering around you, and immediately closed the distance, creating a small, protective circle.

“Everything okay?” Hallie asked quietly, her voice low but filled with concern. You managed a quick nod, brushing it off as best as you could.

“It’s… fine,” you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

They didn’t press further, but you could tell they were already on edge. They knew you well enough to sense when something was wrong, and your silence said plenty.

A few feet behind you, Mark had come to a stop, his arms folded as he leaned against the side of the car, watching you with that same unsettling intensity. He made no effort to hide it, his gaze fixed, sharp, studying your every move. A casual onlooker might not notice the tension in his stance, but you could feel it, the way he observed you with the quiet patience of someone biding their time.

Then, in a calculated move, Mark shifted his attention to a group of boys loitering by the side of the building—his so-called friends. They were loud, boisterous, and clearly thrilled to see him approach, clapping him on the shoulder and making crude jokes, the type he always pretended to enjoy. But you knew him too well; you saw the way he tolerated their company with a thinly veiled disdain, a quiet irritation masked by a charming grin.

One of the boys slapped Mark on the back, laughing too loudly at something Mark hadn’t even responded to. Mark flashed a smirk, humoring them, but his gaze darted back to you, subtle but piercing, as if ensuring you knew he was still watching. He laughed at some joke, a hollow sound, but his eyes never lost that calculated look, a hunter keeping track of his prey while biding his time.

Your shoulders tensed. Even surrounded by his friends, he seemed hyper-focused on you, as though he could sense your discomfort. You knew he was letting you go for now, but his patience wouldn’t last forever. Mark was never one to let things go unchecked, and with each passing second, his suspicion was sharpening, honing in on you.

Connor’s hand brushed against your arm, bringing you back to the present. “You good?” he asked, his voice a murmur, keeping it low so no one else could hear.

You forced yourself to breathe, nodding again. “Let’s get inside.”

Together, you and your friends made your way into the school, the familiar hum of voices and shuffling footsteps drowning out the tension outside. But even as the walls closed around you, shielding you from Mark’s stare, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d already set his sights on you, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d unraveled every secret you fought so hard to hide.

As you made your way through the bustling hallway, you leaned in close to Hallie, whispering, “We need to talk. Later.”

She nodded in agreement before heading off to her first class, Weston following in tandem. 

With that, you and Conner head to your first class, nerves jolting and wired. For some reason your fight-or-flight was kicking in, pumping needless adrenaline through your body (it seemed like your body was always in fight or flight mode, never really stopping or calming down). 

As you and Connor slipped into your seats, you forced yourself to look as composed as possible, even as your insides churned with anxiety. The entire classroom felt distant, almost surreal, as if you were watching it all through a fog. Your hands clenched the edge of your desk, a small attempt to ground yourself, to stop the insistent rush of adrenaline flooding your veins.

It was almost maddening, this constant state of vigilance, like your body couldn’t accept that, for now at least, you were safe. You knew Mark was out there somewhere, probably already listening with his enhanced hearing, his sharp ears tuned in for the slightest slip-up. He could be in any room, any hallway, eavesdropping without you even realizing it.

Soon, your math teacher, Mrs. Barnes entered, her heels clacking against the linoleum floor, as she began to set up for the day’s lesson. You took a shaky breath, forcing your focus on her as she scrawled equations across the whiteboard, her voice drifting around you as she launched into a review of yesterday’s formulas.

But as you tried to listen, to grasp the material, you hit a wall—a terrifying, absolute void where your memories of math should have been. The numbers blurred, sliding off your mind like water, and no matter how hard you focused, the information simply wouldn’t stick.

Panicking slightly, you scanned the board, hoping that maybe a familiar formula or concept would spark something. But it was like staring at a foreign language. The frustration gnawed at you, each failed attempt to remember only heightening your sense of dread. You looked over at Connor, your pulse racing, and found him already watching you, a look of shared panic in his eyes.

You could tell he was struggling too. He shook his head slightly, his mouth set in a grim line. He leaned down, pulling out his notebook and scribbling something quickly. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he slid it over to you.

Do you remember any of this?

You hesitated, your hand trembling as you wrote back. 

Nothing. I can’t remember a single thing. It’s like…

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. It was as if everything you’d learned here—the academic knowledge, the normal parts of life—had simply been erased. Your mind was so conditioned to survive, to fight and endure, that it had discarded everything else. In a terrifying way, you were no longer the student you once were. You’d been reshaped entirely by the trauma of the last life.

Connor swallowed, looking down at the note. You watched as he took in the implications, his face growing paler with every passing second. Mrs. Barnes continued her lesson, unaware of the silent panic that rippled between you and Connor. The words she wrote on the board may as well have been gibberish. You didn’t even recognize half the terms she was using anymore, the definitions blurred or completely forgotten.

You turned your gaze to your textbook, flipping the pages with trembling fingers, hoping that something, anything, would stick. But all you could focus on was the sensation of being cornered, of being hunted. Your mind kept flitting back to those dark days in the resistance, to the endless battles, to the snap decisions you’d made just to stay alive. It was like your brain had rewired itself, discarding anything that didn’t serve the immediate need to survive.

Connor nudged you, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts, and he quickly scribbled another note.

This is bad. What are we supposed to do if we can’t even remember the basics?

You tried to take a calming breath, but it came out shaky. He was right. You were barely keeping up this façade of normalcy as it was. If you couldn’t handle school, you’d stand out even more. Mark would notice. Your parents would notice. Teachers would start asking questions. People would wonder what had happened to you.

We’ll figure something out, you wrote back, though even you weren’t convinced.

It seems like you’ve said that same sentence too many times though with no real solutions.

But before you could come up with a more reassuring answer, Mrs. Barnes turned toward your row, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the classroom. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly shifted your gaze to the board, hoping she hadn’t noticed the exchange.

“Connor, (Y/n). Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” she asked, her tone pointed.

You straightened in your seat, forcing a tight smile. “No, ma’am. Just—trying to catch up.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer than you liked, suspicion flickering in her eyes, but eventually she turned back to the board, resuming her explanation. You exchanged a glance with Connor, both of you silently relieved.

But the relief was short-lived. The void in your mind loomed larger, a terrifying reminder of the life you’d left behind—and the life you couldn’t fully return to. It was becoming painfully clear that you weren’t just out of practice or distracted, no, something fundamental had changed inside you. You were something else entirely now, someone forged in battle and scarred by the horrors of survival.

The lesson droned on. You could only hope that whatever pieces of your old self remained would be enough to keep everyone safe, long enough to figure out how to stop the coming shit show.

Finally, the bell rings, a sharp burst of sound cutting through your thoughts, you quickly gather your things, grateful for the temporary reprieve from your spiraling thoughts. You and Connor exchange a brief, tense look before parting ways. You both have too much to figure out, too many gaps to fill, but there’s no time now.

Your next class, Entry Biology, is in another part of the building, tucked into a quieter wing. The halls are buzzing with students, their voices overlapping in casual conversations that feel alien to you, like a language you no longer fully understand. You keep your gaze down, trying to blend in as best as you can, making your way through the sea of faces and finding your classroom near the end of the corridor.

You step inside, spotting a seat at the back of the room. With no assigned seating, you slip into it, hoping it’ll give you some measure of privacy. As you set your bag down, you can’t remember if this was your usual seat or not. The details of your day-to-day routine from this life feel like a distant memory, blurring with the harsh reality of your previous one. If someone had taken this seat before, they’d just have to ask you to move. For now, you’re hoping they’ll leave you alone.

The room gradually fills with students, but no one seems to notice or care that you’re there. You breathe a small sigh of relief, your mind still reeling from the earlier realization that your memory has turned selectively barren. Biology… you struggle to recall the basic concepts, things that should be easy.

Mitosis? Ecosystems? Even the Cell Cycle feels slippery in your mind. The memories just won’t solidify. Your mind instinctively drifts back to the knowledge that does stick, but it’s all survival tactics, the hollow echo of combat drills, the weight of loss, and the survival instincts that you can’t shake.

Your teacher, Mr. Halloway, enters the room, adjusting his glasses as he sets down his materials on the desk. He’s a calm, unassuming presence with an easygoing manner that normally might have put you at ease. But today, you find it hard to focus, the anxiety lingering from earlier gnawing at you as he begins writing on the board.

“Alright, class, today we’re going to dive into cell structures and the basics of cell function,” he says, the chalk scratching faintly as he writes. “Let’s start with the organelles—things like the mitochondria, nucleus, and chloroplasts in plant cells.”

Okay! You knew about the Mitochondria: powerhouse of the cell.

You stare at the board, the words and diagrams meaningless in your mind, like someone dumped them there without context. There’s a flicker of recognition, but it feels shallow, inaccessible. You remember how cells look under a microscope, how textbooks diagram them out with labeled parts, but the function of each organelle slips through your grasp. Your heart sinks as you realize it isn’t just math—you really don’t remember anything.

You fish your phone out of your bag, concealing it beneath the desk, and quickly type a message to Your group chat.

(Y/n): Can’t remember anything from class feels like my brain’s wiped

A few seconds pass before Weston’s reply comes in.

Westy My Bestie: Same here

Can’t remember jack shit

Halligator: This is bad

Geometry is my best subject and now i can't even remember simple theorems

     Ppl r gonna get sus

You read their responses, your grip on the phone tightening. At least you’re not alone in this, but it doesn’t ease the gnawing anxiety that your memories are failing you. The bell signaling the end of class is a lifeline, and you’re the first one out the door, weaving through the crowded hallway with your thoughts spinning.

The final bell rings for lunch, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your last two classes so far, AP Human Geography and English I, had been easier to handle, but that gnawing feeling of something missing never left.

Geography was more about concepts, patterns of human behavior, and interactions rather than memorized facts, so you managed to piece together enough to get by. English, luckily, was more focused on analysis than strict recall, so your rusty memory didn’t hinder you as much. But the underlying dread still weighed on you, a nagging reminder that anything concrete, anything involving details you should remember, seemed out of reach.

You step into the hallway, the crowd surging around you, and immediately spot Weston waiting outside his classroom. He raises a hand in greeting, a familiar face amid the chaos, and together, you head toward the cafeteria. The line’s already growing, students chatting and joking around.. You scan the serving trays, landing on the day’s special: some sort of chicken sandwich with fries and a bag of chips.

A smile tugs at your lips despite the morning you’ve had; after living off scraps and rations in your past life, a hot meal—even a school cafeteria one—was a blessing. The memory of tearing open a ration pack, forcing down tasteless blocks of compressed food, flashes through your mind, and you’re struck by how strange it feels to have choices again.

Once you’ve paid for your food, you and Weston make your way through the bustling cafeteria and out into the open-air courtyard. It’s refreshing to be outside, where the air feels less claustrophobic and you can catch glimpses of the autumn leaves turning golden, the first hints of fall in the cool breeze. You spot Connor and Hallie already sitting at your usual table, near the far edge of the courtyard, both of them eating like they haven’t seen food in days.

"Hey," you greet them, sliding into the seat beside Connor while Weston sits across from you. You unwrap your sandwich, taking a hesitant bite. The flavors hit your taste buds, far better than anything you’d had during the rebellion. It was still a cafeteria meal, but right now, it might as well have been gourmet.

Hallie looks up from her sandwich, barely swallowing before launching into conversation. "God, you guys have no idea how weird today’s been." She glances around, ensuring no one’s within earshot before she continues. "I feel like I’m flunking every single class. I don’t remember anything useful."

Connor nods in agreement, his expression grim. “Same here. It’s like my brain’s refusing to do anything academic. Anything beyond survival skills… it’s just blank.”

Weston, who’s been munching on his fries, glances up, his face thoughtful. "Maybe it’s some kind of psychological thing? Like, we’re all for sure traumatized and now that we’re back, we’re struggling to fit in? Doesn’t the brain forget non-vital info under extreme stress or something?"

You nod, considering his theory, but it doesn’t offer much comfort. If this was some side effect of trauma, it was leaving you dangerously exposed. 

"It makes sense," you admit, trying to keep your voice steady. "But it’s going to be hard to keep up the act if we can’t remember even basic things. Especially with…” Your voice trails off, not wanting to say his name out loud.

But Connor catches your drift. “Mark,” he mutters, a tense silence settling over the group. “He’s been watching you, hasn’t he?”

"Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "He knows something’s up. He hasn’t figured out what, but he’s… suspicious."

Hallie’s eyes narrow, and her jaw clenches as she takes a sharp breath. "We need a plan, and fast. It’s one thing to keep low in class, but Mark? He’s not just anybody. If he thinks there’s something to find out, he’ll find it."

Your stomach twists as you think back to his words from that morning: “Whatever it is, I’ll find out, (Y/n).” You remembered the look in his eyes, the way he seemed to study you, his gaze cold and calculating, false care in his voice, like you were nothing more than a puzzle to be solved.

"Maybe," Weston says slowly, breaking the silence, "we could take a more passive approach. You know, let him think he’s figured you out. Act dumb or, like, make mistakes on purpose. Lead him onto a false answer."

Connor raises an eyebrow, considering it. "Might work, but it’s risky. If he thinks he’s being played, he won’t hold back.

You nod at Weston, “I think its worth a shot. We’re all screwed either way, so what's the harm?”

After your statement, everyone falls into a comfortable silence; most likely retreating into their own minds.

You continue eating in silence, the sounds of laughter and conversations around you feeling distant, like a world you’re no longer part of. Each bite you take tastes more and more hollow.

Finally, Connor breaks the silence again. “We need to figure out how we’re going to warn the Guardians. Without tipping off Mark or Omni-Man.”

You nod, your mind already spinning with ideas and doubts. 

“We have to get a message to them somehow. We could use anonymous tips, maybe? Something that won’t trace back to us?” Hallie shoots out.

Weston shrugs. “Anonymous tips work in movies, sure, but this is real life. They’ll get curious, and then the government and Guardians will find out it was us. Plus, Omni-man and Invincible are two highly respected and trusted heroes, there's no guarantee they’d even believe the warning we send.”

“Weston has a point,” You say. “But, it doesn't matter. If they believe us or not, at least they’ll have the thought in the back of their minds. Even if it comes back to us, at least the Guardians will know.”

Because in a world where the clock is ticking, and survival is the only option—there’s no time left to be selfish over your own lives.

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ toxic till the end I ⌗ pairing: james potter x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: After spending a year in the most toxic relationship youve ever been in, you finally have a change of mind on a random day.

⤑ warnings: angst, literally no fluff, and cheating -- 2.1k words

James knew exactly where to find you. A tucked-away clearing just beyond the Hogwarts gates, quiet and hidden, where the grass grew wild and the stars felt closer. It was your spot, or at least, it used to be. Yours and his. And maybe a few other girls’, too.

As soon as you heard footsteps behind you, you knew who it was. No one else knew about this place. Not really. Just you and James.

You and James had a long history, too long. Your friends had told you again and again to cut him off, to end it, for good this time. And you’d tried. Maybe twice. But it never worked. You always came back.

Funny, really. Back when you two were barely even friends, when the only reason you spoke was because you were seated together in History of Magic, he’d been nicer. Softer. Sweeter. He was a better stranger than he ever was a boyfriend.

You remembered the day you’d introduced him to your closest friends. You’d been glowing with excitement, heart beating fast, convinced that maybe—just maybe—this meant it was becoming real. You’d wanted him to see the people who shaped you. You wanted them to like him.

But the moment passed like smoke. James had been distracted, distant, like he had somewhere better to be. He hadn’t even pretended to care about making a good impression. And you’d laughed it off. Smiled through it. Made excuses. But deep down, something inside you had dimmed.

Looking back, you should’ve known then.

You didn’t bother to look up when he finally stepped into the clearing. You heard the soft crunch of grass beneath his shoes, the quiet exhale he always gave when he found you.

“Hey,” he said gently.

You didn’t respond. Not right away. You kept your eyes fixed on the trees ahead, arms wrapped tightly around your knees like they might hold you together better than he ever had.

He sat beside you, not too close, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. That stupid, familiar warmth that always made it harder to stay angry.

“You’re not gonna curse me or throw something?” he asked, trying for lightness.

Still, you didn’t look at him. “I thought about it.”

He let out a short laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Would’ve deserved it.”

“You do,” you said, the edge in your voice sharper than you meant it to be.

Silence fell again. Not peaceful. Not comforting. Just heavy. Just unfinished.

“I messed up,” he said eventually.

You turned to face him, slowly. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes. Same Gryffindor charm that somehow survived every mistake he made. But there was something else this time. He looked... worn. Not just tired. Hollow. Like even he was starting to realise the damage he’d caused.

“You always mess up,” you said quietly. “That’s the only consistent thing about you.”

He winced. Good. He needed to.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You scoffed. “But you still did. Over and over. And I let you.”

There was a long beat before you added, “James, I never want to see your face ever again.” But even as the words left your mouth, a sick, aching truth curled inside you. What you really meant was: I can’t wait to see your face again.

James stared down at his hands, silent. No excuse. No clever line. No promise to change.

You stood up slowly, your legs stiff from sitting so long. The air felt colder now. Or maybe you were just done.

You didn’t say anything else. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of a dramatic goodbye.

You just walked.

And James didn’t stop you.

Didn’t chase after you.

He stayed behind in the clearing, hands in his hair, breathing shallow, watching you disappear into the darkness, again.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Now you’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. You didn’t bother going to dinner. James had ruined any appetite you had. While he was trying to find you in the crowded Great Hall, weaving through your house’s table, your mind kept replaying the conversation you’d just had with him—or whatever that had been. It was all so familiar, like a game you knew the rules to but hated playing.

If you had to guess James Potter’s favorite board game, you’d say chess without hesitation. Not because he gave off some quietly brilliant, strategic vibe. Honestly, you weren’t even sure he knew all the rules. But it had to be chess, because it was far too easy for him to play with the pieces in your chest.

Every move he made felt calculated. Push, pull, stay just long enough to make you think it mattered, then leave before it really did. He always kept you close, but never close enough. Just within reach. Just enough to make sure no one else got to you first.

You remembered the night everything started to unravel, the exact moment you should have walked away but didn’t.

You had chased him down the stairs near the library. It was late, close to curfew, and the corridor was empty except for your hurried footsteps and the sound of your own heart pounding. He hadn’t spoken to you in two days. No note, no message, not even a glance in the corridors. Just silence, like nothing between you had ever existed.

“James, can we just talk?” you had asked, trying not to let your voice crack. He kept walking. One hand in his pocket, the other raking through his hair like he couldn’t be bothered.

He didn’t turn around. “I just need space,” he said, like that was supposed to make everything okay. Like space didn’t mean distance. Like distance didn’t mean you were being left behind.

You stood frozen in the middle of the corridor, staring at his back like it might change its mind. And then you said it.

“Don’t leave.”

It was barely more than a whisper, small, cracked, and quiet enough to get lost in the shadows. But he heard it. You knew he did. His shoulders tensed. He paused. But he didn’t look back.

He never looked back.

And still, you stayed. Let him drift in and out of your life like a tide you were helpless against.

But weeks later, it happened again. A different fight, another hollow apology. You were the one walking away this time, trying to mean it, trying to finally let go. And that’s when he said it.

“Don’t leave.”

Same words. Same softness. Same timing. Right when he was about to lose.

You stopped, barely able to believe it. Not because he said it, but because he said it like it was his. Like he didn’t remember where he’d heard it first.

You turned to face him, heart in your throat. “You stole that line from me.”

He didn’t argue. He just stood there, like he thought sounding sorry would be enough.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Now you're on your way to the Great Hall for breakfast, barely awake and flanked by your two friends, Isla and Lydia, one on each side. Lydia’s in the middle of telling yet another story about her family dog, something about it eating a whole shoe, when Isla suddenly pauses, and Lydia trails off mid-sentence.

You blink, still half-asleep, until you notice they’ve both stopped walking. Isla’s gaze is locked on a group of Gryffindor girls nearby, and Lydia's mouth is slightly open in quiet disbelief.

Then you heard it.

A girl’s voice, light and casual, cutting through the morning haze. “She said James gave it to her. A ring. Isn’t that sweet? Apparently, they’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now.”

Your heart dropped.

You hadn’t specifically said the seven words—“We’re done. I'm breaking up with you.”—but last night, in the clearing, you were sure you’d made it clear enough. Whatever you and James had... it was done.

But a few weeks ago?

A few weeks ago, you and James were good. Or at least, you thought you were. Laughing in the common room. Holding hands beneath the table in Potions. It was the closest thing to healthy the two of you had ever managed. You thought things were finally different.

Now, maybe he was only sweet because someone else had already taken your place.

Your confrontation yesterday had been about another girl entirely, some nameless face you’d seen him with in the courtyard. You hadn’t known about this one. Not the girl with your ring.

Isla gave your hand a quiet squeeze. You looked over at her and found the same soft, sad expression she always wore when you talked about James. The one that said you deserve better, even if she didn’t say it out loud.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently.

You nodded. Lying.

You didn’t want to cause a scene. You weren’t even sure you had the energy to fight. Especially not with another girl. Especially not over him.

They nodded, quietly accepting your answer even though they didn’t believe it.

You all kept walking. Or tried to.

Because as you passed the girls, Lydia didn’t look away. Her eyes locked onto something, a flash of silver on the girl’s hand and she let out a soft gasp.

She spun back toward you, grabbed your wrist with one hand and Isla’s with the other, and tugged you both into a fast walk, nearly a run, straight into the Great Hall. You stopped at the end of your house table, near the doors, heart pounding even though you weren’t sure why yet.

Lydia turned to you, her voice sharp with realisation. “The ring that girl had—it’s the one you lost. Remember? Three months ago? After that date with James. You thought you just misplaced it.”

Your mouth went dry.

You remembered that ring. The one he’d twirled on your finger all evening, smiling like he actually adored you. The one you swore you left on your nightstand.

And now it was on someone else’s hand.

You took a deep breath, your chest tight but steady.

“She can keep it,” you said softly. “It’s just a ring.”

Isla and Lydia exchanged a glance, unsure if they should push. You didn’t blame them. There was a time when something like this would’ve shattered you—when you would’ve cornered James in the hallway, demanded answers, let the hurt eat you alive.

But not now. Not anymore.

You weren’t angry. You were tired. Tired of waiting for him to grow up. Tired of giving pieces of yourself away just to feel close to someone who never really saw you.

You could forgive him for the ring. It was a small thing, really, compared to all the other ways he had chipped away at your heart. You could forgive him for being careless, for being selfish, even for being unfaithful.

But you wouldn’t forget what he took from you.

He had wasted your prettiest years without even blinking. Months you spent begging him to be better, to see you, to love you the way you deserved. You had poured the softest parts of yourself into someone who never once tried to hold them gently.

And in the end, he didn’t just break your heart. He ruined you for a while.

Left you hollow, second-guessing, quieter than you used to be.

And you wouldn’t go back.

You turned to your friends, forcing a small smile. “Let’s eat.”

What you didn’t notice was a certain raven-haired boy watching you from across the hall.

James wasn’t listening to the girl beside him—the one currently wearing your ring, laughing softly, leaning in like she thought she had his full attention. His eyes weren’t on her.

They were on you.

He didn’t understand it. How you could look so calm. So distant. Like everything that happened between you had already been buried. Like he hadn’t been your whole world just yesterday.

He was confused.

How could you change so quickly in just a day?

He didn’t know that it hadn’t just been a day. It had been building for weeks. Maybe months. The ache. The exhaustion. The slow, quiet unraveling of all the love you kept trying to give him.

He only noticed the ending because you finally stopped begging him to see it.

And now, as you laughed at something Isla whispered to you, without even glancing his way, James felt something strange settle in his chest.

It wasn’t guilt.

It was loss.

Real, suffocating loss.

Because for the first time, he knew he couldn’t win you back.

Not this time.

You weren’t angry anymore.

You were done.

hope u enjoyed it👅 im thinking of making a part 2 but its not a part 2, just the same thing but in James pov....lmk if u wanna read that